#like i already gave up on ever working in a field with kids like teaching bc of being transgender

[vamptastic]

i know logically that my endocrine issues would make a pregnancy very bad for me physically and emotionally but i do feel pretty hopeless at the idea of having a child through other means. if i end up with someone willing to carry a pregnancy, i don't care about using a sperm donor, and i suppose i could theoretically find someone willing to volunteer as a surrogate if not, but those possibilities are both well, possibilities. realistically if i want children i will need to adopt and i am very, very disillusioned with the state of adoption in the US. hell, i don't even know how likely getting approved even is for a transgender jewish person, even if i didn't have an ethical issue with the concept.

foster care is probably what i'll end up doing-i mean, not that foster care is great, but BEING a foster parent is generally morally good-but it does bug me a bit to never be able to raise a jewish child. i wouldn't want to impose my religion on a kid with their own background and beliefs but it's important to me and if i raised an infant they'd certainly be raised jewish, though of course it's ultimately up to them what they believe and do.

just. in this country and society the only way to guarantee you can raise a child in the legal sense is to birth one yourself. and i physically cannot do that nor do i particularly want to. but i do love kids and i would like to have a kid. kids are cool they're like, little guys. they're fun. and also raising children (well) is generally like, a morally good or at least not bad thing to do imo. and also, wtf else am i gonna do with my life, that would genuinely be important and matter to me more than say, a successful career or the opportunity to travel. but every time i think about it it seems logistically impossible and with a lot of people even mentioning that i want kids someday makes them immediately think of me as either a mother or a predator. shrimply tiring.

[beginningofwonderland]

Stay Focused - San

Pairing: university student y/n x office worker San

Genre: smut with plot (MINORS DNI!)

Word Count: 12.5k (I don't know what happened)

Summary: Your mother insists on getting you a tutor for your studies. You want to resist until you meet Choi San, your tutor. His sweet talk and good looks make you focus on anything but your studies and you do everything to finally catch his attention in the same way.

Warnings: San is a few years older (5 to be exact), some nipple play, fingering, some orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, blowjob (face-fucking leaning), protected sex, mirror sex

The reader in this is so horny omg. Just straight up trash for San (relatable). Also very long build-up.

"Good is not enough in this family," your mother repeats to you for what feels like the 100th time. „Your grades have to be exceptional if you want to work in my business."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you change your phone to the other hand to stir your pasta around. You just told her about your recent test results which of course are not satisfactory to her.

The problem is that you are actually doing pretty good. You never missed or failed a class, you passed all your courses with at least a good score and you had even fulfilled additional classes to broaden the spectrum of your studies. But just like she said: Good is not enough for her. She won't shut up about your grades until you reach 100% in all of your classes - which is basically impossible, especially in your field of study.

"Do you even still want to work in the family business?" your mother asks you provokingly. And the problem is, you do. You really do. Your mother is the CEO of a big pharmacy company and ever since you were a kid you followed her interest in chemistry. You even chose your pharmacy major without her influence. But now that you are taking the same path as her, she is all in your business about being the perfect little mini-her.

"I do, mom. I'm working hard on it, I promise. The next exam is in four weeks and I already started studying."

She makes a huffing sound before answering you: "You said that the last three times as well and still didn't get a full score. You should really get a tutor."

"Mom! I'm the best in my class. Why should I get a tutor? I'm doing great!" You are glad you're only talking to her on the phone so that she doesn't see the way your hands clasps over your face. She can't be serious with you. Getting a tutor with your grades is just embarrassing.

"But not great enough. You know what? The son of a close business partner recently started working at the company. He graduated a few years ago with an honour's degree and seems to be a very promising young man. I'll ask him to tutor you."

Your cheeks start to heat up just at the thought of how embarrassing the whole thing will be for you. Getting a tutor that worked for your mother is literally the worst case scenario. You feel like a high school student that doesn't pay attention in school and now gets scolded for it.

"I do not need a tutor, mom." You state once again but her mind is already made up.

"I'll give him your number and he will contact you. And don't you dare be rude to him, his father is very important for our business!"

You can't believe her words. Since when have you ever been rude to anyone she introduced you to? Your mother ends the call before you can protest any more.

Angrily, you fish a single spaghetti out of your pot to taste it. It's perfectly cooked when you munch on it in annoyance.

--------------------------------

This is Choi San.

Your mother told me you needed tutoring on your pharmacy classes and gave me your schedule.

I can teach you Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from 6PM. Would that work for you?

You fall back onto bed with a frustrated groan as you read the messages. She really asked him. Now you have no choice but agree to him tutoring you because your mother would kill you otherwise.

Typing a reply you take a deep breath. This will be such a waste of time for the both of you.

Hello! Tuesdays and Thursdays are good. Thank you so much.

You hate how pathetic you sound. What are you even thanking him for? You don't want him to tutor you and he was definitely forced by your mother so why even play pretend?

No problem. We can use meeting room 117 at the company since I reserved it for us. I'll see you on Tuesday.

You dread Tuesday every single day from now on. When it finally arrives you feel ridiculous as you enter the large building of your mother's company. You have been here countless times but you never thought you would get tutor lessons here.

Even worse is that your mother made you go greet her beforehand. She specifically texted you to visit her office before the appointment with Mr. Choi. You walk past her assistant with a polite greeting and finally enter her office.

The luxurious room sat at the top floor of the building with a nice view over the city. Sometimes you forget how successful her company actually is. It can be quiet intimidating.

"There you are," she greets you with a mere look up from a bunch of files on her desk. "I hope you prepared well for your tutoring session. Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Mr. Choi. His father is an important business partner of mine and he himself seems to be a very promising employee. I don't want my own daughter to make him think worse of the company."

Of course she only worries about the company. The idea that this is incredibly humiliating for her own daughter does not even cross her mind.

"Hello, mom. Of course I prepared well, I always do. I won't disappoint you."

She nods at you, satisfied with your answer before looking at her watch. "Then you should head to the meeting room. He is always ridiculously early for meetings so he's probably waiting for you already."

Great, you think to yourself. You hoped you would be able to grab a coffee beforehand.

"I'll go right away. Bye, mom."

You walk to the elevator with heavy steps and check your own watch. It's still fifteen minutes until 6PM so there's plenty of time to grab a coffee before, no matter what your mother might say.

Entering the elevator you select the floor of the meeting room with the plan to walk to the coffee pantry first. Half-way down, the elevator stops on a different floor. When the doors open you almost choke on your polite "Hello" as your eyes take in the person in front of you.

Walking into the elevator is easily the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life. Dressed in a tight pair of dark pants and a perfectly fitted dress-shirt the handsome stranger repeats your greeting with a small bow and a mind-numbingly attractive smile. His eyes carry a little glimmer even behind the round pair of glasses he wears and as he pushes back his black hair you feel like swooning.

You have to keep yourself from staring when he takes his place in the elevator and both of you wait for it to move. Just now you realize he hasn't pushed a button, which means he is heading to the same floor as you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can't help but watch him.

He is a few inches taller than you but appears even bigger due to his broad frame. You wonder where that man even finds clothes that fit his stature with his broad shoulders and tiny waist. He checks his most definitely expensive wrist watch before looking at the display counting down the floors.

When the elevator doors open with a ding, you almost jolt. You were so caught up in thinking about how good he looks that you didn't even notice arriving on your floor. The handsome man gestures for you to step out first with another deadly smile in your direction.

"Thank you," you barely breath out as you step out of the elevator in front of him. It feels like the air outside is ten degrees colder. Without looking back you head to the pantry of the floor. You need a coffee even more than before now that you can only think of that guy from the elevator. There is no way you can concentrate on tutoring now without some caffeine.

The benefit of being the CEO's daughter is having a card with unlimited access to the coffee machines so you happily press the button for a black coffee. At the familiar buzzing sound you can finally relax and take a deep breath. No man has ever made you so flustered before just by existing. Maybe you should visit the office more often if that was the kind of employees your mother hired.

Taking your coffee into one hand and your study bag into the other you turn around to head to the meeting room. Caught up deeply in your thoughts you almost run head first into the person behind you.

"Woah, careful there. You don't want to spill that coffee do you?" his voice is smooth like honey, with a joking tone to it. You blink up at him a few times before you find your words.

"I'm sorry. I was distracted."

The man from the elevator smiles at you and you feel your body warming up from the inside out.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." He looks you up and down quickly before holding eye contact once again.

"Excuse the question, but do you happen to be director Kim's daughter?"

You stare at him in confusion. "Yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?"

He moves past you, grabbing a cup from the pantry himself and turning on the coffee machine before he answers:

"You share her eyes. But more importantly, your bag has a pin of the pharmacy faculty of the university and because I'm supposed to meet her daughter for tutoring on this floor in - " he checks his watch again: "exactly 12 minutes, I figured it might be you."

You are impressed. His looks are already enough to have your eyes turn into hearts but there is probably nothing that makes a man more attractive to you than his wit. But what hits you even more than that is the fact that THIS was your tutor.

I take everything back mom, I love tutoring. Sign me up for another year.

"Well, you figured correctly," you reply weakly, at a loss for words. "Nice to meet you Mr. Choi."

You put your cup on the pantry table to reach your hand out to him. He takes it with a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Kim. I was going to get the two of us some coffee but as I can see you already helped yourself."

Oh, so he's a gentleman as well.

"Next time you should let me take care of that," you said showing him your free access card. "I happen to own the key to infinite coffee."

"Does the caffeine addiction come for free with that as well?" You chuckle at his joke.

"I think it's the requirement to get it in the first place."

"Well then I will happily let you get us coffee next time."

Next time, you think. The reality that you will be seeing this man on a regular basis hits you.

For a second the two of you just smile at each other. Then Mr. Choi notices that his coffee is done and he grabs the cup.

"Let's head to the meeting room then. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

You sir, can waste my time any day of the week, you think to yourself but obviously keep silent as you follow him to the room.

He holds the door open for you and you settle down onto one of the meeting chairs. You always hated these things. They are designed to make you sit upright and therefore terribly uncomfortable. You desperately want to fold one of your legs under yourself like you always do at home but you have a good image to keep. After taking a seat across from you he puts his bag onto the table and looks at you expectantly.

"So what topics exactly are you struggling with? It's been a while for me but I'm sure I can help."

"To be honest with you, I don't really need help on anything."

San raises his eyebrows behind the round glasses on his nose. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, not knowing how to explain this dilemma best. "My mother made me get a tutor because she believes I need better grades. In fact I'm the best of my year with perfect attendance and an average of 95%. She says that everything under 100% is not enough which is why she must have thought of you as a tutor."

San just stares at you with a peculiar look on his face. He looks almost impressed from your words.

"I knew director Kim could be quite strict but I had never imagined that extent. I'm sorry she made you do this, a 95% average is very impressive in the pharmacy field."

"Says someone with a perfect 100% graduation," you snap back, a little more spiteful than you want to. But San doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead he chuckles in response. The sound sends shivers down your spine, his voice dipping way lower than you had expected it could.

"Trust me, that wasn't all brains. I only know my way around people." You don't doubt that last statement for even a second.

"Maybe instead of teaching I can give you some tips around the university. That would probably help you more."

Now you are interested.

"What kind of tips for example?" You lean forward resting an elbow on the table as you pick your cup of coffee up for a sip. It's still burning hot but you pretend you didn't just burn your tongue as you set it back down.

"Does Mr. Han still do the medicine lectures? He's been using the same exam template for years. Pharmacy students are just to selfish to share the results with the younger students. I'll look for my old exams later to give them to you."

Your mouth opens in awe. Everyone from the year above had told you Mr Han's exams were the hardest and it turns out they were just lying to intimidate you. The competition was real.

"These fuckers," you mumble beneath your breath but judging by his chuckle, San heard you just fine.

"Sorry," you excuse your language immediately with a small nod. He is still an employee under your mother and she told you explicitly to act well around him. Hiding your uneasiness you go for another scolding sip of coffee.

"Don't worry, darling. I won't go complaining to your mother about your language. You don't need to be her perfect little girl for me."

You almost choke on your coffee and have to force the liquid down your throat with an effort. You really wish they didn't but his words made your insides squirm. The amount of money you'd pay him to call you 'darling' again is surely an embarrassing amount. But good little girl also didn't sound too bad from his mouth.

"Thanks," you mumble, not knowing what else to say and stare onto the table to hide your flushing face. If you look at him with those slutty, round glasses right now, you're sure you'll combust.

You don't notice, but Mr. Choi eyes you up and down carefully before he resumes speaking. He smiles at your flustered state that obviously doesn't escape his sharp senses. Seeing your pretty face flush from only these few words, satisfies him deeply.

"Then how about that toxicology class? If Mr. Lim still teaches it, I know a few ways to get on his good side. He always picks favourites and it shows in the grades."

Mr. Choi continues listing off ways to better your grades around your professors. You can't help but be impressed. Not only is he obviously very intelligent but also great with people. Maybe what kept you from exceeding in your studies was your rather reserved nature in class.

"How about this," Mr. Choi finally proposes after teaching you some of his ways. "I'll get you my old notes and exams and with that you will surely ace all your tests. Then we can meet up for these tutoring sessions and while you study in peace I can get some work done. This way your mother is happy and we both profit from the situation."

You nod without hesitation. "That sounds like a great idea. Thank you so much, Mr. Choi."

He groans at your words, a sound that makes you react in a way you don't even want to put into words.

"Please don't call me Mr. Choi when we're alone that makes me feel terribly old. My name is San."

"Aren't you older than me though?" you ask back carefully. It doesn't feel right to call him by his first name.

"If 5 years are old to you?" he inquires with a slight teasing edge to his voice. You don't know if he's flirting with you or if you are just becoming a witness to this man's effortless social skills.

Truthfully, you are 22 and 5 years more don't seem that much to you. Still his way with words and the confident aura around him make him seem more mature.

"I didn't say old. Just older."

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness, leisurely resting one of his elbows on the backrest behind him. "Just call me San, darling."

There it is again. That word single-handedly turns you into a blushing mess within seconds and you find yourself agreeing without another thought.

"Okay, San."

A satisfied smile spreads on his face and you marvel at the dimples that form on his cheeks. "Much better. Than how about you do some studying and I'll get some work done now?"

"Sounds good," you reply and start taking out your classwork. He could've told you to start stripping right now and you would've agreed without question. Damn you are down bad for him already...

It is a weird situation at first. You are used to studying around strangers in the library, but sitting alone in a room with San makes it hard to focus on your upcoming test. His eyes keep flicking from his work laptop across to you and you don't know if he's interest in the topic you're studying or you.

You yourself on the other hand are surely interested in him and you can't help but steal a few glances at him working diligently at his laptop every now and then. Even typing on his keyboard looks ridiculously hot on him with the way his slender fingers run over the keys.

After about two hours of you trying to keep your eyes on your notes San finally closes his laptop and stares at you until you reciprocate his look.

"I guess two hours is enough to make your mother think you studied, right?" he asks with one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.

"Sure," you respond weakly.

"I'll look for my old tests and will bring them on Thursday," he goes on as he stands up to pack up his laptop and bag. You also start gathering your study books.

"Thank you again," you answer lamely. But the promise of already seeing him again on Thursday excites you.

When you proceed to grab your now empty coffee cup his hands react quickly as he snatches it from you.

"Don't worry about that, I'll put those away," he's leaning over the table now, smiling at you through slightly closed eyes and you can't help but be entranced by his looks. "You should make sure to get home before it's dark outside. Want you to get home safely."

"Don't worry about me, I'll manage."

"Oh but I won't if something happens to you and your mother finds out you were last seen with me," he replies cockily as you two finally go to the door.

You have to chuckle at his remark. "Good to know I'm not the only one terrified of her."

"Everyone is terrified of her," he mumbles under his breath but you are already reaching the coffee pantry - aka your cue to go home.

"Can we use the same room on Thursday?" you ask as you stop in front of him. You make sure to brush your hair behind your ear in a nonchalant manner, knowing it shows your good angles.

"Yeah, I already booked it," San replies easily, eyes fixing yours from above. "But let's meet at the coffee machine here. I want to at least take advantage of that free coffee if I give you all my study secrets."

He winks at you at the last part of the sentence and it makes your insides twirl like on a rollercoaster. You give him a small smile through fluttering lashes. "So that's what you meant with a win-win situation: Endless coffee. Well it looks like I don't have a choice but to be your personal coffee machine."

You want to punch yourself right after that sentence leaves your mouth. How much more stupid could you possibly sound? Personal coffee machine. Saying you wanted to be his personal slut would have been less embarrassing.

But San doesn't seem to mind your awkward response. "Sounds good to me," he replies smoothly. "Then have a good ride home and I'll see you on Thursday."

"Until Thursday," you reply before you can say something stupid again and stroll off to the elevator with a small wave.

As soon as the doors close behind you, your head thumps against the steel wall. There is no way you will get any studying done with that man in the same room as you.

---------------------

Your next few meetings with San go on smoothly. You are always on time but he is still earlier than you, waiting for you at the coffee machine. You get both of you a coffee - sometimes two if you feel like it - and you two get to work in a comfortable silence sitting opposite to each other in the meeting room.

After San brought you his old exams you can now prepare exactly what you need to know for your next tests. But no matter how hard you try to focus on your studies, your eyes keep wandering from your books up to the handsome man working on his laptop.

You soon notice his seemingly endless closet full of tailored dressing shirts and perfectly matching pants. He always looks immaculate, not a single wrinkle on his shirt and his hair always neatly combed back. Even his skin is flawless to the point that you start questioning if Choi San might be a figment of your imagination.

Just like his outer appearance, his manners are immaculate. Like you already noticed on your first meeting, he is a sweet talker. Always knowing the right thing to say and never letting your conversation end in awkwardness.

Whenever he feels like taking a break you notice him starting to talk to you. At first he asks how your studies are going. Then he wanders off to the professors you two shared and how he managed to ace all his classes.

Your whole attention is glued to his lips. For one thing because the information he can provide you with is crucial to your academic development but much more importantly because his lips are the prettiest thing you have ever seen. They look so plump and smooth while he's talking that your mind can't help but wander to the other things he might be able to do with them besides talking.

If at your first meeting you were down bad for Choi San, one month later you felt like you were drowning and he was the last bit of oxygen left on earth. You wanted him with a passion that you didn't even know you were capable of.

But you couldn't have him. There was too much at stake. He still worked for your mother and if you made a move on him that he wouldn't reciprocate you would risk the eternal hate of the only woman that still held control over your life. And so far San hadn't shown any sign of feeling the same way about you that you did for him.

„You're stuck on that?" San suddenly asks you over the page of biochemistry that you've been staring at for a solid five minutes. You haven't spared a single thought on the topic in front of you. Your mind is only occupied by the thought of San leaning over you on the meeting chair, your chin in between his slender fingers as he smirks down at you. You hate him for having this effect on you when you so desperately need to focus on your studies.

You really need to get your thoughts together.

„Oh no I was just getting carried away," you answer, looking at him pointedly with a sly smile.

You tried little attacks like this on him before. A casual pull down of your shirt, stretching your arms to make it ride up over your stomach or even looking directly at his lips as he spoke. But no matter how daring you get you can never catch San slipping.

His eyes stay on yours only whenever he looks at you, his tone is always polite and never goes farther than a casual joke. You simply can't draw a single reaction from him and it drives you insane.

„Do you need a small break? We could get another coffee," he offers helpfully.

I don't want a damn coffee I want you to fuck me on this meeting table.

"I'd love to, but I'm already way too warm today. I fear the AC can't fight against the heat anymore."

It has gotten exponentially hotter over the past days and you can feel it even inside the modern building.

"You're right, it's quite hot in here," San says with a disappointed face. "What a shame we don't have iced coffee. We should get some on Tuesday!"

His eyes light up in excitement and this little sliver of pure happiness doesn't escape you. It's surprising how cute he can be with that shamelessly hot body of his.

"Do you know a place near?" You ask to drag on the conversation. You yourself know at least 3 cafés in the area that sell iced coffee but you want San to tell you a place. Maybe his favourite. So that you can go and think of him.

"Yes, I can show you!" he answers proudly.

"I'd love to." You send him a gentle smile with long eye contact before both of you look back at your work.

But your concentration withers away like the dying plant in the corner of the room when Choi San begins undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves.

You know you shouldn't but your eyes immediately watch as his slender fingers start neatly folding up his sleeves. The muscles in his underarms dance beneath his skin as inch after inch of skin gets revealed.

You feel like a medieval man salivating over exposed ankles as you stare at San's arms. The veins are protruding in the heat and his honey skin is glistening under the bland neon lights.

Your heartbeat quickens and it's mostly because it feels like you finally found San slipping. Him rolling up his sleeves is like a crack in his perfect mask and you are certain that he wouldn't do it anywhere else in the company. He only does this because he is with you.

"Shoot," he suddenly exclaims and draws your attention up to his face. You catch the small pout that appears on his lips before he looks back at you.

"What is it?" you ask him.

"I forgot to book the meeting room for Tuesday and now everything is blocked. There is a work event next week. I should've booked it earlier."

"Oh," you simply reply. This is even more confusing. You don't believe that San would ever forget such an important event. Is he trying to get rid of you?

"Don't worry about it, darling." His smirk and the nickname has you fighting for air. "I'll find us something else."

You can only nod at him with a smile. Maybe he isn't trying to get rid of you.

The rest of your study/work time flies by as your mind thinks of all the possible meeting places you and San could have for Tuesday. You feel like a highschool girl dreaming about dates with your crush but you don't care. The man that is supposed to be tutoring you just makes your heart speed up in a way that you haven't experienced ever before.

When your meeting time comes to an end and San starts packing up his stuff he simply says: "How about we meet at my place next time? I don't like working in cafés it's always so crowded and noisy. And I have coffee too."

You snap up at him in surprise at the proposal. "Sure," you reply as nonchalantly as you can at the prospect of going to Choi San's apartment. Alone. With him.

"I can pick you up here with my car after work. So you don't have any extra way."

"That sounds good," you reply with a small smile, trying not to sound too excited.

"Then until next week," he says with one of his handsome smiles and you say your goodbyes before you can turn even redder in his presence.

When you walk onto the elevator this time and the door closes behind you, your heart is pounding into your throat. As the realization sets in that you will be alone with Choi San in his apartment a satisfied smile set over your face. Oh you will use that chance for sure.

----------------------

You spend the entire day preparing for your tutor appointment with San. Something deep inside you tells you that this behaviour is ridiculous but you push this inner voice back down as you play your favourite music and get ready.

You wear your hair in light waves and put on makeup to bring out your eyes but not look overly done up. Your outfit was a tricky matter but you settled on a classic pleated skirt and a tight long-sleeve. Everything about your appearance today lands on the thin line between innocent and suggestive and you are satisfied when you twirl around in front of the mirror.

All you want is one small reaction out of the man that you have thirsted for over the past weeks. If Choi San even so much as lets his eyes scan you up and down, your mission would be successful. Lost in your task of getting ready you almost forget to actually pack your study books before heading to your mothers company.

You two agreed on San picking you up at the company's garage. So you are taking down the elevator to the parking floor and checking yourself one last time in your phone camera before stepping into the parking lot.

Having no idea how his car looks like you pull up your chat with San, wanting to ask him where to go. But before you can type your message a calm voice calls you over from across the parking lot.

"Y/n!"

You turn around to a sight that makes your heart flutter. San is leaning onto his car, a chic black Mercedes. His white dress shirt has one button unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled up again. His feet are crossed over each other leisurely as he waits for you to come over.

Walking up to him you have to try real hard to look casual and not like your nerves are taking over you with the impending situation of being in the same car as San for an undefined amount of time. Your heart is beating already and he hasn't even called you any nicknames yet.

"Hello, San. You're not wearing glasses today?" you notice in surprise and hope it doesn't come off as too attentive.

"Sometimes I wear contacts," he replies smoothly. "It's a styling decision."

While you love the glasses on San seeing him without has a different charm to it. Almost like he is showing you a different side of him.

"Ready to go?" you ask him to keep the conversation going and you're almost proud of your nonchalant tone.

"Ready when you are," he replies with a light smile and walks around the car to open the door for you.

Of course he opens the door for me.

Before you can get in he also takes your bag from you to store it in the back. You want to refuse but one of his smiles finally makes you give in and you hand him the bag. Finally, you thank him and sit down in the passenger seat. The car looks even nicer on the inside: leather seats and perfectly clean. Something inside you starts questioning where this man hides his flaws since noone can possibly be this perfect at all times.

"It's only a 20 minute drive," San explains as he gets into the driver's seat and turns on the engine. You can't help but watch his hands as he manages the gearshift. But as he turns around to look for obstacles his eyes get stuck on you. For a second you think you got him. That his eyes linger on you for a little too long because you finally pulled a reaction out of him.

"You haven't even put your seatbelt on, darling."

And with that your mind is blank. Simple emptiness.

Before you can react, his hand reaches past you, grabbing the seatbelt and plugging it in. His hand doesn't so much as grace your shoulder for a millisecond but you feel like your lungs are constricting.

"Thanks," you breath out before he finally pulls out of the parking spot. He does that wildly attractive thing where he put his hand on the back of the passenger's seat while driving backwards and you feel like losing it already. How will you survive being in the same apartment with this man. San however seems his usual chatty self.

"I'm sorry again for not booking the meeting room in time. I already reserved it for the weeks to come," he starts talking to you.

"Don't worry. I totally don't mind," you answer and regret it immediately. Did that sound too eager? Something about Sam's presence makes you overthink every single word you say.

"I have a fancy coffee machine at home so I can at least return the favour of you getting me coffee all the time."

You smile at that. It feels like this little inside thing between you two how you always use your company privileges to pay for both of your coffee. San thanks you every single time, bringing up how much you save his day.

"I never thought you were that much of a coffee guy at home too," you say trying to get him to tell you more about himself.

"You're acting like I didn't go through pharmacy as well!" He replies with a slightly sulky tone. "No way to survive that major without getting addicted to coffee."

You chuckle at his response. "That's true unfortunately. So you just carried the addiction into your job?"

"You could state it like that but by buying a fancy machine you can just say that coffee is your hobby instead."

Whenever you two talk about mundane topics like this you can't help but be glued to his lips. To get a glimpse of the Choi San that isn't working over-hours all the time and kept up his perfect image at all costs. You want to find out the details about him. Like how he enjoys his coffee or what colour he might like best.

You continue the drive in casual chatter like this before finally reaching your destination. As San pulls into an underground parking lot of an apartment building your heart rate quickens again. Something about seeing his apartment makes you incredibly nervous.

He tells you to wait inside the car after he lets the motor die down so that he can open the door for you again. Even this small gesture has you wrapped around his finger and you smile as you try to step out of the car as gracefully as you can.

San leads you into an elevator and as soon as the doors close you feel reminded of your first meeting. Of how he took your breath away just by standing next to you in such a small space. And now there isn't much difference. He still makes you just as nervous. But at least you can talk to him now.

"How is studying for your exams going so far?" He asks casually.

"It's okay," you reply lamely. "I'm trying my best."

"You know if you actually do need my help you can obviously ask me," he offers alluding to your deal of him basically just getting his own work done instead of tutoring you.

"You've already helped me so much. All I need to do now is actually study," you say turning down his argument.

You idiot, you think to yourself. You could've at least pretended to need his help.

You wait in silence as the remaining floors rush past you. You're surprised with every passing number, wondering what floor San might be living on. But the elevator doesn't stop until the highest floor.

San let's you exit first which makes no sense to you since you don't know where to go. So you wait for him to show you the way to his apartment.

As soon as he unlocks the door and leads you two inside you curiously scan his place. On a first glance it looks almost exactly like you expected: it's very clean and tidy, the furniture is modern and rather minimalistic and the whole place carries a simple colour theme of black and chrome with only hints of colour. The entrance leads straight into an open living room that connects to the kitchen.

"Make yourself at home at the dinner table," San offers while gesturing at the big, black table that looks like straight out of a design magazine.

You both place your shoes neatly at the entrance of his apartment before you take your bag to the table. As you choose a seat from which you can look outside the gigantic window front, San heads over to the kitchen, getting something from a cupboard.

"Can I get you a glass of water before I make some coffee?" He asks you with a kind smile.

"That would be nice," you answer even though water was not what you were craving right now.

He filled one for you and brought it over before returning to the kitchen. "You want your coffee hot or iced?"

"Iced? This is better service than at the company. You should forget to book the meeting room more often." It's a weak attempt at flirting with him but he laughs non the less.

"So iced it is?" He confirms with you again and turns on his electric coffee grinder after you nod approvingly.

It shouldn't captivate you that much, looking at him while he was performing such a basic task as making coffee. But you could watch him for hours, the way his broad back stretches out his dress shirt. The way he moves around so smoothly. The way the muscles in his arms flex as he handles his espresso machine.

You turn towards your study materials just in time before he faces you again, two iced coffees in his hands. He places one gently in front of you before he sits down opposite of you.

"Thank you," you smile at him extra sweetly.

"Anything you want, darling."

You swear to yourself that if he calls you darling one more time you will throw all rational thoughts out of the window and straddle him right here in his stupid designer living room chair. But for now you settle for a coy smile as you feel your cheeks heat up.

To add to your demise, as San drags his chair closer to the table both of your knees touch for a brief second before he casually changes his seating position. The table is narrower than the one in the meeting room and knowing that your legs are mere inches from another makes you even more delusional. What if he did that on purpose?

After that, all concentration for your studies is far gone. It doesn't help at all that the iced coffee he made you was the best you had in ages and with every sip you keep wondering what Choi San isn't good at.

I just know he fucks good there's no other way, you think to yourself but get interrupted in your thoughts.

"Are you stuck on something?" San asks you and you almost don't even dare to raise your eyes to look at him. A kind of shame overcomes you as you realize what you have been thinking about while he worries about your studies.

You sigh to buy yourself time to find an answer that doesn't include: Yes, I'm stuck because I can't think of anything but your body on top of mine.

"Yeah, I just can't seem to concentrate well lately. Maybe I'm stressed out because of my finals."

It isn't fully a lie. Your finals are approaching steadily and with you thirsting over your tutor instead of studying you are indeed starting to worry.

"I would love to tell you that grades don't matter too much but I know your mother won't agree and I will probably face her anger too if you fail," he laughs at the end of his sentence to lighten the mood but quickly notices he only stressed you more by saying that.

"I'm sorry," he quickly retracts. It feels like the first time you caught him messing up his smooth way of talking which in return makes you smile.

"No, you're right. I just never thought about the fact that she will hate both of us if I mess up. What a way to relax."

"I shouldn't have said that," San again apologizes. "I'm sure you will do amazing though. After all you studied so much."

He finishes his sentence with a wink and you must stare at him for a second like an idiot. Did you just imagine that? Or is he alluding to something? Does Choi San know that you thirsted for him this entire fucking time?

But his further actions don't allow you to think much more.

"You look quite tense actually," he continues. "You know it's not good for your back to sit stiff like this for a prolonged amount of time. Your neck must be hurting?"

You have no idea what he is talking about. And your confusion only grows as San gets up from his chair heading in your direction. Every step he comes closer to you has your heart pumping erratically. Even though you dreamed about him being closer to you and finally paying you more attention you are now paralysed at the situation unfolding. Simply being close to him renders your entire body useless.

San steps behind you and, to your absolute shock and amazement, his hands gently grasp your shoulders.

"To compensate the stress from university I took a physiology course that taught us how to massage tense muscles."

As if to proof his words his thumbs gently start rubbing circles into your neck. The warmth of his fingers seeps through your thin shirt and fills your entire body. It feels like he set you on fire with this simple touch.

All of this cannot be real. This must be a figment of your imagination or you actually fell asleep on your study notes while dreaming about San. But his voice sounds very much real when he resumes:

"You have to relax, otherwise I'll hurt you." His voice drops lower than usual and as he gently drapes your hair over one shoulder to get it out of his way you can feel his breath fanning over your neck. Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

But amid the fire burning in your veins and your clouded mind you actually manage to ease into his fingers and allow him to loosen up your muscles.

"That's a good girl," he rasps behind you and you know you tipped over the edge now. There is no going back from this. You feel like a doll in his hands. His words are electrifying, leaving you unable to utter a single word, to make a single sound. Your mind is running on a state of emergency. Nothing seems to get to you but the fact that San is touching you.

And oh is he good at it. His hands are pressing into all the right places relieving all the pent up tension you built ever since getting ready for this meeting today. If his fingers are already this good at massaging out your stress you can't help but think about what else they can do.

"How do you feel?" He asks. His voice is still low and his tone taunting, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Better," you answer. Your voice is merely a whisper. You sound weak, even in your own ears, and wonder if he even heard you.

"Yeah? Then how is this?" With his question his thumbs dip beneath the collar of your shirt and massage your upper back a little lower.

You can't help but close your eyes. The low tone of his voice, his fingers on your skin and the playfulness of his words. All of this is so overwhelming you can only lean back and revel in his touch.

"It feels so good," you manage to breath out when you realize he asked you a question.

He bends down a little, his mouth now right next to your ear. "Should I make you feel even better?"

He is quite literally the devil on your shoulder. Everything in your body screams for you to say yes immediately. The unspoken promise has your entire body on fire and you almost give in to your desire. But a tiny speck of reasonable thinking pulls you back into the dangerous territories you are moving in right now.

"What do you mean?" you ask carefully. You know that this is everything you wanted for the past few weeks but still you can't help being confused about his sudden change.

His left hand wanders from your back to your chin, tilting it to the side so you can look at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. His pupils are dilated and he is looking at you like he is preying on you. The intensity is something you have never seen in him before.

"You are far too smart to be asking that question, darling," he replies smugly.

"But you were never interested in me?" You ask back and want to hit yourself on the spot. Why are you even asking questions when the man you've desired for weeks finally seems to be making a move on you? But after all he is acting very out of character.

San chuckles, never taking his eyes off of you. "You're so cute. All these weeks that you've been wanting me and now you ask what I'm doing?"

Your mouth opens in shock. So he did in fact know all this time that you were interested in him.

"Don't act all surprised now, darling. You really thought I didn't see the way you looked at me ever since we first met? How your eyes keep focusing on my arms in my tight shirts. How you steal glances at me when you think I'm not looking? I wanted to see how long I could leave you thirsting like this before you would break."

His confession has you gasping as you realize you weren't even faintly as indiscreet as you thought you were. Instead San was playing with you the entire time. Watching your every move.

"Desperation looks so cute on you," he adds with another devilish smile. His fingers continue drawing circles into your back as his burning eyes keep you fixed in your spot. You feel bewitched by his entire presence, like he has cast a spell on you.

"I made all this effort to get you into my apartment so we both don't have to risk our lives by having me ruin you on the meeting table and still you didn't even have a clue. I'm almost disappointed if you weren't so cute when you are surprised like this." A satisfied grin plays around his plump lips, as if he revelling in the taste of this sweet opportunity in his hands. "Now be a good girl for me and finally do what you've been wanting to do for weeks. Tell me you want me."

You haven't taken a single breath since he started talking and as a result your head feels dizzy. It takes a short moment before you can finally form the words that your head is screaming at you.

"Please," you whisper pathetically.

"Please what, darling?" San revels in the way you can barely speak.

"Please ruin me."

You can basically see the fire behind his eyes ignite as you speak those three words. His hand wanders to your cheek, grabbing it firmly. He takes his sweet time to let his thumb run over your bottom lip, eyes trailing after his own movement.

"With pleasure."

Finally, his lips press onto yours in a desperate kiss. They feel just as soft as they always looked to you, but he kisses you with a roughness that is almost contradictory. The combination is intoxicating. As you reciprocate the kiss, heat runs through your limbs in shockwaves.

Suddenly impatient, San interrupts the kiss to pull you up and out of the chair by your arms. Grabbing your waist he manhandles you onto the dinner table instead, lifting you onto the ledge as if it was nothing.

Your hands bury in his hair as both your lips meet again in a rushed embrace. In return, San wedges one of his legs between yours and spreads your knees so he can stand between them. The way he handles you makes heat pool in your core. San has a determination to his every move that makes you want to do whatever he could want from you.

One of his hands still tightly grasping your waist, the other winds in your hair as he deepens the kiss. When his tongue enters your mouth you arch your back wanting to diminish every centimetre between you two. Your head is dizzy, completely overwhelmed by his every touch.

San's firm hands are restless on your heated body. His fingers quickly find a way to shift under your shirt and his thumb draws circles into the bare skin of your stomach. Choi San feels like a drug. His touch just as intoxicating as you always dreamed it to be.

He removes his mouth from your lips only to latch onto the fragile skin behind your ears, kissing his way around your neck. You let your head fall back to give him better access and when he starts sucking on your skin you relieve a small whimper.

You can feel San smirking into your skin as he sucks even more. It's like he has found your weakness and is now shamelessly using it to make you melt beneath his fingers. And it's working so well. Your hands lose grip on his hair as you lose your ability to focus on anything but San's lips on your neck.

"Don't tap out on me already, darling. I'm only getting started," he rasps into your ear in between kisses. You draw in a shaky breath at his words. Your legs feel like jelly even as your sitting down and you just know you won't be able to walk after San is finished with you.

He finally withdraws his lips and for a second just revels in your already dishevelled form: hair messy, red flush to your cheeks and lips glossy from kissing him.

"I'd love to have you on my dinner table but let's take this somewhere more comfortable for now," he says in a soft voice.

Hooking his hands under your thighs he picks you up from the table, carrying you towards his bedroom. Woken up from your trance by the change of motion you suddenly gain back some of your bite. While San is busied with carrying you, your fingers rush to the collar of his dress shirt. Oh how often you have dreamed of popping open those buttons one by one. And finally you have the pleasure to do so. A soft chuckle makes his chest move in front of you as San looks down on your actions.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

"Why would I?" you reply cheekily as your hand smooths over his now exposed skin. He feels so soft and hot under your fingertips that you don't think you'll ever be able to detach.

San throws open his bedroom door with his shoulder and before you have a chance to take in the room you are thrown onto the plush bed. He follows behind immediately, hovering over you with both hands propped up next to your head. He lets his eyes run over your figure lazily, up and down.

"Don't even know where to start with you," he mumbles half to himself and half to you as he watches your chest rise and fall in heavy breaths. He decides to put on a show, sitting back on his heels and slowly continuing your work in unbuttoning his shirt.

Apart from his skin being exposed the simple act of opening some buttons shouldn't drive you as crazy as it does right now. It's simply the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your life. The way his hooded eyes stay on yours the entire time while one button after another falls open under his practiced movements.

You are moving on autopilot when you also sit up to take off your own shirt. You simply can't delay this any further. As your shirt lands somewhere beside the bed, San lets out a small groan, surprising you. He stopped in the middle of folding down his sleeves.

"How did you know that purple was my favourite colour?" He asks in a raspy voice. His eyes are raking over your deep purple bra with a desire in them that lets shivers run over your skin.

You can't imagine a better way to find out his favourite colour. You only chose it because it accentuates your skin tone but now it feels like fate to you. Finally, you are getting to the edges of Choi San. Getting to know him on a level that you were craving like the air you needed to breath.

"Good intuition," you reply. Your confidence surges under his heavy glances. Maybe a little too much. "Need help with that?" you ask him teasingly with a nod towards his shirt, which hangs open around his toned torso.

As soon as you speak those words you are getting pinned back to the bed, San's hand suddenly wrapped around your neck. He isn't putting any pressure on it yet but you can feel his strength pulsating around your neck. His broad shoulders are taking up most of your vision and with the way he glares at you you just know that you are soaked.

"Don't get too bold with me, darling," he says in a warning tone. "I'm the one in charge."

You look up at him through big, round eyes, lashes fluttering because you have a feeling that it will push just the right buttons in him.

"Go ahead then," you reply firmly. "Do whatever you want to me."

San sits up again and roughly tugs on his sleeves, finally discarding his shirt fully. Then his lips are on yours again in a heartbeat.

You greedily let your hands wander over his now fully exposed upper body. The muscles playing under his skin feel so good as he buries his hands in your hair. His biceps is so big that your fingers can barely wrap around it halfway. You can't get enough of touching his body which so far you only admired in fitted dressing shirts.

San kisses his way down from your lips again but this time he doesn't stop at your neck. Continuing down your chest he kisses the tender skin between your breasts. When he takes both hands to squish your breasts together, burying his face in between, you lose your last bit of composure.

"Please, San. Please just fuck me."

He lifts his head to smile at you devilishly. The fire behind his eyes seems so bright that you're scared it will never burn down again.

"Already begging for me? You're still half dressed and I'm only starting. Have a little patience."

As he finishes his words, his hand snakes behind your back to open your bra in a swift motion. He peels the straps off of you with a new found patience that makes you feel like you are suffocating.

When the piece of clothing lands on the floor, San's eyes are glued to your chest. Slowly, he lowers himself down again, gently taking on of your nipples into his mouth. As soon as his tongue starts lapping at you a string of moans escape you. He just feels so good.

Without ever losing focus on kissing and nipping on your chest, one of his hands wanders to your skirt. He finds the zipper so easily it feels like he has studied undressing you. He pushes it down your legs quickly, leaving you only in your underwear.

As his hand starts stroking your inner thighs, your eyes roll to the back of your head. He feels like a dream.

"Please San. Please touch me," the words leave your mouth in whispers. Silent pleas for him to finally give you what you want.

"Is my darling so stressed from studying that she needs her mind taken off of things?" His fingers trail over your clothed heat as he asks you in a sickly sweet voice. His eyes are focussed on your face, taking in how you crumble beneath his touch.

"Yes. Yes, please," you whimper desperately. Every touch feels like electricity on your skin.

"Want me to stuff you full so you can forget everything you've studied for for weeks?" He pushes your panties to the side, his fingers toying at your entrance.

"Please San..." you repeat yourself weakly. Finally he gives into your pleading and sinks two of his fingers into you. You are so wet that they glide in with ease. You suck in a harsh breath as he begins pumping them in and out of you.

"God you feel so good. Can't wait to fuck you, my darling. Bury my cock so deep into you you forget your own name."

His words make you shake beneath him. You had a lot of suspicions about San in the bedroom due to your extensive daydreaming about him. But never did you expect him to be so vocal and downright dirty with his words. It catches you off-guard and only heightens your pleasure.

San scoots up on the bed a little so his face is hovering over yours again, while he slips a third finger into your heat. "How do I feel?" he asks with a raspy tone to his voice.

"You feel so fucking good, San," you moan in answer. His fingers stretch you out so deliciously and he reaches this spot deep inside you that makes you arch your back with every thrust.

"Yeah, you wanna come on my fingers?" he rasps into your ear now, lips again attaching to your neck, sucking deep marks into your skin.

"Please, San." You feel like a broken record that's repeating the same thing over and over. You grow closer and closer to an orgasm with every motion of his fingers inside you. But San has other plans for you. And when he feels you desperately clenching around his fingers, he pulls them out of you.

"I'm sorry darling," he says immediately, even though his face doesn't display any regret. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate. And I want you to come on my cock when I make you fall apart for the first time."

You feel like crying. You want nothing more but to come and yet him taking it from you only makes you want him more. You would do anything for Choi San.

He stands up from the bed and opens his belt. But before he can take of his pants, he orders you over with a motion of his finger. You sit on your knees at the edge of the bed in seconds, looking up at him expectantly.

He doesn't say a word and only gestures for his painfully strained pants. You don't need any more hints to start opening his pants and pulling them down his legs desperately. You hook your fingers into his boxers too but look up at him once more before continuing. When he nods at you you finally pull them down as well.

You can't help but stare at San's length. He's big, just like you had always imagined and he was rock-hard. When San takes himself into his hand and gives himself a few strokes you open your mouth on your own, sticking out your tongue in anticipation of tasting him.

San starts gently. His other hand weaves into your hair and he pulls you onto his length slowly. You are able to take a good amount of him before his tip hits the back of your throat and you release a surprised moan. San closes his eyes momentarily as he relishes in the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

"Shit, you feel so good," he rasps out before he starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your hands seek hold on his muscular thighs and you look up at San through big and pleading eyes. Even though he isn't pleasuring you, this almost feels as good as having him bury his fingers inside you. All you ever dreamed about was him using you just like this and the feeling of it happening is so intoxicating you feel like you might pass out any second.

"Look at you enjoying my cock so damn much, that your eyes are losing focus," San chuckles. He looks down at you in disbelief as you mindlessly swirl your tongue around his cock. "You love being ruined by me, don't you?"

You can only manage a desperate nod and approving grunt as you continue sucking him of. No man has ever made you this desperate. As you look at him from beneath you feel like you have accomplished everything you ever wanted: his hair was dishevelled, his breaths uneven and a red tint painted his cheeks. All in all, Choi San lost his perfectly maintained appearance as you sucked on his cock and to you he looked 100 times prettier this way.

When his thrusts go sloppy, he pulls out of your mouth in a haste before he can come. "You're driving me crazy, darling," he grunts as he catches his breath for a second. In a more gentle tone he resumes: "Lay back on the bed for me, ok?"

You do as he says, laying down on your back in the middle of the bed, your body buzzing with the anticipation of what is to come. San goes to his dresser, opening a drawer to get a condom. 

When he climbs over you he looks at you intensely. But at the same time his eyes hold a softness that makes you feel secure.

"Are you sure about going on, y/n?" he asks warmly. No petnames this time. He wants a clear answer.

"Never been so sure in my life," you reply with a smile and his lips mirror yours as he beams down at you.

Quickly he sits up to open the condom and roll it onto his member. Opening your legs with his knee he situates himself between you and positions his cock at your entrance. One hand on your hip and the other holding his cock, he slowly sinks himself into you while carefully observing your face.

Your eyes flutter when he is fully inside of you and you moan at the feeling. San releases a grunt as well and waits a few seconds deep inside of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight for me, my darling. Don't worry I won't stop this time until you come." And with that he starts thrusting into you. He begins with slow and deep thrusts but as soon as you get used to his size he speeds up rapidly. 

His abs are flexing underneath is skin as he grabs onto your hip and pistons himself into you. With every thrust you can feel him hit this spongy part deep inside of you that makes heat build in your core with a throbbing intensity. Meanwhile you revel in the sight above you: San looks like a god. His muscular body moving above you is almost enough to push you over the edge but what's even more entrancing is his face. His expressions seem almost possessed. Like a demon took over him as soon as he started fucking you, he fixes his eyes onto yours.

"Am I fucking you good? Making you forget all your precious studies?" There they are again. His filthy words driving you down a one-way-road to insanity. "I hope you forget everything so you have to see me even more, darling. Then I can keep on fucking this tight little cunt over and over again."

"Fuck, San!" you moan out, being shocked by his words. His control over you is baffling and you can't help but grow closer and closer to your orgasm with every word.

"I know you like me like that, darling. Do me a favour and come on my cock so I can finally see you lose yourself will you?"

You can't form an answer. Endless moans tumble out of your mouth in increasing volume and San knows he has you exactly where he wants. 

"Come for me."

Your orgasm hits you with an explosive intensity. Faintly, you notice yourself moan at a concerning volume as your high washes over your body. But San doesn't seem to mind. Your legs are shaking and he helps you ride out the feeling with slower strokes. He waits for your breath to slow down again before he leans down to you and places a gentle kiss onto your lips.

"I want you on your knees in front of me," he says sweetly as soon as your lips separate and your head is spinning. Still you manage to get up with the help of his arm beneath your waist and you let yourself be positioned in front of San, your back to him.

Since you didn't have the opportunity to examine his bedroom earlier you only now notice the big mirror on his wardrobe next to his bed. Looking ahead, you can now see yourself on your knees, sitting in front of San.

You look even more dishevelled than you feel: Your hair is all over the place and some of your eyeliner smudged and a handful of dark purple marks littering your neck. Also, a red tint covers your skin, making you look flushed. San behind you smirks as you examine your own figure.

"You look so pretty all messed up like this for me, don't you think?"

His arm wraps around your waist as he leans your body back onto his broad chest. You look tiny in front of his build.

"I'll make you look even prettier," he promises as he sinks himself back into you.

He picks up his intense pace from before and you already feel dizzy again. With his arm holding you tight he is basically lifting you up and down his cock. At this angle he is hitting you deeper than before and you are sure you won't last very long until your next high.

But nothing could've prepared you for the feeling of San winding his other arm around you too, his fingers gently starting to stroke your clit. Your head falls back onto San's shoulder as you give in to the mind-numbing pleasure that starts buzzing through your body.

"Keep your eyes on me, darling. I want to watch you fall apart."

His voice sounds sulky, almost cute. It doesn't match his relentless thrusts and his fingers pleasuring you. It takes all your strength to lift your head again and look at San through the mirror. His eyes are hooded now, a shin layer of sweat making his flawless skin shine in the evening light.

"You make me feel so good," you manage to say as San keeps on pounding into you. You want him to know how he makes you feel. How good he is being to you.

"Am I?" He smiles in satisfaction as he watches your brows draw together with a particularly deep thrust. "You too, darling. You feel so good around me I don't think I can last much longer. But you'll come one more time for me, right?"

His voice sounds so deep and sultry in your ears. "Of course, Sannie," you mumble absent-mindedly. You don't even notice the nickname until he chuckles behind you.

"How can you be so cute and so sexy at the same time? You'll be the death of me, my good little girl."

He places a kiss onto your cheek and that is what finally drives you over the edge.

"Fuck, San. I'm coming," you moan out before your high crashes over you. If he wasn't holding you, you would fall to the ground. You try to hold eye contact with San through the reflection but your eyes keep on shutting as waves of pleasure roll over you. You have never felt such an intensity before.

But San's thrust don't slow down this time. He keeps on rutting into you relentlessly, driving you to insanity. You feel like you're swimming in a pool of pleasure.

"I'm close, darling. Just a little longer," San's voice is pitched higher than before, sounding just as desperate as you feel. You want nothing more but for him to come.

"Please, Sannie. I want you to come so bad."

Your desperate pleas are San's final straw. Clutching your body tight to his own, he finishes with his cock buried deep inside you. You can feel him pulsating in your heat and your moans mix into his grunts as you milk him for every last drop of his cum.

As you both slowly recover San pulls out of you and gently lays you back onto the bed. You can't do anything but catch your breath while he gets up to rid himself of the condom and return to you with a glass of water.

"Drink something," he urges you on and you take the glass from him. He watches you with a tinge of worry in his eyes. After taking a few sips you offer the glass back to him.

"You should drink some too, I'm sure you worked your body more than I did."

He smiles at your words and takes some water too before returning the glass to his bedside table. When he looks back at you there is a heaviness to his gaze that worries you.

"What is it?" you ask.

San takes a deep breath before answering you. "No matter what I said to you before, I actually didn't expect us to tumble into this as quickly as we did right now. And I want you to know that I didn't do this to use you or take any advantage of you."

His hand nervously grabs for the back of his neck. "Actually, I've been interested in you ever since we first met but I fear the tension between us was quicker than both of us."

You try to process his words even in your hazy state of mind. A spark of excitement surges through your body as you realize what he is saying.

"I feel the same, San," you reply truthfully. "I like you. And not just because you're insanely handsome."

You are glad when he laughs shyly at your words.

"So maybe I can take you out on a date that doesn't involve work or pharmacy studies sometime?"

"I hope sometime means this week, because I waited long enough for you already."

After everything that happened this evening, this moment when he smiles at you might be what makes your heart beat the fastest. You can't believe your luck as you look Choi San into the eyes and he leans in for a kiss.

-----------------

"This was a stupid idea," you say to San but maybe more to yourself. "I should tell her alone."

"How will she ever respect me again if I let you do this alone?" San replies worriedly. "She told me to tutor you and now here we are. I will look terrible either way."

You have never seen him this nervous. But after all, your mother has the ability to make everybody scared for their life. You two pass her assistant's desk with a polite greeting as you head straight for your mother's office. She knows you are coming but she doesn't know you're bringing company.

You knock carefully on the door until her voice calls you in. Your mother stays seated as you two enter the room. She doesn't look surprised or confused about San's appearance but rather intrigued.

"Why are you visiting me today, y/n?" she asks simply.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you prepare for answering.

"I have something to announce to you," you start off as confident as you can. 

Your mother's eyes flick between you and San. "Go on."

"San- ... Mr. Choi and I, we are..." your voice is shaking. Why is this so hard for you?

But San grabs for your hand, linking his fingers with yours as he confidently finishes your sentence: "We are in a relationship, director Kim."

His boldness strikes you as admiring. Maybe he was right about accompanying you.

A silence that draws out unbearably long fills the room. You feel like your lungs are being compressed with every passing second.

Then your mother smiles. It's not exactly a smile of happiness. It speaks more of victory.

"Finally," she announced. "It took you two longer than I expected."

Now it's your turn to be silent. Both you and San are stunned in your places.

Finally you find your voice to ask: "What do you mean, mom?"

She smiles at you in satisfaction.

"You see: Mr. Choi is a good man. He's a gentleman, treats his colleagues with the utmost respect, excels at his job and is handsome too. How could I find a better match for my beloved daughter? But I know you wouldn't be interested if I were to formerly introduce you two so I thought I'd help you in a different way."

Your mouth falls open in shock. Out of all things, your mother purposefully setting you up with San has never even crossed your mind. Your boyfriend seems even more shocked at the revelation than you, his face reddened and a stunned expression on his face.

"So you set us two up?" You finally ask your mother.

"Of course I did! And it worked out brilliantly, don't you think? I'm glad you both came to tell me. Mr. Choi?"

San perks up at her words. "Yes?"

"I assume you will take good care of my daughter?"

"Of course I will," he replies sternly, voice full of sincerity. "I will do everything care for y/n." His words make you feel warm and fuzzy.

Your mother nods approvingly. "Then you two may leave. I still have work to do."

You both nod hastily and thank your mother before turning back for the door.

"Oh, before I forget. Y/n?" your mother asks one last time.

"Yes?"

"I received your test results that you sent me. They look very promising."

I hope you enjoyed <3 Pls reblog and leave feedback if you can :)

Tags: @voicesinmyhead-rc

[phoenixblaze1412]

HII!! happy new year!!! Can I get some fluff hcs with dottore (+ segments) and reader whos child is sucrose? This can be seen as a part 2 to the having a kid hcs if u want! - 🐓

It was you who gave your child the name Sucrose. Dottore didn't really mind any name you gave your offspring, his segments have weird names, why should he stop you from giving your child a chemical compound name?

Theta (Webttore) though... was curious of it.

"So.. why Sucrose exactly? Could have easily rhymed such a name with glucose, fructose or even lactose?"

"Because sucrose is sugar and what does sugar taste like? Sweet. And my daughter is the most sweetest thing in Teyvat."

"...both you and 'him' are bad at naming things. Naming your own kid table sugar, what a dumbass."

Sucrose prefers to stay with her father in his laboratory whenever you're busy, she's not much of an outdoor person and doesn't really want to interact with more people aside from you, Dottore, and even his segments who she can already tell who is who. She's just a shy little bean with good memorization.

Ever since the day Sucrose was born, everyone has been more restless, mostly you and Dottore since the segments don't even need sleep to energize themselves.

You would find her crawling around a room, searching for things that catches her interest and even reaching places a child shouldn't even reach.

One time when you, Dottore, and Sucrose were sleeping together on your shared bed, you were immediately woken up in the middle of the night due to the sound of your daughter crying but was nowhere to be found.

It took you and your husband at least 20 minutes to find that Sucrose was at the top of a cabinet and couldn't get back down.

Sucrose, your sweet daughter, apparently has taken in her father's footsteps, studying the world of science at just four years old. What got her interest the most is alchemy.

She immediately learned the chemical components of the things around her. Even creating and mixing a few chemicals into a test tube to see the reaction, Dottore stood beside her just in case something bad happens so he could pull his child out of the way.

One time when you were about to visit your family in the lab after coming home from a mission, you were immediately welcomed with a loud explosion which made you panic and run down to where it came from.

Once you reached the lab, you were greeted with your husband and child's faces all covered in soot. Both of their hair was messy and in every place, it was as if someone had electrocuted them which cause their hair to stand.

"What did you two do that caused this?"

"Welcome back, dearest. We wanted to see what kind of reaction we may get when we mix fuel oil with ammonium nitrate fertilizer."

"We got an explosion.."

Next time, before you went to another mission and leaving your two scientists behind, you asked the segments to keep an eye on the two and make sure they don't cause any more explosions.

Surprisingly, Sucrose has a few segments that she favored.

Omega and Prime, aside from being almost as perfect as her father, the two segments would teach her more about the chemistry field whenever Dottore is busy.

She finds Zeta's quiet behavior comfortable since she too is also shy and meek around others. They both communicate with a few sentences and it's already enough for them. Both Sucrose and Zeta rather prefers to do work than talk over it.

There were some fatui soldiers who would mistaken your child as a cicin mage due to her hair. Dottore suggested on dying her hair blue but you immediately declined his suggestion.

It's you who would be the one to style both Sucrose and Dottore's hair every morning, making sure it wouldn't hinder them whenever they work.

This caused the other segments to also want their hair get tied up, even those with hair as short like Theta's.

Dottore would always find ways to be able to spend time with you. Which is why he would hand his child over to his segments before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you out of the lab to spend quiet moments between you two.

All in all, Sucrose is happy to have her parents and guardians, if you could even call the segments as guardians. With her curious mind, she even learned about the other nations.

Oh, how cute Sucrose was when she asked her father if she could go to Mondstadt and study alchemy there.

"Absolutely not."

[dufferpuffer]

Hi it's me again sorry to spam your inbox. I had PoA in the background while working and it just hit me: how was Remus immediately so good at teaching? As far as we know, he never was a teacher before. He worked little odd jobs to survive that he barely kept for a few months. Yet, he starts at Hogwarts and immediately his first lesson is a success. The students love him so much to the point they still talk about him books later, actively defend him (in front of Snape and Umbridge), to the point that Hermione, who figured out he was a werewolf, decided to trust him and defended him as well.

How did this happen? It also didn't seem like Remus wanted to teach so much, it even sounded like he was coerced into it by Dumbledore who tracked him down. Yet, he came prepared, with his neat little suitcase he carefully repaired and sewed together, he even stamped "Professor R.J Lupin" on it (ACTUALLY CANON OMG). He even received praise from Madam Pomfrey "So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?". He was PREPARED. He gave hands on lessons (there is a whole paragraph in the beginning of Chapter 8 describing how good his lessons are), a fun practical exam, he always deflected conflicts (regarding Malfoy's snarky remarks and rage baits), he immediately spots Neville as anxious and puts him forward in the first class to give him a little confidence boost (literally the first professor to ever praise Neville), he had a subtle but funny humour (I'm referring to the time Harry had tea in his office "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid -- but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"). The CUTEST THING is him giving Harry a set of very nice, useful books for Christmas in OotP along with Sirius. Like, how thoughtful???

We often refer to him as "grey" but to me he seems more polarized. Like he is ALL or NOTHING. Fatherly yet cold, caring yet distant, supportive yet absent. Tbh sometimes I just wanna grab his shoulders and give him a shake. How does one spot a student like Neville so easily, boosts him up, and then just goes and does exactly what Neville is doing (cowarding away, throwing self-confidence out the window).

He makes me so mad. I love him so much. Sorry I didn't mean for this to turn into such a rant (expect another msg on Remus' interactions with Severus in a near future).

no this isn't spam this is delicious yum yum yum I've thought for awhile that I wanna go through Remus and Severus' teaching methods. I'm reading POA right now, a chapter a night or so to my boyfriend (He was 'a bit too old' for HP when it came out, so he's enjoying it now) So I'm paying attention lol

Whether Remus didn't want to teach and Albus had to beg him - or teaching did appeal to him but he thought as a werewolf it would just never be a possibility... he really took to it, didn't he? His suitcase AAHHHH how can one man be SO FUCKING CUTE

I think it's down to being a good mix of skills for him:

He manipulates people to like him. He makes himself pleasant, helpful, positive, charming... that's a good quality for a teacher! To be able to control a whole class of kids takes some sort of manipulation - and Remus is already practiced. He is good at reading people, who they are and what they need... His best quality as a teacher is the fact he can connect to his students emotionally - a rare quality for Hogswarts staff.

That and he just seems to like the kids. He is a bit of a kid himself at heart - while also enjoying being a mentor. Being nurturing. Impressing them. Learning all their names. Showing off his skills. Helping them. Making class fun and engaging. A practical as their first lesson: where he shows them they are capable of handling even their worst fears...

DADA is a good subject for him - he is a strong spellcaster (can cast a patronus effortlessly), Was a spy amongst dark creatures and Death Eaters in the first war - and has a father that specialized in the field. Lyall studied boggarts, poltergeists and dementors - what does Remus do on his very first few days...? Scare off a dementor, show off against a poltergeist - and teach the kids how to deal with a boggart. Just like his own dad. Probably where he knows the chocolate remedy from too, imo Also was the dementor there for him because it could sense he was a werewolf?

Snape mentions later that Lupin lacks organization, is 'hardly over-taxing' the class teaching them first year stuff - that the class is very behind. He might be exaggerating because he hates Lupin (though why say anything at all...?) - but Snape is a good teacher. Not perfect, but despite demanding a high bar for his NEWTs classes they are always well populated. He is good at his job. If he says Lupin is disorganized, behind and focusing on the easy stuff, I believe him at least partially. Maybe his standards are just too high, made worse by hating Lupin and being desperate in the one class he might have with the third years to get them warned about werewolves.

But if those are Lupin's only failings in his first year...? Lupin's a natural at teaching. He is just a bit behind and disorganized - when he spends multiple days a month disabled. And he excels at the area Snape struggles most in: Being able to alter how he teaches to support struggling students. Considering the fact the classes last two teachers were a very distracted Quirrell (underrated character) and an incompetent Lockheart - teaching first year stuff and going easy is probably the best option. He has assessed the level of the class and matched it.

Calling Lupin all-or-nothing is... pretty apt, really. I often think of him as lukewarm, but you're right: It's not that he mingles around half-doing things. he does shit 100% or he is gone. Teacher, 'mentor', Order member, spy, partner... all either done brilliantly - or he is someone Albus needs to track down.

[hotchfiles]

↪ day five. fbi — #marchhotchness

What are some of your headcanons for his FBI career, do you have any?

these aren't headcanons mostly, but i spent a lot of time trying to make sense of hotch's backstory because it's a bit of a mess. criminal minds writers aren't serious people and they just be saying things either it fits or not to the timeline they themselves created. i hate them. i hope they spend their whole lives stepping on legos. anyway.

i've talked about this already, but i don't think aaron was a gifted sports kid, i think he was good enough, which means i also think physically he was just that, good enough. being in a physically challenging career wasn't his main plan anyway.

so, aside from fights during his school years and lifting a bit of weight and doing a bit of cardio, before the academy, he wasn't the most prepared guy for the job.

but he's goddamn determined, so from the moment he applied he started working out, we've seen him in action, and that's him as a middle aged man, so he went from this geeky bookworm boy to someone who worked out every single day so he wouldn't be a liability on the field.

as for gun handling, i think that was never difficult to him, his father probably had guns at home and taught him how to shoot and properly handle them. as a prosecutor i'm sure he already had guns in his home for protection.

his efforts in the academy got him a spot in the crisis negotiation unit, first as a swat operator, he's a prolific sniper. then as a profiler as his intentions were always set to be the one who finds and catches the criminals, as we know, the bau is an elite unit, so before being promoted and transferred, he want from the cnu to the seattle field office as a profiler and worked two years there.

these experiences gave him enough expertise to teach crisis negotiation, and then he was transferred to the bau as profiler. in 1998 he was promoted to lead profiler, his first case was the reaper, as we already know.

we don't have a fucking clue of when, but he was also communications director for a time, i like to believe it was somewhere between 2002-2005.

in 2005 he was promoted as unit chief in gideon's absence, but kept this title even when gideon came back.

aaron is focused, he is determined and he is honest. that should be good, but actually that makes him target of many people who see his drive as a threat to their careers, so he is used to having to deal with higher ups trying to step on his toes and swipe the rug out off his feet.

if the godforsaken producers of this show weren't a fucking JOKE (jeff davis when i fucking GET YOU) i'm sure there would have been more conflicts of that sort, because the position for fbi director is not out of reach for him, if he wanted that, he could definitely be up for the task easily.

but, i like to think he wouldn't want it. it's better pay, better hours and he would be able to make important decisions, but he would be out of the field and out of the bau, i don't think he would be able to do it. he loves the bau, being a profiler, catching serial killers, way too much. it's his passion and his purgatory.

and to quote him: "why would i ever leave the bau?"

[justabigassnerd]

Summer of Love pt. 2

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word count - 3,275

Warnings - mentions of medication, injuries

Summary - while in the final stages of recovery after a mission gone wrong, Bradley signs himself up to work at a summer camp just for something to do since Maverick has barred him from Navy work for the time being. meanwhile, you're in between jobs and figure working at a summer camp is some good experience. you meet Bradley and experience a romance you could've never expected (along with some very nosy kids)

Summer of Love masterlist

A/N - ya girl is back from the dead people! (did anyone cheer?) anyways I'm so sorry for the long break and I'm sorry this isn't the most exciting fic to return with like I'm fully aware it's mostly filler but I hope it can tide y'all over. if you guys have any ideas of what you'd like to see in the series you're more than welcome to let me know. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

With counsellor orientation now in full swing, you were spending a lot of your time getting used to the schedule of working at a summer camp. Early starts were no problem to you and neither was making lesson plans but getting used to the camp and the people you worked with was something you had to settle into. Thankfully, working alongside Bradley meant you already knew one person you’d be around a lot and he helped you feel a lot more confident when you met the other counsellors who’d be teaching field sports. You and Bradley had also been briefed on hikes that you’d be leading and you were able to map out appropriate trails for the hikes.

After a long day of going through lesson plans, running potential drills you could do during activities, and taking your swim test in case you wanted to go in the lake at any point, you were just about ready to collapse. You entered the staff lounge and flopped face down on the sofa with a dramatic groan, hearing the laughs of your friends you entered the room with after dinner.

“Tired?” Ella jokes, easing herself down on the other sofa as you turn your head to look at her.

“Just a little.” You reply with a laugh, flipping yourself onto your side as you greet other staff members who enter, moving to sit upright so people can sit on the sofa with you.

Bradley is among the last people to enter the room and by that point, both sofas are almost packed but upon spotting him, Freddy moves over on the sofa, leaving just enough space for Bradley to squeeze in between you and him.

“Hey, Bradley. There’s a space right here.” He points out, hand patting the free space with a grin as you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You knew Ella had already caught on to your schoolyard crush on Bradley, and you were sure she’d told Bradley’s friends too and that’s why they spent so much time trying to force you two to sit near each other when they could. You knew the chances of Bradley feeling the same towards you were slim so you were more than content to sit within the comforts of your friendship knowing after camp ends you’d go your separate ways and never talk to each other again. You just wanted to enjoy the time you had getting to be his friend without your friends forcing you close and potentially making Bradley uncomfortable.

“Is this okay?” Bradley’s voice shakes you from your thoughts as he eases into the gap between you and Freddy. You nod with a small smile, fighting back the flame you felt building behind your cheeks as Bradley’s leg brushed up against yours. The group of you continued to chat until the sun started to set and one by one people began to retire to their cabins for the night and you and Bradley were among the last to leave the staff lodge and took a moment between the two of you as you stepped out onto the grass and took in the night sky.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of the sky at night.” You mumble, more so to yourself than to Bradley but seeing him look at you out of the corner of your eye gave away the fact that he had heard you.

“I wish I could show you how beautiful a night at the beach is where I live.” Bradley murmurs in response, his soft voice unknowingly fanning the flames that lit beneath your cheeks. You were sure he was just saying that to make conversation.

“I’ll just have to trust you on that one.” You say with a slight chuckle, glancing over at Bradley and locking eyes with him, bringing a small smile to your face as you do.

“That you will. Maybe I’ll send you a picture or something once I’m back home.” Bradley says, his smile mirroring yours. A silence falls over the two of you and you glance over your shoulder, breaking the eye contact for but a brief second to consider your next move.

“I should probably head back to my cabin to get some sleep.” You say, silently hating how awkward you sounded.

“I should probably do the same. We can’t exhaust ourselves before the kids have even arrived.” Bradley then says, watching as you bid him goodnight quietly before turning around and heading in the direction of your cabin.

“y/n, wait!” You stop in your tracks at Bradley’s voice. Loud enough to get you to stop but not loud enough to disturb anyone nearby. You turned around and waited as Bradley approached you.

“I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to run a couple of soccer drills with me tomorrow. I have some ideas for some warmups but I’m going to need a partner to make sure they work before the kids arrive.” Bradley says, hoping and praying you agreed to help him out. He could’ve asked anyone on the field sports team for help but he wanted you to help him.

“Okay, but you know I’m not the best at soccer so if I mess up, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You say, a smile breaking out across yours and Bradley’s faces as he lets out the smallest of relieved sighs at your agreement.

“You’ll be great, I just know it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bradley says, smiling as you nod and wish him a good night before you both retire to your cabins for the night. When you reach your cabin you enter quietly, aware of the people sleeping and quietly get ready for bed before crawling under the covers and falling asleep.

Meanwhile, Bradley entered his cabin and immediately got jumped by his cabin mates who were demanding to know what he said to you.

“You know, I’m going to be so grateful tomorrow when I no longer have to share a cabin with you guys. I swear you give the Daggers a run for their money.” Bradley jokes as he sits down on his bed, rubbing at his eyes.

“We’re just invested now come on! Did you ask her out?” Nathan asks, placing his book down on the bedside table by his bed and giving Bradley his full attention.

“What? No! We’ve only known each other a week. Besides, once we leave camp we’ll probably never speak again. That’s just what happens.” Bradley says with a shrug, leaning back and lying across his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Dude, you can just get her number or something.” Cameron shrugs, confident he has solved all the problems singlehandedly. Bradley couldn’t help but let out a gentle sigh at his words.

“I thought some friends I made in the naval academy were going to be people I kept in contact with but the moment we got our deployments that was it. None of us spoke again.” Bradley says, thinking back to the recruits Bradley had befriended during training and then again at flight school and Top Gun. Outside of the Daggers, Bradley had made no solid connections with any other Navy personnel. He of course appreciated the efforts of his cabin mates, but he was sure their efforts were in vain.

“That doesn’t mean y/n would do that to you. I can tell she likes you.” John then says, a quiet falling over the group as all focus ends up on Bradley.

“Okay, well if you didn’t ask her out. What did you ask her then?” Nathan asks when Bradley doesn’t respond to John’s words.

“I just asked if she wanted to run some soccer drills with me tomorrow to potentially add to lesson plans.” Bradley replies, propping himself up on his elbows and glancing around at the group as they all exchange looks.

“And she said yes?” Cameron prompts, the three breaking out into smiles when Bradley nods. They all exchanged a look when Bradley returned his attention to the cabin ceiling. They knew they couldn’t force you or Bradley to admit anything but they could at least nudge you both in the right direction.

“We should probably get some sleep, huh?” John says after a couple of minutes of silence, followed by the agreement of everyone else who quickly get themselves ready for bed and switch off their cabin light to get some sleep.

The next morning, you awoke to your alarm and slowly dragged yourself out of bed to get yourself changed and ready for the day. Once you were dressed, you made your way to the dining hall to grab breakfast, located your cabin mates sat at a table and joined them once you had your food. As you ate, Kerry stood at the front of the room and addressed everyone, letting you know that the first port of call for the day was to find out your cabins for the summer and to move your stuff into your new cabin before creating a poster to hang up on the outside of the cabin to make the kids feel a bit more welcomed and to give their cabin a sense of community straight out of the gate before you’d spend the rest of the afternoon after lunch finishing up your last few chances to prepare lessons for when the kids arrive. After you all finished breakfast, you were dismissed and each grabbed an envelope with your name on it to find out which cabin you’d be in for the duration of camp and once you got out of the dining hall you opened your envelope and flipped the postcard over, studying the writing on it.

“Hey, y/n, what cabin did you get?” Ella asks, sidling up alongside you with her own postcard in hand.

“Cabin eleven. What about you?” You reply, tearing your eyes away from your postcard to look at Ella.

“I’m in cabin five with Alex as my co-counsellor. I’m so excited!” Ella says happily, embracing you excitedly before rushing off to find her co-counsellor. You watched her leave before focusing your attention back on your own postcard. You knew cabin eleven would be a cabin of four girls so you wouldn’t have a co-counsellor but you were okay with that. You were just excited for camp to start properly. When you notice some of the other female counsellors beginning to make their way back to their cabins to move their belongings to their new cabins you begin to follow the crowd, chatting with some of them as you go.

Meanwhile, Bradley had just finished telling his friends about what cabin he was going to be in and turned around in search of you. His smile faltered when he couldn’t find you and instead saw the back of you as you disappeared down the girl's cabin line. He wanted to go and talk to you about your new cabin placement but he also knew he needed to worry about moving all his stuff to the new cabin. He spared you one last glance before turning around and heading in the direction of the boy's line of cabins.

After moving all of your belongings from cabin six to cabin eleven, making your bed and tidying your bags away after putting some of your belongings on the bedside table such as your alarm clock, hairbrush, a book to read, and your notebook filled with lesson plans. After sorting yourself out, you headed over to the arts and crafts room to join everyone in making posters and chore wheels for the cabins. There weren’t many people present when you first arrived but as you began to work on your poster more people slowly trickled in. Kerry had gone around and given everyone a list of names of the kids in your cabins so you could learn their names before they arrived and put them on the chore wheel and poster. You got to work, creating a poster and chore wheel for your cabin. As you finished the poster and moved on to the chore wheel, carefully writing out each chore, a sheet of paper appeared in your peripheral vision and you glanced over to see Bradley easing himself down next to you, and you didn’t miss the way he winced a little as he sat down.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, not wanting to draw attention to Bradley potentially being in any pain if he didn’t want you to.

“I’m good, must’ve pulled something in my back moving all my gear. I had a feeling I packed too much.” Bradley says with a chuckle, trying to ease your mind so you didn’t worry about him and trying his best to ignore the way the lie tugged at his heart.

“Maybe take some painkillers later if it’s still sore.” You say sympathetically, briefly averting your gaze back to the task at hand as you write a name on the wheel before returning your attention to Bradley who nods minutely.

“I’ll see how I feel later.” Bradley says with a slight shrug, not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer than he needs to. You nod silently and the two of you remain in the comfortable silence between you as you work on your posters and chore wheels.

“You know… I’m not sure how much a cabin of four thirteen-year-old boys will appreciate a poster on the outside of the cabin, let alone a chore wheel.” Bradley mutters, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you let out a small giggle at his words.

“I don’t think my cabin of twelve-year-old girls will appreciate it much either but you gotta do what you gotta do. Besides you might win cool points with your naval aviator career. I’m sure they’d love hearing some of your stories.” You say, shrugging lightly as you put your pen down, satisfied with both your poster and your chore wheel. You stay put for a few more minutes, continuing to chat with Bradley until his friends come over and you excuse yourself so you can go and put the poster and chore wheel where they needed to be.

“I’ll see you at lunch.” You say as you grab your things and address the group, but mostly aiming your words at Bradley as you smile softly.

“See you at lunch.” Bradley echoes, his smile matching yours as you then turn to head to your cabin to put the items in their respective places before heading to the dining room where they are just beginning to serve lunch. You grab yourself a plate and dish up the food in front of you before grabbing a seat at one of the nearby tables, and slowly but surely your friends arrive and sit with you. Ella arrived first with Alex, having had the ability to split the task between two people, and then Bradley and Freddy came up next and spotted the three of you, quickly grabbing their food and joining you at the table with smiles.

“All done with setting up your cabins?” Alex asks after finishing a mouthful of food.

“Just about. It’s starting to feel like a real summer camp now.” Freddy says with a laugh.

“Was the fact that we’re in the middle of the woods with a lake nearby not enough of a hint?” Bradley jokes, making everyone laugh. When you all finish lunch, you clean up and then head outside to enjoy the rest of your afternoon.

“Hey, y/n, let’s grab a soccer ball so I can run that drill with you.” Bradley says and you nod, following him to the equipment cupboard and waiting for him to grab a ball before heading to the field to practice it. Bradley talks you through what he wants to try, making sure his instructions are clear and taking any advice you have to offer to make it clearer for when he teaches it to the children. Once you have been briefed on what the drill would entail you start the activity. After gaining some confidence, you’re able to tackle the ball off of Bradley a couple of times but when you decided to attempt a shot on goal just for a bit of fun you somehow missed the ball entirely and ended up sprawled on your back on the floor staring up at the sky.

“y/n! Are you okay?” Bradley’s face suddenly appears above you, his worried expression soon becoming a look of amusement when he realises that you’re laughing at the whole thing.

“Trust me to fall over literally nothing.” You laugh as you begin to sit up, stopping when Bradley offers a hand to you which you accept with a smile, allowing him to haul you to your feet but your smile faltered when he winced once more.

“Bradley, are you okay?” You ask, now even more concerned at him being in pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My shoulder’s acting up again.” Bradley says, making you fight the urge to speak up. He’d claimed his back had a pulled muscle earlier and now it was his shoulder? You were confused at his contradiction but you weren’t going to call him out on it. The most you could do is keep an eye on him.

“Just… take some painkillers. It’ll really help.” You say softly, picking up the soccer ball and walking with Bradley over to the equipment shed to return the ball.

“I will.” Bradley replies. Hating himself even more for lying but the lingering pain from his accident was manageable, he had just wrongly assumed that missing one day of his prescribed medicine would be okay since the pain hadn’t been bad recently, even with the activities he was partaking in.

“Maybe we should spend the rest of the afternoon going over our hike plans, just to make sure we have them sorted.” You offer, wanting Bradley to relax a little and not overexert himself. You may not know the cause of his pain or even where it lies but you did know you wanted to help your friend however you could.

“That sounds like a plan. Let’s grab our notebooks and meet on that bench just by the dining hall.” Bradley says and you nod before parting ways to return to your cabins to grab your notebook before heading to the bench and meeting Bradley. The two of you spend time comparing notes and revising anything that needs a second look at before it comes time for dinner and the two of you make your way up into the dining hall and have dinner, still discussing ideas before your friends join you.

When you all finish dinner you exit the dining hall and instead of heading to the staff lounge like you usually did in your evenings, you decide to head back to your cabin to prepare yourself for when the children arrive tomorrow afternoon. You bid your friend's goodnight and head back along the path that leads you to your cabin and enter the small building, flipping the light on as you do so. You decide to get a headstart on getting ready for bed and so go for a shower and change into your pyjamas before returning to your cabin, lying on your bed and reading your book as the sun finally sets. When a wave of tiredness overcomes you, you decide to close your book, set your alarm, and hit the hay, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to fall asleep both excited and nervous for the chaos that is to come tomorrow.

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@noz4a2 @kim-stark @jessicab1991 @myxticmoon @burningwitchprincess @casuallyeating @adoringanakin @iamabeautifulperson18

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

Work Ethic

Park Ranger! Halsin x Park Ranger!Reader

Modern!Au because why the hell not?

Summary: may or may not have been heavily inspired by the park rangers I grew up around at my local culture center. That little old place holds such a special place in my heart. I am a junior park ranger after all 😎

Sweat beaded at your brow, but your hand was quick to delicately pat it away. The summers were unforgiving, even under the gray skies of the early morning. Though you could see off to the distance, just peeking over the green tree tops and old buildings of the past, just the faintest hues of orange and reds just ready to burst from beyond their little horizon. With the rays came the few farmers that lived within the small town, bidding their wives and children goodbye, the faint yelping of a dog from behind their glass windows are their happy panting as they hopped up along side their masters in their pick up. They would only have to drive a few miles further up a ways to hit their farms where they have been settled for the past 100 years or so.

It was an odd place to have a little culture center in such a small town, but a small town emblazoned with their own culture and tradition. Old murals adorned the sides of old buildings, depicting musicians and food. Though many of the locals didn’t visit the culture center, maybe occasionally for their child’s school field trip, it definitely didn’t see the action of it’s sister centers in the bigger cities nearby, but around certain holidays it would see it’s fair share of tourist, but now it was just another simple day.

This was far away from what you thought a park ranger would ever be doing. You always pictured a Steve Irwin type herding people through muddy river basins or through rough and rocky terrain along forest trails. You’ve come to appreciate the cultural and historical aspect of it all, it was probably for the best.

“Oh this stupid damned thing!” Huffed out a voice as you pushed past the glass doors. A thud came after it as a woman scrunched her face to the old thermostat. “You would think they would allow us to control our own AC instead of having to call the head office!”

“Now Ms.Jaheira, patience is a virtue!” You teased, your hat now being placed upon your head, fingers pinning the badge to your freshly ironed shirt.

Jaheira was a veteran in the field, hopping from one national park to the next. Her knowledge was admirable, but sometimes you would always catch the look of longing in those wise eyes, but the laid back nature suited her, at least now it did. It was less of a burden on her weathered shoulders, less pressure upon herself. If you did have to categorize her, she would have been the Steve Irwin type you always imagined as a child. She was the one to hobble through muddy basins and conquer rough woodland trails.

“Well good thing the all maker has bestowed such a prized gift onto you!” She chimed up, finally the ancient AC humming to life. Already the cool air began cutting through the stiff air like a knife. “It’s field trip day, remember”

She was already following you to the break room, her steps always precise, always made with confidence. Though she still gave you a stern look as your head tilted back with a little groan as you tossed your purse onto the table.

“Yes I know, which is why I have double checked with everyone today. Musicians are gonna be the first for their music demonstration. Then our local butcher has kindly volunteered for a cooking demonstration and you would be pleased that he is exonerated in one of our local dishes” your hand went to grab the phone out of your pants pocket, now scrolling through emails to double check your memory of the day’s itinerary. “Then dear old Elminster will calm things down with his history of the area and whatnot, then lunch time which has been donated. I also contacted wildlife and fisheries to have someone teach the kids the laws and safe handling of the wild life of the area, but they said they are sending over a ranger from one of the wildlife parks….oh! And then the old woman who runs the quilting club in the spare room will give a weaving lesson”

“Wow, I’m impressed” Jaheira said with a raise of her brows, a hand sassily placed upon her hip. “And you will be pleased to know I have set up the rooms for the different demonstrations, the band is here, Elminster is currently critiquing our displays, and the food preparations are all in order” she confirmed with you. Always orderly, you can always trust her to keep everything in line as well. A nice pair the two of your made. “It’s just our fellow park ranger we are waiting on…” she huffed out as she looked to the watch upon her wrist.

There was no time to worry about that, as the quiet humming of engines were already heard within the small break room. The wholesome sounds of buses, the chirping of kids and their teachers already urging them to quiet down. That was Jaheira’s cue to walk back to the front, opening the doors, that prideful smile upon her face as she greeted the children, their small bodies already pouring into the room, her voice already rising above all others to give off the usual spiel.

“Alright children! Are you ready to learn about your culture and history!’ She shouted excitedly to the children, already leading the group to the displays that lined the halls and little rooms, skillfully giving her explanations to the group of kids.

It left you to round up the musicians into their places, checking in on the cooking demonstrator, but of course…that left Elminster.

“Stop a bit and speak to an old man” he huffed out behind that wise, old beard of his as he clutched a shaky hand onto your outstretch arm.

“Maybe later Mr.Elminster, there’s a lot to do as you know” you said with a smile as you began urging him to the room that the band was setting up. “The kids are going to listen to the music, then head to the cooking demonstration and then head back to you, so it will give you much to ponder of how you are gonna educate them” you spoke up as you lead him to the room, helping him sit upon one of the upholstered chair.

“You are certainly right my dear, even though getting older is suppose to make one wise, it is still hard to find that right words, especially on an empty stomach” he said with a wink, but you already knew what he was eluding to.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Jaheira bring you a plate when they are done with the cooking demonstration for lunch” which he gave you a kind pat on your bent down shoulder, all the response you needed to straighten up from your hunched down position. Though you were met by a towering figure the moment you turned around.

“My apologies for being late, I kind of got lost out here…” the man was huge, strong stature. Scars on his face, tattoos peeking out from his collared shirt, trailing up upon his face. You were pretty certain even if you were standing further away from him, you could still pick up the scent of fresh dirt and leaves that permeated from him. Even the faintest scent of sweat, but not in a bad way, in an endearing way if that makes sense. Like the smell of a hard working father coming home to engulf his children in a hug.

“I’m sorry, you are….?” You trailed off as you bent your neck to look at him, eyes slightly squinting to the badge on his shirt.

“Park Ranger Halsin, wildlife and fisheries sent me out here for a demonstration, I use to work for them, but I ended up taking a position at the wildlife refuge at the coast” he explained, already following your steps as you began to lead him back to the entrance. He may have not known, but you were skillfully avoiding a tangent from the old Elminster. He may have been a wise man, but a wise man with many words that lead simply nowhere at times.

“Yes of course, let’s get you set up in our other demonstration room” you spoke out, now quickly following his lead to the glass doors. “And I don’t blame you, it may be a small city, but this place is tucked away, definitely not as grand as the other culture centers” you bashfully said as you followed him up to his truck, tailgate already being lifted down with those strong, calloused hands of his. You could even see the faintest traces of dirt on his hands.

“But still important none the less” he said with a soft smile as he reached into the back, already pulling forward boxes and strangely a pet carrier. You tried to slyly lean a bit to peak at what he could possibly have stored in there.

“Oh this is Philippe” he said, almost with a childlike excitement as he opened the pet carrier. Of all things you would have never expected a raccoon to lazy start reaching up for him. But he excepted the creature with open arms. “I uh…rescued him and he’s been with me ever since. Also a good way of showing off our native species.” those strong arms held the creature tenderly, like a father to his offspring.

“I can’t say I encounter raccoons that are companions.” You were astonished, fingers tenderly giving the animal’s head a little scratch. Though those hands of yours grabbed on of the boxes he pulled forward, Philippe already knowingly hopping upon the other one as Halsin grabbed it.

“They definitely shouldn’t be pets, I know that may sound hypocritical coming from me, but you know how raccoons like to wash their food before they eat it? Well I let him do it back home…and he got ahold of my cellphone too, so not a good mix. I also learned rice doesn’t really help with water logged phone either.” You knew the scornful look he gave the raccoon was all in playfulness, which made a little laugh bubble to your lips. You could already picture it in your head.

“Your dear Philippe sounds like a menace.” You giggled out as you pushed past the doors once more, he following after you through the gush of cold air that blew up to greet you from the comfort of the culture center. Your ears also perked up to the sounds of the lively music coming from one of the demonstration rooms, intertwined with laughter of the children.

“Well, he is still a wild animal at heart I suppose” he chimed, his heavy footsteps following you to the empty demonstration room, his box being set upon the table set up front, already laying out his items.

Different pressed leaves now displayed out, the branches of different native plants. All the works of what’s was very befitting of a park ranger who dealt with the more wild side of the job description. He even had animal traps out as well.

“Alright, I’ll give you a rundown. I’m gonna inform the kids of different plants in the area, which ones are safe and not safe, native and common animals, insects, birds. I will also go over safety, why I have the animal traps.” He explained as he motioned to all the stuff he had set out. “Even though they should always be supervised while out in forested areas, it is still better to be able to recognize traps that farmers could set up for coyotes and bobcats and know not to touch them.” He listed off as he squatted down to once again cradle the raccoon in his arms, the raccoon lazily accepting his fate in the comfortable embrace. Now that the fast paced introduction was over, you could finally admire the man before you.

Yes he was tall and strong, but attractive. His hair whisped about his shoulders. A braid or two peaking out and adorned with thin pieces of colorful thread and an occasional decorative bead. Even having such an intimidating stature, those eyes were kind and gentle. Almost as if you were starring into the eyes of a farmers most trusted companion, his loyal dog. Those scars upon his face couldn’t diminish that softness.

But his shirt….you could see those well earned muscles bulge beneath that gray uniform shirt. Who knew those frumpy uniforms could look so flattering. You didn’t let your fleeting eyes linger for too long as you connected your gaze with his again.

“Well I’ll leave you to finish setting up, but I’m sure the kids will enjoy dear old Philippe, I’ll send the group over after the cooking demonstration, I can try and push back Elminster after everyone has eaten, maybe it will help him be better with his words.” You couldn’t help but give a little huff of a small laugh at your own little joke, even if he did not understand quite yet himself, but he only nodded, that kind smile still upon those lips.

“Me and Philippe will be waiting happily” he said, motioning to the raccoon whose head simply lulled lazily about. Such a pampered and spoiled creature, you could tell he was lovingly cared and doted on.

Elminster was delighted by the news once you quietly reported back to him when the kids had all migrated to the cooking demonstration room. So your little hunch about him wanting to eat first was correct.

“So…I see our fellow park ranger is quite the sight…” Jaheira spoke out quietly to you from the back of the food demonstration room, arms crossed over her chest. “The scars may be a dead giveaway from at least having something to do with the great wild, but tattoos? That would have thrown me off…”

“Oh I know, I honestly didn’t have much time to ponder over that when he first got here…” which was true, wasn’t something you saw everyday, not even from the culture centers in the bigger cities. “But it gives that rough edge, should excite the kids more. They might be slightly disappointed when he actually begins to speak, he is quite soft spoken.”

“Interesting…” was all she managed to say before she stepped forward to chime into the demonstration. You and Jaheira switched off though, she fixed herself and wise Elminster a plate for their little lunch, tucking away back in the break room to enjoy their meal as you beckoned the kids to where Halsin waited.

Their excited eyes upon seeing the raccoon brought a dumb smile to your face as your looked to their excited faces as they all sat down, all sitting at their edge of their seat.

Honestly it was all quite interesting, watching Ranger Halsin expertly explain everything, to simple ways to tell the difference between leaves, to why a plant was named whatever it was named. Even to the animal traps, you couldn’t help but almost have the same wide eyed expression as he would set them off and warn them of their dangerous nature and explaining that it was important to always stay away from them an such.

And of course, can’t forget about Philippe who got all the loving he needed for at least a month. By the end of the day he would probably want his own space even from his master’s arms.

Sadly the kids were beckoned off for lunch, giving the last goodbye to Philippe, but their sadness was quickly forgotten by the food that was now being provided to fill those stomachs. That left you carrying a plate to the break room, where Halsin now sat, Philippe away eating his own meal at his feet. The Ranger gladly took the plate, you now sitting across from him.

“I forget how it is, you know, dealing with children, I miss their excitement and hunger for knowledge…” he spoke up, voice almost rumbling in the small break room.

“Must be a different pace from what you are use to” you chimed up, handing him a napkin, which he also accepted.

“Indeed, but I prefer this, adults can be cruel. Their egos get in the way of everything…” a soft frown pulled at his lips, but it was quickly washed away with a bite of food. “They always venture off, get lost, put themselves in danger, never eager to learn. Children on the other hand, they devour everything that is told to them.”

“Plus this place is also charming, believe it or not, I come from an even more rural place than this” he spoke, a sense of nostalgia dripping off his words “nothing but swamps and forest for miles…”

“Then it makes sense why you are in this profession” you said as you began eating.

“Well I started off in wildlife and fisheries, but it became too much. Hunting season is the worst to deal with. Neighbors get mad about who is hunting where. Poachers…god the poachers. But park ranger life is more befitting, I find it better to teach rather than deal with petty wildlife disputes.“ you knew about those disputes all too well, sometimes you would hear about those petty disputes in the local grocery store between old farmers or just the locals gossiping about someone they knew.

“Well it all is a bit different than what we deal with here. Our other ranger Jaheira has more experience with wildlife. I didn’t get much of a chance to, but I learned to find this outlet satisfying.” You admitted as you pushed your plate aside, hands now removing your hat. Halsin followed your move. It was like you could now finally see his face fully, but it was not a disappointment, not at all.

“We do forget that history is also very important, remember, you are the back bone in the preservation of history and that needs just the same amount of importance as wildlife, even if history may have not been so kind to it.” Halsin had such a way with words, voice speaking them so smoothly, he was seeming to hold a much greater wisdom than Elminster, who you could faintly hear drowning on and on about traditions and all stories. You can already picture those school children comforted by food just fighting the sleep that wanted to take over their senses.

“You are definitely right about that..” your head could only picture the old photos of the town you reside in, how those old photos showed a spread out community with so many fields in between. Now it was only pothole filled roads with shady patch jobs, small town lawyers offices, and an occasional fast food joint.

Humanity at its finest.

Something about the way he looked at you, it made you almost bashful. An intense stare, endearing, and comforting all at once. You could feel a wave of multiple sensations travel up your spine in a shiver. All you could do was fiddle with the napkin that sat in front of you, struggling to find the right words to piece together in your mind.

“Are you free? This weekend?” He finally spoke up “I mean tomorrow, I’m sorry if I come off as strong” he finally managed out, honeyed words now seeming to be nervous. “But, I would like to take you to the refuge I work at, I finally got my boat fixed up.” His fingers were now the ones fiddling. Though you can only smile as you nodded your head.

“Yes I would love to” and with that, a number exchange was made and a timid goodbye was bid as he loaded up the last of his things, tailgate making its way down that old town road.

“A date at a refuge huh?” Jaheira’s voice almost startled you from your trance of staring out the door, the culture center now quiet and still, now almsot seeming empty and lonely from the once lively state it was in.

“Oh hush….” You dumbly muttered out as you began to straighten everything up. There was no mistaking that soft hint of pink upon your cheeks.

The nervousness only set in until that morning when you could only stare at yourself in the standing mirror in your room, poking and prodding at the old clothes you decided on. There was no use in wearing something nice if you were going to spend time on a boat. You were cut short from your worrisome glances in the mirror as you heard an engine rumble again from outside your quaint little home, already rushing to the front door to close and lock it.

Halsin was gorgeous, those early morning rays of sun doing him justice as he stepped down from that old pickup truck that was covered in a layer of first, boat already hooked up to the hitch. Handsome in his own clothes, wrinkle, stain, and all. Hell you didn’t even mind the thin layer of mud that caked the heels of his boots. Though quick good mornings were said as he helped you into the passenger seat, soon leaving a trail of dust behind.

It was peaceful, the morning sun shining down through the windows and soft music playing through the radio, the wind from the rolled down windows whipping your hair about and his. The smell of dirt and forestry strong within the interior of the truck, but that was probably due to the fur leaves and crumbs of dirt that peskily made their stay on the floor, embedded into the mats of his truck. It was nice, even when the dirt scented air turned into the consolidating smell of muggy marsh as the refuge finally rolled into view you appreciated it.

Soon your hair was whipping with the winds that blew by once upon the boat, the hum of the motor steadily humming, the soft solaces of the waters rolling by refreshing on your face and exposed arms. You couldn’t help but reach out and run your fingers upon the wild rice that made their homestead on the steep banks that rolled by. The boat came to steady stop , Halsin leant back next to the motor, glancing down to the murky waters below.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here…” you spoke out softly as you also looked to the waters below, watching the adolescent fish ripple the surface in their young curiosity, but would quickly dive down deep into those waters if a shadow would move too quickly. “I use to come all the time when I was younger.” You finally looked up and over to Halsin, who was now looking to you with that soft smile.

“Same here, it’s what pushed me in this direction in life.” His own words were also soft, as if not to disturbed the surroundings around you. “Growing up I would wake at the crack of dawn to walk along the waters, to drag my little row boat out. The rangers would always call my parents to let them know where I was, they always took me in to respite myself in their little station, showing me the things they found. Their passion ignited a life changing revelation for me.”

“Agreed, but once again, it lead me down a completely different route, but now that I think about it, I may have been life telling me I was needed else where. A gentle nudge showing me that I’m probably not cut out with dealing with lost folks along riverbeds and trails.” You joked, Halsin’s laughter joining your own.

“Like I said, it’s definitely not fun.” He added with a grin, now moving from his spot next to the motor to be closer to you, hefty body shaking the boat gently, disturbing the waters that had finally calmed down from your arrival. His hand was rummaging in the beat up ice chest that now was situated next to him, handing you a chilled canteen of water “But, it was a better fit, being a wildlife officer made me forget about the simplicity of nature, the calmness of it.”

The calmness of nature, but you couldn’t decide if it was nature itself that was the calm one, or Halsin’s gentle touch to the land doing the calming for it.

The day was spent laughing and sharing stories of nostalgia, of work, of life. You found the muscles in your cheeks hurting from the permanent smile upon your face as the two of you listened to each other intently with care. It was almost a shame when he rolled you back up to your house, that morning glow now replaced with the setting sun, everyone basked in a dark orange hue, but you didn’t mind, that color gave you a since of fulfillment as you took his calloused hand in yours as he helped you down back to solid land.

“Thank you for joining me, I really enjoyed your company” he softly spoke out, that intense stare now locked onto your own, but this time it was bashful, but that shiver of emotions traveled up your spine nonetheless.

The same could be said for him as that calloused hand still gingerly held onto yours.

“I did as well…” you felt dumb as that’s all you could say, that stare almost halting your thoughts, sending your mind into blankness, that hand of his sending a burning sensation through your fingers.

“If you don’t mind maybe we could….do this again?” He spoke out hopefully, those eyebrows furrowed together to match that hopefulness that dropped from his words.

“I would love to, maybe you can even visit here…?”

“Yes, I would love that….”

[dragonofthestone]

(For Tim's father) (@experimentalfma )

The most recent roll of film had finally been developed, and Hughes held the packet of brand new family photos close to his chest, a warmth already blossoming inside him at the prospect of seeing all of those recent memories brought to life. He'd planned on reviewing them with Gracia once he got home, but a quick peek on the way back wouldn't hurt.

After a quick glance upward to make sure he wouldn't walk into anyone, he gave in and dove into the packet, his smile growing with every photo he flipped through. Unfortunately, however, he was sidetracked enough the didn't look up as he automatically rounded the corner and bumped straight into a man on the other side of the sidewalk, scattering photos all around them.

"Sorry, guess I got a little distracted there." Hughes smiled apologetically and bent down to gather the fallen photos, breaking into a wider grin as he held one up for the stranger. "But how could I not be? Adorable, right? She just turned four last month, and we brought her out to the field to pick flowers for her party. My wife was trying to teach her how to make flower crowns, and I still have the one she made me. Have you ever seen someone working so hard on making one so beautiful?" In the photo, Elicia wore an exceptionally concentrated expression as she tried to figure out how to weave a few flowers together. As far as flower crowns went, it was barely wearable, but in his eyes, it was perfection he couldn't help but share, even with a perfect stranger.

--------------------

It had been a long time since Nikolaos had set foot in Amestris, let alone central. Back when he was a much younger man with quite a few less grey hairs, and not even a wife or kids to speak of. In truth despite the current problems between the countries he did miss traveling and had even missed Amestris itself.

The city had changed quite a bit many more buildings then last he remembered, many quite tall as well. Far different from the quite countryside town back home.

His cane lightly tapped against the stone sidewalk as he took in some of the sights, only wishing he was there on better terms. The chances of actually finding Tim seemed slim but he'd had to take the chance, while cautious to whom he spoke and what he said he still held some hope that someone may know something. Perhaps he should try getting in contact with the man from Dublith, he'd helped him once years ago before and if anyone knew anything.. he might.

Whump

Rather unexpectedly he found himself stumbling back a couple steps but managed to keep balance, photos flying everywhere and fluttering to the ground he placed his cane on top of one before a breeze could take it away.

Carefully he crouched down letting go of the cane to help the younger man gather up the photos, many of which seemed to have the main focus of a rather darling little girl.

"It's alright, no harm done," He smiled. Nikolaos could spot a new parent a mile away and this man fit the bill for sure, while every parent adores their children there was always that extra special something about ones first.

As the man continued Nikolaos paused from gathering to look at the offered out photo, the flower crown in question was clearly barely being held together and very well may have fallen a part not long after the photo, but one couldn't help but admire a child's efforts no matter how poorly the attempt end up. He couldn't contain a light chuckle quite endeared by the photo and reminded of when his own was that small,

"I see, if she keeps working like that I'm sure she'll be making plenty more in no time."

[pbandjesse]

I was not expecting it to be so hot today! I was not prepared at all. But I struggled through. And it was not a bad day, but man was it sweaty.

I slept pretty well actually. I fell asleep really easy. I did struggle to stay asleep. But it wasn't the worst ever. I did sleep an extra half hour in the morning. And felt fine when I got up but I didn't want to go to work. It sounded like the worst thing ever.

But I would get up and I would feel okay. I got cleaned up and dressed. I felt cute and while I was a little to warm at times today, I was pretty comfortable overall. Or at least it wasn't to bad. I could deal.

James would come to the car with me this morning to drop off some bags. I was a little snippy but I mainly just wanted to be held. They would wish me luck and off I went. Against my will. I just wanted to be home.

I got to camp and set up ground elements and was hoping I could just go sit down and not think for a long time.

And that's exactly what I did. I had a podcast to listen to while I was setting up but I realized I left my headphones at home so I was mostly just scrolling on my phone and eating breakfast once I got to the office.

Slowly everyone else came in. It was nice to see Tony. Who had a new hair style that I thought was very cool and he gave me a hug. Which was very sweet. He also said he would rather do ground elements and I said if he set up low ropes then I would run that instead because I liked it better. It was a good deal. And made me feel a little more excited about the day.

The group was nice but struggled with following my safety rules. They (one chaperone included!!) kept saying they didn't need spotters and that it was taking to long to do it with spotters. Which lead to them using almost all of my bandaids when they fell without spotters. But thankfully the majority was chill and we're excellent spotters and we're fun to hang out with.

We were all very hot though. And I would make sure to send people to the bathhouse to cool off and get more water. I would do my best to stay hydrated. I was having a lot of fun even though I was a little frustrated when people weren't using spotters. I was doing my best to chill figuratively and literally.

Lunch was not long enough. I was struggling to cool down in the office. But I tried to just drink a lot of water and be calm.

The afternoon went pretty quick. And once we were done at 220 I sent my group down to the hacienda to get on the bus. But I looked over and Tony's group was still going? I asked him on the walkie but he said they wanted to keep going. Strange group behavior. But it was fine. Not our call I guess.

Tony would help me take down low ropes because my hands were hurting. I had been teaching the kids how to do a Russian climb and my hands were very sore. Still are actually. But it was fun to be strong and something I want to keep working on this summer. My upper body strength and stretches. A good goal to have I think.

After we got the ground elements and low ropes course put away Tony would drive down to the office. I would take my time walking down. And once I got down there I made more strawberry ice tea and chatted with Alexi about my hopes for specialty staff next week and this summer.

Once I was cooled down enough I let Mannie know that it would take me 15 minutes to use the gator and get my feild trip stuff set up for tomorrow. He said bet, because they wanted to use it to collect trash and collect some things around camp. I didn't want to keep them waiting so I went and drove up to arts and crafts. And I was actually so good I finished the whole task in 9 minutes.

I wouldn't really have much else to do. I could have set up my field trip stuff more thoroughly but also. No. To hot. So sweaty. I had already taken my T-shirt off and changed my shoes. I just wanted to go home.

So that is what I did. I checked in with Elizabeth and she didn't need me to do anything. So I was just done and off.

I had a nice drive home. But man was I hot and tired when I got home.

James had set up the new garden boxes and Im so excited about them. I think they look so good. It was wildly hot in the backyard and it was pretty horrible to be out there for any length of time. But we got them finished together and set up. I went to get an umbrella for the plants so they don't have as much intense sun. Some of them are a little to fragile for that.

I was just to hot. James said I should move upstairs and hang out in the AC and that was the move. It allowed me to work on my packing for camp. Which is basically complete and I'm very happy with it. All my clothes and towels and shoes are in the trunk. Almost all of my bedding fits in the one bag. I have my shower bag. And my daypack. And my fan and lights.

While doing this packing I was texting with Callie about where we might end up living this summer. We are hoping for a block house. But we have a backup plan. Though she has it on good authority that we will get a little block house together. Fingers crossed!!

James came upstairs to help me fold the sheets to store in their new home under the guest bed. And we worked on sorting my extensive sweater collection. I would like to get some shelves for the closet so I can sort things better but for now it's fine. I have some more ideas for storage throughout the house but it's an ongoing project for sure.

I would eventually take a cool bath. And that made me feel nice. And now we are just hanging out in bed. I had a snack. I am tired but not miserably tired. I'm in a nice mood overall.

Tomorrow is the last field trip of the season!! I really hope it goes well. And it was decided we would reschedule my workshop because I only had one sign up. But that's fine, honestly I don't mind the quiet time at home. We'll try again in the fall.

I hope you all have a good night and a good day tomorrow. Sleep well everyone. Until next time!!

[ponycycle]

What's your biggest hyperfocus and how did you discover it?

I had to think on this for a minute because I wasn't sure if it was true anymore. If it wasn't this then it would be something like MLP or motorcycles (it was tempting to say motorcycles!).

I think it's fair to still say personal computers, though. I'm not sure about when my first contact with them was, but I know a major development was when my dad bought our first PC, an IBM AT clone. (I think I still have most of the parts for it!) I would have been like, 7-9 years old at the time and I was fascinated with it. I ended up breaking it as a kid, because I was trying to figure out what all the DOS 4.0 commands did by running them... when I got to FDISK I rendered it unbootable by pressing buttons. A friend of my father's recovered the situation (I think he used Norton Utilities to recreate the partition table).

I can name pretty much every PC that we had as a family or I had personally:

-Aforementioned IBM AT clone (8088 with a Tatung Hercules monitor, DOS 4.0) -386SX that came from who knows where (Went straight from orange Hercules to VGA colour!!! Windows 3.1) -Tandy 1000HX (long term loan from a friend) -Cyrix 586 (dogshit computer - had fake onboard cache, a common scam at the time, crashed constantly. Windows 95) -468DX4 (think I built this from scrounged parts. Win95, slower than the other PC but way more stable) -Pentium II 233 (also built from scrounged parts. First PC I overclocked, gaining 33 mHz! So fast!!! Windows 2000... but later got repurposed as a Linux-based router) -AMD Duron 800 (built with NEW parts - parents gave me a budget to built a family computer. Windows ... 98? XP? Probably changed multiple times) -AMD Athlon XP 1600 (built with NEW parts - I truly don't remember where I got the money in highschool to put it together, but it was probably every penny I had) -AMD Athlon 64 X2 4400+ (admittedly I didn't remember this offhand... but I did have the physical CPU lying around to check. bought off the shelf very cheap as old stock for my parents to use. Windows Vista. Later upgraded to an Phenom X4, also for very cheap. This PC still lives running Windows 10 today!) -Intel Core 2 Duo Q6700 (built in a cute Shuttle XPC chassis. Eventually burned out a RAM slot because apparently it wasn't rated for 2.0V DIMMs. Windows 7) -Intel Core i5-2500K (I used this computer for YEARS. Like almost a decade, while being overclocked to 4.4 gHz from nearly the first day I had it. Windows 7/10) -AMD 5800X (Currently daily driver. Windows 10)

Not mentioning laptops because the list is already long and you get the point.

I actually did attempt to have a computer related career - in the mid 2000s I went to a community college to get a programming diploma, but I dropped out halfway. There was a moment, in a class teaching the Windows GDI API, where I realized that I had no desire to do that professionally. I did learn things about SQL and OS/400 that randomly came in handy a few times in my life. I did go back and successfully get a diploma in networking/tech support but I've never worked a day in that field.

Unprofessionally though, I was "that guy" for most of my life - friend of a friend or family would have a problem with their PC, and I would show up and help them out. I never got to the point where I would attempt to like, re-cap somebody's motherboard, but I could identify blown caps (and there was a time when there was a lot of those). As the role of PCs has changed, and the hardware has gotten better, I barely ever get to do this kind of thing these days. My parent's PC gathers dust in the corner because they can do pretty much do everything they need on their tablets, which they greatly prefer.

Today though... I used to spend a lot of time reading about developments in PC hardware, architectural improvements, but it doesn't matter as much to me anymore. I couldn't tell you what the current generation of Intel desktop CPUs use for a socket without looking it up. A lot of my interest used to be gaming related, and to this day the GPU industry hasn't fully recovered from the crypto boom. Nearly all of the games I'm interested in play well on console so I just play them there. I still fiddle with what I have now and then.

It is fun to think back on various challenges/experiences with it I've had over the years (figuring out IRQ/DMA management when that was still manual, Matsushita CD-ROM interfaces, trying to exorcise the polymorphic Natas virus from my shit). Who knows, maybe I'll get to curate a PC museum of all this shit someday haha.

[hexedrosel-arts]

Drabbles

Drabble #1

Carla noticed details about people easily. It wasn’t her fault, it was faster to identify someone’s emotions than it was to talk with them. It eventually became noticing everything about a person physically. The details started from the obvious, such as Teddy and Felix having birthmarks on the right of their cheeks or Monty having eyebags, to something Carla believed that even the other person didn’t know, including the dimples that appeared when Felix gave a rare smile.

Felix smiled once the entire Carla had seen him in kindergarten, it was a dodgeball game. It started out like any normal dodgeball, aka Carla decimating anyone in her way to victory(She still hasn’t apologized for breaking Kid’s nose, he may have been on her team but he should’ve moved out of the way). It was only her and Teddy on the field, all she had to do was catch the ball, it would be easy, it was Teddy after all.

Only she got distracted by the sound of tapping, three little taps on the bleachers. A small yet annoying noise had cost her a victory(Though Carla was impressed that Teddy took the chance, he was never one for playing dodgeball directly), Felix had come over to (probably fake) congratulate Teddy when Carla saw it. A small smile directed at Teddy, Carla would have made a comment if she could, it was stunning even to see Felix emote. Even more, she saw Felix holding Teddy’s hand, giving three squeezes. Carla was convinced she had hit her head somehow, because Felix Huxley was never that affectionate, especially towards his own brother.

Drabble #2

“It’s pretty up here.”

Penny talked to herself, on top of the roof of the mansion. The Huxley house was beautiful in her opinion, including on top of it, where you could see the town from above. The town looked like little stars, twinkling from afar.

“Mommy would be impressed I got to see our home from here!”

She talked to herself again, she felt like a little kid again. Seeing everything as beautiful and being excited at everything like she’s never seen it before. Being at the Huxley house was already an achievement, being there to stay was another. Of course, Penny would be working underneath Felix and Teddy, after all, she had to work there if she wanted to stay.

“Well, it’s time to recharge. The boys wouldn’t be happy if I’m low on energy for my first day.”

She smiled, even though the twins were almost adults now she still saw them as those same little boys she wanted to befriend when she was only 5.

Drabble #3

Tending the flowers at home Buggs plucked a purple one. They were rare flowers here, and for some reason, without fail, many of them would grow in the weed-infested backyard Buggs relaxed in. When his mom decided to look for jobs(under Buggs insistence that he would be fine alone for a few hours), he tended to the house, he would do his best to keep the house clean. This has led to him bringing Cindy over to help with the flowers, after all the purple ones she could give to her boyfriends. Occasionally he would bring Jerome over as well, this was one of those times, after the backyard was tended to and the flowers remained.

“Hey Jerome, Buggs,” Cindy spoke up, “Have you ever made a flower crown?”

“No Cindy, I haven’t. That sounds girly, no offense.”

“Yeah same here, no offense.”

Cindy laughed, she started plucking some flowers in the yard. Buggs didn’t care, sometimes the flowers brought more weeds sometimes.

“Well, today I’m going to teach you! No objections.”

She turned to Jerome, then to Buggs, she rested on the cut grass patting it down, offering a seat next to her. Buggs and Jerome looked at each other sighed, the joined Cindy into making flower crowns.

[emptymanuscript]

Sweet jesus... I'm watching this video right now by a psychologist talking about the experience of being a gifted child and it is RESONATING.

What's really particularly catching my attention right now, about a third of the way through, is the negative feedback loop about putting in the same amount of effort and getting worse results.

And I can point right to that in my own life.

I am particularly thinking of experiences that I think happened about a year apart.

In 9th grade English I had Mrs. Harper. Mrs. Harper was one of my favorite teachers in high school. Tiny little alkie who had soooo had it with us little shits and all our BS. I think she retired two or three years after I graduated XD because she finally just couldn't take these bad kids anymore XD. :/ I think she died a couple of years after I graduated college :/ tell the teachers you like that they're important while you can, I guess.

But she was the first teacher to ever fail me on any kind of test outside of STEM classes. And I was just devastated. I had read the book. I had read the notes. I was even interested and enjoyed the reading. And I told her: I studied.

She said she knew I had. She could tell I had done the work. She just taught High School, so the standard was higher. I had to do more than simply show I had done the work. Now I needed to extrapolate new stuff of my own that I hadn't been already given. But now I knew what the new standard was and she was sure I could work harder to meet it the next time and get better grades going forward. One F wasn't the end of the world, it was simply a guide post to how I needed to adjust. Just treat it like a tool to look for the sorts of thinking I needed to do.

And you better believe that was the only test I didn't pass for any class I ever took with Mrs. Harper. I was an A student for her because she told me exactly what I needed to do to meet her standards. She never expressed any doubt that I was capable of it or that I had done something wrong. Just, ok, you've reached this level, I see that, I believe you, I trust you, I just want more. Let's go for the next level. You can do it.

She got me. And she gave me what I needed. And how much I liked Mrs. Harper was something of a running joke because I appreciated that so much. She never let me slack but she was very consistent and clear once I understood what she was saying. Her grades always made perfect sense. Her behavior was consistent from the first to the last time I saw her.

I don't want to imply by contrast that Mrs. Surdaki was not a good teacher. Or that she didn't understand kids. I liked Mrs. Surdaki fine. I would even put her above average. And I feel like she did her best. Had a good heart. No general, abstract complaints. It's simply that she gave me the exact opposite of what I needed when I needed it.

I had her for history the following year. And she gave us the biggest term paper that any of us had ever gotten up to that point. And she let us have a lot of leeway in the topic. So I got to pick what I felt was very important to me and it motivated me to go the extra mile. I feel it is relevant to point out that I recycled parts of that paper multiple times, including in college, to get A's. So, from that perspective, you can say she actually provoked the best in me.

She gave me a B-.

I wasn't devastated. I was furious. I had worked my butt off on that paper. In my opinion, it was an A+ paper, and this was plain unfair. Again, while I never exactly recycled that paper in full, I did reuse a lot of it and got A's. In college. I now have a Masters degree in teaching my field. It may not have been an A+ paper but I am actually angrier in retrospect than I was at the time. The grade she gave me was exactly what you should not do to a student from everything that I've learned about education.

So I demanded to know what was wrong with it. Why had I gotten a B- for that work?

And she said it was because she knew I could do better. She knew I hadn't done the very best I was capable of. She wanted me to exert more effort. And she had graded me according to that disappointment in my effort versus my potential.

The problem is that Mrs. Surdaki was absolutely 100% wrong. I put more effort into that paper - because I was able to choose what I really cared about and was deeply important to me - than I had done for any other paper before. Or afterwards for the rest of high school. Not just because of the level expected from the paper - I should also note that I was never asked in college to write a paper that long - but because I cared and wanted to do a good job. I had, in fact, exceeded myself.

She hadn't raised the bar on me like Mrs. Harper had with a new standard I simply hadn't yet understood. She had pulled the rug out from under me. What she had told me, without intending to, was that the expectations were arbitrary. They were what she wanted them to be. And what she wanted from me was more. Not a specific more but an abstract, oh, you're really gifted, I know you can do something amazing but you didn't wow me, so down your grade goes.

Who thinks I tried hard again for Mrs. Surdaki?

Again, didn't particularly dislike her. If anything I did like her. She was fun. Young and not yet jaded by us evil little hellions. Easy to get along with if you didn't actually try to cause shit.

And I got perfectly fine grades. If I recall correctly I passed her class with a solid B. Because I stopped trying and she eventually decided that she had been wrong and nope, I couldn't actually do better. So: whatever. And we both just coasted through History.

While Mrs. Harper and Mrs. Surdaki were the first. They certainly weren't the last experiences of those dynamics. People who challenged me AND gave me the tools to meet those challenges, got my best efforts. Not just my intellect but all my people pleasing and my desire to excel. People who just made it tough, fuck 'em. I don't need 'em. I'll sail through or give them the kiss off because I know I can't trust them.

It's the difference between looking at the evidence and coming to a conclusion (good) and having a conclusion for which you find evidence (bad). They might look the same on the surface but one is patently bullshit.

Unfortunately, the outcome also taught me a pattern. That I can get away with the kiss off. All I have to be is pleasant. Don't rock the boat and the bare minimum will do. What Mrs. Surdaki accidentally taught me was that most people don't know what they think they know about other people. People just guess. And if they're wrong, well, no skin off their back. Who cares, really. So she also accidentally taught me not to try until someone proved they were worth the effort and insightful enough to be trustworthy. A test that most people fail because it's easy to fail and most people don't even realize they're on the spot.

The end result: Mrs. Surdaki's conclusion was a self fulfilling prophecy that caused what she wanted to nip in the bud. Not really her fault. Certainly not her intent. Just the lesson I took.

So it goes.

It's just that I need to change that behavior now.

[joaquinwhorres]

gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.

[max1461]

I think the thing that bothers me about programming is that it feels basically fake, in the same way that the bad parts of the humanities are fake. No wait let me explain! "Real" things are things which were not chosen arbitrarily. Math is some of the realest shit ever, because even though you can choose your axioms, once you pick an axiom set the consequences are fixed. And in some sense you're not really "picking" axioms anyway—all axioms sets already "exist" in some sense, and you're just selecting one to study. No arbitrary choice involved!

On the other hands there's like... organisms. In some sense, organisms are kinda arbitrary: there are selective pressures, sure, but there's also a huge amount of random chance. Run evolution again starting from the beginning and you'd get totally different creatures, if presumably ones that occupied similar ecological niches. So the biosphere has a lot of arbitrariness. But not chosen arbitrariness. Just like, accidental arbitrariness beyond human control. Once we arrive on the scene, we see a set of ecosystems that are already determined by factors we could never have affected. No arbitrary choice. Biology is real!

Something like, uh, education (the field), on the other hand, is full of arbitrary choice. Like obviously there are constraints (kids will not learn if you blow them up with TNT), but within those constraints there are tons of possible choices. And not to be too harsh, the foundations of most educational philosophies seem to come down to arbitrary choice within said constraints: "we should teach kids like this, because, uh, well I just think we should". I mean there's usually more ostensible reasoning than that, but as is par for the course in these sorts of fields it is not usually very rigorous. I get similar vibes from cultural studies, management, communications...

Not all humanities fields are like this, by the way! History definitely isn't. For all the flak that literary criticism gets, most of it doesn't feel this way to me either. This is a feeling I tend to get from the newer humanities fields (those founded in the twentieth century or so) and the social sciences. Something something managerialism, something something buzzword corporate lingo dynamic product engagement we're not a workplace we're a family. If you'll permit me to be a little flippant: literary criticism is a lot of empty words trying to circle something real (the emotional experience of reading a text), whereas these "managerial humanities" are a lot of empty words trying to achieve an instrumental goal (like increase worker productivity). So studying these things doesn't really feel like learning anything. It feels deeply soulless and off-putting to me.

Thus, computer programming. It's... well it's all arbitrary choices. There are of course constraints (time complexity of algorithms and this and that), but most of what you're interfacing with when you program a computer is basically arbitrary choices made by another human being. And you're doing so not to really learn anything, but to achieve an instrumental goal (get your program to work). It feels empty, contentless, like reading something out of a management textbook. I do not enjoy this.

It's like... ok, if someone gives me a math puzzle, I instantly want to solve it. It's this thing that exists out there in math land, in the Eternal Realm Of Abstraction, and I want to explore it until understand it. Someone picked this puzzle out from all the others and gave it to me, sure, but make no mistake—it already existed. It just is. Or at least, that's how it feels to me (let's put the actually philosophical questions aside). If someone gives me a coding puzzle, it's like, the only reasonably answer is "run some code that someone already wrote to do this lol". Even if I program something "from scratch", I'm still using a high level language to do it, which comes built in with all these tools written by other people. Why stop there? If I can take those tools as given, why can't I just take the code of someone who already wrote a program to do this and give that as my answer? Where is the line?

It all feels a bit arbitrary and meaningless, a pile of random human decisions upon random human decisions. Who cares!

The one part of program that is kind of cool is the really low-level stuff, "close to the bare metal". Because that puts you in touch with the computer as a machine, as a physical device in the world whose limitations may represent human choices at some point in the past, but in the here-and-now are baked into the very silicon. That's real, that's like, an actual thing instead of a bunch of bullshit. I like that!

Idk, I don't want to be too harsh. I have enjoyed programming sometimes in the past, and it's still something I want to get better at. And I'm sure there is good research that gets done in education and management and communications, even if I think a lot of it is bullshit. But this is just how it makes me feel.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

~

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help. 

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms. 

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key. 

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle. 

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

~

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner. 

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries. 

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you. 

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

~

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks. 

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could. 

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

~

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up. 

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him. 

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly. 

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms. 

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book. 

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

~

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate. 

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag. 

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other. 

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized. 

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided. 

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

~

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room. 

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room. 

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

~

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school. 

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one. 

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door. 

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed. 

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. 

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side. 

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded. 

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit. 

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze. 

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss. 

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh. 

~

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him. 

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

~

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous