#and not hold up the class to make the prof repeat entire parts of the lecture in english. esp that english is the prof's FOURTH language

[nessvn]

i need anglophones to stop taking french classes if they're gonna insist on only speaking english bc "oh my french isn't so good". im sorry if you need to stop the lecture to ask a thousand clarifying question in english then maybe this isn't the place for you.

[existential-angstt]

Pay Attention Please (P. 7) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

A/N: hhhhhhhhh i found a tik tok that reminded me of prof!dio, here have it:https://www.tiktok.com/@christianrlocke/video/7219505883754057003?_r=1&_t=8cvfMBYA92Uand uh- on this chapter- no, no, dont thank me. hold the applause. just enjoy :)

Taglist: @lokanda​ @sneetsnootyoit

“Excitement” was an understatement for what you felt when you woke up the next day, the day of Professor Morrissey’s next class. All you’d been able to think about for the last two days was your two bodies tangled together, how pretty he was when he slept, dark eyelashes fanned over his pretty cheeks. You took a little extra care to get ready, actually putting on makeup for once and styling your hair. Your roommate was watching you the entire time with such a look on her face but completely silent. 

You sighed. “What?” 

 Your roommate bit her lip a little, holding back a cat that ate the canary grin. “So you gonna fuck him again?” she said flatly, still trying so hard to hold back her grin. You made a little mocking pouty face that broke into a blushy look. “Maybe,” you managed. 

 “Gosh, Y/N, a professor. I never woulda pegged you for the type. Needless to say, I’m happy…. And- are you- going over there tonight?” she eyed your makeup and hair. You did that same little mocking pouty angry face again, even though it was exaggerated and ended in a smile. “Maybe,” you repeated, even though that was certainly at least your hope if not your plan.

 “Good,” she quipped and started typing on her phone. You were pretty sure she was texting some fuckbuddy that it was a go tonight, which made you want to go over to- your mind relished this- Dio’s place even more. 

 You paused when choosing an outfit. You were no prude but you usually dressed a little more modestly- comfortably was a better word. Sweatpants, sweaters… jeans…. You weren’t a sorority girl by any stretch of the imagination. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have things in your arsenal. You decided on a dark green turtleneck sweater and paired it with a short black pleated skirt– something leftover from your dark academia phase and a little too short for you to usually consider it. A lot too short. But today? Oh, today it was perfect. 

 You added some thin see-through tights and some big black boots– you thought it would suit his style, draw him right in like a fly in a trap. After all, you had a convenient back door into some of the things he liked. You were a little self-conscious leaving your dorm but every time that creeping anxiety sent circus mice flipping in your stomach you thought of the noises he made when he fucked you, how he called you princess. It replaced those little circus mice with a burning white heat that made you walk with your shoulders squared and your head high.

 You beat him– and everyone else– to the classroom like usual, sank into your regular seat and waited. He was a little later getting to class than normal and other students had already begun to filter in, making you that much more enthused to see his response to your little outfit. He hurried in and set his things down, hardly noticing you, in a hurry because he was late (at least for him, he was). He got a few things up on the board and once he had all his things set out on his desk ready to begin, his eyes drifted over to you. And stopped. 

 He paused there, frozen– and the other students walking in might've mistaken it for him being lost in thought. But you could see his eyes were locked on your legs, stretched out beneath your desk and perfectly parted– not indecently of course, but enough to garner this reaction. His eyes flicked up to yours and you could see some of that heat there from the other day. Hook, line, and sinker.

 He turned back around and stared at the board for a moment as though consulting its wisdom. You knew– or at least hoped– he was trying to hide the half-boner he suddenly had. You could see his back rise and fall as he took a very deep breath. Definitely the second one then. You watched with sick triumph and a little grin you couldn’t help as he sat back down at his desk and made busy while the rest of the class filtered in. 

 After everyone was in, he got back up and started the lesson. He was doing so well– he didn’t give away any of what you could tell he was feeling. The tension, the… need. He kept his gaze pointedly away from you but every once in a while, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself and his eyes would drift in your direction, specifically your legs. And then he’d catch himself and quickly look anywhere else. You bit your lip to keep from laughing at him. 

 Towards the end of the lesson, he gave the class a worksheet and sat down to grade papers, a little more restrained with his casual glances. You pouted a little that a desk was now in your way, that he was practically hiding from you but worked on your worksheet diligently, sure there would be something in it for you afterward. The classroom phone rang suddenly and sharply through the quiet room and the professor jumped a little. 

 He picked it up, his voice a little jagged from jumping as badly as he did. “Hello, room 113?” He listened to the other end and after a long moment, his face went a little stoney. Unhappy. “I see,” he finally said. A few other students also picked up on his tone and watched him on the phone call, waiting to see what the news was. That giddy horny feeling in your stomach turned to dread as you watched his expressions change. He finally hung up the phone and the class waited with bated breath but he just went back to whatever he was doing, his mouth set in a grim line. 

 What in the hell was that phone call? 

 Class ended sooner than you expected– Professor Morrissey called it early and dismissed everyone. Told them to get an early jump on their homework. As the class emptied out, his eyes fell on you and stayed there– not on your eyes, but lower. The heat in your belly reignited and your heartbeat thrummed in your ears. He got up and gathered his things, his eyes flicking back to yours in a silent invitation. You jumped up and gathered your things and hurried up to the front of the room to meet him but he was already walking out, meaning you were practically jogging to keep up with his long-legged strides.    

He wasn’t giving you hardly any time to keep up, only slowing down once you fell more than five feet behind. You completed your routine, down the stairs, onto the bus- but when you moved to get off at your stop he grabbed your wrist. You froze and looked up at him wide-eyed but he didn’t even look at you, just gave your trapped wrist a squeeze. You stayed put, watching him a moment longer and then dropped your gaze, enjoying that his hand didn’t drop its hold on you.

 At the next stop he gave your wrist a little tug and then let go, moving for the door. You followed and noted that this stop was much closer to his apartment, just up the street from it. He continued with his faster pace, even though for him it seemed a normal pace– you’d never noticed how much he slowed himself down when you two were together simply so you didn’t have to chase after him like a small dog. He was already halfway inside his building when you reached the door. 

 You followed him up and into his apartment and he dropped his stuff just inside the door like last time, letting you come in and do the same. But once you had, he rounded on you and boxed you in, pinning you against the closed front door. All of the breath came rushing out of your chest as all of his weight was pressed against you and you looked up at him with wide startled eyes. 

 He regarded you with those deep brown irises, nearly black in this light, just looking you over, inches away from your face. “Did you think you could wear something like that to tease me?” he said lowly, eyes searching your face. All you could do was look up at him with wide eyes, heat flushing your face and other places. “I need an answer,” he said lowly, shifting against you, not so much grinding or anything but just shifting his hold and how he was resting his weight against you.

 “I- I- don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” you stammered out. You knew perfectly well what he meant. He let out a low rumbly noise, not a growl but a sound deep in his chest. You felt his hands grip your wrists and bring them up to pin them against the door on either side of your head, leaning in closer. You could feel his hot breath on your face. Everything was so hot and your skin was prickling and you couldn’t move, just trapped in this tiny space beneath him, his eyes roving over you, mostly your face– your eyes, your mouth, your throat-

 “Don’t pretend– don’t be a brat,” he murmured, leaning so close you thought he was going to kiss you– but he didn’t. And that was part of this act, this teasing. Holding you so close and not really doing anything at all but holding you there under his heavy stare. 

 "I- I don't know what you mean, D-Dio," you stuttered again. He purred low, squeezing your wrists, his nails biting into your flesh. "Let's stick with "sir" for now why don't we?" 

 He shifted against you again, pressing his hips into yours and holding you there firmly. "Say "yes, sir"," he chided lowly, looking up and down your body, eyes lingering on your skirt. 

 "Y- yes-" You moaned, getting lost in the pressure of his hips against yours, his hard cock pressed against you, making your breath catch. "Yes, what, princess? Yes, what?" He pushed your hands a bit higher against the door, above your head a little.

 You whimpered slightly, pushing your hips up towards him to get some sweet friction but he pulled away, his only contact his hands on yours. 

 "Say it," he murmured, eyeing you again, those dark brown eyes burning into you. "Yes- yes, sir, yes- sir," you gasped out, every inch of you on fire. 

 "Good girl," he mumbled as he came crashing in to kiss you deeply, pressing his whole frame against yours, crushing you against the door. You let out a stifled moan and kissed him back desperately, tugging at your hands which were still pinned but his hold on them didn't loosen. 

 The smell of him was in your mouth, in your nose- dark musk and a hint of spice, like pumpkin and cinnamon. He kissed you so sweetly and deeply, the complete opposite of his demeanor up to this point, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth to lick and taste you. He moaned softly against you and you replied with a moan, so responsive under his hands. 

 A second more and he was pulling you away from the door, refusing to break the connection he had with your mouth but walking you step by step back to the bedroom. 

 You followed willingly, letting him guide you, and laughed a little when he grunted, as he'd backed into the doorframe of his bedroom a little. He took the opportunity to pull you inside and push you lightly into the bed. You flopped down against it on your tummy, bent over the end of it. He steadied you with hands on your hips, holding you in that bent-over position. You bit your lip and minutely angled your ass so it was presented to him. 

 He let put a little purr and, left hand still resting on your hip, he moved his right hand up to rub at your ass. You moaned and pushed back against his hand, panting softly against his sheets. His hand started pushing your skirt up and he murmured, "Here's how this is going to go."

 "I'm going to spank you… for being such a teasing little slut all of class– after all, we should remain professional in public," he said, still rubbing at your ass. Your heart was thrumming in your ears now and there was a fiery tingle at the bottom of your stomach. 

 "I'm going to spank you and you're going to count. If you mess up, you start again. If you mess up twice… well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it but… you won't like it," he said in a deep low voice that made you shudder. He gave your ass a squeeze and said, "Say, "Yes, sir"," 

 "Y- yes, sir," you moaned. This was going to be hard. He leaned in closer, pressing his cock into your ass and hissed in your ear, "And no stammering or you begin again." You moaned again, panting softly, heart still racing. 

 He paused a moment and then gave your ass a swift spank. "I didn't hear a "yes, sir" princess," he hummed, clearly enjoying himself. You cried out at the strike, arching your back more to push your ass toward him. "Y- yes, sir-" You steeled yourself not to stammer again, "Yes, sir."

 "That's my good girl," he praised, rubbing at where he'd just smacked you before delivering another, slightly softer spank. He paused, waiting. 

 "One," you said firmly, fighting an unevenness in your voice. You could hear the smirk on his face when he said, "Very good." He spanked again, a little harder this time, his hand remaining on your ass to soothe it. You moaned at the thought of what kind of marks would be left on your ass from his pretty hands and his pretty rings-

 "Start again," he huffed, smacking you harder. You cried out again, the cry becoming a moan as you repeated, "One."

 He smacked again, making such a pretty fucking sound that made your cunt tingle. "Two," you panted out. 

 Another stroke, another moan from you. "Three," you choked out. He spanked again sharply. "Four," you gasped out, hips bucking. 

 "Fuck look at you," he murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over your ass again. He gave you another spank. "F-ive," you choked, hoping he wouldn't count it as a stammer. But he rubbed at your ass with a little groan, grinding into you, dragging his cock against your ass slowly. You listened to his breathing quicken and change, your ass stinging from the strikes.

"Look at you, good girl," he groaned, pulling back so he could roll you over onto your back. Once you were resituated he was upon you again, devouring you, kissing you hard and deep, his hands exploring. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer and holding him against you as you rolled your hips against him for friction, moaning into his mouth. He let you, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth again, tongues tangling. 

 Still kissing and licking at him, you reached for his hips, for his pants so you could start tugging at his belt eagerly. He let out a deep rumble and one of his hands grabbed yours, pausing against you, his hot breath hitting your face. 

 "Beg for it," he murmured against you, his eyes darker than before. You looked up at him wide-eyed, lips slightly parted and he leaned in to lick at your bottom lip. You shuddered softly and looked up at him again. "Beg," he repeated lowly.

 "Please," you found yourself whimpering up to him, your hand struggling against his hold, reaching for his belt again. "Please," you whined.

 He moaned softly and released your hand, letting you yank at his belt which elicited a grunt. He kissed your neck, nipping lightly as you undid buttons and zippers, tearing off his pants as much as you could. He reached down to help you, stepping out of the pants as he sucked a mark on your neck. 

 A moment later and he was inside you again, the size of his cock just as impressive as the first time. You gasped loudly and moaned and he moaned back, his eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, princess," he said softly. 

 You whined softly at the name, squeezing him lightly even though you were already tight around him. He hissed a little, gripping your shoulder, and then slowly he started to rock his hips against you, fucking you gently. You let out soft moans with each thrust until you adjusted to him, taking him more easily and pulling him closer with your hands. He kissed sloppily at your neck, still bucking into you. “You take me so well, princess, fuck- such a good girl for me-” 

 You moaned harshly as he nipped at the spot where your neck met your shoulder and moved a bit faster, fucking you harder. You dug your nails into his back, sure you were leaving marks which turned you on all the more. “P-please, Dio- I’m- I’m gonna-” 

 And then all at once he stopped, freezing mid-thrust and you blinked your eyes open at him, looking up. He was smirking down at you, panting softly, and just stopped. You whined, squirming, trying to get him to move, but he reached down and pinned your arms again. “What did we say about what you can call me?” he said lowly, leaning in really close and pressing the softest faintest kisses across your mouth and face. You moaned softly, clit still throbbing at how close you were, the coil in your gut still tight and sensitive. He gave a sharp rut and you let out a choked whimper, heart racing. 

 “P- please, sir, please- please- le- let me cum, please-” you begged. He slowly started moving again, taking his time to pick up speed, eyes on you the whole time. When you turned your head and let your eyes close again just to feel him, he said, “Look at me.” You did as he said and he kept his eyes on yours, fucking you harder. You could feel yourself drawing close again and you gasped softly, determined not to say anything so he couldn’t deny you again. But he caught it– and, as he watched your expressions closely, he was able to once again bring you right to the edge and then just halt, your pussy throbbing and aching without the sweet relief of orgasm. 

 You whimpered, a few tears drawing to your eyes at the neediness. “D- s-sir, please- please,” you whined, a few tears falling. He looked satisfied but softened a little, starting to move again. “Call me dio,” he mumbled to you, kissing at the fallen tears on your cheeks, licking them up as he thrust into you. “D- Dio, Dio, Dio, D- Dio-” 

 “Cum for me princess,” he commanded, moving his hips faster and reaching down to touch your clit. You could barely hold it back for that permission but once it was spoken you were over with. You came with a shout, your back arching, gripping onto him tightly in every sense, nails digging into his back. He gasped a little and fucked you through it, meeting his own shortly after. He laid on you for a moment before slowly pulling out with a hiss and shakily getting to his feet. You mewled at the loss but he disappeared out the bedroom door and all you could do was lay there trembling with overstimulation. 

 He came back quickly with a glass of water and a soft towel, which he used to clean you up before very gently feeding you the water, whispering soft “good girl” ‘s to you all the while. After he downed some water himself, he climbed into bed beside you and pulled you tightly into his chest, cradling you there like a teddy bear. You nestled in so softly and fell asleep, feeling safer than you ever had in your life.

[earlgreydream]

professor barnes.

| professor!bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

don’t mind me, I’m fantasizing about bucky being my hot professor ✨

cw: this is obviously a professor au, so there’s that (please don’t hook up with your profs irl) and also like, slight innocent kink? but not really, mild degradation (not meant)

You were tapping your pen against your lips.

You were deep in thought, hanging off of every word your professor spoke. You listened intently, taking in everything Professor Barnes had to say about World War II history.

History fascinated you, but not near as much as your sexy professor did. James Buchanan Barnes was nothing if not criminally gorgeous. It was distracting.

You really did try to focus on history, but it was so hard when you were watching his soft, full lips move. Occasionally, he would run his fingers through his dark hair, his muscles flexing under the white button downs he always wore.

“Miss Y/N!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts, your pen falling from your fingers and clattering against your desk. It seemed to echo as all of the other students looked at you. Silver eyes bore into you, and you swallowed thickly.

“Professor? I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” You asked shyly. He looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“I asked who the leader of the Soviet Union was during World War II.”

“Joseph Stalin,” you answered, feeling sick to your stomach at his irritated tone.

“Thank you. Let’s try to pay attention for the rest of the lesson, yeah?”

Your face burned in shame, and a few of the girls smirked at his scolding.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded before he went back to his lecture.

You took notes and kept your head down the rest of the lecture, your penmanship a bit messy from your shaking hands. You closed your notebook and put it away as he ended the lecture, and students rushed out, eager to get to their lunch breaks.

You realized you were the last one left, and you stood, making your way through the empty desks.

“Y/N,” Professor Barnes said your name, and you stopped.

“I’m sorry-” both of you said at the same time, and you bit your lip, letting him continue.

“It wasn’t my intention to shame you.” He finished, and you looked into his silver eyes.

“I’m sorry that I got distracted. I’ll pay better attention next time... I usually do.”

“I know, you’re exceptionally intelligent, Y/N.”

You blushed at the praise, and he offered a small smile, putting you at ease. You thanked him before leaving, thoughts of him filling your mind the rest of the afternoon.

James couldn’t stop watching you. He was lecturing on the USSR, but part of his mind was on you. The way you listened to him, careful not to let yourself get called out again for being distracted. He noticed how you tapped your pen against your pink lips whenever you were in thought.

His mind wandered to your lips around him, though he caught himself and cleared his throat, letting a student speak about their research on Soviet Russia.

When you stood up, you smoothed our your miniskirt that drove him crazy. He imagined yanking it down your legs and bending you over his desk, teaching you to pay attention.

He was drawn back to reality by your sweet smile as you said goodbye as you headed out for the day. The image of your smile stuck in his head, and he couldn’t get you off his mind.

Professor Barnes was the subject of your dreams. You woke up in the middle of the night, after your subconscious had imagined him with his head between your legs, eating you out on top of your desk before class. Your cheeks heated furiously, and you took a cold shower, scrubbing your fantasies away.

You fidgeted in your seat, second guessing your choice of wearing a tight v-neck shirt. You felt silly. You had paired it with a short skirt, all in the hopes that your hot professor would notice you.

But why would he? You were just one of many students attempting to grab a few extra seconds of attention. You were running over your choice of outfit in your head as your professor passed papers back to all of the students.

He laid yours on your desk, and you noticed the lack of letter circled at the top. You were about to stop him when you realized there was a sticky note on the second page.

Please see me in my office after class. JBB

You looked up at him, but he didn’t glance at you as he handed other students their papers. You noticed nothing was marked on your paper, and you suddenly felt nervous.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you walked to his office, stopping by the bathroom to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror. You were sure it was fine, you would’ve gotten an email if you’d truly fucked up, alerting you ahead of time, you tried to convince yourself.

You knocked softly on the doorframe, leaning into his office. It was small and warm, filled with well-loved books and scattered notes of a chaotic mind. It smelled like coffee and books and leather, and everything about the small space seemed inviting.

“Y/N, come in.” Professor Barnes stood up, waving me inside. I stepped in anxiously, pushing the door shut behind me before taking a seat in the chair opposite his desk.

“I saw your note, in my paper. Is something wrong? There was no grade on it, and I’ve been worried...” you confessed, looking up into his silver gaze. He walked around and leaned against the desk in front of you, his hands gripping the edge.

“No, nothing is wrong. In fact, your paper is practically perfect. It’s incredibly written.” His words surprised you.

As he praised you, he looked down at your chest, shown off in your tight, low cut shirt. He wondered if you knew what you did to him, the effect you had. He acted as if he were deep in thought, covering up the fact he accidentally looked at your body a little too long.

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say, I had no idea,” you spoke, and calling him sir made his cock twitch, and his breath catch in his throat.

“Of course. I wanted to talk to you to see if you were interested in publishing it in the school’s academic journal.”

“Oh? I mean, if that’s an option, then yes.”

“I can submit it for you, you’d just need to sign off saying that you grant permission for publication.” He explained to you, and you nodded, signing the form he placed in front of you.

You blushed, thinking about how he was directly in front of you, his body stretched out, muscles on display with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Your entire body grew hot with embarrassment when he caught you staring. 

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” His voice was low and smooth, and you could’ve sworn he read your mind. 

“Nothing, I’m...” You stammered, unsure of what to say. 

“You’re what, fantasizing?”

Your eyes snapped up to him, and his confidence grew as he saw your thighs squeeze together, giving away your thoughts.

“Professor...” You must have misheard him, and he smirked at how flustered you were getting.

“Is that a yes?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Wearing these little outfits and teasing me.” 

He knew. 

James knew he won when he saw realization flood your face. 

“I wear them for you,” you admitted shyly, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs as he gazed down at you.

“That’s what I thought, doll.” 

You bit your lip, looking down at your fingers.

“What do you imagine me doing to you, pretty girl? Do you think about me taking off these little skirts?” He asked you, trailing his fingers along the hem, brushing against your thigh. You inhaled sharply, your head spinning at the touch. You nodded, making him smile as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your cheekbone, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

“Tell me what you dream about, doll,” he whispered, and by now you were practically shaking.

“Now you’re going to be shy?” James teased, amused by how easily he made you nervous.

He stood abruptly when a knock sounded on the door, and he leaned back on the desk. Your eyes were wide, and you sat frozen, in shock.

“I’m finishing up with a student!” He called through the door.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” He asked, and you nodded, your breath hitching as he gently touched your face. You stood, and he opened the door for the other student.

“I’m sorry, I was just hoping to talk about my grade?” A girl asked, in tears, and he looked like he wanted to harm her for interrupting.

“Yes, come in then.” His tone was impatient, and you lingered in the doorway. James said your name, holding eye contact with you for a moment before going back to work, and you walked down the hallway in a daze.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You felt like you were dreaming, your erotic fantasies coming true. You weren’t able to focus on your work, and you went home for the remainder of the day.

When it came time for his class again, you wore a short dress with little straps, wanting to show off as much as possible for him.

Your heart and mind raced as you entered his classroom, and you smiled innocently when his eyes fell on you. The silver darkened, and he watched you move to your seat, and you squirmed under the heavy gaze.

James watched as you uncrossed your legs, catching a flash of the lace beneath your dress. He sat down behind his desk, trying to collect himself and tear his focus off of you.

He was thankful that there was no lecture today, only a short quiz before he sent everybody home. You bit the top of your pen as you thought about the answers on the sheet below you, and Bucky studied your mouth. Your cheeks warmed, feeling the heat of his intense stare, adjusting slightly under the pressure.

Finally, you looked up at him, and leaned forward on your desk so more of your chest was visible. On purpose. He cleared his throat, making several students glance at him, and you had to make yourself bite back a smirk.

Everyone dropped their quizzes on his desk, leaving once they finished. You were the last one done, and you set yours on top of the pile.

“Would you like to finish our conversation from Monday in my office?” Professor Barnes asked you calmly, and you nodded.

He walked behind you, making you lead the way to his office. You knew he was staring at your ass, barely covered by the dress you wore, and you turned as you heard the office door close behind you.

You dropped your bag and hopped up to sit on top of his desk. He tossed his own bag aside and clicked the lock on his door, letting his eyes slowly move over your body.

“Y/N, what am I going to do to you? You wore this slutty little dress to distract me, didn’t you?” He teased, walking to stand in front of you.

“Yes, professor. Do you like it?” You looked up at him for approval, and his small laugh graced your ears.

His fingers went to the thin straps resting on top of your shoulders, grazing down over your breasts before tweaking your nipples through the thin fabric.

You squealed softly, feeling chills throughout your body as he lightly pinched you, toying with you through the dress.

“Are you sensitive, doll?” He asked, and you nodded, your cheeks rosy at your eagerness.

“I’ve been thinking about you, and not been able to do anything about it, and I’m all pent up.” You offered an explanation for your sensitivity, and his eyes nearly rolled back from the innocent way you spoke to him. He wanted to absolutely tear you up and ruin you, and make you fall apart at his touch.

“Let’s see if I can help then,” he slipped the straps off of your shoulders, the dress falling down around your waist.

At the sight of your bare chest in front of him, an audible noise of need left his throat. Your professor knelt down in front of you, wrapping his lips around your sensitive skin. Your chest rose and fell quickly with your heavy breathing, and his hand squeezed and fondled the side that wasn’t in his mouth.

“Please!” You were nearly desperate, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs as you grew more and more needy.

“Tell me what you want, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you didn’t care about the embarrassment anymore, and he smiled as he left heavy kisses down the column of your throat.

He couldn’t draw out the teasing anymore. He was painfully hard and the sight of you alone and your filthy words were driving him wild.

You had managed to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing an incredibly toned chest, and he undid his belt, pulling it easily from the loops. He snapped it as he tossed it aside, and you jumped at the noise, making him smirk.

“Maybe we can try that another time,” he watched an anticipatory shudder ripple down your spine.

“Do I get an A for this?” You teased, undoing the button and zip on his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear.

“Very cute,” he smacked your thigh lightly in response, making you jerk at the touch.

He slipped the dress over your head, discarding it along with his own clothing, leaving you in just lace panties on his desk.

He traced his fingertips over the damp lace, making you squirm on the desktop. You rolled your hips forward, eager for stimulation. He hummed disapprovingly at the action, pulling his touch away.

His hands held your waist as he carefully laid you down on the cleared wooden desktop, and you looked up at the stunning man above you.

“Please don’t tease me anymore, professor. I want you to fuck my pussy, please,” you begged, and he removed the lace in one quick movement.

“Relax, doll, I’m going to take care of you,” James answered gently, kissing down your body.

He hands wrapped around your thighs and he pulled you so that you were at the edge of the desk, your feet on top of the surface so you were spread open for him.

He leaned down and connected your lips, consuming you in a deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers lightly began to rub at your clit, making sure you were relaxed enough to take him in.

“I need you to be quiet beautiful, so all the students outside don’t hear those pretty screams for me.” He warned, kissing a line down your jaw.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck.”

You felt him brush his tip against your entrance before thrusting into you, and you struggled to adjust around him as he bottomed out. You held in a loud cry, arching your back, and pushing your chest up into his face as you did so.

Your breath hitched as he rocked into you, and he thrusted a bit faster, hitting all the deep places inside of you. He watched you struggle to ground yourself, your hands eventually holding his thick arms as he slammed into you repeatedly. You were smooth and tight around him, squeezing and contracting as he hit your g-spot.

“James, fuck,” the profanity tumbled from your pretty lips as his hips connected with yours. He wrapped a hand around your throat, keeping you down but not quite choking you.

The action caused you to spasm around him, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand around your neck.

“Do you like that? Do you like me holding you down by your throat? You dirty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathed softly under his grip, your thighs trembling weakly around his waist. You started to shake as waves of pleasure overwhelmed your body. 

“Are you close?” He knew the answer, but he enjoyed seeing you fight to try to form words through the fucked-out haze that had settled in your mind.

“Answer me doll, or I’m going to stop,” James threatened, and you nodded.

“Yes, I’m so close!” Your soft whine was like music to him, and he dropped his free hand between the two of you.

He kept up his thrusts while playing with your clit, trying to pull your orgasm from you. He could feel your muscles tighten and threaten to snap around him, and you just needed a little help letting go. You were begging him softly, your eyes bleary as you cried for release. James wanted to feel you come around him, and was more than happy to help, squeezing lightly around your throat and pinching your nerves, the combination causing the pressure to snap. Your vision sparkled with color, electricity shooting through every nerve ending in your body. You threw your head back from the pleasure, and a hard thrust into your g-spot sent you spiraling into euphoria.

You came around him with a silent scream, and he struggled not to follow suit, and fill up your warm pussy. He released you as he felt you ride out the end of your orgasm, and he pulled out, coming all over your torso in several white ribbons.

You watched him in a daze, and once he finished, he gave you another quick kiss. You sighed softly, exhaustion starting to set in. His gentle smile made warmth spread over your body, and for a moment you forgot that you were lying naked on top of his desk.

He cleaned himself before cleaning you up, being gentle with you.

“Y’alright?” James asked, smiling at your soft yawn. You nodded, pulling the lace back up your legs and reaching for your dress. He handed it to you once you sat up, and helped you fix it.

Your fingers slipped the buttons of his shirt back in their holes, despite the fact that your hands were still a bit shaky. You felt all worn out, feeling like you could sleep for days and ride the dreamy feeling that was left in your mind.

He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you held his arm when you stood up, trying to steady yourself. You looked up at him shyly, and he placed his hand on your lower back.

“For the next time.” Professor Barnes said, putting his number in your phone before giving you a kiss. 

[mercy-burning]

Incredible

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Professor!Spencer sparks a connection with a spunky student. Category: FLUFF (of the spicy variety, so I’d rate it PG-13) Warnings: Adults with age gap (Reader is in her early 20s), language, flirting, making out, a brief mention of oral sex Word Count: 8.7k

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

Full Request: “...Okay so prof/student, and reader is so badass, has tattoos, flirt all the time, but like hate everybody except spencer, and he loves that she is so different, intriguing, dark and touchy? But like everyone in spencer life thinks that she’s using him, because of her grades, and also because they are “so different” but like they love each other, so she makes a big gesture and says fuck all of you, I love him and it’s the only thing that matters, and spencer is like heart eyes” —Anonymous

NOTE: My first go at Professor!Spencer! This is a favorite trope of mine, so I loved finally getting to delve into it myself. I hope I did it justice! Also, the original title for this was “Bad For You” and it was supposed to be a little different, but it went in a different direction than I was intending. I still hope it’s okay though!

***

Truthfully, the first time she showed up in his classroom he had a feeling. It was a feeling he didn't get very often, therefore he wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that when she sat down in the front row, all the way on the right, keeping to herself, he just felt that there was something special about her.

The obvious reasoning behind this newfound feeling was most likely the multiple tattoos that adorned her skin, and the flashy, attention-grabbing makeup that surrounded her eyes and lips, but as the semester progressed, Spencer started to realize her academic confidence was taking hold of most of his attention. Sure, she stood out in the crowd, completely different from anyone else who'd entered his classroom, and without a doubt one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen. But rather than scrolling through her phone while waiting for class to start each morning, she brought out a book to read or notes to study or something else to keep her busy. If anything else, yes, he admired her work ethic, at least what he could see of it.

And as time progressed, he'd come to see her succeeding more in his class than almost anyone else. Under normal circumstances, it would have been all good and plenty, but as it turned out, Y/N was anything but normal.

The first... incident happened not long after the first week of the semester, and a group of other girls were sitting next to Y/N. Class would start in close to five minutes, and students were still filing in while the group was having a rather... interesting conversation.

Spencer had had a feeling about what it was pertaining to, but his suspicions were confirmed the second he heard Y/N's voice, loud and clear.

"For the love of God, if you're gonna talk about him like he's a hot piece of ass right in front of him, you might as well shout it from the rooftops."

He looked up to see she hadn't lifted her head from the book she was reading as she said it, flipping a page half-way through her tangent and looking unbothered, despite the connotations of her words.

Rather than being upset at her, like he figured most girls in their situation would, they all stayed silent the rest of the time and barely looked anyone in the eye.

The moment Y/N realized she had them, Spencer noticed a small smirk on her face.

Class ended about forty minutes later, and just as the bell rang, he called out.

"Uh, Y/N, could I speak to you for a second?"

She looked up at him for a brief second before nodding, and even though mostly everyone in the classroom laid out a chorus of Oooohs, she still managed to look unbothered. In fact, he could have sworn he noticed her roll her eyes for just a split second.

She packed up her things and waited for everyone to leave. And as she approached him finally, Spencer felt a slight twist in his stomach at the way she did it, her expression somewhat worrisome despite her show of confidence earlier.

"Hey," she greeted plainly. Her hands clutched onto the strap of her bag so tightly her tattooed hands looked almost pale.

"Y/N," he greeted back. "I, uh... I'm not sure exactly what happened before class, but—"

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said anything, it was probably rude embarrass them like that, but it was rude of them to talk about you like that right in front of you."

Spencer paused, not really sure how to respond other than to nod. "Well, uh... I... Thank you, I appreciate that."

"Besides, they're only auditing anyway, it's not like they actually care about the subject. I mean, c'mon, if you're gonna verbally daydream about sucking your professor's dick while he's standing right in front of you, you should at least have the decency to give a shit about what he's taking time out of his day to teach you."

Well... That certainly hasn't been what he was expecting. With eyes wide and hands starting to sweat, Spencer tried to think of how to respond, but came up short. But he had to say something, so he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I appreciate your honesty."

Y/N smiled at him. It was a genuine smile that he hadn't seen, and he wished he could see it a thousand times over.

"Well, then, Sir, can I tell you something in all honesty?"

"Always."

She looked him up and down for a moment, his heart involuntarily swelling at the way her eyes raked over him with somewhat of a mischievous gleam. "You are a hot piece of ass. And I give a shit about what you're taking time out of your day to teach me. Thank you for that."

Without another word, she turned away and walked off, leaving him with a dropped jaw that slowly transformed into an amused smile.

Two days later, a Friday to be exact, Y/N showed up a few minutes early as she had every Friday prior. Spencer turned to give her a kind smile, but she didn't look up. She promptly sat down in her seat and got out a book, finding her page and leaning back in her seat.

He didn't want to interrupt, but still he offered a bright, "Good morning," and took the chance that she might offer him a greeting back.

She did glance up from her book, following it with a little smirk and a wink. And just as quickly as it came and went, she started reading again, almost as if the greeting had never happened.

"What are you reading?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Y/N didn't look up this time. But she said, "The Da Vinci Code."

"Oh," he responded, happy he'd even gotten an answer at all. "I've never heard of it."

This time she did look up. And she looked highly amused. "You've never heard of The Da Vinci Code? Not even the movie?"

Since they were looking at each other now, Spencer only shook his head.

"Seriously?" Y/N pressed, tilting her head to the side.

"Seriously. What's it about?"

She simply stared at him some more, and he figured it was still shock over his cluelessness when it came to The Da Vinci Code, but something about the look on her face said it was something else. Something more... devious.

Finally, she said, "I'm not gonna tell you." And then she went back to reading.

He should have left it at that, should have just moved on, but he couldn't help himself. So he pressed further. "Why not?"

Y/N looked up again, and then she closed the book. "Because if it's seriously taken you this long to even hear the name of the book, or the movie, then maybe it's just not your thing."

"Well, Y/N, truth be told, there's a lot in modern pop culture that I don't know about, so... That might not be true."

The two of them held gazes for a few seconds, just completely... captivated by each other in ways neither of them had experienced or could explain. He was in awe of her blunt and snarky presence, and she was utterly taken with his modern naivete.

When she repeated his words from the day before, "I appreciate your honesty," and smiled wickedly at him, he smiled back and almost fell to his knees.

Then students started to come into class and Y/N looked down at her book, which she seemed to have forgotten that she closed, because she actually blushed and fumbled getting it open quickly, obviously not as smooth as she'd always been.

The sight made Spencer's heart flutter.

Once class ended, he looked up to see Y/N standing at his desk and holding out her book. "Here. You should read it."

"Oh, I—I can find my own copy, I— You're reading it, I couldn't..."

Y/N huffed a laugh. "I've read it like five times already, I practically have the entire thing memorized. Just give it back when you're done."

He took the book with a smile. "Well, I have just a bit of paperwork to get done, but after that I'm good to go, so if you come by at the end of the day, I can give it to you then."

She blinked at him, and for a few moments neither of them said anything.

"Oh, I, uh... I read fast," is all Spencer said to explain himself.

Y/N nodded and glanced up at the clock above his head. "Oh. Ha. Right, of course you do. Um, I'll, uh... I'll come back, then. Professor."

The title falling from her lips would have ruined him completely had she stayed any longer, but again, she walked away without another word or glance, and it left him breathless.

There was a point, later on in the day when she came back to get her book, where he'd left her equally as breathless.

He was flipping through pages at light speed, and he didn't even notice her come in and sit down in the chair across from his desk. She sat there for a good two minutes, just watching him flipping pages and muttering silent words to himself, completely unaware of her presence. She'd seen him concentrating before, grading papers while the class was taking quizzes and such, but she'd never been able to study him for more than a few seconds at a time, and as she'd deduced before, it was extremely captivating.

He was extremely captivating. And she told him as much.

Kind of.

"Look at you go," she mused, leaning forward on his desk and resting her chin in her hands.

Spencer jumped, sliding the book so it hit her elbows, and she laughed.

"Y/N, you scared me!" he gasped, clutching at his chest with his right hand. "Ho—how long have you been there?"

"A few minutes. I would've stopped you but you looked like you were in the zooone." Her fingers wiggled and tapped across her cheeks as her face still rested in her palms. A huge smile played at her lips, and despite almost being scared to death, Spencer found himself growing warmer at her amused self.

"Yeah, I guess I was," he stated, bringing his hands to slide the book back to him. He looked down at it for a moment before smiling. "I was actually re-reading it for a third time. After the first I went back to look at the notes I took, and after going through them pretty thoroughly I applied some..."

As he rambled on about the process in which he read, Y/N found herself in an even deeper trance than before. She wished more than anything that she could have payed attention to his words, so she could have a discussion about her favorite book with him, but his passion and commitment to something he didn't even know about until earlier in the day, much less something she of all people just threw at him, was just so...

"Doctor Reid?" she interrupted, almost slipping out of her hands when he stopped and tilted his head, suddenly invested in what she had to say. "Can I stop you for a second?"

"Oh.. Was I going too far? I'm sorry, as you know I tend to ramble quite a bit sometimes, and I know it can be a bit much..."

"No, that's not it. I've... gotta be honest with you about something."

"Hmm?"

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table and searching his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't hear a single word you just said. And I promise it's not because I'm not interested in having this conversation about The Da Vinci Code, it's... something else."

"What's wrong?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, and equally as clueless, and it did things to her insides that she hadn't felt with anyone in... well, ever.

"What's wrong is that I hate everybody. Well, hate is a strong word, and I only mean pretty much everybody that goes to school here, anyway, and it's been that way ever since my Freshman year. And yet... Somehow, I end up with this class, and in almost no time at all you've managed to learn more about me than anyone I've ever met in my three years here."

"Well... I—I'm an educator, I... it's my job to somewhat know my students."

"No, it's your job to teach me. Any other professor would have chewed my ass for saying what I said the other day, and instead you... well... I don't really know what that was the other day, but I didn't get in trouble for it. And then today you actively asked me about what I was reading and genuinely took interest in something you'd never even heard of before... And then you..." She threw her hands in the air. "You fucking read my favorite book three whole times in one day and took notes on it... Seriously, who... Who are you?"

Spencer wasn't sure what to say. Especially when all he wanted to do in that moment was tell her to keep talking to him. He found that he loved when she talked. Even when she was trying to figure him out, to understand why she'd been completely flipped inside and out by a man that was at least 20 years older than her.

Especially considering that on paper, the two of them didn't look like a conventional pair. He was tall, lean, and structurally beautiful in all the right ways, where as she was closed off and beautifully stand-offish. His skin was clear of anything and hers was adorned with tens of tattoos. His clothes were always formal and neat, while hers consisted of only jeans and plain tees and long sleeves.

If anyone saw them together, it wouldn't have made sense.

They both knew this, and yet...

"I am... utterly enchanted by you," Spencer said without thinking. He didn't have to. it was the truth.

Y/N's shoulders slumped, as if some sort of weight had been lifted from them. She smirked a little. "And I am... strangely not indifferent to you."

"Uh... Thanks?"

She laughed, genuinely laughed, and stood up. "That's a compliment, Doctor. A very good compliment."

That mischievous smile of hers returned, and it made his stomach turn over again, his own smile never wavering, and conveying every sense of wonderment that it could.

"I know this might be... unprofessional... And we definitely shouldn't do anything on school property, but... Would you maybe want to, uh... go get coffee or something some time this weekend?" he asked, trying his hardest not to feel small around her big personality.

"What, to discuss The Da Vinci Code, or to go on a date?"

By the look on her face, it was obvious that she knew they couldn't call it a date. As long as they were professionally involved like this, an actual date could never be on the table. But it seemed to be in her... rather playful nature to suggest it anyway.

The thought made his heart flutter again. Still, he said simply with a knowing smile, "To discuss The Da Vinci Code."

She nodded, throwing her bag over her shoulder and getting ready to leave. "Fine. But just so you're aware, there won't be anything stopping me from zoning out and staring at your beautiful face from time to time."

With all the truth in the world, he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

***

His middle finger tapped incessantly on the cool, wood surface of the picnic table in the park. It wasn't ideal to meet this far away from the nearest parking lot, but the little spot was far enough away that he was positive no one would see him meeting his student for lunch—a lunch she offered to bring despite his insisting on paying for food. In the end, it was clear that Y/N was more stubborn than he was.

That excited him.

Speaking of excitement, the moment he spotted her walking into sight, his heart rate picked up. And at the powerful surge of butterflies that swarmed in his stomach, he mentally berated himself for even feeling that way.

This was not a date.

And just when he thought he had things under control, she finally reached the table, set down a brown paper bag, and flashed him the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. Her hair was up in a low ponytail with small strands of hair sticking out and blowing in the light breeze. She wore jeans and a tight lavender tee shirt that ended just above her navel, and it had the word "Wednesday" printed on it in black block letters. It wasn't Wednesday, which equally confused and amused him, though because he'd already found her personality amusing enough, what she wore didn't matter.

Except... the more he took her in the more it really did matter, because he noticed more tattoos, which where usually covered with long sleeves and jackets, most likely as requested by the university. But under the soft glow of the September sun, he could clearly see a collage of tattoos running up her left side, disappearing under her shirt. Where it ended, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long, or he was afraid the mental images would turn his brain to mush.

Obviously he couldn't do that.

"Hey'a, Professor," she said with a little wink as she took a seat across from him.

"P—please. Outside the classroom, just Spencer is fine."

She gave him a knowing smirk and simply stated, "Okay," though there was nothing simple about it. Her words had an effect on him, and she knew how to play them to her advantage.

But she was apparently in the mood to be nice today, at least for now. Because she peeled back her playful tone and revealed something more friendly. Simple. She tilted the bag towards him and nodded.

"I brought us some subs, as requested. I hope I got your order right."

"I'm sure it's fine. Thank you."

Attempting to keep his cool around her, Spencer remained quiet as they ate. He also avoided looking at her for too long, because every time he did catch her eye she was staring at him, obviously amused as she finished off her sandwich.

But of course, at some point one of them needed to speak. Right?

So he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "It's uh... It's really nice out today, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look that almost sent him flying backwards. "If that was you attempting to break the ice, Spencer, it was completely adorable... If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous."

"I—No, I'm not nervous, wh—why would you think that?"

"Because you can barely look me in the eye, and then the first thing you say to me when we're finished eating is about the weather..."

She raised her eyebrow then, giving him ample opportunity to explain. So he sighed, a rather embarrassed laugh escaping his lips. "I'm sorry, it's just... You're kind of intimidating."

She gave another laugh, one that made his heart soar higher every time he heard it. "Oh please! You're my hot professor, if anything you should be the intimidating one here."

It was his turn to laugh. "Y/N, believe me, if you really knew me, you'd know I'm probably one of the least intimidating people on the planet."

There was a long pause before she nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. "Well, then, maybe I should get to know you..."

Despite the tugging in the back of his mind that said it was a bad idea to form this close of a relationship with one of his students, especially one who made him feel all warm and fiery inside, he found himself smiling back in agreement.

***

The sun was setting by the time Spencer walked her back to her car. And after dropping off their garbage at one of the public trash bins, he found the walk rather calming. The breeze picked up a bit, somewhat settling the fire in the pit of his stomach as she talked to him about The Da Vinci Code. And then there was the fact that they'd actually spent hours talking, so much so that they hadn't even realized how late it had gotten. Needless to say, it was extremely rare for Spencer to find that type of connection to someone, the type that allowed him to speak back and forth so easily and without regret or embarrassment.

He was thinking about how nice that was when they finally stopped. In front of a motorcycle.

"Is... Wait, this is yours?" he asked her, obviously shocked but more disappointed that he hadn't guessed sooner, and probably a little too turned on than was appropriate.

"Yep," Y/N said proudly, tapping the glinting black metal. "It was a high school graduation present from my mom. She and I used to build motorcycles when I was growing up, and when we moved to the city it got pushed to the backburner. But I love this bike, I ride it everywhere."

"That's... Wow. That's nice." It was really all he could think to say as he looked at the bike and nowhere else. Because if he looked at her, especially standing next to the bike, it was sure to spell out disaster.

"So, where'd you park?" Y/N asked, pulling him from his trance.

"O—Oh. Um, I didn't. I took the train."

He didn't fully realize the weight of his words until a devious smile played at her lips. "Oh? Well... Do you want a ride home?"

"No! Uh... No, I can... I can take the train, it's not a big deal. Th—thank you though."

Despite his better judgement, Spencer looked up at her, and before him was a beautiful young woman with a gleam in her eyes and a pout on her lips that would have destroyed any man in a matter of seconds. Her hand was outstretched, dangling a shiny silver helmet from her fingers. It glinted in the soft orange glow of the sunset, tempting him in the most evil way possible.

"You've been so good to me, Professor. Let me take you home."

At this point, he had no idea whether or not she meant her words to sound as seductive as he'd heard them. His brain screamed, No! but... In the end he knew she was only being nice. She had to be... But it's not safe! Do you know how many motorcycle accidents there are per year?

Before he could stop himself, he sighed and took the helmet from her hands. "A—Are you sure?"

All his reservations were worth it to see the beaming, toothy smile that she gave him right then. "Of course! Besides, who wants to ride the train home for the thousandth time when you could ride a kickass motorcycle instead?"

He put the helmet on, laughing along with her though deep inside he was more than a little terrified. He'd never been on a motorcycle before— it wasn't ever something he thought about. And now he was about to get on the back of one with his student, who had tattoos and spunk and just about everything he didn't. She was incredibly pretty and smart, and now he was learning that she was a total badass in somewhat of a traditional sense as well.

Y/N climbed onto the bike and nodded at him to get on behind her. Thankfully she wasn't able to see how incredibly awkward he felt getting on, scooting up to press himself to her back and figuring out where to rest his hands.

"A couple rules," she said, taking the key from her pocket. "One: I need to know where you live."

"O—Oh, right."

He told her and then she nodded. "Good. I know where that is. Rule two: Try not to adjust yourself too much, it could throw us off. But honestly you don't have to worry about that. As long as you hang on to me, you'll be just fine."

"O—Okay. How should I, um..."

With a small laugh, Y/N reached behind her and grabbed his arms, bringing them around to her front. His stomach flipped at her touch, even long after it was gone.

"Hang on as tight as you need to, got it?" she called to him

"Okay."

"Good. Now. Final rule. Have fun. Look around. Feel the wind in your hair."

"But I'm wearing a helmet..."

Y/N started the bike then, and he jumped, bringing himself closer and squeezing her tightly. His face nestled into her neck as best as he could without distracting her, though she didn't seem phased by it in the least.

"You know what I mean," she called out to him. "You ready, Professor?"

"I think so!" he called back, squeezing his eyes shut despite her final rule.

"Alright, we're off!"

The bike lurched forward a few seconds later, and it took everything Spencer had not to yelp. He wasn't sure how tightly he clung to Y/N but as long as they were still going, he figured it was okay.

It was colder suddenly, and he knew that they were moving at a decent speed. So he took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, seeing buildings and trees go by in a flash. But the longer they rode around town, the easier he found it to breathe. While his grip around Y/N's front was still fairly tight, he'd definitely loosened up a little, and she could tell. His head was turning from side to side, looking at just about everything he could, and she couldn't see it, but he was smiling wide the whole time.

It was exhilarating. It was fun. And he couldn't remember the last time he had this much genuine fun, all worries completely erased from the mind and replaced with silent whoops of joy.

And then they stopped outside his apartment, and once the loud rumbling of the bike silenced, leaving his ears with a low thumping beat that raced alongside his heart, Spencer finally loosened his grip on Y/N completely. He got off the bike and whipped the helmet off, blood rushing through his veins like he'd just fallen out of an airplane.

He paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Y/N to put the bike in park and get off, and truthfully she was a little nervous. It was definitely weird giving your professor a ride home on your motorcycle, not to mention the added obvious sexual tension between you that shouldn't be there at all. She wondered if maybe she crossed a line, and she chewed her lip nervously as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Spencer?" she called out softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm..." He stopped pacing and ran his hands through his hair, which was already pretty wild after being under the helmet— which was currently on the sidewalk.

Great, Y/N thought, I fucked up big time...

But he laughed, a wide smile adorning his pretty features as he looked at her. "I'm fantastic! Y/N, that was.. I can't believe I've never done that before! We weren't even going that fast, but it felt like we were flying!" He laughed then, the sound bringing a relieved smile to her face. And then he took a step closer to her and the relief quickly transformed into genuine joy and contentment.

"That was... incredible," Spencer breathed, his smile never faltering. "You... You're incredible."

She was going to thank him, but before she could say anything he strode to her in two steps and brought her face to his in a searing kiss.

Searing... That's exactly what it was, too. Y/N whimpered into his mouth at his intensity, the way his hands dwarfed the sides of her head and the way his lips moved feverishly against hers. She slipped her hands into his back pockets and brought him closer, her touch jolting him forward and walking them back over to the bike. They stumbled a bit before Y/N was able to gently lean against it.

Meanwhile Spencer couldn't contain himself. By now he was consumed in this fire that she'd set within him, burning down his every defense and sense of logic. He couldn't get enough of her, the way her hands kneaded his ass through his pockets, and how her tongue perfectly collided with his in every way. Each little moan and whimper she let out into his mouth spurred him forward until his fingers were threading into her hair, loosening her ponytail and no doubt gently tugging at her scalp.

If that bothered her, she didn't let on, her hunger matching his in every way.

Eventually, though, she felt herself leaning back too much, and she brought her hands out of his pockets to gently brace herself on the bike, steadying them.

But that didn't slow them down in the least. Truthfully, they weren't sure if they'd ever stop, drinking each other up right there as a few cars went by and the sun set behind them.

It wasn't until Spencer moved one of his hands down to her hip, searching for bare skin, fingers slowly sliding their way farther up her side, when a chorus of, "Ow ow owwww"s and whistles and hollers sounded behind them. He pulled away rather quickly, Y/N's teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he saw a truck full of teenagers whizzing past. They honked their horn and continued hollering until they rounded the corner, and by then the fire in his veins had significantly simmered.

He stepped away from her completely, combing through his hair and blinking, trying to collect his thoughts. But they came out as a jumbled mess. "I'm.. We shouldn't ha... I'm sorry... Y/N, that..."

"I—I know..." is all she said, still bracing herself on the bike.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying hard not to look at her. She was obviously rattled, though he thought she didn't mind. In fact, he was pretty sure by the way she was looking at him right then that she was ready to continue what they started, though she didn't do anything about it.

She did say, though, "It's okay. I'll, uh... See you Monday."

"Y—Yeah. Monday... Thanks f—for the ride."

His whole body was numb, fuzzy as she finally moved, walking over to her helmet and picking it up. She put it on and sat on the bike, putting the key in ignition before turning to him one last time and saying two words that sure enough ignited the fire again.

"Anytime, Spencer."

Long after she sped off around the corner, out of sight but most certainly not out of mind, he stood there on the sidewalk, his lips burning and his heart racing.

***

He wasn't sure what to expect on Monday, save for inevitable awkwardness between them, but he certainly wasn't expecting to see Y/N walk into the classroom early that morning with a box in her hands.

"Before you say anything, I just want to disclose that I'm willing to not make things weird," she announced as she made her way over to his desk. She set the box down, revealing six chocolate-frosted donuts with sprinkles. "You said you liked these the other day, so I brought some as a gift... You know, to... apologize."

"Oh, Y/N, you... You don't hav—"

"No. Please, just... Look, I didn't realize it at the time, because for a moment you weren't my professor, you were... You were my friend. And I know now that insisting to let me take you home was less than professional, and I'm sorry. I really was just trying to be nice, but I... I shouldn't have..."

"Y/N, I... kissed you... I'm the one who should apologize for being unprofessional. Really, I don't... I don't know what happened, I just..."

"Adrenaline... You... You were exhilarated and happy, and there was obvious chemistry between us that wouldn't have gotten that far if I hadn't asked you to hop on my bike, so... I'm sorry."

They both looked around, hoping it was still too early for anyone to show up, and then Spencer sighed, looking down at the donuts. "I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the first place. I... I do want to have a connection with my students, but that's not... That wasn't my intention. I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry."

Y/N sighed, taking a donut from the box. "You know, we can't keep apologizing back and forth like this... So... Can we call it even? We're both sorry, we both fucked up, and we both promise to... act like it never happened?"

"Is... that what you want?" he asked softly, not entirely bringing his head up to look at her, but looking at her through his eyelashes.

His gaze sent a course of butterflies through her stomach, and she hated it. She hated that she was growing fond of her hot professor and that she couldn't stop thinking about his lips on hers and what they'd feel like roaming other places on her body— more specifically, over the tattoos on her skin that she always found him staring at from time to time. She hated that he was charming and pretty and smart, and she hated that he gave a shit about her.

That's why her throat burned like acid when she lied. "Yes. That's what I want."

And for the sake of professionalism, he was inclined to believe her, even though deep down his heart knew that she was lying to him. "Alright then. Thank you for the donuts."

She smiled, trying not to shake as she held her donut up in the air. "Anytime, Professor."

Then she took a bite and walked to her seat, the two of them eating in silence while they waited for class to start

***

The next two weeks went by seemingly slower and slower by the second. If it were a normal situation, Spencer and Y/N going back to their normal student-teacher routine would have been a good thing. And in a way, it most certainly was. However, they both felt plagued by their distance in a way that hadn't been so daunting in a long time.

Almost every day the girls behind Y/N would continue talking about their professor (quieter this time, though still loud enough that she could hear for herself). And every time they did, her thoughts inevitably dragged back to his lips on hers, soft and hard all at the same time, a feeling she knew she'd never be able to experience again. And then she'd glance up at him, seeing him concentrate as he graded papers or read a book, and her insides would burn once more, a reminder of everything she couldn't have.

Likewise, Spencer would be lecturing, glance over at Y/N by happenstance, and that low simmer returned to his veins, begging him to turn back now or re-enter the dark cloud of desire that threatened to ruin his career. He was thankfully able to recover quickly, though not without trying to quell the heat that flooded through his body at the remembrance of her kisses.

Each day was like a ticking time bomb. They waited until the semester was over— hopefully they wouldn't have to see each other and all could have been forgotten. But the days didn't want to fly. They wanted to ride on the back of a snail, just slugging along until it was almost painful to experience.

Even still, Spencer and Y/N went about their days until the semester was one week away from finishing.

It was Monday, class was just about to end, and then he called her over while everyone was chatting amongst themselves.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Nonetheless, she made her way to his desk with as much normalcy as possible, and the closer she got to him, the warmer she got. It was exhausting, really.

"What's up?" she asked blankly.

"I just wanted to... congratulate you on your work. Truthfully, you've exceeded just about everyone else in terms of quiz and test scores, your work ethic is above average from what I've seen in most students... You're smart,, and you know the material really well. And... A colleague of mine and I are attending a seminar on profiling in New York, and I think you should come with. Present your final essay to the group."

Y/N blinked a few times. "Wait... You're serious?"

"Mhm. I've showed your work to my colleagues and they're all impressed by you. I'm... not exactly sure what your plans for your future are, but I really think you have something special here. And if... If it's not something that interests you, at least consider coming to the seminar anyway. Regardless, your work is exceptional and I think you should be proud of it. I... I know I am..."

The bell rang then, and everyone filtered out as Y/N stood there awkwardly, thinking everything over.

"I don't need an answer right away, but the seminar is on Saturday, so any time before then would be great. Think about it?"

She looked around to make sure no one was around before speaking, her throat tight. "You're not... just saying this because of... what we did? I mean, you really think I'm... I'm good enough to do this?"

Spencer's eyes softened, and against his better judgement, he reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I really do. I wasn't lying, you're exceptionally smart and you really could have a future in the FBI, not even as a profiler if you don't want to. But as always, it's your decision. All I'm asking is that you take some time to think about it. Is that okay?"

Y/N always knew that despite the attraction they had to each other, Spencer was a professional first, and he always did encourage her in her studies. She knew he saw something in her, something bright and worth teaching, worth growing, and in that moment, that's what his eyes conveyed. He truly believed in her, not because—or even in spite—of the forbidden moments and feelings they shared, but in addition to them. If anything their feelings were considered the addition here. Because while, yes, their bodies were buzzing at proximity to one another, their heads and their hearts were more connected in that moment than anything, with sheer understanding and care and belief for one another that extended past physical attraction.

Y/N smiled, nodding. "Okay. But I don't need to think about it. I'll go."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to say yes if you don't wa—"

"Yes. I'm sure. A—And thank you, Sp—ah, Professor. I... Thank you." She laughed a little, possibly the most flushed she'd ever been around him, and it made him smile

"Of course."

***

One thing they didn't really put into consideration was the fact that the semester was now over.

It was Saturday, the morning of the seminar, and Y/N was scheduled to fly with Spencer and his colleague, Doctor Tara Lewis, to New York City. Currently, Dr. Lewis was asleep, on the other side of the jet, and Y/N and Spencer were left awake, sitting across from each other and completely buzzing with energy.

You could see why this might have been a problem they hadn't considered.

Y/N wasn't technically his student anymore, and they'd became well aware of the fact after she showed up at the BAU, where she met the rest of Spencer's co-workers and friends. His family, from all she'd heard. And there was a conversation she couldn't help but overhear after they were soon set to leave.

"Now I know why you really brought her along." The voice belonged to Luke Alvez. She was sure of it— his voice was hard to forget. Especially when it was laced with suggestion.

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

As cute as his cluelessness was, Y/N couldn't help the bubbles of nerves that erupted  throughout her body like a torpedo shooting through water.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, man. Sure, she's smart, and we all know it. But if what you've told us is true, she's also Mystery Motorcycle Mama."

"Wha—How do you know that?" Spencer exclaimed, obviously a little worried. Y/N couldn't say she blamed him.

"Oh, come on, a woman looking like that shows up, you expect me not to believe she's the one you made out with on the street? It wasn't hard to figure out."

The fact that he'd even told someone about that made her nerves rise. She'd wanted to talk to her mom about it for weeks but thought it might have caused trouble, too scared to even think about it.

Luke quelled some of the nervous tension though, when he said, "Don't worry about it, first of all, no one is going to say anything. Okay, and secondly, technically she's not your student anymore... What's stopping you?"

"W— She's a student, first of all, and... I don't know, we've finally gotten back to normal, I don't... I don't want to jeopardize that, especially now that we're going on this... trip together..."

This trip together... Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling a little warmer and a whole lot more anxious. It wasn't bad, though, more thoughtful. If anything she was interested to see how he'd react around her now that their professional relationship had somewhat come to a halt.

And now they were staring at each other on the jet. Y/N's fingers tapped gently against the table while Spencer's knee bounced rapidly. They were only twenty minutes out, and since they were on the jet it wouldn't be a long flight. But once again, time wouldn't fly. The only difference was, now there was nothing really standing in their path aside from the obvious taboo of it all. People always heard about teachers that got with former students, and it was always so scandalous.

And while it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to publicly say they were 'together', there was something like a barrier between them that had been shattered, or at least see-through in a way that it hadn't been before. It was a little easier to breathe, even, though they still somehow managed to take each others' breath away. It was always just a look, a little smile in the other person's direction, and all ability to function was gone.

The fact that they were still so captivated by each other, even through all the awkwardness and worry, was something that gave them hope. Hope that once this was all over and there was absolutely nothing stopping them from being together, they could still find their way back, and be just as connected to and enchanted by each other as they'd always been.

But for now, at least, they still had this seminar, something he'd only invited her to because of her academic achievements. And because of that, whatever happened between them had to be strictly professional

As if they hadn't already spent almost an entire semester repressing their feelings and only visiting each other in dreams.

***

The group spent the majority of the day getting a tour of the campus they were visiting. Their actual presentations wouldn't start until 7pm, where they'd speak in an auditorium that very much reminded Spencer of his own classroom.

After lunch, some more touring, and then dinner, the three of them found themselves back at their rooms, going over the material. Of course, Tara and Spencer were naturals since they'd both done a handful of teaching, but Y/N was nervous. She'd never given a big presentation like this before, even if it was only just reading sections of her essay that coincided with what Tara and Spencer were talking about.

"It's dumb," she said, slamming her papers on Tara's bed. "I shouldn't be this nervous about reading in front of people, especially since I'm such a goddamned delight in regular conversation."

Tara laughed. "You'll be great, I promise. You've read through it a million times, and even if you don't have it memorized, it'll be right there for you if you need it."

"I... I know." She started pacing a little, trying to even out her breathing. "But I... I've never done anything like this before and I... I don't want to mess up. I mean, Spencer believes in me, enough to have wanted me here, and I don't want... I don't want to let him down."

"You won't. Do... you know how I know?"

Y/N shook her head and sat down next to Tara, smoothing out the skirt she had on. She never wore skirts. She could have worn pants, but something pulled her to the short black fabric, and right now she didn't want to think about what that was. All she wanted to do was focus on calming her nerves.

"I know because... in the little amount of time that I've known you, I can tell how dedicated you are. How strong and smart you are. You know how to hold a room, and you know how to talk to people. And it helps that you know what you're talking about... You do know what you're talking about, right?"

Y/N laughed, genuinely laughed, and nodded.

"Then there you go. You'll be a natural."

The fact that one of Spencer's colleagues, whom he seemed to trust wholeheartedly, believed in her just as much, saw the same talent and dedication that he did, eased her troubled mind quite easily. She thought the worst was over, and to some degree it was.

She wasn't nervous anymore, worried that she'd disappoint Spencer, though when he knocked, came into her and Tara's room, and stopped, looking Y/N up and down with an enrapturement she hadn't seen on anyone's face before, her stomach dropped.

That look? It had been precisely why her mind begged her to put the skirt on instead of the pants.

The black velvet fabric was tight and ended mid-thigh, revealing half of a tattoo she had hidden— black and lavender flowers that matched the color of her blouse. It was a long-sleeve turtleneck that covered the tattoos on her arms and neck, but hugged her figure beautifully. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, loose strands framing the front of her face and big golden hoops dangling from her ears. Her face was completely void of the vivid makeup she always wore, replaced with a shiny, sheer lip gloss and simple eyeliner and mascara. The one thing that stood out, other than the tattoos visible on her thigh and her hands, was a golden eyebrow ring that glinted under the dim light of the hotel bedroom.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

And he had to stop himself from falling to his knees as he cleared his throat to talk. "Um, it's time to go."

The two of them were glad to have Tara as a buffer, because her "Alright, let's get going," while ushering them out the door made breathing a little easier.

So yes, Y/N certainly wasn't nervous about speaking in front of the crowd anymore. Rather, she was eager to see how focused Spencer would be during the presentation. It was hard enough for him to teach whenever she wore a particularly low-cut top in class—of course she noticed—so seeing her that closely, having her right there within his reach as they taught together, presented a jolt of excitement that gave her an extra boost of confidence.

Admittedly, though, the way she felt his eyes burn into her every cell made it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Nonetheless, Y/N, Spencer, and Tara eventually found themselves standing in front of maybe fifty people, students and administrators alike. Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push down any nerves that arose just then, but a soft hand at her lower back centered her.

"You're going to be great," Spencer whispered in her ear, his thumb gently stroking her back. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling... thankful, in more ways than one.

The actual presentation itself was a breeze. With one encouraging nod from both Spencer and Tara, Y/N stood at one of the podiums and read off sections of her essay with clarity and confidence. Even though it was only a few paragraphs at a time, few and far in between when coupled with Spencer and Tara's detailed, more experienced presentations, Y/N was immensely proud of herself.

She felt like she belonged there. Not like in school, where everybody judged her because she was a loner. Here she didn't stand out, at least not in a jarring or negative way.

And Spencer could see all of it. As she stood there, speaking to the crowd, he took in her confidence, basking in it like it was the sun. Like she was the sun.

They took questions for a few minutes, and Y/N was obviously a little rattled, not expecting to get any questions of her own. But she answered each one with grace, practically beaming with pride and accomplishment.

***

Under the dim streetlights and with glittering snow behind her, she looked absolutely angelic.

Y/N and Spencer offered to wait outside while Tar talked with some of the administrators about coming back sometime in the Spring. But chances are, Y/N wouldn't be there, so Spencer wasn't even sure that he cared to come back. At least not right then, watching her pace around happily in the snow, her smile as wide and as radiant as he'd ever seen it.

"That was... I can't believe I did that!" She was in complete awe, and it reminded him of the day he hopped off her motorcycle and went on a similar tangent. The feeling of a rush, of pure, unadulterated joy... "I mean, I can because you believed in me, and I know it's probably kind of dumb to be this excited about a presentation, but like... I did it! I was..."

"You were a natural," Spencer mused, feeling his whole body warm at the sight of her smiling at him.

She stepped closer and closer, nodding. "I felt incredible."

"You are incredible..."

Once again they found themselves on the sidewalk, completely unbothered and so taken with each other it was hard to breathe.

And then she stepped forward and kissed him, much like he'd kissed her. Their lips melded like they'd never left in the first place, and that familiarity between them added fuel to an already significant flame.

Y/N threaded her fingers through his hair and reveled in his reciprocation as his tongue gently opened her mouth further. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly to him as he possibly could. And when she melted into him, giving herself over to him completely, he finally felt peace. Right then there was no worry, no awkwardness or burning tension that ate at him until he wasn't sure he could contain himself anymore... He simply just... was. He provided her with warmth and comfort, and in turn she provided him with a feeling of excitement... Of adventure and genuine fun and joy.

He never wanted to let her go.

While there wasn't a truck full of teenagers to break them out of their spell with whooping and hollering, there was a one Doctor Tara Lewis who cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, highly amused. Meanwhile Spencer and Y/N split apart, refusing to look at her. "You ready to go?"

"Uh huh," Y/N said, at the same time Spencer said, "Yep."

Tara laughed, patting both of them on the shoulder as she walked in front of them.

Normally, they would have stayed apart from now on, but the only person they knew who could expose them was already there, and she clearly had no intentions of saying anything to hurt them.

So, Spencer reached out for Y/N's tattooed hand, and she took it gladly, staying close to him as they walked the two blocks to their hotel.

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[cherrybracelets]

dance in the dark (one)

words: 4.5k | warnings: 18+ content. smut, drugs and alcohol mentions. mentions of blood, weapons, serial killers, cults, etc. DO NOT interact with this fic if you are under 18

masterlist | requests

pairing: professor!spencer reid x student!reader

an: this is part one of a continuing prof reid fic, i have no update schedule for this so please bare with me lmk what you would like to see also send more prof reid requests i wanna do little non plot side blurbs to this fic with your ideas!!!!

What do you think the crowd at a sleazy downtown bar on a Wednesday night looks like? Here’s a hint- it’s pretty pathetic. If you’re at this place on a week day, really any night at all, you’re probably not in the best place. And that was true, for you. Although from the outside it appeared you had everything completely together, the truth you tried so desperately to lock inside was clawing it’s way out- and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold yourself together. 

Tomorrow was the start of your last year in grad school, something that should be a major accomplishment. But you were transferring here, after some unfortunate events that happened last semester. You’re not talking about that, though, remember? It’s a new year, a new city; you had the chance to move on from your past. But the only way you could do that is if you... kept it locked inside. 

But you’d been doing that all summer, pretending to be someone you’re not, even using a fake name with strangers. You could completely reinvent yourself, and no one would ever know. And as you downed another jack and coke, you stared in curiosity at the lonely man on the other end of the bar, flipping through pages of what seemed like an exceptionally boring book. 

He caught you looking at him, to which you quickly glanced away to pretend you weren’t, but you caught a slight smile out of the corner of your eye. You stared at the rows of alcohol behind you, avoiding looking in any direction, especially his. But you felt yourself smiling, a handsome man who had no idea who you were. Who didn’t know your name. That was something you couldn’t say before you were here. 

“That guy down there bought this for ya,” the bartender huffed, his deep and raspy voice perfect matching his large and intimidating exterior. You smiled down at the glass, a perfectly mixed Jack & Coke with a lime. You raised the glass up to him and shook it, letting the ice clang against the glass. 

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, raising your voice so he could here you. 

“I’m not... super great at the ‘walking up to a pretty girl and saying hi, thing’. So I figured that was my best bet.” He smiled, taking a slow sip of his own drink, which looked like scotch. 

“Can I come sit with you?” You asked, looking at the empty seat next to him. 

“Of course,” he grinned, clearing his papers and readjusting himself in the seat. “I’m, uh, Spencer, by the way.” 

(Y/N),” you responded, playing with the straw in your drink. 

“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?” He asked, a serious tone to his voice. 

“Of course,” you replied, hesitantly. 

“Are you having an exceptionally bad day?”

“Hmm,” you thought, your eyes locked on the handsome man in front of you. “I think I’m having an exceptionally bad year, maybe years plural.” 

He laughed quietly, a deep chuckle, a relatable response. He knew more than anyone how miserable life could be. But this week, and most specifically today, has been exhausting for him. And he saw you, he saw the perfect way to relieve some stress. 

It didn’t take much longer until you were back at his place, making out on the overly expensive leather couch in the living room. His hands climbing up your body, nails digging into your flesh each time he grinded himself into you. Your hands were tangled in his hair, the smell of fresh strawberries and a hint of coconut from his shampoo. 

By the time you were both completely naked, he already had his mouth exploring your clit, his tongue playing games with you. He bit down on your inner thighs, sucking and nibbling at your lips. He added two fingers into you slowly, curling them perfectly to hit the right spot every time. 

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, your body writhing with pleasure, his mouth and fingers still taking care of you. He quickly stopped at your words, sitting up and pulling his fingers out of you. He licked his hand, tasting you, a devilish grin on his face. 

“You can cum when I tell you to cum. Turn over.” He commanded, grabbing your hips and flipping you over to him. He pushed on the center of your back and you arched, pushing your ass up for him. You could feel him position himself at your entrance, and slowly sliding himself in. You were surprised by his length, a slow whimper escaping your lips. 

“Am I too big for you, baby? Can you handle it?” He sounded concerned, but an underlying tone of sarcasm and gloat in his voice. 

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, determined to take him. You felt the palm of his hand on your ass, rubbing the cheek slowly. It quickly lifted off, and came back down hard, a loud slap as his hand hit your bare cheek. You whines loudly, a mix of pain and pleasure overcoming you as he started to fuck you faster and deeper. 

You felt him deep inside of you. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and with ever pump into you he seemed to climb deeper. The feeling of being under him, his length fully overcoming your body- you felt so submissive, you belonged to him. His hands gripped tightly into your hips, pulling you back into him as he pounded in and out. 

“Can you handle this baby girl?” He yelled out, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head back towards him. You yelped as he did that, the feeling of your hair being pulled sending shivers down your spine. 

“I fucking love it,” you responded, feeling the need to praise the man who was in charge of your body right now. 

“I want you to cum,” he instructed, his voice stern. You worried about what he’d do if you didn’t follow his instructions. You let yourself succumb to him, giving him full control of your pleasure. You started to feel a warmth spreading through you, preparing your body for a high of pleasure. After a few more seconds, you finally reached your peak, loudly announcing it to Spencer and whoever else could hear. 

The sound of the pleasure he brought you, Spencer came quickly after that, pulling himself out of you at the last minute and cumming on your back. He pushed you down flat afterwards, and you laid there with him for a moment. He stared at you, covered in him, his property. In that moment, you belonged to him. 

After you cleaned yourself off, you threw your clothes back on and got yourself together. 

“I gotta go, I’m starting class tomorrow,” you explained, trying to sneak out without being awkward. 

“I’ll see you again soon. Our story isn’t over,” he muttered, pointing towards the door and winking. You laughed initially, but realized how weird the comment actually was as you were walking out. 

Luckily, your Uber only took a few minutes, and didn’t force you to talk. You scrolled mindlessly through instagram, thinking about classes, the thought of Spencer still stuck in your mind. As weird as it was to say, you truly didn’t think it would be the last time you saw it. You had a weird feeling deep inside that he was a very important person. 

But, it didn’t matter, because you lived in a city with 700,000 people, and the chances of seeing him were slim to none. You didn’t even have a last name to find him on socials. You didn’t know his job, if he was even from here. In fact, you were quite surprised to realize you had just let a man you barely know fuck you like that. But damn, you did not regret it. 

You crashed as soon as you got back to your apartment, setting your alarm for class tomorrow and passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. You had your usual string of nightmares, waking up every few hours, covered in sweat, your heart beating through your chest. You took a few sips of water and fell back asleep, only for the whole cycle to repeat a mere hour later. When your alarm finally woke you up, you were groggy and nauseous, another night of no sleep taking effect on you. You dragged yourself out of bed, silently hopped in the shower and let the hot water cleanse the night away from you. 

You brewed a weak cup of coffee, poured it into a travel mug and headed out the door. You were terrified of today, a heavy pit sitting in your stomach. You kept your headphones in the entire commute to the school, drowning out the conversations of others around you. There was no possible way they could know you here, but you still always felt that the whispers were about you. You avoided as much eye contact and interaction as you could, walking through the campus. 

Luckily the building where your class was wasn’t too far, and you got there relatively quickly. Your first class was called Mass Atrocity: Early Warning and Prevention, technically and elective course, but something you were extremely interested in. Your program was called Conflict Analysis and Resolution. You wanted to be badass, take down cults and serial killers, talking them off a ledge. You wanted to go back in time and prevent Waco. You knew you could do all of these things, you knew you could be the best, because your brother was a killer. 

It was why you moved from your hometown. After he was found out, it was unbearable to be around people who knew you. You couldn’t escape the hate, the public humiliation. You hated him just as much as anyone, but that didn’t matter. People were convinced you two were killers together, especially since everyone knew what you wanted to do with your life and knew you to be a huge true crime junky. 

You had to get away from there, escape your past identity. You could’ve stopped him, if you knew what was happening. But the truth was, you had no idea. And you hated that, you shamed yourself every day for not catching on to him. You, of all people, should have known. But now, you will spend the rest of your life stopping anyone you can. You had too, you couldn’t let them hurt their families the way your brother hurt yours.

So here you were, in a brand new city, a new last name, a new life. You had a chance to start over, be a new person. You could learn from some of the best professors, at one of the best schools in the country, only a few miles from DC. Homeland security, the FBI, CIA… everything you had ever wanted, right here. Sitting in this classroom, people filling in around you, you had your whole life ahead of you. Your future was unfolding itself right in front of you. 

And then he walked in. A brown leather briefcase to match a blue suit, his hair sloppily pulled behind his ears, a tie loosely around his neck as if he got ready in a hurry this morning. He probably overslept, since he was out late at a bar and brought a girl home. You stared at him, your stomach flipping as he took his laptop out of his bag and began to set up for his lecture. You tried to get up and leave, turn around and pretend you never saw him, but you were trapped on either side, unable to escape. You slouched in your chair, hiding behind your laptop. 

“Good morning everyone,” he said, his voice raspy and low, a clear sign of exhaustion. “I am Dr. Reid, although I would prefer Spencer. I teach a lot of the courses for Conflict Analysis, so you better get used to seeing a lot of me.” Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes scanning the crowd to see his new students. He looked approving, nodding over the people, and then his eyes caught you. 

He stopped in his tracks, locked on your face, your eyes moving quickly in random directions to avoid his gaze. You finally caught him, and he furrowed his brows at you, a look of disappointment. He looked away quickly and scanned the rest of the crowd, still looking discontent as he tried to shake the confusion away and begin his lecture.

He didn’t look at you once through the entire class. You were smart and took your notes silently, not asking questions or making a sound. He was an extremely captivating person, his stories and the way he taught so encapsulating. He was brilliant, by far the smartest person you ever had the pleasure of meeting. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know the answer too, and you had so much you wanted to ask. You knew he could answer so many questions for you, specifically about your brother. But you vowed to never speak of him again, especially to a professor that you not only admire, but recklessly fucked just the night before. 

Spencer wrapped up class, giving everyone a few final notes and instructions before saying his goodbyes. Before everyone was out of their seat, he interrupted the shuffle to say one final thing. 

“Miss. Isaacs, could you speak to me for a moment regarding your registration?” He looked up at you for the first time in ninety minutes, and looked desperate. Your fake last name still rang odd in your ears, and it took you a moment to realize that he was asking for you. You nodded to him submissively, walking out the aisle and down the stairs to meet him at the podium. 

“Do you mind if we go to my office?” He asked loudly, making sure the other students heard him speaking normally to you.

“Sure,” you whispered, following him out the door and down a hallway of offices. He stopped at his, fumbled with the keys, and opened the door to a very tidy office. You closed the door behind you and sat on one of the two chairs that were for visitors. He walked behind the desk and sat in his chair, a frustrated groan as he sat back. 

“We need to talk about this.” He snapped, knowing that you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I can’t have slept with… a student.” 

“Listen, I promise I won’t say a word, okay? I can transfer out of your class too, make it not an issue…” 

“You have to take my classes to graduate. I’m…” he softened, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath. “I’m not gonna ask you to do that. You’re extremely bright… I remember getting your application. You deserve a spot here… I just don’t want you to lose that because of this…” He rubbed his hand over his chin, trying not to raise his voice too loud. 

“Thank you for saying that. You were brilliant out there today… I was completely enamored by you. Why did you leave the BAU to teach?” You asked abruptly, only realizing how inappropriate it was to ask that after it had already come out of your mouth.

“You know, that’s probably pretty personal, you don't have to answer that.” You covered your face awkwardly, wishing now you could just leave and not make this interaction any worse. 

“No… it’s okay. There was just… so much pain all the time. And most people take that as ‘I couldn’t handle that pain anymore,’ but truthfully, I had become so numb to it, it scared me. I needed to get out so I could learn to feel again.” Spencer looked at you, his heart feeling a thousand times lighter after speaking his truth. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not quite sure why I told you.” 

“I… I’m really sorry. Sometimes it is really easier to pretend things don’t affect you than deal with your true feelings. I can really relate to that,” you laughed, remembering all the pain you were currently trying to escape. 

“You are very, very beautiful,” Spencer interjected, his eyes exploring you, his mouth slightly open in concentration as he focused on your almost perfect facial features. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, feeling a creeping heat on your face as your cheeks began to blush. 

“I’d appreciate it if you called me Spencer.” He moved his eyes from your body to your own eyes, staring right through you. You felt completely unlocked in that moment, like he could see right into your brain and read your thoughts and secrets like a book. You knew you could close yourself up, hide away from him, but a part of you didn’t want to. The exhaustion of holding a heavy secret around ate away at you, and it would be more than nice to have someone who could carry that weight with you. 

But not him, he was your Professor, and this was your future. You broke your gaze with him and sat up straight, looking away. You scanned through pictures on his wall, the same group of people in multiple photos. He had many books on the wall, some in languages you didn’t even recognize. There were piles of magazines and papers on the floors, a layer of dust on the frame of the floor, and a fireplace that was littered with ash. The air held a musty stench, with a hint of air freshener trying desperately, and failing, to make the room smell good. 

At first glance, this office seemed tidy, that of a person with their life together. But the details were where that theory fell apart. He was holding on to his exterior, pretending he was okay, but inside this man was a mess. He was exhausted, overworked, and due to the multiple empty scotch glasses lying around, heavily drinking.

“You alright?” Spencer asked, his voice breaking you out of your own thoughts. 

“‘Sorry. Zoned out for a second…” you muttered, still looking around the room, trying to notice any other displacements. “I should probably get going.” You stood up quickly, grabbing your jacket and bag and heading for the door. 

“You’re in another one of my classes tomorrow. I checked your schedule,” he hesitated, looking at his computer for confirmation. “Will I see you?” 

“I guess I don’t have a choice, right?” You raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for another comment, but he had none. You left after a few seconds, closing the door behind you as you left. You leaned up against the wall outside of the office, trying to ground yourself. You took a few deep breaths and checked the time, realizing you needed to get to your next class soon. You quickly walked to the stairs and headed towards your next class, your head still buzzing from Spencer that you weren’t even sure if you’d be able to comprehend anything. You took a seat in the next room, putting your head down in embarrassment as you waited for class to begin. 

The next day you got to sleep in a bit more, but it didn’t make much of a difference. You still spent most of the night dealing with nightmares of your brother, but you had a new dream that scared you more than any of the others. You were sitting in one of Spencer’s classes, taking notes casually as he lectured. As he continued his powerpoint, the lights went dark and the slide changed to a picture of your brother. Everyone started pointing at you, calling you a killer, screaming profane things about your family. A light shined on Spencer, who was pointing and laughing with the rest of the crowd, walking towards you and pointing a gun to your head. Right before he pulled the trigger, he whispered “No one will ever love a killer.” His finger pressed down, igniting the gun, and…

Bam. You woke up. You felt sick, your heart racing and the contents of your stomach lurching around. You ran to the bathroom, vomiting as soon as you reached the toilet. You sat back against the cool tub, the cold feeling amazing against your hot flesh. You checked the time- 2:43 AM. You walked back to your bed and grabbed your phone, scrolling through instagram and twitter, trying to calm your mind. You had made brand new accounts with your new persona, paying bots to follow you so it looked legit. You didn’t want to post anything anyways, but you did love looking at baby animal pictures on the internet.

You were still feeling kind of out of it, and you reached onto your nightstand to grab your bowl. You smoked a little bit, trying to calm your body down enough to fall back asleep. Sometimes the marijuana and sleeping pills are the only things that calm you down. But you were feeling a little loopy tonight, and as you stared at your phone and tried to shove your anxiety deep down, you made a fatal mistake. 

New email: 

To: Dr. Spencer Reid, PhD

Subject: Empty

What do you do make the pain go away?

Sent from my iPhone. 

You locked your phone and placed it down on the nightstand, curling up in your bed and falling asleep. You surprisingly slept through the rest of the night without issue, waking up from a deep sleep as your alarm went off a few hours later. You had effectively forgotten about the email, and didn’t have any reminder of it since Spencer had yet to respond. You casually made yourself breakfast, preparing mentally to see Spencer in class again this morning. 

You left promptly after cleaning up, making sure you wouldn’t miss your bus to campus. You rode the commute with your headphones in, still ignoring the conversations of the strangers around you. You felt better today, at least knowing you’d be more prepared to see Spencer today than yesterday. All of that confidence immediately drained from your body as your phone vibrated, alerting you to a new text. Who the hell could be texting you? Almost no one knew this number. 

Maybe: Spencer Reid

In regards to your email- you can never get rid of the pain. I wish I had a better answer. 

You stared in awe at your screen, rereading the message a thousand times. At first you were confused, what email? But then you remembered, the fuzzy letters on the screen as you emailed him last night. Fuck. This wasn’t good. You opened the message, but didn’t respond, hoping he would see that if you read it and didn’t respond he would get the hint. There was no way you could go walk in class right now and go see him. But your bus stopped, right where you needed to get off, and although you desperately tried not to, your body got up and walked off the bus. 

You continued to walk all the way to your classroom, sitting suspiciously close to the front. A part of you wanted him, the part of you that craved destruction and drama, the part of you that you saw your brother in. It scared you, because each and every day you felt that part of you come to the surface a little more. 

Spencer walked in shyly, immediately scanning the crowd to find you. When your eyes locked, his face read a bit of relief, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come. He, too, wanted to see you. In all honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night you spent together. He didn’t look at you long, realizing he had to start class at some point. He went through a similar introduction as yesterday, changing up a few things to meet this course’s curriculum. 

When he started teaching his content, you became just as lost in his words as you did yesterday. You listened intently to every word, felt the emotion as he did, even found yourself on the verge of tears as he wrapped up his lecture. You were stuck in awe, unable to move from your seat as he finished up class. He didn’t ask to speak to you this time, he just walked out the door without another glance in your direction. 

You needed to speak to him, at least to explain the late night email. You left the room and headed in the direction to his office, hoping you could catch him before a mob of other students. You could imagine you weren’t the only one who was engulfed by him. He was hot, and there were plenty of other girls in your class who would have their eyes on him. You started wondering how many students he’d fucked before you and felt sick, a wave of green envy washing over you. It was weird, how hurt you’d been at the thought of him with someone else, considering you aren’t even together. 

You made it to his office, and luckily there wasn’t anyone else around. You knocked lightly on the door and heard a muffled “Come in.” You opened the door to Spencer writing on some paper, his demeanor slightly surprised as you came through the door. 

“Mind if I close this?” You asked, motioning to the door. He nodded and put down his pen, sitting back in his chair. 

“What can I do for you?” 

“The email… and the text…” You looked down at the ground, now feeling embarrassed in his presence. 

“Sorry to have texted you out of the blue… I got your number from the student directory. All the, uh, staff emails are monitored, and I figured it would be best if we kept our conversation… private.” He bit his lip submissively, playing with his nails. 

“Why does it need to be private? It was nothing bad…” you enticed, watching the small smile on his face as you spoke.

“I’m afraid that it might end up there.” He dragged his eyes up to yours, meeting your gaze, seemingly digging into your soul once again. “Why?” 

“You know why.” 

“Tell me.” You waited for his response, trying yourself to now see through him, read what he was thinking. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you. Something is drawing me to you and I can’t pull away anymore.” 

You stood up from your chair, walking slowly behind his desk and standing in front of him. He uncrossed his legs and looked up at you, your head tilted down as you looked at the man in front of you. You bent down on your knees between his legs, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. He kissed you slowly at first, surprise lingering in his lips, before embracing you, moving with much more aggression as he pulled you into him. 

You broke away from the kiss, leaving him confused as you stood up and walked to the other side of the desk. You sat back in your chair and stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” He asked, breathlessly. 

“Of course. 8PM work?”

[lostincalum]

Uni! Ben Hardy- pt 2

AN: Hey big shout out to @burncrashbromance​ for proofreading and also requesting part 2! Ah lav u, it turned out longer than expected but I hope at least one person likes it 

Word count: 4,3k(???)

TW: A flaky father and insomnia mentions 

Part 1

When you woke up the next day, you were a little confused. You didn’t quite recognize the room at once, with the light shining through the window, no stars in sight. When you started to twist you were immediately aware of something slightly hard poking your thigh. The heat that rushed to your cheeks didn’t get any better when you felt an arm around your waist, tightening slightly each time you moved. Slowly you turned around to find Ben with his eyes closed, asleep. You carefully peeled his right arm away from your waist. 

The white comforter had slipped down to his waist, leaving his entire abdomen exposed. To put it frankly, he looked unreal, with the sun casting tiny shadows over the small ridges in his muscles. God, it wasn’t like you had slept with him, but something about this moment made you wish you had, maybe just a little. Even if you wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone.

You got out of bed as quietly as you could, and started looking for all your stuff. Your jeans were in the bathroom, along with your phone, which had died. Curse the damn battery life. You realised you had slept in your long sleeve from yesterday, neither of you had thought about it then, but you regretted it now. After scanning your reflection in the mirror you exited the bathroom with a sigh, while wrangling your messy hair up into a bun. 

The flat looked almost as good in daylight as it did at night. You almost couldn’t believe a boy lived there with how nice things looked and how the interior seemed well fitted together. A leather couch and some blankets, a big TV and a playstation as well as the bookshelf that was almost filled to the brim with books. It felt like a home. Nothing like the dormroom you had. However much you dreaded going back, you had to. So you walked into the little hallway and found you jacket and shoes. You started looking for your backpack, before you realised that it was still in Ben’s truck. 

Not feeling like waking him up, you left a note on his kitchen counter with your number and a message in regards to your backpack. Then you opened the door and head out, making sure the door closed and locked behind you. 

----

The last lesson you had before your finals were on dark matter. It had been twisting your brain for a while but when you walked out of the lecture hall you felt like you finally understood a bit more. You had never been one to rush out of your lectures, but since you only had a notebook, you were quick out. When you step out of the door you’re immediately pulled off to the side by your waist, making you let out a little yelp. You could tell by the cologne that it’s Ben, but he didn’t stand still until your back was pressed against the wall and he was leaning with one arm by the left side of your head. Quickly you pulled your notebook up to your chest, you felt warm all over. Some people kept looking over at you, and you wished they would stop. 

“Eyes on me, angel.”

Ben told you with a deep, almost gravelly voice. You gave him an eye roll, but looked up at him nevertheless. You were met with intense green eyes and a little smirk. 

“Hi Y/N, how are you?” 

You said sarcastically as you stared at him. He gave a short but genuine laugh. 

“Hey angel, how are you?” 

He repeated after you, albeit he still used that nickname. His goal was seemingly to make you go crazy, but he’d have to work a little harder than that though. 

“I’m good Ben, although, I do miss my laptop and books. They both cost me half a fortune. How are you?” 

You looked at him, scanning his teal college sweater and over all soft look. It contrasted deeply with his domineering demeanour. You tried to be swift when attempting to get out of his hold; turns out he saw it coming. Caging you in with his other arm. Luckily most other students had dispersed by then. 

“I’m actually quite hurt by you, love.”

He didn’t look hurt though, he looked like he was out on a mission. 

“Well, I do apologize.. actually, what am I apologizing for?” He looked a little surprised by your cheeky comment.

“I’d hoped you’d apologize for leaving me high and dry this morning, or for running out on me, as if I was just some poor one nighter, for cuddles.”

Ben responded cheekily, thinking he had the upper hand. 

“Well, maybe you were, anywho I still wanna pass this class, and I’m assuming you have some classes to pass as well.”

He removed one hand from the wall, causing him to lean in a little closer. You could feel his breath on your face and it really hit you how close he was.

“I was just a one night cuddle to you?” 

Ben feigned hurt as you looked at him with a deadpan expression. 

“Like the concept’s new to you.” 

Finally you managed to escape from underneath his gaze and break free from his cage-like posture. 

“Look, I just need my stuff back, please.”

You didn’t miss the face he made, the one that looked like genuine hurt. It made your heart regret the words for just a second, before it was gone as fast as it appeared. 

“Sure, I’ll drop by your dorm room in an hour.”

Ben said a little distantly before disappearing into the lecture hall. You started the trek to your dorm as it was your last class, feeling both relief, butalso some kind of unwelcome feeling gnawing at the back of your chest.  

-----

When you entered your dorm room, Alice was there, obviously back from her classes as well. 

“Hey Alice, how’s it going?” 

You asked the brunette, who was slaving away at an essay. Manicured nails making an odd tapping sound as she touched each key. 

“I’ll tell you, if I survive this paper.”

She grumbled as she aggressively typed away at her keyboard. 

“Copy that.” 

You replied as you hung your jacket on the hooks by the door, before you sat down at your own desk. Trying to make out your own handwriting wasn't always the easiest thing, so you got stuck there for an hour or so. Until you heard a knock on the door. You were about to get up, but Alice had been faster. 

“It’s probably just..”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Alice had opened the door. 

“Ben, hi how are you?” 

She said to the man at the door. A little flirtatiously, but that might, might, just be her personality. Truth be told you had asked Alice about Ben when you got home that morning. Before class. She told you all about his endeavours and antics, which she had been a part of. After all, she had a reputation for herself. You didn’t judge her by it though, she had every right to do whatever she pleased. 

“Oh, hi, Lisa, I’m alright, here for Y/N though.”

Your mouth dropped as you heard him say the wrong name. Rightfully so, she smacks the door in his face. You just sighed as she went to the bathroom leaving you to open the door again. 

“Nice work there, Benjamin.” 

You smiled at him, rather unimpressed. 

“My name’s Ben, angel.” 

He said, the mischievous glint was back in his eyes.

“And her name is Alice, remember that.” 

Ben put a finger in the air and tapped it to his head.

“Will remember that.”

He then held out an arm with your backpack dangling from his hand. You went to grab it, but he pulled it back, so it was just out of your reach. 

“Okay, I’ll bite, what’s the catch?” 

You asked with a quirked brow. 

“A date, with yours truly.”

He announced cockily, whilst he looked at you with these intense green eyes. You could have sworn he looked hopeful, maybe even a little vulnerable. That feeling was back in your chest. The one that gnawed somewhere behind your heart. The one that told you to dive in head first, without looking. However you head decided if you were gonna dive, it was going to be on your terms.

“Sure, but I decide when.”

You said, determined. And to your surprise he nodded and got out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his calendar. You gestured for him to come in, and went to get your phone on your desk. 

“What about after I’ve had my exam in physics 1B? At say 5pm on thursday?” 

“Works for me angel.”

Ben smiled, before taking a step closer to you. Therefore you took a step back, immediately your thighs met the back of your desk. Ben took yet another step and you couldn’t take your eyes off him, constantly gauging his actions. He took the final step up to you, and stood so close that you could feel his breath on your face. He smelled like red bull and cigarettes, and a little hint of cologne hit you as well. Yet you kept your eyes glued to his. Without moving his gaze, he dropped your backpack to the floor. His then free hand went to your chin, tilting it up as he closed in on you even more. 

“See you then.” 

He said as he left a quick peck on your left cheek, which made your cheeks heat up. With a wink he was out the door, leaving you a little speechless. Thursday was only two days away. 

------

When thursday rolled around, you had seen Ben around campus and he had seen you. You knew as much ‘cause he winked at you every time. 

You had also talked more with Alice about him, who had told you about his history with people, which made you feel a little hesitant, but you decided that at least, you could get a good fuck out of it. If the rumors were true, if not, who knows, you might get something more. 

Mostly though, you had been practicing for the physics exam. You got up that morning and got ready, putting on a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie.Your hair was its usual mess, in your eyes, even though it had just been washed. In the dorm kitchen you got out your thermo- cup and made yourself some tea before you headed out the building.

You reached the lecture halls faster than you had thought, and decided to check your phone. Just one message from a number you didn’t know flashed up at you. You unlocked the phone and read the message. 

Good luck today, angel;)

You didn’t stop the smile that broke out on your lips. However you didn’t get the chance to reply as professor Atkins unlocked the door with a smile in your direction. You and a couple of other students wandered into the lecture hall and before you knew it, the exam was in front of your eyes. 

It was a hard one, with so many questions that you thought you were gonna miss some, flipping all the pages and double checking all of your calculations. But when you finished you were only the fourth to leave. 

Quickly you walked across campus and over to your dorm, trying to figure out what to do. Then you remembered the message that still sat unanswered in your inbox. 

- Ben? This you?

You sent as you unlocked the door and flung your backpack to the floor. There was no expectation for him to answer soon, since you expected him to have his own exam. But almost immediately a response ticked in. You sat down by your desk to answer.

- Sure is;)

-  Finished your exam?

The second message ticked in, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe he was a little excited too. You were about to reply when he called you up instead. Instantly you felt more anxious and let it ring two times before you answered.

“Hey?” 

You answered lamely. 

“Hey yourself, I figured you were out since you answered my message now.”

He said and you could hear him rummaging around somewhere as he talked to you.

“Yeah, apparently I knew more than I thought I did.” 

You laughed as you thought back to how the exam went. 

“So, since we’re both done, wanna start the date a little early?” 

Ben asked as a door shut in the background. 

“Sounds like you’re already on your way over here, but sure, why not? Where are we going by the way?”

You asked as you got up from your desk and headed for your closet. Wondering what to put on. 

“That’s a surprise, but put on something warm.” 

He answered as if he knew what you were thinking. 

“Okay, see you soon.” 

You said as you opened the door to the closet. 

“See you in a minute angel.” 

Ben said and then you hung up. 

You decided to put on a different hoodie, a plain white one, and a leather jacket over it, hoping it might be enough. White, almost new sneakers went on your feet. Then you went into the bathroom to put on a little bit of perfume and some make up. Just sorting out your brows and some mascara, as well as a little concealer for the dark circles under your eyes. You hated not being able to sleep properly. You frowned at your reflection when there was a knock at your door. 

When you opened the door Ben was stood there looking as handsome and cosy as ever. With a sweater and a coat hanging from his arm, he looked like he came straight out of a fashion magazine. You could see his eyes scanning your body and face, before he licked his lips. It almost looked predatory, but you noticed the little nervous shifting from foot to foot he did. 

“Hey, ready to go?” 

Ben smiled at you, with the most genuine smile you had seen in a while. You just nodded as a reply, trying to hide your embarrassment by putting on your backpack and shutting the door, locking it behind you. You didn’t think he would act like a sap, but there he was, brushing his knuckles against the back of your hand. He didn’t take your hand until you were out of the dorm building though. You turned to look at him and were met with a smirk.

“You don’t think I’m gonna call it a date just to say I’ve been on a date with you right?” 

You just shrugged, as Ben lead you to the parking lot. 

“‘C’mon love, gonna need you to use your words and smart mouth today.” 

Again, there was something overly sexual about the way he just was, but you wouldn’t complain. He looked hot. Until he suddenly looked nervous.

“Unless you don’t want this, then that’s totally cool, I’ll just head back-” 

He started to ramble and you suddenly saw him in a brand new light. You squeezed his hand.

“I want this Ben, ‘m just nervous.”

You smiled at him shyly. Finally you felt a little comfortable in your own nervousness, because it seemed like he was the same. 

“Good, okay, yeah.” 

Ben said with a relieved smile on his lips. 

“So, wanna tell me where we’re going?”

You asked as you playfully pushed against his side. However, it seemed that he had foreseen your action, because before you even knew it, you were tucked into his side with an arm hanging lazily around your shoulder. 

“Nope, you’ll figure it out soon anyways.” 

He whispered cheekily against your ear, before opening the passenger door to his truck that you had just arrived at. You nodded at him and got in. Taking in the vehicle’s inside in the daylight. It was clean enough and the radio had an aux cord hanging out of the plugin. A pair of sunglasses were laying on the dashboard and you noticed it was stickshift. With how smooth the previous drive with him had been, you were a little surprised, most people chose automatic nowadays. 

“Ready?” 

Ben asked after plugging in his phone and putting on a playlist. You nodded both in answer and admiration for his song choice. Jimi Hendrix was always good. 

“Words, angel.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, but you answered none the less.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

So Ben started up the car, and you rolled out of the parking lot, to the tune of ‘All Along the Watchtower.’ You both sat in silence, occasionally looking at each other and smiling. You eventually pulled out your phone and sent a message to Alice that she shouldn’t wait up for you. Then you remembered that you hadn’t saved Ben’s number, so you went to his number and saved it, not bothering with his surname. You took a look over at him, and when you saw the sun hitting him at just the right angle, you had to take a contact picture. He knew what you were doing to some degree, because he smiled a little crooked smile. It wasn’t a smirk, just a regular crooked smile. 

“What’s that for?” 

He asked as you smiled down at the photo. Alice just answered with a winky face. 

“Contact photo.”

“Ugh, you’re one of them?” 

He groaned, while you laughed a little.

“What’s wrong with contact photos?” 

You asked curiously.

“I mean, you already know who’s calling, why would you need a picture to remind you?” 

He said incredulously as he took a turn to the left away from the city. 

“I don’t know, I just think it’s a cute feature, makes me remember good times I’ve had with people.” 

You said as Ben nodded a little in understanding, as you stared out the windshield when realisation dawned on you. 

“Ben, are we going to the observatory?” 

He chuckled and nodded, before looking at you for a second. 

“Way too smart.” 

----

You arrived at the Observatory 45 minutes later, when the sun had started to set. You were both heading out of the car and while you started walking, you stopped after a few strides to see that Ben had gone to the side of the plane on the back of the truck. He grabbed a backpack that seemed a little oversized, but you went along with it. 

He grabbed your hand and lead you the rest of the way up to the building. He could see how you were admiring it and how the sunset shone against your hair, making it look like a halo. Before you turned he snapped a picture of you. 

“I haven’t really been here in ages, jesus.” 

You said more to yourself, but Ben overheard you.  

“You haven’t?” 

He took a hold of your hand gently, rubbing the back of your hand softly upon seeing the distant look in your eyes. 

“Nah, but that’s not a story for a first date though.” 

Ben just hummed at your answer, but you could tell he wouldn’t let it go.

“So, how was your day Ben?” 

You changed the topic, genuinely interested in what he had to say. He seemed a little surprised at your question. With a furrowed brow you looked up at him as you neared the entrance. 

“You know, not a lot of people ask me that, and if they do they hardly care about the answer.”

And your heart ached for him. You watched him as he paid for entrance tickets, nodding to the guy and saying a thank you. This was completely different to the guy you’d seen around campus, who seemed so unaffected by the world. Yet he studied astrophysics and asked you out on a proper date. 

“Well, I do care about your answer Ben.” 

You said as you followed him into the observatory. While usually your mouth would be slightly agape at the sight of the big telescope and all the technical instruments surrounding you, Ben was the one holding your attention. 

“Well, woke up early, had a little jog and then a shower, then this exam that went mehh. When I got home I got ready for this date I have tonight. Don’t know if I should tell you, but I’m a little nervous.”

You smiled as you looked at him, still your fingers were intertwined, and you gave him a little squeeze. He pulled you closer by the hand and left a little kiss at your temple. It felt like you’d known him for a long time, like it had been like this forever. It was both scary and comfortable at the same time. 

The two of you walked outside to watch the sunset over the city along with a handful of other people. You were still looking at the orange and pink hues that painted the sky when Ben carefully let go of your hand. He slung his backpack down and opened it, pulling out a blanket, along with a few containers.

“Ben, are we gonna have a picnic here?” 

You asked a little shocked, still there was a coy smile on your lips. It wasn’t that you put it past him, but to be honest, you thought it was going to be a pretty low key date. He always seemed to surprise you. Ben laid out all the containers on the blanket carefully. 

“Yes we are, now will you sit down?”

He smiled at you from his position on the grass, and you complied, sitting down at the other side of the blanket, you felt like you needed just a little space to catch your breath. 

“Now, I’ve made a couple of different dishes that I hope you like, if not I’m also serving looks.” 

Ben winked at you. 

“Well good thing you cooked, I don’t want to starve.” 

You said a little exaggerated, as you started opening one of the heavenly smelling containers. 

“You wound me, angel.” 

But you could tell by the smile on his lips that he wasn’t serious. Yet again the nickname made you blush. 

“Why do you call me angel by the way?” 

You asked a little embarrassed, yet you still met his gaze. Ben mused at your question, with a little smile on his lips. 

“You remind me of an angel, and to be a little frank, seeing you blush every time I say it, well it’s a welcome bonus.”

As if on cue, you blushed, which made him chuckle with you. You sat in comfortable silence for a while, just eating all of the good food he had cooked up. 

 “Didn’t know you cooked either, you don’t really seem like the type.” 

You said after a few minutes of silence, with a hope to create some conversation, you wanted to get to know more than the person the entire uni seemed to know.

“Yeah, well, mum always cooked when she couldn’t sleep, I guess it’s something I’ve picked up from her, that cooking is a really nice thing to do when you want to think of something else.” 

Ben admitted a little quietly, and you remembered how she had insomnia, the same as you. You nodded and started pondering. Maybe you should tell him about why you didn’t really come here anymore. 

“That's really nice Ben, it tastes really incredible.”

The sun had finished setting and the stars started to come out, one by one. The temperature had dropped a bit too, and you regretted not bringing any gloves. That’s why you started to rub your hands together to generate some heat. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Ben to notice. Quickly yet smoothly, he scooted closer to you and grabbed your hands, and warmed them in his own. 

“You know, my dad used to bring me here to look at the stars.”

You decided to speak up, but still keeping your eyes on your hands, engulfed in Ben. He hummed in reply.

“Back then it was okay for me to have silly dreams and stupid theories, it was okay. But as the years passed and I still wouldn’t let the dreams die away, he stopped bringing me here. One night when I was around fourteen, I asked him why. He said he didn’t want to nurture silly little dreams, that I should start focusing on a real, efficient and good work opportunities for girls.”

Ben had stopped looking at the sky. He looked at you, with those big green eyes of his. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna be a professor or engineer. In spite of him.”

You said decidedly.

“You know, you’re not doing it just to spite him-” 

Ben started, but before he could finish you interrupted.

“Don’t tell me how I live my life.” 

You protested. A little hurt by his comment. 

“I’m not, I was going to say that you don’t do it just to spite him, but also because you’re insanely good at what you do.” 

“Oh.” 

Was the only word you managed to squeeze out. You felt really embarrassed. He laughed, and put an arm around your shoulders. 

“And I mean that, professor Atkins hasn’t shut up about you in class for the last two months.”

Ben was an ego boost and a half, even though you felt abashed most of the time. 

“Shut up.”

You smile at him, and he leaned down and placed a quick kiss on your lips, leaving you stunned and wanting more of his soft lips. 

“Now, wanna go look at some planets through a big ass telescope, genius?”

You smiled at his question. 

“Fuck yes.” 

[hereforaus]

Now Breathe || pt 2

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: bodyguard!jungkook , rebel!reader , numb!reader, smut, angst

“people invading your personal space is one of the top most annoying thing to ever exist on earth and your overprotective politician mother hiring a personal bodyguard for you didn’t help at all”

wordcount:5.7k

WARNINGS! : 18+ , foul languages, violence, mentions of bully, smut (on future episodes) 

A/N: I made a trailer of this fic for yall to watch [here] :))))) thankyou for the love that yall showered for the first part and i hope you like this one,,,:)

part 1

“MOM!!!” Your nose is literally flaring right now as if there’s gonna be smoke coming out of it in no time. Upon entering the house, you decided to head to where you’re most probably gonna find your mom, her little office.

“How was the concert sweet pea?” she said with that so sweet tone she use with you eversince you were young. Eyes never leaving the paper she’s been holding since you arrive.

“The concert? OH HELL SO LIT. The bodyguard you just hired permanently for me? AWFUL

“Tell you what, he’s the best in his job despite the age” she’s not even looking at you. Like she does not know the weight of her actions.

“For fucks sake”

“Language”

“But mom! Are you seriously gonna do this to me? You do remember the only thing I ask of you in exchange of behaving well and staying away from fights right? I just need privacy, that’s all I ask” You look defeated. Awfully defeated.

“Yes sweetie. I remember everything but I need you to do me a favor for now” for the first time she look at you, her eyes looking so tired under her glasses and you notice the dark circles under her eyes seemingly heavy. She needs sleep, she looks drained out of life. “I’ve been receiving death threats for the past few days. At first it was just me and I can take that, but just yesterday you’ve been included. Hell they even know your university, the dance classes you take and the gym you’ve been conducting your boxing sessions during weekends. I don’t want to force you to not go to these places anymore since I know you can’t do that so that’s the least I can do”

You understand her and you can be a brat sometimes but you love your mom above anyone else, seeing her like this hurts you too. She’s already tired from work, you can see that and thinking that she’s been stressing over the threats on you must’ve been horrible. You can’t imagine how distressed she is and you know that the only thing you can do is to not add from her worries therefore you abide.

“Yes mom, I understand. But can you please rest? I hate seeing you like this”

She smiled.

“I know you’re such an understanding person. I will rest in no time sweet pea, for now you should go to bed too”

“I will. I love you”

“You’re always a sweet kid. I love you too”

-

“Morning miss” he said right after you open the door of the car to your spot on the front seat. Oh yeah, your driver has been replaced too by no other than Jeon Jungkook. His presence irritate you more than you like to but the only thing you can do is to shrug it off, put your earphones on, blast something off a Childish Gambino song, and wait till you arrive to your school not even giving a glance to the person next to you.

You exited the car without any word, almost missing the little wave Jungkook gave you because the car door was slammed quickly right after you set foot on the school grounds.

-

“You WHAT?”

“You heard it right, I have my personal bodyguard now”

“Woah woah! so what’s gonna happen now?” Sometimes talking to Lea makes you tired. Aside from the nonstop talking she always do, she also always have lots of questions.

“I guess he’s gonna follow me around everywhere? I dont know really. I’m not gonna be surprised if he’s outside this classroom right now”

“That’s cool!!!”

“Oh yeah for you” and then she’s standing up. “Hey where are you going?”

“Outside. I’m gonna see your body guard”

She’s a headache.

You quickly hold onto her wrist and pull her back to her seat. “I didn’t say he’s actually there”

“I’m just kidding” here she goes with her grin again. She turn her body to her left, directly facing you and she position her left palm under her chin. “So, how does he look like? You know some private agents are hot, just like what I see in the movies”

He’s hot, not gonna lie. “He is almost balding and quite got a cute belly”

At that she slam her hands from her face to your desk. “Bad luck”

“It’s not bad luck love, it’s just that movies are the opposite of real life, and you little peanut, should let that sink in”

“I swear sometimes you got no jams”

“I’m just being realistic and i don’t give all my time fantasizing unlike you. Don’t you get tired tho? of being disappointed all the time?”

“No. Sometimes hoping is tiring but saves you from sadness” She’s the opposite of you in every ways, and maybe that’s why your friendship works out. They say opposite attracts afterall and similar repels.

Just in time, your prof walk in the class. By the sound of his morning greetings, you can tell that he must’ve had his favorite coffee for breakfast, no doubt his day has been great so far.

You could only hold your pen tighter, very ready to continue the poem you started last night. You were just waiting for him to start the class (Chemistry, your least favorite) so that you can already pretend that you’re taking notes from every nonsense that’s coming out from his mouth when suddenly there seems like an announcement.

“Okay class” he spoke with authority but you can only care less as you’re already so deep into the world of poem and words.

“We have a new friend here today. Please intoduce yourself now”

“Hello, my name is Jeon Jungkook and I hope we get along well”

You shook your head. What’s up with boys named Jungkook nowadays and not just that they sound similar too… WAIT… they’re actually similar!

Upon realizing this, you snap your head to the front only to see Jeon Jungkook, your personal bodyguard, in all his glory, wearing the same uniform as all the other guys in that room, his beaming face earning coos from all the girls, right then and there you realize that your situation… couldn’t get any worse. In no time he’s gonna be your boxing coach too, at the same time sparring partner, maybe he’s gonna be one of your dance mates too. Great.

After his short speech that left everyone a fan of him for sure, he made his way to the vacant seat beside you. Of course he will, what did you expect?

“Hi mate”

You can only sigh at this.

“Hi creep”

“Bad morning?” you’re getting tired of his voice already.

“You know better than anyone else” you took off your eyes from your notebook for a while to look at him directly. “Do you want me to sit on your lap now? I think that’s the only thing left to do, is it?” This is gonna be an endless banter and you can smell it. Seeing that he can’t seem to find out how to use his mouth to speak, you return your eyes to your notebook not missing a roll of it upon doing so.

Just like that, Jungkook was left wide eyed, his expression quickly changing into that of a cocky one and a smirk soon followed suite. He’s gonna love his job for sure.

-

“Isn’t he cute?”

“Every single one here is cute for you Lea, stop speaking and eat your food already”

“This is different. He’s cute and hot Y/N and I think he likes you”

You lift your head and eyes from your food in order to look at her dead in the eyes, a true indication for her to just shut up and eat her food already. The school cafeteria is packed and noises from different groups of people can be heard. She nod her head behind you, a gesture that made you look over your shoulders. And you saw him. Who else but him.

“He does not like me okay? I can tell you that. So now let’s eat peacefully yeah?”

“I mean he’s been checking you out even earlier at class, you’re the first one he laid his eyes into”

You hissed.

“Okay I’ll shut up”

Finally.

-

“Our way to dance class miss?”

“Yes” you said, voice plain. “and please call me Y/N”

“Y/n” he repeated. Your name tasting good coming from his mouth.

“Yes you creep, hurry up or i’ll beat you up if I get late”

Soon after, the only sound in the car that can be heard is the list of songs from Amy Winehouse’s album called Frank and even though you know that it’s not a normal thing to be hearing from someone your age, you couldn’t care less. Halfway through the drive you urge yourself to speak, this question has been lingering on your mind for quite some time now.

“Tell me, what else did you do aside from entering the same school as mine and the same class too like a creep?”

“Don’t worry, nothing else”

“That’s a surprise”

“You know what, you have to treat me as your friend now, your mother told me to treat you as one cause you don’t get along with our kinds so it’s better if we can just be friends or something”

“I’m not friendly so you can scratch that thought already”

“Who hurted you to be like this?”

Jungkook didn’t mean it the hard way but as soon as you process his words, your mind goes blank. You immediately snap your head to his direction, thankfully enough he isn’t looking at you because his focus is on the road. He can see you from the corner of his eye but not entirely. He failed to see the look of vulnerability in your eyes that only three person in this world has seen. First your mom, second Lea, and third, your dad…

-

“Pull over”

“What?” Jungkook looks confused.

“I said pull over”

He did.

You got out of the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat where Jungkook is currently seating.

“Get out”

“No I can’t”

“I said get out, let’s exchange seats”

He obeyed.

No other words was exchanged because soon, you’re speeding up to somewhere he cant pinpoint where.

-

“Let’s have a deal”

You’re now inside the gym, a boxing ring located in the very front of it.

“What kind of deal this time?” Jungkook is now walking beside you.

“You’ll find out”

Soon enough there are two guys in front of you, beaming.

“Y/N!” Hoseok said, his eyes resembling that of crescent moons while making his way closer to you for a hug in which you complied to immediately. Seokjin also did the same resulting to a group hug that almost suffocates you. You love them, oh you surely does.

“Did I hear Y/N” you heard yoongi from a far following some footsteps that you can tell is headed towards you.

“Yoongi”

“Why are you here? You don’t come during weekdays” he said with slight amusement in his tone. Only you can get to stir up an emotion from him and that, you consider is your legacy.

“I needed to let out so badly. Do you have clothes for this guy?” you gesture towards Jungkook. The guy now in spotlight looking lost for a while but soon composed himself trying not to look dumb in front of the unfamiliar but quite intimidating faces.

Yoongi nodded, gesturing for jungkook to follow him while Seokjin and Hoseok produces baffling noises from excitement. You headed to one of the lockers owned by Seokjin to get some clothes that you left there purposely as a stock for emergencies like this. When the both of you had changed into gym clothes, Yoongi was quick to hand the gloves and head gear to the both of you.

“Yoongs, we’re not gonna be using that” Yoongi can only smirk. He knows more than anyone else in that room what’s going on inside your mind right now and the mere thought is enough to produce a smirk to his face.

You’re quick to head to the ring slightly bending your body forward to fully enter it. Less to your surprise Jungkook is still standing with the 3 boys.

“Hey creep! Get in here. We have a deal to finish” He does not need to be told twice because within seconds, he’s already in front of you. “If you win, you’ll get me to comply to one thing that you want me to do but the other way happens when I win. Sound fair?”

“Rules?” He does not back out from challenges.

“Freestyle match” The three guys can’t help but shout from excitement upon hearing this from you. If there is one thing to describe you, it is that you’re a beast inside the ring specially if there are no rules. Truth be told you’re not as serene as you appear to be, never. Eversince you were 11 (the time when you discovered that there’s a thing called punching bags and you can actually not use it because there’s a thing called sparring matches too) you were always involved in fights. Be it when Lea was once bullied by two guys because of her pigtails, in which those poor boys ended up with a broken nose and missing teeth and your first record from the guidance office or when you got pissed off by a random girl because she tried to act almighty in front of you attempting to trip you once when you were on your way to the table you share with Lea in the cafeteria (she ended up transferring schools after that because of an almost broken jaw which resulted to a workload of compensation money and letters from your mother).

After that incident, no one, not a single lost soul has dared to touch you or Lea. It’s not because of what you did but because of what more you can do. You being an asshole of a warfreak isn’t the only case because you act like you have nothing to lose, and that is the scariest thing about you. Well that’s not totally true because you have your own weaknesses, everyone does, but you will never let anyone know about that. The more they know, the higher chance they can take advantage of you. You believe that the more you expose yourself, the more you show fragileness and looking vulnerable in front of someone is scary. For you, not being able to lay flat all your emotions on the table is better than people having the chance or ability to hurt you. So just like that, you almost forget how it feels like to feel and it does not make living any better or easier because choosing to abandon your emotions is like entering the space. It’s like you’re just a floating thing on space, just there but do not actually has a purpose. Like you’re existing but you’re nothing.

You grew up like that. No idea on how to actually express your feelings other than through couple of punches. You would come to the gym every weekend to let out anything you’ve been keeping inside once in a while. You grew fond of the three boys that own this gym. They’re actually the only breathing human being with balls that can get along with you right from the start because at some point, the four of you are not far from same. You never have stopped being involved in fights but you do everything in your power to keep yourself away from it specially if you’re inside the school grounds.

Occasionally you would go home with purple bruises on your face. There is this one time when you happen to stumble to a couple of girls on your way back home from grocery with an ice cream on your left hand. The three of them looks like some gals your age, enjoying the freedom of youth, seemingly broke out of their wits because of clubbing plus cigarettes and alcohol. That time wasn’t the time for girls like you to be out in a dangerous city like seoul with no company of a male friend or relative but the three of them didn’t seem to mind it as they walk towards you, looking as if they can swallow you whole with their over manifestation of eye mascaras just so to look fierce and to have the “im young and wild and free so don’t touch me” vibes. You ignore them as you’re already trying to pass through them, a girl with blonde shoulder length hair and a bubblegum being chewed in his mouth grabbed your right wrist. At first you look at her, carefully scanning her features and you gave her a sweet and innocent smile but the looks she gave you in return screams something between the lines of “you should beg on your knees right now” as if the bubblegum on her mouth isn’t the cliché-est thing you’ve seen through out your whole life. You weren’t really planning on picking up on those girls and you’re already building an invisible bubble consisted of the substance called patience around your brain when halfway through talking them out of the situation, the girl slapped your left hand causing your favorite ice cream that took you a lot of effort to buy from the market to be shove out of your hand and to the floor. The moment you saw the ice cream meeting the dirt on the ground, you let out a scowl. If those girls knew you, they should’ve known better than stand there and continue the mocking expressions on their faces just from the sound of your snort but they don’t know you and they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. So you lost it. The bubble patience wore out and the only thing left was raging anger. Needless to say, they must’ve stayed away from clubbing for 2 months after that incident because you’re sure as hell, one of them was on the brink of losing her eyeballs from a jab you did that ended up straight to her face. You’re not dangerous, you always say that to yourself but you’re always proven wrong whenever you can’t control yourself from wanting to punch just anything in front of you.

Hoseok, Seokjin and Yoongi knows how to calm you down by now. Seokjin being the most caring among all of them has been your exclusive doctor for years now. He would always have his first aid kit checked for empty bottles of disinfectant or pain killers, he can’t afford to run out of them because he can’t afford to see your wounds too. Yoongi has been the only trainer who managed to keep up with your temper whenever you would go overboard because of a specific bullshit in your life. Hoseok have long since learned how to catch your jabs and not get injured whenever the two of you would go sparring, he’s your long life partner, you can’t thank him enough.

Going back to the current situation, you look at Jungkook straight in the eyes, examining if there’s uncertainty on them but much to your surprise, you found none. You realized he’s just as stubborn as you and you can deal with that. “The game ends with a pin. Aside from that, you can do whatever during the match. Are we deal now?” You can feel your insides starting to heat up.

“This is gonna be great” he said in response “but don’t forget that i’m your body guard with a reason y/n, are you sure you want to do this?”

You can’t tell whether he’s being worried or being cocky but you don’t have time to dwell on that any longer. “Let’s see and find out for ourselves shall we?”

“You shouldn’t take her slightly kid” Hoseok knows what to say. He flashes Jungkook one of his blinding smiles.

“That’s Jungkook for you” And then the match started.

The first 2 minutes was spent blocking each other’s attack by hands. Majority of your antics was quickly avoided by him. He’s much stronger and well built than you, you can tell because of the times you lay your hands on his shoulder through out the fight that his muscles aren’t one to mess with. You would attack him countless of times but he won’t do the same for you. You can tell that he’s taking you easy. “Remember our deal. You won’t like it if I win” You said in between attacks.

“Who said i’ll let you win”.

tension

He’s now lurching forward. Left fist attempting its first contact to your face. missed. You grab his left arm still positioned in the air from the previous attack with your right hand. Pulling it towards you, he stumbled forward. Then a kick from your left knee to his torso followed. First hit.

The sound of skin grazing and making contact to each other came to a halt when the both of you paused. Jungkook has taken your left arm behind you by now. His left hand tangled in it with a force. His other arm came wrapped on your neck. Your whole body is aginst his. You can’t move.

Smell of sweat mixed with both your scents is strong in the air. The sound of Jungkook’s ragged breathing filled your ears and the feeling of his wet skin against yours overwhelmed your body.

A kick on the back of your knee sent you to the ground. Coming face to face to him, he hovered over your body. But before he can perform his next moves, you inch your face close to him, your arms made its way around his neck, and then your lips came in contact with each other causing his mind to shut down, eyes wide with the sudden move. 1…2…3…, before he can even comprehend anything, you broke the kiss. Your left knees swayed forward to his lower region. He growled in pain, it caused him to lay crouching on his back, instinctively holding his private part because of the electrifying pain. Then the last move you go, pin.

-

Right after the match ended, you bid your goodbyes with your good friends then you hop to the driver’s seat of your car, your mom’s car. Jungkook was quick to enter the car.

Both of you stayed silent. Jungkook seemingly deep in thoughts because of earlier and you, focused on the road. Jungkook does not have an idea where you’re heading to and by the looks of you, the destination is far from reach so he decided to break the silence.

“So… the deal”

“Yeah the deal” you tap your tumb on the stirring wheel repeatedly before continuing what you has to say “I need you to do this one thing”

“As long as it does not meddle with my work, i’m more than willing to obey”

“Sure” pause “ I need you to lie”

“W-what?”

“I know the system Jeon. You’re my bodyguard, and everyday you send a report to my mom. I’m not dumb”

“If you know the system then you should also know that I can’t lie to your mom because loyalty is a part of my job”

“Your job is to protect me Jeon. You’re my bodyguard and you also have the responsibility to be loyal to me. Besides, you lost the deal so you don’t really have a choice”

“What exactly do I have to lie to?”

“Maybe we have to rephrase that. You don’t need to lie, you just need to skip some details”

“Please be more specific maam” he released a scoff

“Follow me”

—

The both of you ended up in front of a seemingly abandoned, four story high building somewhere in the most secluded part of Seoul where only the most dangerous people who’ve been feared by normal citizens are able to walk on the streets at night. Jungkook can tell from observing the place on your drive up to here that the whole area isn’t a place that a normal person would visit or would plan to. Majority of the buildings around are abandoned and graffitied. There aren’t much streetlights and the houses are small, murky and right next to each other, not to mention, litters are everywhere.

You opened the pealing door surrounded by iron chunks that reveal the interior of the skyscraper you just entered. The ground floor displayed the presence of nothing that even doors separating the multiple rooms are missing. The whole floor is mainly consisted of thick dusts and the very few slightly dimmed flickering lights that is only enough to aluminate the pathway to the stairs. Jungkook kept following you from behind, both your steps leaving an echo through out the place. You made your way down to the underground and upon your second step from the stairs, you halt causing Jungkook to do the same. You turn your face to the side.

“Watch where you’re going Jeon” then you gestured to his feet. Just then, he notice a very thin thread that is almost invisible to him. He carefully took his next step, doing his best not to touch the thing.

“Is that supposed to kill me?” he point his finger to the thread.

“That’s connected to a land mine” you said, voice filled with seriousness

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! What if I didn’t stop there? I might be roasted right in this moment!” He look at you straight in the eyes, looking angry for a moment. The silence lingered in the air as the two of you seemed to have an intense staring contest going on… but what Jungkook didn’t expect was when you burst out laughing. You’re crouching down, holding your stomach and a tear took its place on the corner of your eye threatening to drop at any moment while your giggle filled the room.

“Connected to a land mine” you repeat your words from earlier while doing your best not to end up laughing again. “There’s no such thing as that Jeon. That will just alert someone down here” and then you continue your steps, ignoring Jungkook’s dumbfounded look until you’re standing in front of a room. You entered a code to open the lock on the door and upon entering the only room that seems to be gifted with colors other than gray, Jungkook saw a man slumped on one of the tables, his whole surrounding consisted of computers lined up next to each other, codes on green font appearing then disappearing on them,some computer showing the situation of each room on the building from a camera installed on the corners of it. He definitely didn’t expect any of these.

“Joon” Upon hearing his name, Namjoon jolted from his seat, almost knocking the coffee lying on his left side. Upon recognizing the source of the voice, he wiped his tired eyes, hazily grabbing the glasses on his head and repositioning it so it rests on his nose.

“Y/N” Namjoon is beaming now although you can hear the exhaustion tainting his voice.

“How’s it going?“

“Few codes and I can access his computer already. Actually I didn’t expect this to be risky. Their system is protected with a security software that would alert their main computer if someone is trying to manipulate their pseudonyms. Good thing I found out about it sooner, we almost got caught there” you hum in response, just by then, Namjoon noticed the shadow behind you, he found a nameless man looking slightly dumbfounded gazing back at him. “You didn’t tell me that you’ll be inviting a guest today. Mind if you introduce him?”

“Oh yeah. He’s Jeon Jungkook. My bodyguard” They both eyed each other. Few seconds later Namjoon decided to direct his glance at you, his left eyebrow scrunching up as if to silently ask you what’s going on.

You decided to speak again. “He asked me about the thing that he should lie to. So here it is, I’m showing him the one and only thing that he can never tell my mother because once she knew about this, it’s gonna be over for the two of us”

Fact.

“Wait” Jungkook spoke for the first time. “What exactly is this?” he gestured his hands around.

“You’ll understand this soon once Namjoon finishes his job” You threw a smile on Namjoon. Not a second later, he’s getting back to his work, hands tirelessly typing out words that even you can’t quite figure out. He worked with three computers, constantly switching from time to time.

10 minutes passed, only the sound of Namjoon slamming his fingers on the keyboard and the nonstop clicks from the mouse can be heard. You waited for 1 more minute until Namjoon decided to hit the enter button more loudly than the rest to signal the end of his reverie.  

“Off you go y/n” he removed his glasses. Lying it on his table, he turned back to you and Jungkook to flash you another smile that shows off his deep dimpled cheeks. “Lotus club. I traced the location of his phone and he’s currently there. I also hacked on the cctv of the club a few days ago and I found out he goes there often to get wasted and bring home some girl he can have a good time with on his bed. I need you to do something to get this task 75% done” he pause for a minute, his gaze switching between you and Jungkook. “We need to install something on his phone” he then pull out a small card in between his fingers.

You know what he’s implying already, you’ve done this before on one of your missions and you’re more than excited to do it again. You scurry your way to Namjoon, snatching the micro card on his fingers with a flick.

“Got it pal” then you’re off with Jungkook.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Tail au (part 16)

N/A: one last chapter and it will be done. Another completed fic.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead @everykurt

When Prof X envision the X-men it was, of course, an attempt to make the world a better place for mutantkind-sure, he has his own agenda. He wanted a better place for his son. Who passed away as his powers were too much and took a toll on his body and mind-and was so focus on his own narrow perspective that never considers anything else in this reality.

"Charles, we need to talk..." Ororo starts entering in his study room with a concern expression on her face-no, to be clear, she has a mix of worry and anger direct to Charles Xavier right now- and this is nothing new to the bald headmaster who let her in.

"What I can help you?" Prof X asked already knowing what she will say, no, he does not need to use his powers to know. Ororo is pretty vocal in some of his plans and lately, she doesn´t see eye to eye in some of his ideas and Wolverine is supporting her.

"Kurt and Kitty went to talk with me. Ask me why we fight a bunch of homeless teenagers that Magento and Mystique often negliget, so, Charles, why we fight them?" Ororo asked crossing her arms and Wolverine is waiting for the answer as well.

The man is silent. His respect for Charles or Chuck as he likes to call only goes so far and really...beating up homeless teenagers does not make Logan a hero. Magneto and Mystique are different stories through.

"Ok. Let me ask you this. How do you know those kids, teenagers into adulthood, can work in a society with humans?" is an easier question with many implications and Prof X is aware of all of them.

Ororo is also aware of its implication and is not happy. "And tell me something, what´s the difference between the girl in Cairo who steals to survive and the boy in the Brotherhood and has no option?"

Prof X narrow his eyes at this. "You´re different from them"

"Yes, and the fact you´re saying that proves how far fetched from reality you´re. Charles...I could have been like Lance or Todd, I was like them at some point until you give me a chance, why can´t you offer them the same courtesy?"

"I don´t don´t trust Magneto"

"Me neither" states Logan. "Trust me, I would be happy to kill the old bastard, but, the kids? there´s nothing heroic there Chuck. Nothing"

Prof X crosses his hands above his chin and is thinking. "and how this would go? I imagine you have a plan"

And now, finally, Storm has a smile on her face. "As a matter of fact..."

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Amy is walking down to the corridor where the next class will happen and she does not want to get late-she needs good grades or else her parents will be very upset with her- and in her way there, she sees Kurt Wagner (the kraut, again, Amy is honest in her prejudice with Germans) talking way too friendly with Kitty Pryde.  Messing with her tail, well, not messing but gingerly touching it.

Makes Amy be even more certain that Kurt is not the right boy for someone like Amanda and in a moment of pure stupidity and cruelty a teenager can emulate she calls Kurt a Kraut and says how Amanda is better of without him.

In hindsight, it was stupid and she should have kept her mouth shut, but, now she has spoken Kurt Wagner looks at her a bit hurt and at the same time a bit perplexed.

"I was never interested in Amanda" Kurt answers confused until his mind recalls of the girl who was calling him excessively and sending messages asking how he is and if he´s alright.

"Whatever, Kraut, just stay away from Amanda" Amy speaks and Kurt looks at Kitty who is ready to charge at Amy and her fluffy tail is waving around angrily like a cat.

"I repeat, I was never interested in Amanda...even less so, because of this" and he removes his holo-watch showing his blue face. Amy didn´t scream, is not loving, nor hate.

"So, you´re not the human pet? Whatever just stay away from Amanda" and runs away.

"Kurt? Are you sure? You can still put your holo-watch..."

"Yeah, but...maybe I just want to be blue, you know, is my favourite colour as well..." and his now golden eyes look at Kitty for a moment. "will you be there with me?"

"Always, fuzzy elf. Always"

________________________________________________________________________________________

The absence of Amanda was noticed by her friends, who feared the worst, ask Info-Chan where is Amanda and the results are a new gossip to the entire school. Lance and Amanda are caught making out in a heated way. Headmaster Darkholme is not pleased by such commotion and Lance is not happy to see headmaster Darkholme -she was in a convention in Minessota and returns now. Her assistant was filling the gaps for her during this period- and she is the one scolding them.

Once alone, she looks at Lance with a bit of disgust and pity. "She´s human. What you think it will happen here?" her tone is iced and for a moment Lance thought in the German boy speaking in such a way.

"I thought...hey, she´s hot and I´m single...why not?"

"Magneto will not be happy"

"Magneto is never happy. And you´re never happy. So...why bother"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Amanda is not confused in regards to her own feelings. She´s trying to call Kurt, but, once again no one answers -it says her number is blocked- only when one of her friends updates her in regards the newest gossip is that Amanda falls backwards.

"He is a mutant all this time? And he´s fuzzy?" Amanda asked impressed. But she recalls the kiss, make-out session, she offered to Lance, and now is confused.

"Yeah, and he´s walking with Kitty"

"Of course he is"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

"How are you feeling?"

"Is not as I thought it would be. No pitchforks so far" he jokes but holds her hand tightly. "is not how I imagined...which is good"

"I´m proud of you, Kurt"

"Thanks...you inspire me to do this"

[thelonelytraveler11]

Is this really the best I can do?!

It's been three years since I've done any form of research. I haven't worked in almost three years. Just in case anyone's wondering, yes, I filled out job applications (a lot, like ~250 before I gave up). For the past couple years, I've been living off my savings, the little bit of money I get from my family, and the little bit of money I get from having part time jobs. My work experience since dropping out has been pretty dismal (on average), I haven't been able to hold down a job that gave an appreciable amount of money for longer than 3 months at a time without being fired or being so miserable that I just said "fuck it" and quit.

I understand the concern some may have. You may consider it my fault for being unemployed. Quitting a job that I'm miserable while doing may seem irrational or irresponsible, but speaking as a person who spent almost the entirety of his college years being miserable, I can say with all honesty that being broke is better than being miserable. I envy those that can’t seem to comprehend my way of thinking, because that probably means they have a very good life. I wouldn't want to work in an environment that negatively affects my emotional state for 4 decades anyways. Having disposable income isn’t more important than my well being. Having a job I actually enjoy doing is very important to me because I don't have many sources of happiness in my life.

I'm kind of a loner. I don't have a strong relationship with any of my relatives and I don't have friends anymore (and even more troubling, I don't care to have those types of relationships anymore). The only potential source of happiness is my job. I don't foresee me failing in love or developing a close relationship with anyone. If the current trend continues, I think its more probable that it doesn’t happen.

I feel numb most of the time and when I do feel something, I'm usually thinking about my college days and that something is usually anger. It honestly was my biggest regret, going to the University of Illinois. Sometimes I wished I never went to college. Literally the only thing that was even remotely good about my college experience was my grades, everything else sucked. Looking back, I wish I went back to working at CVS after I graduated from HS.

In the alternate timeline, I probably would have been better off in the long run (very little stress, no debt, live rent free at my mom's house for a couple of years after graduation while working a presumably full time job which would enable me to save up a fair amount of cash before moving out). Instead, I came away with nothing. My college education was completely worthless, I reaped no benefits from being a degree recipient. All I did was waste 7 years of my life and thousands of other people’s dollars studying stuff that ultimately wouldn't matter. If I were a benefactor for the UIUC department of chemistry, I would be pissed to hear my story because that means my money isn't being put to good use, especially if I added into one of the scholarships that was awarded to me.

So, I know what your wondering, why am I writing this post? Well, I was trying to get ride time with CFD and I called for a specific person that wasn't in. Someone took a message and wrote my name down as Joel Dennison. Dennison was the last name of the NMR guy at UCI. That got me thinking about my college days and how I hated basically everyone. I caught myself looking through emails and for the most part, the more I read, the more I remembered, the more enraged I got. Now that's one sure fire way to put me in a bad mood, get me thinking about the bad ol' days. I bet many of the people I went to grad school with are enjoying their careers, while I was completely forgotten (and if they're not enjoying them, well at least they have them).

I’ve always wondered why were the other students so complicit? Is racism really that prevalent? Is there something else going on? See, it's one thing to not say anything while they were still students because it runs the risk of them being treated like I was treated. But to not even offer a helping hand even after their careers were established, knowing what they know, is un-fucking-real.

I never really felt welcomed in chemistry. People seemed to be more in love with the idea of me. I noticed the longer I stayed, the worse I was treated. At U of I, it was .... kinda bad. I experienced a form a discrimination where I would have written essentially the same answer as my lighter counterparts but received lower grades (slightly lower, but still). People assumed I did well in certain classes because the professor "liked me" (pretty sure no one at U of I liked me much). People also made statements that are crazy racist and then tried to pass them off as jokes. I fucking hated life in Champaign-Urbana.

SIDE NOTE: the following story doesn't necessarily reflect the chemists, but it does represent a subset of the student body at U of I. So, I'm sitting in the cafeteria with three dudes I already knew and some guy from the next table looks over to me and says "Sorry, if I offended you". I calmly replied "what did you say?" And Oh....My....God.... the look of utter fear was plastered all over his face. I said, "What did you say?", again, calmly. I can not stress enough that I was visibly calm throughout this entire situation. And then I noticed he was shivering, I figured I would warm up a lil bit by using my hot ass breath, so I repeated the question louder and slower (you know, to give the guy's body time to come to thermal equilibrium), again.......calmly. He was still frozen in fear. So now I am mentally gearing up to jump across this table to snatch this little boy's neck out from under him. And then something miraculous happened, my tunnel vision broke down and I realized someone was calling me. It was Jon (one of the kids I was sitting with) telling me to drop it...so I did......so, yeah, that's the story of how I almost got kicked out of U of I for snatching the neck out from under some little white kid during sophomore year. 


But there was one instance of me being the butt of racist jokes in chemistry that I can remember. Then UIUC grad student, John Overcash (who I believed worked for Ken Suslick), made mention of me "cooking crack up in the kitchen" on more than one occasion. Apparently, since I was a black chem major (that specialized in organic chemistry) I must have been a drug dealer beforehand. Or maybe he thought I was a drug dealer then....who knows...

To make matters worst, people have used the stuff other people made up to put themselves a head of me. Senior year I had an interview with eli lilly. My interview was at 9 am and there was one person interviewing before me at 8 am. The 8 am slot was taken by one Joseph Cullen (a fellow undergrad). During the end of his interview , I could vaguely hear what was said, but it sounded like Cullen told the interviewers that I was a drug dealer. The door opens up, the interviewer shoots me a look and goes into the room where my interviewers were and talks to them. Meanwhile Cullen walks past me. I give him a thumbs up and he walks away chuckling to himself. These are not good signs. I can’t say for certain that these people really believed I was a drug dealer, but their behavior suggested it. It was their reaction to me saying the phrase "nice white crystalline product", that’s what suggested it. I was describing the physical characteristics of the product from a reaction I ran and it just so happen to be a white crystalline solid (...smh). What I want to know why were these people so quick to believe Cullen? Yes, what Cullen said could be true (which it wasn't) but couldn't it also be true that he's trying to give himself a better chance of getting a job by undercutting the competition?

I wish I got a job offer as an undergrad. I honestly didn't want to go to grad school, but I had no other choice. Visiting grad schools was a whole ordeal, I was told in one way or another that I wasn’t welcomed ... at every school. At Scripps I was told explicitly that I wasn’t good enough to be there by complete strangers (how exactly would they know given that they never assessed my ability to think ... who knows). At Indiana University, I was placed in a hotel room by myself because they heard I slept naked. At UCI, I was told that I wouldn’t make it pass my first year (again, by complete strangers). At Caltech, I was told I didn’t belong because I was a drug dealer (or that I look like a drug dealer, apparently).

Now, I ask you, how do drug dealers look exactly? What are they’re defining characteristics? I ask because if you asked someone who lived in Champaign-Urbana for four years to imagine what a drug dealer looks like, they might imagine a srcawny white boy in a frat (not someone that looks like me). What makes the Caltech visit even weirder was that Prof. Sarah Reisman was just standing by, staring at me while I was being told I didn’t belong (by the help, you know, the people who was serving drinks). It was like she was trying to read my facial expressions to get a sense of what type of person I was (or am). Or was she using the help as a proxy to express her own thoughts (I’m not sure)? Was she waiting for me to “defend myself”? 
How would I be able to do that exactly?

SIDE NOTE: it’s impossible to defend yourself when there’s no evidence for or against whatever accusations there may be. It all comes down to what people choose to believe. The help has already chosen to believe I’m a drug dealer (or at least look like one) and I’m willing to bet there’s really nothing I can really do about.

No matter how I analyze the situation, Reisman’s behavior does not reflect positively on her as a person. I’m not sure if she knows this, but she was the primary reason I had to not go to Caltech. I found her behavior to be very off-putting and I got the sense that she didn’t really want me to go to school there. On top of that there was talk of her wanting to have (oral) sex. 


DISCLAIMER: I am effectively asexual, I don’t have sex ... with anyone ... or anything (yes, I actually needed to say both).

Now, I didn’t believe the talk when I first heard it because I thought there was no way a self-respecting, competent professor would admit to wanting to engage in a sexual relationship with a perspective student ... this is what I choose to think. However, the more I heard of her desires to have (oral) sex, the more I believed it. But I never fully accepted the rumors as the truth until my first year at UCI. Reisman came to Irvine for a talk and as always almost all the Organic students showed up. Before the event, I was sitting at the small table with another grad student in my year, her name was Beth R. (I don’t know how to spell her last name and I’m not going to try to google it). Beth ended up mentioning how pretty Reisman looked .... I “mmmhmmm”ed her. I could hear the chatter going on behind me, Reisman seemed mildly disappointed that I didn’t agree. Beth soothed her ill feelings by saying that I didn’t disagree. After the event, I was talking to Prof. Scott Rychnovsky and Reisman came up in the conversion. This was the final nail in the coffin that made me believe the rumors were true. It wasn’t the fact that he said she would’ve blown me, it was the fact that he said it soooo enthusiastically. He was as enthused as a person could possibly be in a professional/academic setting. No one should that enthused by the thought of a man getting his dick sucked as much as Rychnovsky was by the thought of Reisman putting my dick in her mouth, no one. It was kinda weird. 


The thought this woman hocking loogies on my dick tip, and imagining the sensation of warm saliva slowly rolling down my shaft (as I quote lines from the movie, Shaft (the Samuel L. Jackson version...obviously)) as I knock my head back, praying to god that I don’t come away from this situation with paper cuts (she has thin lips) just to look back down after noticing she paused just so she could fill the waves from my pulsating erection and make eye contact as she goes deeper and increases the pace eventually moving to the point where she starts straggling my balls and moaning like Lady Gaga singing a lullaby to baby while stroking my hard cock until I cum for her as Nicole Nava sits beside her while taking notes shouldn’t be even remotely amusing.....TO ANYONE...EVER!!!!!! But apparently to Rychnovsky, it was. It was at that moment I never wanted to be affliated with Caltech as long as Reisman was there. If Caltech and Illinois were the only two places that offered me jobs after finishing the PhD, I’d have to change careers.


Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t really view professors as people. When I was a student, they were more like encyclopedias that could talk to me. They simply took the form of a human, kinda like a barbie doll. They’re anatomically incorrect, they lack genitalia, so they don’t have a gender. I honestly, believed this. One time, during senior year, I walked in the third floor bathroom in RAL and I saw Prof Steven Zimmerman taking piss. My face immediately screws all the way up, my inside voice says “How is he standing up and taking a piss when he doesn’t have a dick?”.....I thought that....I literally thought that....I shit you not. Just so you know, it wasn’t just Zimmerman, it was every professor. The women are doubly dickless, in my mind Suzanne Blum was like —(Mia Khalifa) because she has negative two dicks inside of her at all times.

DISCLAIMER: just so we’re clear, I’m NOT alluding to the fact that Blum has to get people to agree to have sex with her. Nor am I alluding to the assertion she’ll probably be nothing more than an afterthought for literally anyone. I’m merely trying to stress the fact that I don’t think of professors as people, but as encyclopedias that can talk to me.

I was made to feel unwlecomed at every school I visited. Why? Well, you'll have to ask them. I can honestly say that by the time graduation (from U of I) came around I didn't believe that i would have a successful career as a chemist, but I put everything into this so I couldn't just leave...

Grad school was even worst because on top of being the black kid, I was also the social pariah. The other students did a real good of making me feel unwelcomed. So much so that after two weeks of living in Irvine I stopped trying to make friends. No one seemed interested in being cool with me (I'm basing this off people's behavior ... obviously). And if some of them were, the way they showed it was so unique that I couldn't even recognize it as a sincere attempt to get my attention.

I also experienced some the same stuff I did when I was at U of I. Namely, instructors not giving me what I earned. In Dave VanVraken’s class I always received the second highest score on the exams. The really curious thing is that no one knows who received the top score. Once, when I asked to see the printed out distribution, the TA refused to show me (why?). I'm willing to bet that single point ahead of me was a dummy point. In Liz Jarvo’s class, when the first exam came around, we found out the high score was a 83. Who got the high score?...no one knows, but when I received my test the number 38 was written on (Also note I just so happen to get the same score as the other kid from U of I). At first, I was puzzled and glanced over to Peg (the TA). She sees my score, turns to Jarvo and says "he knows he didn't get that low". While I don't remember Jarvo’s exact words, she stated in some way that I would come to her and argue my case for a higher grade. So, here's the thing. I shouldn't have to defend myself or argue with you to ensure that I'm treated like everyone else. It should be a given. 


From what I hear the reason why I was treated this way has something to do with them not wanting me to "talk stuff" to the other students. 


Okay, so where is this coming from? I ask because I’ve been me long enough to know their opinion of what I’m like isn’t actually based off me. If they actually talked to my fellow classmates, the most common thing you’d probably hear is that I’m quiet. So either these people are just making up stuff to justify treating me how they want to treat me or my classmates are liars. I’m not really the type to talk about my grades (or really anything) unless the topic is explicitly brought up in conversation (and this is assuming I feel like talking at all). You can dress it up however you want, but treating me like a second class student for any reason solely reflects poorly on you (it gives no indication as to what I’m like). There were instances like this in half the classes I took. Some, admittedly were a smaller deal than others. In Vanderwal’s class I got marked off once because I didn’t draw both arrows in a mechanism that included a homolytic cleavage. For those that don’t know, if a homolytic cleavage occurs and you show one electron going in one direction, it is assumed that the other electron goes in the opposite direction and therefore does not need to be explicitly stated (minor, but mildly annoying). In polymer chemistry (taught by Aaron Esser-Khan), we had one assignment where we needed to propose something that wasn’t in the primary literature. I proposed a polymerization based off a derivative of the Hiyama coupling. Khan’s critique was that since it wasn’t already in the primary literature, it probably wasn’t a good idea ... really?! And don’t even get me started on spec because that spec TA was sketchy as fuck. He intentionally told me the wrong due date for a homework assignment and I’m pretty sure he shaved a couple points off one of my exams...

Okay, so these experiences are only a subset of the shitty things I experienced as a UCI student. But do you know what made life at UCI worst than life at U of I? My research advisor (Suzanne Blum)....and to a slightly lesser extent my fellow group members. Over the years I grew to hate them. I was lied about, I had a homework assigns hidden behind water coolers (Darius Faizi), I’ve had the nitrogen lines removed from air sensitive reactions (Darius Faizi, Suzanne Blum), I had products from reactions switch out for reagent alcohol (it’s a mixture of ethanol, methanol, and isopropanol) (Josh Hirner), I’ve had septums removed from reaction mixtures (Josh Hirner), I’ve had people try to placate me with sex (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people try to use the fact that I was in an agitated state to get something they wanted (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people turn on the indoor lights in my car in an effort to drain my battery while I’m allowing them to use my car to practice driving so they can get a U.S. driver’s license (Muhammed Al-Amin), I’ve had people ask questions just so they can not listen to the answer (Chao Zheng, Drew), I’ve experienced asking people for help just so they can not even try to help brainstorm what the answer could be (Darius Faizi, Kim Tu), I helped others brain storm shortcomings for a proposal, just to catch an attitude when they realize I didn’t catch everything the first time around (Quinn Easter). 


SIDE NOTE: To provide context, Quinn asked me to look through a synthetic route in his proposal that he was intending to present in his advancement to candidacy exam. There was something I didn’t immediately see but did bring up during a group when he was giving a practice presentation. He became visibly upset and mentioned he thought I was trying to make him look bad. If I was really trying to make you look bad, I wouldn’t have told you anything, so that you would’ve made the same mistakes when it actually mattered. Quinn, you’re an idiot.  


l’ve had people call me after I already dropped out and given up on chemistry from a redacted telephone number claiming to be an official representative of UCI calling me in an effort to get my address (Suzanne Blum, Ashley Davis), and I’ve had the experience where I ask for information pertinent to group website maintenance and they act like I’m hitting on them (Adena).

SIDE NOTE: 
This is something that always amused/offended me, having  someone assume I’m attracted to them because I acknowledged their existence. It’s funny because because they have the audacity ... but it’s also offensive because the operating assumption is that I don’t have standards, which couldn’t be further from the truth. (They seem to make a lot of faulty assumptions)

What was this experience suppose to teach me? How was I supposed to become a better person or scientist because of my affiliation with the group/university? Me coming to Irvine and working for Blum was a total waste of my time. I’m not entirely sure what her deal was, but it seemed she had a preconceived notion of who I was. No matter what type of relationship we have (or suppose to have) this will cause problems where there shouldn’t be. 


Is the request that someone’s opinion of you is actually based on you too much to ask for? Because I feel it’s a basic request that most people should be able to easily do. The contemptuous treatment did subside with time (mostly because I avoided talking to other students when ever possible) but it never really stopped. Why did it start to begin with? I’m willing to bet the only things they don’t like about me has everything to do with me reacting to the way they treat me.  Again, I have to ask, is racism really that prevalent?


Then one day, I started getting so fed up with life that I decided I needed an escape, even if it’s only for a couple weeks. So, I started planning a trip to Europe. I worked hard in the weeks coming up to the trip. I was trying to finish my entire project before I left (sadly, I didn’t, but I tried). Things were looking on the up and up. Before I left, Blum even said I was meeting her expectations, that was the nicest thing she ever said to me (it was the nicest thing anyone at UCI has ever said to me). I went off on my trip, and during the middle of it I received an email essentially telling me that my time at UCI was finished. Why? I still don’t know. 3 years later and I still don’t know why my career was ended before it was even given a chance to start.  It’s hard to move on with your life when you don’t have closure. It’s really hard to move on when you still have to live with consequences of other people’s actions.

 SIDE NOTE: I got the sense sometimes that Suzanne Blum did not really care about her job 100% of the time. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s like, either she truly didn’t understand the importance of her role (as the leader of a research group) or she truly doesn’t give a shit. Either way, she doesn’t deserve to be in the position she’s in. 


I still remember my last day in Irvine. It was bitter sweet. I was so happy to finally get to leave but also a bit anxious because I knew that the thousands of hours I spent studying and doing research was time wasted and it would never amount to anything. I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with my credentials. I even saw Eric (the other kid from U of I) in the student center when I went over to get lunch. He was looking at me all sad and shit because he knew I didn’t have a future in chemistry. We didn’t talk, we just walked past each other and exchanged glances. I tried to conceal a smile as I walked by. By the time my Dad’s flight landed, I had moved most of the stuff out my apartment. 


Life at home was hard. Depression is a mother fucker. I liken it to  a less severe version of sleep paralysis. I felt like I was stuck in my own body. Kinda like how I felt in the early Irvine days when it would take me hours to roll out of bed. I would literally wake at 6 am and just stare at the ceiling for ~4 hrs before I could convince myself to get up. And to make things worst, no emotional support was offered by my family. Their assumptions that I’m somehow responsible for other people’s actions along with their snide remarks about me being lazy did the opposite of help. I regretted coming home, even more so when I found out I somehow failed the background check for CPD. 


Now, how in the holy fuck does someone without a criminal record fail a background check? The only reasonable thing I could come up with to explain this is that the work experience I listed (my research experience) doesn’t count as work experience because instead of working for a salary, I worked for credit hours or a stipend. I have to tell myself things like this to convince myself I’m not getting screwed over in every facet of my life. If this is true, then my college experiences are doubly worthless because not only can the credentials I’ve earned not be used to get a job I’m more than qualified to do, but they can’t even get me a job you don’t even need a bachelor’s degree for.  


I wish I moved to LA after dropping out. If I stayed in Cali, I’d be force to move on with my life because I wouldn’t be able to sulk in my mother’s house for months. What would I do for work? idk...but I’d find something, and when I get fired, I’d just move on to the next dead end job.

As time went on, I found it easier to move, I still have scars though. Scars that may never heal. What can I do from here on out? I’m not sure. Going back to graduate school isn’t an option (or any program that requires letters of recommendations) because after experiencing what I’ve experienced and allowing those that I depended on for letters of rec to learn about my experiences, everyone seemed to be complicit. Either they didn’t do anything to change the course of action or it seemed like they were trying to cover it up by telling me to take the site down. I lost faith in everyone, I don’t think I can trust any of the profs to submit a letter of rec on my behalf when they either have done something that goes against my interests, are complicit in the wrong doing of others, or seem as though they’re attempting to cover up what happened to me. Even if I could get in anywhere, I still don’t want to go back to school. I lost faith in higher education. I lost faith in people. Whatever I do, I have to be able to do it without a college degree.

Just in case you’re wondering, I can’t depend on my college friends either. Mostly because I wasted no time trying to make friends. I’ve come to believe that friends are a worthless luxury.

I honestly believed that if I studied hard and knew my shit someone would hire me. I was wrong. I learned the hard way that to the outside world you are not you. You are not the sum total of your thoughts and actions. You are your skin color. You are your hair texture. You are the clothes you wear on your back. You are what people choose to believe you are. You are not you. People don’t care to get to know the people around them, they just want to feel as though their justified in believing the way they do. So I guess in order to get by in life you just need to be everyone’s friend and present yourself in such a way that everyone deems acceptable. Having the skills needed to do the job is more of an afterthought, huh? You know, one of the corollaries is that you’re expected to exhibit a certain level of extroversion. Welp, it just so happens to be the case that I’m an introvert and if the previous statements have some truth then I can honestly say this system was set up for me to fail. The only way I can get by in life is because I’m better than the other guy. No one will ever choose me because I’m their best friend.

I believe that’s where some of my problems stem from. When people see my face, they expect an extrovert (or at least someone who is more extroverted than me). When they find out I’m not who they want me to be, the reactions can range from essentially nothing, to mild disappointment, to mild hostility. And I think this is because people are more interested in the idea of me than actually getting to know me. So when they meet me and actually get to know me after building me up in their heads they’re kinda like “...oohh, this is it?!”. I don’t understand people. It’s like people just assume that you’re going to conform to their world view while refusing to even bend to yours. Now, I’m totally opposed to the very concept of “fitting in” because of all that. I got the sense “fitting in” means assimilation, which may involve losing qualities that make you unique (ones you may actually like about yourself). I don’t see why I should change in any way for people I don’t like, that I don’t see the benefit of being associated with, or for people that never liked me to begin with. People even sometimes mock my behavior, presumably because I’m not what they want me to be and this is just their way of trying to get me to conform.


The most recent example of this is my cousin Sonia (she’s multicultural). I went to her graduation party during the summer. And as with most family functions, it pretty much consisted of me sitting quietly most of the time. So fast forward to when it’s time to go home. My mother and 2/3 of my brother’s children are making their way to the car, noticing the third one is missing I go back for her. As I’m making my way up the front porch, three of my cousins (one of which is Sonia) are in my path and I say “watch out”. As I walk past Sonia, she says something along the lines of “woah, he must be serious....” while laughing... I’m going to say this once, “Mocking my behavior because I don’t act how you want me to act will never help anything”...... unless you’re actively trying to get me to dislike you. I have to remember that Sonia is just a child. Maybe it hadn’t dawn on her yet that there’s more to life than what she’s experienced. She’s probably never met a person like me, so she won’t know what to say in order to get me to interact with her. But then I’m like, “But what makes her think making herself look like an ass would actually help her in any capacity?” How does this explain the behavior of grown ass men and women who do the same thing?”. I wonder if it’s a cultural thing, and these people just don’t realize how bad they make themselves look to people that aren’t like them. 


On the way home, I started thinking, “Is this really the best I can do?”.  Have I been doomed to live a life where I’m not really happy? No, it can’t be the case. I still have faith. I may not have faith in other people anymore, but I still have faith in myself. I believe I can make something out of nothing, even if no one else does.

After going through all I���ve gone through, all I want is to not suffer anymore. I just want to be insanely rich for no reason. This won’t solve all my problems but it will eliminate many. If I ever come into having an ungodly amount of money, I’d give some of it to my family so they can afford many of the things that they want in life. Then I’d disappear, never to be seen or heard from again.


I’ve become acutely aware of the fact that people want to learn useless knowledge without ever having to talk to me.

DISCLAIMER: the knowledge is useless because we won’t/don’t have a relationship of any sort. Why waste your time learning information that isn’t relevant to your life?

So I’m going to take this opportunity to answers some personal questions because the thing I hated the most about you people is your unique combination of arrogance, ignorance, and obliviousness. While I can’t help with the arrogance and the obliviousness, I can help with your total lack of knowledge. So, without further ado ...

QUESTION TIME

Did you ever like life in Champaign county?

I was excited to be there in the beginning, then I met the people and all that excitement went away quick.

What’s your fondest memory from college?

That one time when Chipotle was doing that 2 for 1 deal. That was cold.

So, what’s up with your sexuality?

I don’t have sex because I don’t want to take the risk of having children, also no STDs. People were oddly obsessed with my sexuality and I never quite understood it. Here’s the thing, I’m a little self centered and I’m like you in the sense that I don’t immediately acknowledge other people’s way of thinking all the time. I honestly don’t understand why there was as much “interest” in knowing what I’m interested in (I use quotes because if people were actually interested they probably would have try talking to me). My viewpoint is that your claimed sexual orientation is irrelevant, it’s not even worth bring up in conversation. The reason why is simple. If you see a pretty girl and you know she’s interested in men, it doesn’t necessary mean she’s interested in you (assuming your male) right? That’s why the only thing that matters to me is whether or not the person I’m interested in is interested in me. 

It’s funny because if you completely ignore the fact that not everyone thinks like me, it would seem as though there were ALOT of dudes that wanted me to fuck them when I was in college.

To the people “interested” in knowing my sexual orientation. Ask yourself two questions. Do you want a shot? Do you think you have a shot? Think hard about it. If the answer to one of those questions is “no”, don’t waste your time.

If you haven’t already figured it out by now, I don’t think like a normal person. I’m never going to adjust or change to make you feel comfortable, the best thing I can do is not talk to you at all. I don’t adjust to you, you adjust to me. Why? because fuck you, that’s why.

Are you ever going to have sex?

Maybe, maybe not. What’s it to you?

Do you think people like you?

I know they don’t. Based off their actions, they don’t want to like me either. They’d spend less time gossiping about the negative characteristics I could have and more time actually getting to know me if they did.

You don’t think people know anything about you?

It all depends on what you think it means “to know”. Personally, I don’t. I’m never around people long enough for them to be able to get a true sense of who am I as a person. All people get are snapshots. Sadly, that isn’t good enough. That’s something I don’t think most people realize, actually.

What if after reading this, people actually started trying to get to know you, how would you react?

My recommendation is that you don’t waste your time. You can’t undo the damage that’s already been done. I’ve already stopped caring.

If you could go back in time and pick another college, which would you pick?

Xavier University in NOLA. I’d pick this HBCU because I’m fairly confident some of the problems I encountered at U of I wouldn’t have existed there.

Why did you choose UCI?

Because they told me I wasn’t going to make pass my first year.  I knew what type of student I was. I knew I had what it took to make it through any program. But I was at a low point in my life, where nothing seemed to be going right. I figure If I go there and get forced out after a year, it wouldn’t be my fault. The devastating thing is they let me get so close to graduating before just booting me out like they did.

Why did you use the word “they”?

Someone easily could have stepped in and did something. The department just enabled her (Suzanne Blum).

What grad program do you think you should have choose?

Indiana University or Rutgers probably would been better for me.

What motivates you to do well?

Meaningful positive reinforcement. Don’t just give out compliments for the sake of giving out compliments.

What’s one thing you hate most about people?

Their stupidity. Before I was told I failed the background check fro CPD. I’d get calls from some sort of case worker for CPD who was suppose to determine my eligibility. This dude asked me if I “resigned” from the Blum group and acted like that was a perfectly valid question. This wasn’t a job, it was a component of an academic program. I WAS A STUDENT. There was no resignation. You don’t resign from school. You either graduate, drop out, or get expelled. I know some college education is required for employment with CPD, so it’s far more likely that this guy is an idiot. REMEMBER GRAD SCHOOL IS STILL SCHOOL AND THERE ONLY 3 WAYS TO LEAVE.

Did you ever consider taking legal action?

Yes, but I know the people I’m dealing with aren’t above lying. Since there’s no physical evidence (that I have in my possession) proving that wrongs did occur, I’m reluctant to believe I’d actually win. It’s not smart to get into a “he said she said” battle with people that are believed to be pathological liars.

Are there any common misconceptions you’d like to clear up?

I wasn’t doing the school shit to make friends. I only wanted to make money. That’s the only reason why I was there, to make money. Every time someone why I as getting a PhD, my answer essentially went like, “I’m getting a PhD because money.” I see no point in trying to make friends with people who seemed to have been conditioned to dislike me.

Also, just because I’m quiet it doesn’t mean that I’m stuck up. It is in fact possible to be someone who isn’t a big talker.

Contrary to popular belief. I am in fact a HUMAN BEING. I have emotions and sometimes something could happen in one part of my life that can affect other parts of my life (like how well I do in school or how productive I am in lab).

Why did you just give up?

What’s the point of playing the game when you know you’ll never win.

It seems like the college years were a hard time for you, did you ever do something to ease the pain, like drugs or alcohol?

No, I love myself too much to potentially set myself up for problems later. I gave comedy a thought, but I found really hard to want to be funny when all I’m thinking about is the depressing shit that inspired the joke. If I’m gonna do something, it’s gonna be something were I don’t have to live with the consequences of my actions. I was suicidal. I was planning to kill myself the night before my thesis defense.

Why then?

I was fairly confident that no one there cared to save me from myself. But just in case someone wanted to surprise me, I figure it would be best to do when no one would expect it.

How?

potassium cyanide. The night before my defense I was going to make it my point to get a bottle of potassium cyanide. a couple months before my trip to Europe, I looked up who had it. It was on the fourth floor (or maybe the fifth). Go all the way down to the last lab space on the right hand side. When you walk into the lab space go along the right hand side and go through the door on your right. After that go to the first door on the right hand side. I placed a bottle on KCN in the first column on the left hand side, top shelf. The bottle should be on the wall on the left side (assuming it’s still in the same place I left it). I figured it wouldn’t get much use due to its inherent toxicity so it would probably be in the same place I left it when I needed it. I wouldn’t be surprise if the bottle is still in that exact spot.


Did you ever think about getting help?

From who? When I did finally ask for help, the first thing I was told was that the department sided with Blum (mind you this is before any type of investigation occurred). As soon as I posted the email from Chris Vanderwal on this blog, his tune changed immediately. But his actions didn’t reflect the words he put out in the public space. He was of no use. He had no interest in helping me in any capacity. I’m sure of it. I’m all alone in this world, I don’t have a safety net so if I fall, that’s my ass.

What about the professors from UIUC?

My previous statement stands. I had no one.

Is that why you started the blog? You felt like your were all alone and just wanted someone talk to, even if that someone was actually a void in space?

Yes, that’s exactly it.

Is that why you’re still posting, you still feel alone?

yes

But what about your family?

With them I’m a dependent not a provider. They’d be okay without me.

So have you really never sought out a therapist?

I couldn’t find steady work. I can’t afford it. Depression is a rich people disease. When you’re broke you’re just labeled as lazy.

What’s one thing you want everyone to know?

You shouldn’t let your assumptions or the assumptions of others affect how you treat me. Remember, you don’t know me. I could come to be your best friend, your faithful and supportive business partner, or the love of your life and you’d just let me slip away all because someone told you dislike me.

(Also, please don’t waste my time talking to me about all the typos I made)

[thenearsightedmonkey]

Dear Students,

This is alternative version of the interview comic assignment.  I am in thie picture above, the furthest person on the right, being held.

I would love to interview every single one of these people.

Sincerely,

Prof. Hantu

Interview Comic Assignment

 This assignment asks you to both interview and teach someone two of the things we do in class: the basic Ivan Brunetti style of drawing and the X page.

 You’ll need to draw with and interview three different people.  If possible, one should be older than you, one younger and one around your age. You’ll be using one of these three interviews to make a comic strip in class when you get back.

 Part One

 You’ll need index cards, a Flair or Uniball pen, your compbook, four songs that are about three minutes long and about 45 minutes for each interview.

 Begin by giving them a short drawing lesson in the style of Ivan Brunetti.  Start by drawing a frame on the index card, then draw a large round head-shape, a smaller body shape, noodle arms, snowball hands, rudimentary fingers, shoes or feet, and facial features, naming what you are doing as you go. Explain why it allows you to do more than a stick figure does. Then draw a big space helmet on the character, and a rocket back pack and some planets and stars to indicate the character is now in space.

 Let the person know that you are both going to ‘take attendance’ by doing some quick drawings. Draw your frames, write your names and the date. Tell them you are going to play a song and you are both going to draw full body self portraits in the style of Ivan Brunetti and that both of you will be drawing yourself as astronauts.

Ask them to draw for the entire song without stopping, adding little details if they don’t know what to draw next.  When the song ends, both of you should hold up your drawings so the drawings ‘can see each other’.

Quickly let them know that you’re going to do another drawing and do it immediately so the mood of the first drawing helps make the second. Tell them they’ll have about the same amount of time but now you both are going to draw yourselves turning a little bit into an animal.  It’s the same task as before, drawing the whole body and the whole time.  

Repeat this two more times. For the third drawing you’ll draw yourselves turning a little bit into a fruit or a vegetable.  Tell them they can’t draw themselves as a banana. For some reason this makes people realize they kind of wanted to draw themselves as a banana without knowing it.

For the fourth drawing, draw yourselves turning a little bit into a monster.

Lay the cards on the table in a row and look at them together.  If the other person doesn’t want their drawings, bring them with you when you come back to class. If they do want them, please photograph the set and print it out.

   Part Two

You will need pens, a timer, your compbook or the interview compbook I gave you in class. Begin by talking about events that change our feeling about the stability or the fragility of the world. These events can be large or small, from a friend moving away to 9/11.  Set a timer for 90 seconds and ask them to write down as many of these events as they can think of that happened to them.

Ask them to choose one that they would feel comfortable talking about, have them circle it and then write it on the top of a clean compbook page and then have them draw the big X.  Tell them the X is there because this is certain kind of a note-taking page. You’re going to ask them some questions and that the answers will be written on any part of that page, in any quadrant. Tell them the X helps keep the note page from looking more alive and less like a list.

When you ask the questions, you’re going to have to give them time to write their answers, at least 20-30 seconds for the questions that don’t have a fast answer like, ‘about how old are you in this image?’ – that’s a ten second question. “Why are you there?” is a 20-30 second question. You’ll have to feel your way through the timing and you’ll get better at it as you do this a few times.

You can ask the questions and have them write the answers down themselves on the X page, or you can have them answer you out loud and you write their answers on an X page.  When it comes time to tell the story, you can have them write for 8 minutes without stopping or they can tell you the story and you write it down as best you can and read it back to them to make sure you have the basic information.

If they choose to write the story down, make sure they are writing it in the first person present tense. Ask them to begin with the words “I am…” and start by telling us where they are so they set the scene for you.

 The Questions:

Ask them to imagine themselves in a scene in this image. Tell them that you’re going to ask them some questions about the image they see in their minds eye and they can either write down their answers or you’ll write them down.  Let them know that if they don’t know the answer they should just guess.

 Where are you? Where is this scene taking place?

 What time or day or night does it seem to be?

 What season does it seem to be?

 What’s the geographical location?

 Where is the light coming from in this image, and what kind of light is it?

 What’s the weather like?

 What’s going on?

 About how old are you in this image?

 What are you doing?

 Is there anyone else with you in this image? If so, who? If not, who may have been the last person you saw?

 Why are you there?

 What are some of the sounds that you can hear in this image?

 When you look around you, what are some of the things you can see?

 What is directly in front of you?

 If you were going to turn your head and look to the right in this image, what’s there?

 What’s to your left?

 What’s behind you?

 What’s below and around your feet?

 What’s above your head?

 Ask them to write without stopping for 8 minutes. Tell them if they get stuck to just write ‘tick tick tick’ until the story starts up again.  Let them know when they have about three minutes left, then let them know when they have a minute and then at 15 seconds say ‘starting to wrap up the sentence you’re working on, and finishing.’

Ask them if they would read you what they wrote out loud. They may or they may not want to. If they don’t want to read it, ask if the would share the story either by letting your read it or just telling you about it.

After you’ve conducted all three interviews you’ll choose one and make an in-class comic from it.  Bring all your notes and interviews to class with you on Monday.

[skaylanphear]

What do you think are some of your biggest flaws/shortcomings as a writer? Like what are things that you're trying to improve upon for yourself or what things do you try to seek out advice from others about? Just curious :)

I mean, I don’t really seek advice because I don’t have anyone to seek advice from. I look to works of writing that I respect and attempt to mimic those things, but–and this is going to sound arrogant and conceited and that’s fine I guess–I’ve never been in a situation where my peers have been on the same level I am. That isn’t to say I’m the best writer in the world, because I’m not, but literally I’ve never been in a place where my peers and even teachers have anything to offer me in the way of helpful criticism. More often than not, I am leaned upon to be one of the few people that are able to edit and critique someone else’s work and actually be useful.

When I would submit stories for review, my profs would either, one, give me 100%s, which is silly because I did not deserve that, or tell me they have nothing to say because it’s “so good.” And if I sound irritated by this attitude, I am. I have grad students telling me my work is so good they can’t give me critique, yet my advisor won’t let me take graduate level classes despite the fact that I am utterly wasted with my peers, who do little more than write stories for class because they’re required and not because they bother to practice their craft everyday. And they consider themselves “writers.”

So no, I very rarely seek out advice because it has been a very useless endeavor a good majority of the time.

It has, however, taught me to be very self-reflective and progressive in my own attempts to learn and improve. I go out of my way to improve myself when I feel I am lacking, which is something a lot of writers apparently don’t do? I mean, if I were to be honestly critical, I’d tell you that everything I do is sub-par, because I know from experience that if I work hard enough, I can always come up with something better. I go in to edit a piece having already accepted that I could likely re-write the entire thing and it’d be done better, but only the fact that I can’t do that my whole life and hope to be successful stops me from doing so. 

As far as specifics? It depends on the piece and what my focus is, really. Writing isn’t so much a game of what is best so much as it is picking what’s best for the story you’re trying to tell. My aptitude for writing overly emotional scenes might be well-suited to a story about relationships, but is only going to drag in a fantasy adventure story, where each scenes needs to serve as something to pull the story forward. Part of the mark of a good writer is being able to utilize different strategies for different scenes. It’s why my writing style will vary vastly from a romantic scene to an action scene. This isn’t a fault, it’s a purposeful change in tone. 

But I’m not here to give advice, despite how I am used to doing so. As far as technical things I know I can improve on, I tend to put too many tags in dialogue, which I have been working on remedying for the last year or more. I also tend to focus far too much on eyebrows and facial expressions, which is a hold-over fanfiction habit that I am ruthlessly trying to break myself of, because me saying a character looks curious does not then require me to tell you how furrowed their eyebrows are–if a character looks curious, most people are more than capable of imagining what that looks like. I also tend to have too many one-sentence paragraphs, which harken back to my fondness for emotional melodrama. I’ve also gotten really lazy about describing locations, which is another bad habit picked up in fanfiction, as it is rare that description is required at all in fanfic. But it makes me all the more proud when I do a description of a place that I really enjoy reading, because it reminds me how much it can add to a story. What other annoying things do I do? I have a few words that I repeat too often, but every writer goes through that and there will always be words I get into the habit of using that I then have to break myself of, only for others to take their place anew. That’s what editing is for I guess. What else do I do? I dunno, there are a lot of things I do that are shitty. I’m sure there are plenty more. 

But I get the feeling you’re looking for something more… vast? Like me coming in and saying, oh I’m bad at dialogue, or romance, or character building. But I don’t think I’m really very bad at any of that, as I work very hard to make sure that I’m not butchering any concept I’m going to write about? Like, if I’m writing a romance, I go out of my way to make sure that romance is well-executed by looking at examples of what good romance looks like. Like, I do research and seek out sources and references. And I also practice a lot. And I’m a boss at dialogue when I get my tagging reeled in, so that one is a moot point ;D 

I mean, maybe I’m a bit long-winded? But… I like reading long things, so I guess that fault is up for debate and varies from person to person. I think maybe I get a little repetitive in concept–as in repeating the same things every couple of chapters because I’m afraid the reader won’t remember. So I guess I do ask about that, as I will ask my family when they read my novel to tell me if there are certain ideas that get repeated too often or if they need those reminders. But that’s still up in the air so… *shrugs*

I… am really bad at introducing minor character appropriately, which I again blame on fanfiction. And by minor characters, I mean things like pets. When you write fanfic, you can introduce these characters without explanation, which means I now have horses in my novel that go through half of it with no names and then suddenly they have names and I have not figured out an appropriate time to introduce their name formally into the narrative. 

A lot of the issues I guess I’m working on stem from separating fanfic practices from writing original pieces. Fanfic has it’s positives, don’t get me wrong. I could write essays on the benefits of fanfic. But it does have a few quirks specific to its form that I now have to combat, hence my uncertainty about whether I’m elaborating on an idea too repetitively or not. In fanfic, that’s not an issue you normally have to deal with, as the writer is usually dealing with themes already apparent in the canon. 

I guess fanfic is my biggest weakness. At least as far as writing original stuff, lol. Funny though, it doesn’t work the other way around. I tackle writing fanfic the way I do original work and I get twice as much praise. Which basically tells me that fanfic shortcomings boil down to laziness the community has just… accepted. 

I’m lazy. My writing has become lazy. Almost all my fanfic is lazy, even Serendipitous Fate to a certain extent. You’d probably all be shocked to read my original novel and all the detail and precision that comes with it, lol. 

Anyway, hope that answers your questions!

[fanforfanatic]

As You’re Told - ONE

Relationships: Castiel x Reader Rating: Smut Warnings: Dom/sub, bdsm

~2600 words

Summary: You start dating Castiel, a famous physicist, when you get hired at the same university as him. A few months into the relationship, you explore dom/sub dynamics within your sex lives.

Read it on ao3

Chapters on tumblr: ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

Chapter ONE

You’ve been reading the same three lines for at least three minutes when your phone chimes. You read the short paragraph one more time, hoping the words will magically hold meaning, then give in and reach for your phone.

Come over

You sigh. If only.

Can’t. Still got a stack of papers to grade.

That’s what tomorrow’s for.

You’re a bad influence

You’re a bad habit

And then, before you get a chance to reply: Come over. I wanna sex you up. Also, I made cannoli.

You sigh again, switching between glaring at the pile of assignments in front of you and looking wistfully at your phone. You keep it up long enough that the screen darkens. When it lights up again it’s to reveal a picture of Castiel and the words Prof. Novak (Black Hole Thermodynamics). You roll your eyes at the ringtone that accompanies it. Don’t Stand So Close To Me by The Police.

Cas thought he was funny when he replaced the default tune on your third date. That was months ago and you still threaten to change it back but never do. You should also probably change his name in your phone to something a little more familiar, too. You aren’t likely to forget which class he teaches anymore anyway.

“Hey,” You say.

“Hey. How long ‘til you get here?” You hear a smacking sound and you know he’s licking his fingers clean, probably of powdered sugar.

You grunt. You want to lick his fingers clean of, possibly, powdered sugar. “You make a compelling pitch. You sure your true calling isn’t sales?”

He laughs at that. He always laughs at your dumb jokes. “It’s just because I know my target clientele.”

“That’s me?”

“That’s you,” He hums. “Come on, I know you’ve been at your office all day. You probably don’t understand what you’re reading anymore by now and you teach the material for a living.”

You grumble. He has a point. You have been reading the same three lines on a loop.

He can probably sense you caving because he says, “Come over. We’ll have dessert and then we’ll eat the cannoli.”

You laugh. “Real smooth, Cas.”

You can picture his satisfied smirk. You wish you were there to wipe it off his face.

“The student evaluations for teacher performances are coming up soon so I wanna get these graded quick-”

“Don’t worry about that sort of stuff.”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that sort of stuff. You have tenure. This is my first semester teaching. I’d like to be hired back next year.”

“Babe,” He sighs into the receiver. “You’re great at what you do. The faculty and the department heads love you. Even if all that wasn’t the case, getting your students their papers back quickly won’t really change how they decide to evaluate you. They’ve probably already made up their minds on whether they like you or not.”

“That last part is really reassuring. Thanks Cas. What was that about knowing your clientele?”

He laughs and it makes the tension in your shoulders dissipate. “Come over.” He says for the however-many-eth time. “Bring the assignments. We’ll both get some work done after desserts.”

 He hadn’t made any promises per se but when he lets you into his apartment, he fucks you as though he had. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You start right there against the front door then move to the dining table. When you eat your cannoli, sprawled on the table top, you take your time licking some powdered sugar off of his chest. Then, you sit on his sofa, a red pen in hand and the assignments on your lap, your legs on his and his computer on your shins while he works on something. He’s either preparing a course or rereading that article you know he’s getting published.

That night, you sleep in his bed and in his arms and you sleep well.

 The next morning, sitting on a stool at the counter, you watch Cas, in nothing but his boxers, mix ingredients for batter while the waffle iron heats up. You tease him about owning one and he suggests you get acquainted with the cereal shelf in the cupboard. You laugh and apologise profusely for your disrespect.

“I stained my shirt last night. Well, you stained my shirt last night when you decided to toss it on the fern. Got something I can borrow for the day?” You ask him, tugging at the oversized, even on him, sleepshirt you’d thrown on when you went to sleep.

“Yeah.” He pours batter onto the waffle maker and you both pause to listen to the satisfying sizzle. “I have tighter fitting undershirts in the sock drawer.”

You nod at Cas and make your way to the bedroom.

He watches you go before returning to making breakfast. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the shirt riding up but no such luck.

It isn’t a minute later that he hears you yell his name.

He jogs over and finds you standing in front of his dresser. The top drawer is open and you’re holding up, by the back clasp, a ring gag in front of your face. Your eyes are nearly as wide as the ring itself and it’s a comical sight to Cas.

“Are you trying to fifty shades of grey me?” You ask turning your head to him.

He laughs and leans against the doorframe. Much too casually, in your opinion. “Is that your only point of reference for all things BDSM?”

The word- or the acronym, you guess- rolls off his tongue comfortably. Like he has regularly scheduled conversations about the matter.

Cas laughs again so you think your face must have done something without your consent.

“ No. ” It’s a little too vehement, the way you say it. “I’m hip. I’m in the know. I’m jiggy with it.” He laughs again but you barrel on. “Still, suspicious, no? Older professor seduces young, new, hot, super super hot, new teacher.”

“You said ‘new’ twice.”

You roll your eyes and continue. “Once he’s got her within his clutches, he drags her to a sex dungeon, has his wicked way with her.”

“No dungeon, I’m afraid, but that hasn’t stopped me from having my wicked way whatsoever, don’t you agree?”

You sigh dramatically like your entire relationship has been some sort of hassle and not one of the better things in your life. “Are you secretly a billionaire at least?”

“No, but I’m hung.”

The straight face he maintains has you laughing and he smiles adoringly at you. It makes you shiver.

“They’re just toys,” He says, softly.

You say, “They’re a lot of toys.”

You turn back to the drawer and notice that you’ve been holding up the gag to your face this whole time. You turn red, one of your favourite things about yourself of course, and drop the thing back in its place- because it has a place, because the drawer is organised .

Cas is behind you and you only startle a little. He places his hands on your hips and his chin on your shoulder.

“They’re just toys,” He repeats.

Your eyes skim over the contents of the drawer. Some types of stuff you recognise- a few you own, even- some you don’t. “You like fun do ya?”

He hums in agreement.

“I didn’t even know you liked- that you’re into,” You swoop a hand above everything. “This.”

“I should have brought it up when I first got you to agree to go out with me. Or at the very least I should have an ad running in the university newsletter at all times.”

You turn your eyes to the heavens in mock-annoyance, but he can feel your smile where his cheek touches yours.

“It’s no big deal,” He says like he means to reassure you.

“It’s a large enough sized deal that you have a whole drawer for it. With dividers.”

He shrugs.

“Does that- Does this- Does it mean that what we’ve been doing… Has it not been, y’know, good. I guess that’s the word. Has it not been good for you?”

He turns you to face him, suddenly and fast enough that you’re reminded of just how strong Castiel actually is under his usual sweaters and blazers. His chest is bare now, though, and you get an eyeful of all that lean muscle.

“With you it’s perfect,” He says.

You roll your eyes, as though it could hide your blush, and look away.

“Hey, none of that.” He angles your face back towards him. “Would I have bribed you with italian desserts to get you in my bed if I didn’t like what we do?”

“No,” You admit after a moment of his unrelenting staring. You decide not to mention that technically he didn’t get you to the bed.

“There you go.” He leans in for a kiss and you can tell in the exact way his lashes flutter shut that he intends for it to be a soft one.

You lean back. “But has it been… enough for you?” You turn back around to look in the drawer.

“They’re just toys.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You want to try them?”

You don’t say anything.

“You want to try it ?” He asks and tries to keep his voice as natural sounding as possible but you don’t miss the smallest of hitches.

“What’s ‘it’?”

“BDSM.”

There’s that word- acronym, whatever- again. It sounds out of place in the apartment of a more than respectable university physics professor. An apartment that’s bathed in innocent early morning sunlight at the moment, that has plants in every room and an open breathable floor plan. That has mostly white furniture and whatever isn’t white is light wood. That has paintings of gardens on the walls. This is not where you find words like BDSM.

His sheets are cream coloured not black. The couch isn’t dark leather, the wood isn’t cherry-red. Yet, bdsm fits in Cas’ mouth even as it resounds starkly against the walls of his bedroom.

“What, like, with a contract? You want me to call you master and make your every wish my command?” You put your hands together in prayer position, as you speak, and nod your head curtly.

Cas laughs and turns you again. This time he pushes you against the dresser until the drawer shuts. “No contract unless you’d feel more comfortable with one, but I definitely think we should discuss this genie kink of yours.”

You’re blushing again and Cas is laughing again and you hate the world again and you wish you had remembered which drawer is the sock drawer. Except you kind of don’t wish that at all.

 You’re sitting across from Cas at the dining area table, when you say, “This looks like a contract.”

“It’s a checklist,” He corrects, taking another bite of his slightly burnt waffle. “To help establish what you're into. What you’d like to try.”

Your own plate (he gave you the good waffle) is off to the side, devoured in its entirety. He’d told you, while he printed the stack of papers currently in your hands, that you had to finish your food before you got to look at the document.

“They’re just a pile of loose leafs,” You argued.

“I’m stapling them together. That makes them a document.” He glared at you, stapling with more force than necessary.

The small, knowing smile he gave you when you scarfed your food down (you think you swallowed a blueberry whole) made you feel like you had just taken a test and you were in that limbo where you think you did well but you don’t really know. It also sent a small shiver down your spine.

“It looks like a contract,” You repeat, mostly to be a little shit but also because it really does. “There’s even a place for me to sign.”

You expect Cas to sigh, or to huff or to roll his eyes, but he just takes another bite of his food and patiently says, “It’s not for you to sign. It’s for you to label, so I know whose it is.”

That makes sense. It doesn’t actually say to sign, you notice. Then you say, “You’ve done this before. Had someone fill this out before.”

“Yes.” He looks at you. Assessing your reaction.

You don’t think you have much of one, at least not one he could detect. You feel a little- a lot- inexperienced, though. You haven’t been a blushing virgin in a while (though Cas has made you blush more than once since last night, most of it right here on this table), but you hadn’t thought there was this much of a gap between you. At least not in the sex department.

Everything else is a different story. Cas is a published author, a respected member of the scientific community, a rockstar of sorts, as far as academia is concerned. You… You think you lucked out getting this teaching position, fresh postgraduate that you are. In your defense, Cas is older, has had time to build his career, to make a name for himself. That doesn’t make him any less brilliant, any less out of your league, any fewer worlds beyond you. You thought sex might be the exception, but of course he’s-

“Is that not okay with you?”

“Of course it’s not not okay. I’m just…I don’t know.” Then you say, “How many?”

“Does it matter?” He asks.

“I guess it depends on your answer.”

He frowns at that.

You think you’ve upset him. Of course, might as well have called him a slut.

“Why are you doing that with your face?”

“What’s wrong with my face?” You ask him, touching your fingertips to your cheek.

“You were cringing.”

“Oh.” You pause and he waits for you to unpause. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He frowns again. “You didn’t.”

“Okay,” You say because you don’t know what else to do. You thumb at the corner of the pages still on the table.

“A handful of people, give or take. Is that too many?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know the number, if there is one, between just enough and too many. I asked to see if I could contend.”

“It’s not a competition.” He says very seriously. Then he waits for you to look at him, which you do because you feel his eyes asking you to. “I’m not going to be making comparisons, sweetheart. I’m not one of your students, I won’t be submitting a review by the end of the semester.”

“Okay,” You accept, again because you don’t know what else to do.

“It’s still sex. Just different.”

“Okay.”

“This has gotten you in your own head, maybe it isn’t such a good idea.” He reaches for the document and you find yourself ripping it out of his reach and to your chest.

There’s a long moment where he looks into your eyes and you don’t dare look away from his. The way you clutch the checklist is a reminder of your previous outburst. He just keeps staring and your heart keeps racing and your face keeps blushing and you should have known the socks are in the second drawer.

Then, he smirks. “Okay, maybe you’re more into this than I thought.”

“I’m curious.” You admit, looking down.

He hums, his lips curling into a humoured smile, but keeps himself from outright laughing.

“Shut it, Novak.”

“Read,” He tells you.

So you read.

Chapter TWO

Next, on As You’re Told! (jk this isn’t a tv show) But seriously, next time they talk about all of the kinks. All of them. Am I ashamed of what I’m putting out into the world? Mildly.

Here’s a sneak peek of what’s to come:

“Cas.” You stop him. He looks up to find you beet red. “Maybe you can read the checklist in your head and make your own notes and then I can read what you wrote and-”

“Nah.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Cas.”

“Your suggestion is extremely unappealing both because I enjoy watching you squirm and because it’s highly inefficient. Mostly, though, we need- you need to be able to talk about it if you want to do it.”

“Pretty sure there’s no rule that says that.”

“I make the rules.”

Read it on ao3

Chapters on tumblr: ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

[thesociallyawkwardprincess]

Today was a spectacularly amazing day

Weekend plans:

[ ] Finish lab trans

[ ] Study for Repro exams

[ ] Write future fiancé a love letter

What actually happened:

[X] Finish lab trans the entire Saturday morning after staying awake the entire Friday night trying to force self to work on the trans but to no avail because I’m tired the entire week

[X] Rest the entire Saturday afternoon to recover from the wasteful all-nighter yesterday Friday night

[X] Accidentally wake up the Sunday morning and actually miss the opportunity to study yesterday Saturday night

[X] Cram a week’s worth of lessons the rest of the Sunday until 3AM Monday

[X] Wake up at 5AM to study the lab trans you made but actually forgot the contents because your mind is that tired

[X] Accidentally sleep until 7AM then wake up because you just had a weird dream about your family having the ideal life you dream for them but you choose to ignore this and prepare for school instead and head for the exam.

[X] Actually take the wrong first exam in the wrong room but you have no choice but to continue and hope they won’t notice.

[X] Finish the first exam feeling okay with it and start with the second exam but then I forgot the clipboard and I’m roaming around the room holding my paper with the same hand that holds the cadaver. It’s just insane how I got my shit together.

[X] The doctor finally noticed my misplaced presence in the middle of the second exam but at this point, I have no fucks left to give so if I they kick me out of the room and give me a zero for this exam (and actually cause me to repeat the entire module), I will probably shed a tear or two but move on and spend the next 2 weeks lying at our carpet, rolling around.

[X] Continue up until I finish the third exam. Thank you ma’am for letting me continue with the exam in peace even though it was slightly embarrassing to be singled-out. Also, thank you to that doctor who gave me a clipboard before I finish the last 14 numbers out of 50. He must’ve probably seen how lost and helpless I look for the past few weeks already. Thank you to this bottle of coffee I kept drinking per page just to force myself to wake up because I kept falling back to sleep during the 3rd exam. It finally worked for the last 5 pages.

[X] Spend lunch with someone who looks pretty hyped up than usual. At least she finally looks better after these past few weeks of shifting moods. This is good.

[X] Wonder if I should still stay in this school because I’m confused how disconnected I am with my surroundings. I feel awake and I don’t feel tired anymore but it also feels like I don’t give a fuck to anything anymore.

[X] Exam feedback tells me I passed and got a higher score than what I usually get, which is just above the passing score. That’s also good.

[X] Prof discussed about oogenesis and spermatogenesis. You know, I’m already familiar with these topics because I’ve taken them before in college and I understand how it works. But if you were to ask me the specifics and terms about it, I probably won’t be able to answer you. This leaves me wondering whether my five years in college were just a waste of time. I don’t feel like I learned anything. Am I learning now? My knowledge about things are still pretty much just approximations of the world I can probably derive through common sense.

[X] Class ends early, but I still have a meeting with the executive board I am a part of. I’m still wondering why I agreed to this. It only gives me anxiety. Now I have to prepare a presentation about the evaluations of the project I handled. Funny thing is I forgot to document the evaluations and now I have to cram the Powerpoint and ask the participants about their ratings before 5PM. Also, I have to present another project proposal for the last project I have for this year. Which should’ve happened last Saturday, but I forgot about it.

[X] Actually manages to make the presentation on time and gather all the needed information. 5 minutes before the meeting starts.

[X] The president arrives late. I am still cramming the project proposal.

[X] I finish the project proposal a minute before my turn to speak. The Board approves. I present about the last project and the actually superb evaluations despite subpar results. The Board gives an applause.

[X] The meeting finally ends at 8PM. I thought it would end at 7PM. I still have to go to the gym because I committed to this workout regimen since laziness is what I’m giving up for Lent.

[X] My roommate is asleep. My friend and I go to the gym by ourselves, only to find the gym full (by full, we mean 5 people are in there) and we’re shy beings so we go back and decide to return at 9:30PM. If they’re still there, we’ll postpone the gym to tomorrow instead. I’m already in my Day 4 and I don’t want to quit yet haha.

[X] So I spend the next hour listening to (sad romantic) songs to inspire me to write the damn love letter to a hypothetical being called future fiancé. Instead, I spend it writing this check list of why I’m the biggest shithead today.

[ ] Eat dinner at a salad store.

[ ] Write the love letter while drinking a cold can of beer. So much of working out.

[ ] Probably sleep at the sofa at 3AM. The deadline of the letter’s still at 8AM anyway. He extended the deadline anyway.

[collegestudent123456-blog]

Blog Post #6

In class this week, we covered chapters 6 and 7. 6 covered language, and in my opinion was one of the more challenging chapters we’ve gone over thus far. I think it was challenging because of all of the unfamiliar vocab words. I’m going to go through some of these words in hopes to better understand them by making real life comparisons. The first one I was unclear about was equivocation, but after doing a little outside research I realized I am more familiar with it than I thought I was. An awesome example of equivocation is Abbott and Costello's "Who's on first?" skit. This reminded me of an example from my own life as well, the other day my sister and I were talking and she asked what I was up to. I told her I was watching ap bio. She responded in confusion, “since when do you take AP bio? I thought you were a business major?”. I then had to clarify that AP bio is a new show I’m watching on Hulu. The next one I was struggling with was relative words, which gain meaning by comparison. I had to hop online for this one also to gain a little more inside about it, after doing that I found another real-life example. I was showing a picture of this guy I like to my mom on Instagram. The first thing she said was “is he short?”. I then had to tell her that the girls he was standing next to in the picture were both wearing heels, and therefore in comparison to them, yes, he looked short. But, in reality, he is not short. Moving on to static evaluations, which I didn’t realize I use all the time. I could give one hundred examples of this one, because I use it so frequently, but the most recent instance was “my hair is a mess”. By simply adding “right now” or “today” at the end of “my hair is a mess” It would have been a more accurate representation, and likewise it would not have been a static evaluation. I’m still slightly caught up on what disruptive language is, but I’m going to give it a go anyway. The other day at work, I told my coworker that I set up a dressing room for Mary, the red headed woman who was still shopping. When Mary made her way back to the dressing room, my coworker gave her an entirely new room, instead of the one I had already prepped for her. The confusion came from the fact that I considered Mary a redhead, whereas my coworker thought she had blonde hair. Neither of us were wrong, it was just a matter of perception. Moving on to chapter 7 which was all about nonverbal communication. The first characteristic of nonverbal communication that stood out to me was the fact that it is vital. Vital is a powerful word, but it is appropriate here because communication would not be the same without nonverbals. Likewise, nonverbal communication has communicative value. This means that all nonverbals communicate a message, even when they aren’t trying to. The example of this that really hit home with me is that when you choose to not respond to a text message, you are still communicating. What you are communicating by being silent is that you can’t be bothered, or that you are mad at the other party. Since nonverbals are primary relational, they convey the emotions we are unwilling to express just like the Lucy video our group showed during our presentation. Although Lucy was trying to sell the product as something delicious and enjoyable, her nonverbals told a drastically different story. Like I previously touched on, nonverbals can occur in mediated communicate just like face to face communication. By simply not responding as fast as usual you are sending nonverbal signals that you don’t want to talk at the moment. Like I’ve admitted to in previous blogs, I’m an avoider. So when I get text messages that involve confrontation, I usually just ignore them. I know this isn’t the healthiest thing to do, and instead I should communicate that I would rather talk in person via text instead of just straight up ignoring because that sends the message that I don’t care when that really isn’t the whole truth. Nonverbal communication serves 6 functions, the most important in my opinion, is repeating. When nonverbals are paired with verbal communication, the message being presented is that much clearer. I think our group did an awesome job displaying this right in the beginning of our presentation when I was talking about body orientation and we all simultaneously turned and faced the board with our backs to the audience. Our message was so much more effective because my words were repeated by our actions. That was one of my favorite parts of the presentation because the class responded really well to it. Nonverbals also have the ability to substitute for spoken words. A simple middle finger to the crappy driver who cut you off does the trick without having to scream out your window like a crazy person. Another example of this is when I teach my kids yoga class, sometimes things get out of hand. Instead of attempting to yell over the kids and my music, I put one finger up to my mouth and pucker my lips as if I were saying “shh”. This is even more effective than me escalating the already loud room. Like always, there are two major influences that play into nonverbal communication; culture and gender. In my opinion, culture is the more noticeable and therefore that is the one I am going to go more in depth about. In different cultures, different hand gestures mean different things. In America placing your thumb and pointer finger together to make an OK means just that. But in other counties, it means something sexual and highly offensive. This makes me think back to my international business class, where Prof Mousettis would always say “it’s not good or bad, it’s just different”. I think that really applies here because so many times people believe that their culture is superior, and therefore, they shouldn’t have to abide by other cultures rules. Being a global citizen means being flexible and aware of what is respectful in other cultures, especially when doing business with them. Finally, I am briefly going to talk about types of nonverbal communication, which is what my group presented on. The first type is body movement, which is what comes to my mind first when I think about nonverbal communication. When we talk about gestures, what immediately pops into my head is my friend Gianni’s big Italian family. If you stand too close to his grandma when she is excited and telling a story you could get your head taken off because her hands are going a million miles a minute, just like her words. I am notorious for getting loud when I am excited, and the more amped up I am, the louder I get. This is an example of nonverbal communication using my voice. Nonverbal communication also entails touch. At first I didn’t really like the trump video that Ian was going to talk about, because I didn’t understand it, but once he uncovered the subtle nonverbals between Trump and the other world leader I realized what a great video it was. To wrap it all up I will talk about physical appearance. I loved the idea you gave us to all dress differently, and I think that the class appreciated it as well…at least once they found out it was strategic. It was crazy to hear the reactions that my classmates had to my appearance. It just goes to show, the quote “dress to impress” really holds true.

[raceandspeculation]

AKA You’re a Victim

Kayla Wilson ENG 3690 Prof. Smalls 4/7/17    

           “Jessica Jones, you’re a hard drinking, short fused, mess of a woman but you are not a piece of shit” (Jessica Jones, AKA You’re a Winner). It isn’t until the sixth episode of the Marvel and Netflix series Jessica Jones that Luke Cage, the bulking hero who can deflect bullets with his skin, utters that line. The gritty comic show was the second to air on the Netflix platform and it seemed as if Jessica Jones held no punches when it came to fleshing out all of the woes and problems of its leading lady. At the center of the superhero show stood Jessica Jones herself, a woman who had been victimized and mind controlled for an entire year before she broke free to become an alcoholic private investigator. As the thirteen episodes explored Jones’ mental trauma and the damage that the antagonist, Kilgrave, had done to her it was made explicitly clear that Jessica was a victim and incredibly damaged because of it. That fact cannot be denied. Even though her status of a victim holds true, Jones herself ends up behaving in a problematic fashion and in turn makes a victim of another. Yes, Jessica Jones is a mess and that is never a secret. In fact, the series was praised for the way that it handled sensitive topic matters such as rape, addiction and post-traumatic stress disorder. Jessica’s behavior towards her love interest and fellow superhuman Luke Cage, however, is far less discussed. Through comparing the characters of Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Hope Shlottman and Malcolm Ducasse in the sixth episode, “AKA You’re a Winner” it soon becomes clear that victims come in various shapes and forms and even one who is a victim themselves can be the perpetrator in harming another.

              Jessica Jones has been clearly defined as a victim by the time the events of “AKA You’re a Winner” roll around. She bluntly states that she’s a fan of repression instead of speaking out and encourages a friend to go to a support group while looking down on it herself. Slight, incredibly fair skinned and with a perpetual pout on her face, Jessica looks like the kind of victim that you would imagine. There is little life in her eyes and as she sits clutching a bottle at the end of the episode and desolately repeats a mantra to herself it is clear that life has not been kind. Her negative outlook and snarky comments are a part of a shell that she has fully formed around herself. At this point in the series she has developed to the point where she’s somewhat working with others and not just working to get to the bottom of the bottle, and Variety’s chief television critic Maureen Ryan praised that in her review of the series. “One could argue that this Jessica is a bit of an antihero,” Ryan writes. “She makes bad decisions, keeps secrets and isn’t especially responsible. [...] The character’s mistakes and scars end up being as compelling as her halting attempts to do good and right wrongs. Jessica is damaged, but her refusal to let that damage define her gives the series a core of captivating energy” (Ryan).  Praise for the writing and Jessica Jones was mainly centered on her ability to move past the damage that shattered her life, but Jessica unwittingly begins using her victim excuse in the show to defend her poor actions. In “AKA You’re a Winner” she snidely comments that she’s rude to everyone and her attempts to help Luke Cage are actually to make up for the pain that she’s caused him, not out of the goodness of her heart. Her lies and inability to let people in are clearly on display and make her independent and tragically flawed. Jessica is a victim, yes, but her attempts at moving past that are problematic and instead cause others damage. Her victim status is cemented in the fact that she was raped and manipulated. She is the one of the clearest examples of a victim on the show, but the past actions that have been done against her do not stop her from hurting others as well.

           Following in the vein of the beautiful and tragic female that has been damaged, “AKA You’re a Winner” shows fellow Kilgrave victim and prisoner Hope Shlottman terminating a pregnancy from her rape. Laying in her hospital bed with a beaten face, it’s an emotionally compelling scene as Hope tells Jessica that “Every second it’s there I get raped again and again. Every second it’s there my parents get shot again and again” (AKA You’re a Winner). Her mind-controlled act of killing her parents was not her fault. Hope was just as much as victim as the deceased Mr. and Mrs. Shlottman even though she was the one holding a gun. In “WATCHING RAPE: Film and Television in Postfeminist Culture”, Sarah Projansky discusses rape in television and cinema and how it plays into post feminism. Leslie Kern analyzed her work and wrote that:

“Projansky argues that one of the most dangerous elements of postfeminism is its ignorance on issues of race, class, sexuality and ability. Throughout the book, Projansky is relentless in her critique of rape narratives as discursive strategies for naturalizing notions of class, race, gender, sexuality and nation. While her research shows that there is versatility in terms of the roles played by differently racialized characters (for example, villains might be either white or black), Projansky illustrates that racial categories in particular have been portrayed as fixed categories (Resources for Feminist Research).”

Hope as a white female has been abused, yes, and her story parallels Jessica. She terminates the pregnancy within the episode and makes it clear that one-day she will have children that will not be Kilgrave’s. On the other hand, another leading player of the episode is ex-addict and African American man Malcolm Ducasse. It is inherently known that Hope’s actions were not her own and she was not to blame. Even though Malcolm, however, had been coerced into drugs his actions are not regarded the same way as Hope’s are. “It’s a question of who I am.” Malcolm tells his support group. “He turned me into a liar, an addict, a thief. I don’t know if it was in me from the beginning or if it is a part of who I am now?” (AKA You’re a Winner). While Hope is never asked if she was a killer by nature and Kilgrave just woke it up in her, Malcolm takes his life and history and consideration and wonders if he was always meant to be the person Kilgrave made him even though he had once been clean with a life and no interest in drugs. Hope and Jessica’s status as white women give them a kind of privilege despite their actions, something that the other victims on the show are not granted.

       Being bulletproof does not make you invincible. It also does not make you impervious to vulnerability of being harmed. By the time the sixth episode of Jessica Jones rolls around it is quite clear that the leading male protagonist, Luke Cage, is pretty close to being invincible. His skin can literally deflect bullets and the artistically played holes; tears and smudges of soot and blood over his unharmed skin make a visual statement that it is nearly impossible to take Cage down. Standing next to the drunken, cussing Jones Cage does look more like a hero than the leading lady. Despite his credo to protect only what is his, he makes a point to show that he keeps his words and follows the law. When the impatient and gruff Jessica is ready to get into a fight with thugs on the street, Luke steps in and stops it. As a white woman she has a layer of privilege and could get away with that sort of behavior but Luke reflects on his status as a black man and what that means and reminds her that there are cops and laws to consider. In every way Luke seems to be the antithesis to Jessica. Despite them both having powers and being incredibly strong they are vastly different people and that at times overshadows their similarities. As quoted above, Luke makes a point in “AKA You’re a Winner” to tell Jessica that she is not a piece of shit as her mind controlled actions were not her own, even though Cage does not know the extent of them. That all changes, however, when Luke realizes that Jessica was the one to kill his wife while under Kilgrave’s control. The truth only comes out when Luke is about to kill a man that he believed killed his wife and Jessica tearfully admits it was she who committed the crime. Here we see Luke, who was portrayed as being so strong, as a victim himself. He was the victim of lies and deceit, of trusting a woman who could not be honest with him. Luke’s critique on Jessica is then about her dishonesty, not if she was truly a killer without the influence of Kilgrave. He gave the following monologue to Jessica, retracting her words from earlier in the episode:

“You slept with me. You made me think I could get past it. Did Kilgrave force you to do that? You let me be inside you. You touched me with the same hands that killed my wife while you knew. If I never found about Charles, would you have ever told me the truth? I was wrong. You are a piece of shit” (AKA You’re a Winner).

With that, Jessica Jones showed how a victim could be created from a situation that was not explicit rape. Jessica did not mind control Luke, but she did manipulate him into sex even though she claimed it was never supposed to happen. It is far easier to point out Jessica as a victim than Luke by appearance and background, but both can be placed in the same category at different degrees. Her dishonesty led to pain for Luke and a fracturing of the relationship that they were building as lovers and friends. Her victim status did not prevent her from acting in an unacceptable way, and the realism from the situation shows just how messy lines can become.

           Through reflecting on the four characters in the episode, it becomes clear that a victim is not defined by their past, skin color or gender. Even someone who has been victimized can in turn put someone else in the position they were in and hurt others. Past troubles do not excuse problematic actions in the present. Jessica’s damaged persona led to her shutting out and deceiving someone in an intimate matter and worsened the situation tenfold. The erroneous flaws of the shows leading character made Jessica Jones a thought provoking and deeper look at the mental trauma that one can experience, and when that all came to a head in “AKA You’re a Winner” it provided accurate examples of how anyone can victim regardless of status.

WORD COUNT: 1850

                                                              WORKS CITED:

Ryan, Maureen. "TV Review: ‘Marvel’s Jessica Jones’ Variety. 15 Nov. 2015 http://variety.com/2015/tv/reviews/jessica-jones-review-krysten-ritter-netflix-1201636528/. Accessed 4 Apr 2017.

“AKA You’re a Winner.” Jessica Jones, season 1, episode 6, Marvel, 20 Nov. 2015. Netflix, (https://www.netflix.com/watch/80002317?trackId=200257859)

Projansky, Sarah, and Leslie Kern. "WATCHING RAPE: Film and Television in Postfeminist Culture." Resources for Feminist Research 31.1 (2004): 54-6. ProQuest. Web. 7 Apr. 2017.

[thenearsightedmonkey]

Dear Students,

Here is your make-up assignment for Wednesday, and some movie posters to inspire you.  Remember that you’re choosing how you want to do your daily diary this week.

Sincerely,

Prof. Skeletor

Interview Comic Assignment

 This assignment asks you to both interview and teach someone two of the things we do in class: the basic Ivan Brunetti style of drawing and the X page.

 You’ll need to draw with and interview three different people.  If possible, one should be older than you, one younger and one around your age. You’ll be using one of these three interviews to make a comic strip in class when you get back.

 Part One

 You’ll need index cards, a Flair or Uniball pen, your compbook, a timer, four songs that are about three minutes long and about 45 minutes for each interview.

 Begin by doing three ‘draw with your eyes closed’ warm up drawings. It is a good idea to do this with them, so set a timer for one minute, both close your eyes and draw for the entire one minute.

Spend one full minute drawing each of these things:

A bacon and egg breakfast with silverware,

a mermaid

and a skeleton.

Hold up your drawings when you are done-- this is so your drawings can ‘see each other’ but also so you can’t see your drawing (and ponder how you’re feeling about it) It may feel weird at first but it turns out to be a good idea. Even  just picking up a drawing and holding it vertically is a good idea.

 Next, give them a short drawing lesson in the style of Ivan Brunetti.  Start by talking about stick figures and how there is a better alternative that isn’t any harder.  Start by drawing a frame on the index card, then show them the way of drawing a large round head-shape, a smaller body shape, noodle arms, and legs, snowball hands, rudimentary fingers, shoes or feet, and facial features, naming what you are doing as you go. Explain why it allows you to do more than a stick figure does. Then add some details so the character becomes YOU, so you show how little things can indicate a self-portrait in comics -- it’s not about representation.  Then, draw a big space helmet on the character, and a rocket back pack and some planets and stars to indicate the character is now in space.  Then let the person know that part of your assignment is to take attendance by the two of you doing some quick drawings together. Draw your frames, write your names and the date. Tell them you are going to play a song and you are both going to draw full body self-portraits in the style of Ivan Brunetti and that both of you will be drawing yourself as astronauts. (if you don’t have music with you, just set a timer for 3 minutes)

 Ask them to draw for the entire song without stopping, adding little details if they don’t know what to draw next.  When the song ends, both of you should hold up your drawings so the drawings ‘can see each other’.

Quickly let them know that you’re going to do another drawing and do it immediately so the mood of the first drawing helps make the second. Tell them they’ll have about the same amount of time but now you both are going to draw yourselves turning a little bit into an animal.  It’s the same task as before, drawing the whole body and the whole time.  

Repeat this two more times. For the third drawing you’ll draw yourselves turning a little bit into a fruit or a vegetable.  Tell them they can’t draw themselves as a banana. For some reason this makes people realize they kind of wanted to draw themselves as a banana without knowing it.

For the fourth drawing, draw yourselves turning a little bit into a monster.

Lay the cards on the table in a row and look at them together.  If the other person doesn’t want their drawings, bring them with you when you come back to class. If they do want them, please photograph the set and print it out.

Part Two

You will need pens, a timer, your compbook or the interview compbook I gave you in class. Begin by talking about events that change our feeling about the stability or the fragility of the world. These events can be large or small, from a friend moving away to 9/11.  Set a timer for 90 seconds and ask them to write down as many of these events as they can think of that happened to them.

Ask them to choose one that they would feel comfortable talking about, have them circle it and then write it on the top of a clean compbook page and then have them draw the big X.  Tell them the X is there because this is certain kind of a note-taking page. You’re going to ask them some questions and that the answers will be written on any part of that page, in any quadrant. Tell them the X helps keep the note page looking more alive and less like a list.

When you ask the questions, you’re going to have to give them time to write their answers, at least 20-30 seconds for the questions.'About how old are you in this image?’ – that’s a ten second question. “Why are you there?” is a 20-30 second question. You’ll have to feel your way through the timing and you’ll get better at it as you do this a few times. Watch their writing hand if you can.

You can ask the questions and have them write the answers down themselves on the X page, or you can have them answer you out loud and you write their answers on an X page.  When it comes time to tell the story, you can have them write for 8 minutes without stopping or they can tell you the story and you write it down as best you can and read it back to them to make sure you have the basic information.

If they choose to write the story down, make sure they are writing it in the first person present tense. Ask them to begin with the words “I am…” and start by telling us where they are so they set the scene for you.

The Questions:

Ask them to imagine themselves in a scene in this image. Tell them that you’re going to ask them some questions about the image they see in their minds eye and they can either write down their answers or you’ll write them down.  Let them know that if they don’t know the answer they should just guess.

 Where are you? Where is this scene taking place?

 What time or day or night does it seem to be?

 What season does it seem to be?

 What’s the geographical location?

 Where is the light coming from in this image, and what kind of light is it?

 What’s the weather like?

 What’s going on?

 About how old are you in this image?

 What are you doing?

 Is there anyone else with you in this image? If so, who? If not, who may have been the last person you saw?

 Why are you there?

 What are some of the sounds that you can hear in this image?

 When you look around you, what are some of the things you can see?

 What is directly in front of you?

 If you were going to turn your head and look to the right in this image, what’s there?

 What’s to your left?

 What’s behind you?

 What’s below and around your feet?

 What’s above your head?

 Ask them to write without stopping for 8 minutes. Tell them if they get stuck to just write ‘tick tick tick’ until the story starts up again.  Let them know when they have about three minutes left, then let them know when they have a minute and then at 15 seconds say ‘starting to wrap up the sentence you’re working on, and finishing.’

Ask them if they would read you what they wrote out loud. They may or they may not want to. If they don’t want to read it, ask if the would share the story either by letting your read it or just telling you about it.

Ask them how they would feel if you tried to make a comic strip about it. If they agree, then the interview can be considered for your in-class project on Monday.  If not, the interview will count as one of the three that you’re required to do.

After you’ve conducted all three interviews you’ll choose one and on Monday we will make an in-class comic from it.  Bring all your notes, attendance cards  and interviews to class with you on Monday.