#teachers assistant

[thedungeonbat]

first day after fall break🍂

got my ap politics exam back and it’s marked with 80%, which makes it the best exam in the class. really happy about it, especially because I feared the worst!!

spent more time being a teachers assistant than being a student today, enjoyed it a lot! not only am I back on admin tasks for the library but I also helped with teaching a gym class.

had to retake my math notes digitally because I ran out of paper and (I’m still wondering how-) cracked my phone screen :(

[crushculture03]

Teachers Assistant

WARNINGS : this book will contain smut, swearing, age gap (21 and 34), angst, teacher student relationship.

Pairing: Professor!Matty x Fem student! reader

Notes : The teachers assistant imagines are my most popular and most requested so i thought it would be best to make it a series! hope you enjoy!

Summary : You’re a senior in college just hoping to get through the year with no hiccups , but the universe has others plans when you put in Professor Healys class. When you unexpectedly volunteer yourself to be his T.A. you find your relationship with him becoming more than professional…

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

[braveclementine]

Chapter 3

Warnings: None.

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

I only had one class today, which I was thankful for. The study of East Asian history with Professor Rogers, who I was hoping was the handsome blond man that Clementine had said taught her American History. 

Clementine had already headed out for one of her nursing classes and so I had the dorm to myself. I didn't stay in it long, however, deciding to go to the library and study there. It was definitely a placebo affect to feel like I was getting more done in the library than if I stayed in the dorm. 

When my timer went off as a ten minute warning for class, I scooped everything up and headed off for the classroom. 

I hurried through the hallway, turning the corner, slamming into someone. I lost my balance, falling backwards, before something hard wrapped around my waist. I felt a spinning sensation before my back hit something. 

I let out a small gasp, finding that I was pressed up against the wall, Professor Barnes in front of me. His arm around my waist where he had caught me, feet planted rather defensively. I couldn't remember how to breathe or speak, only staring at him until I realized my mouth was open. 

"Than-" 

"Watch where you're going." He interrupted me, shoving away from the wall, stalking down the hallway. 

I watched him go, feeling completely humiliated, before turning and continuing down to where my history class was. 

Professor Rogers was indeed the Professor my class, but after seeing Professor Barnes, my excitement was not high enough. 

"Miss Silvertongue." Professor Rogers greeted me immediately. He looked amazing in his light blue shirt he was wearing, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I could see behind him a group of girls muttering behind their hands as they watched him. "Good afternoon. Your seat is right here." 

He pointed to a seat at the front of the classroom, right in front of his desk. I was going to have a hard time concentrating this year. 

I quickly sat down where he had assigned my seat, while he quickly arranged the other students as they came in. As the bell rang, the last of the students filing in quickly, he closed the door behind him and smiled at the class. 

"Good Afternoon class. Firstly, I would like to make sure that you all know this is Survey of East Asian History class. So far, everyone seems to be in the right spot, but if anyone believes they are in the wrong class, let me know now." 

No one said a thing, though some girls behind me giggled. 

Professor Rogers grinned, "Alright then. Let's get started." He picked up a stack of papers from his desk and started to hand them out. "As you can see, this is the Syllabus of which I'll be teaching from this semester. You will have a small ten question quiz every week at the beginning of class, which will be timed for twenty minutes. And you will have on exam halfway through the year and an end of the year project." 

There were some groans in the class, but I felt rather light hearted at that. One exam was fine by me. Hopefully the project wouldn't be to hard. 

I surveyed the syllabus as mine was given to me. It seemed he had organized everything based on the country. Starting with Vietnam, then China, Japan, Korea, and so on. That might actually be quite nice. 

"So," Professor Rogers said with a grin, "What is East Asia? Anyone want to take a guess?" 

I hesitantly raised a hand and he nodded to me. "Well, I suppose a collection of different countries that are located on the East side of the continent of Asia?" 

His eyes seemed to twinkle at my answer and he let out a chuckle, "Well, in all technicalities, yes. The countries of East Asia include China, Japan, South and North Korea, Mongolia, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macao, Vietnam, Singapore, The Philippines, Laos, Thailand, Indonesia, Cambodia, Myanmar also called Burma, Brunei, Timor-Leste, and Malaysia." He wrote each country out in clear cursive. 

I immediately copied down the list on one side of my composition notebook, labelling at the top 'East Asia'. 

"And, just so we can get a clear picture, the countries of West Asia are Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Oman, Qatar, Jordan, Lebanon, Kuwait, Iraq, Georgia- no not the state-" That got some laughter from the class "-Yemen, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Cyprus, Israel, Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. You may notice that most of these countries are what we would also call the 'Middle East'. However, do not consider West Asian and the Middle East to be synonymous for each other, because they are not. They just share many countries. I would also like everyone to note that Palestine is not exactly a country of their own. It is a collection of people who live on the Gaza strip, given to them by Israel. Any questions so far?" 

On the other side of the class, an Asian girl shot her hand up. 

"Yes, Miss Sun?" Professor Rogers asked politely. 

"Professor, when you were listing the countries of East Asia, you separated both Hong Kong and the Republic of China from Mainland China. Why?" She asked. 

"I listed Hong Kong separately because of its' history as a British Colony." Professor Rogers replied, tapping the country name with his Expo marker. "It has been both a part of China, and also part of Britain and therefore, separated as it will be talked about separately from China. Taiwan on the other hand, is a separate country from China, though some people will say that it is still part of China, depending on who you talk to. We could also make an argument for Tibet being separate from China as well." 

When the girl did not look convinced, Professor Rogers added, "Would you consider Ukraine to be a part of Russia?" 

"Well, no, Ukraine broke away from Russia." The girl said. 

"I would say you can compare Taiwan to China the way you compare Ukraine to Russia." Professor Rogers said. I could tell that his tone was friendly, but there seemed to be a fierce protective note in his voice. It seemed he cared about the freedom of Taiwan very much. I could respect that. 

"Now, who can tell me, what is history really about?" Professor Rogers asked, looking around. "What makes history? Yes, Mr. Black?" 

"Battles, events, things that occur and we memorize the dates of them long enough for our exams and then forget again almost immediately after?" The boy answered with a cocky grin. Some of the girls in front of him giggled but I rolled my eyes, looking back down at my loose-leaf paper. 

"Partially." Professor Rogers said, not as amused though he wore a complacent smile. 

I raised my hand and was called on. "People, Professor? After all, the battles and events can't happen without people involved." 

"And that's the answer." Professor Rogers sounded pleased and I couldn't help but let the butterflies that had been caged up in my heart since my run in with Professor Barnes out. They fluttered in my stomach, making me shift in my seat as his blue eyes pierced my brown ones. I found that I wanted his praise more than anything in the world at that moment. "Perfect." 

I nearly fainted. 

From there, he had us get our textbooks out, following along. He did not read word for word the introduction - I was glad for this since I can't stand being read to- exploring the details more in depth. 

At the end of the lesson, he had another piece of paper for us, which was actually three pages, stapled together. 

"This is a glossary of words that will last the semester. They may or may not show up on tests so it's best to know what they are and their definitions or meanings." Professor Rogers said, handing the sheet out. 

My favorite part was that it was set up alphabetically. My OCD agreed with it a lot. 

"Class dismissed. I will see you all Thursday." Professor Rogers said, and the students started to stream out.

I quickly slipped the glossary terms into my East Asian History binder, placing the binger and textbook into my backpack, before noticing that Professor Rogers had stopped in front of my table. 

"Yes, Professor?" I asked, fighting back the instinct to swallow hard, nervous as I realized how close he was to me. I could smell his cologne, which wasn't overpowering, but comforting. I wished I knew how to describe it. 'Woodsy and homelike' seemed to cliche. 

"Well, I'd hate to be intrusive, but I was wondering if you were busy Saturday and Sunday mornings. Specifically between eight and eleven in the morning?" 

"Uh- n-no." I stuttered out my answer, head spinning with sudden questions. Most specifically, for what? 

He answered that quickly enough, "Every year I choose a student that I believe is competent to work for me. You'll be paid, of course, $15 an hour. It would be miscellaneous work. Helping me grade homework- not for this class but American or European history- etcetera." 

"Yes, I would love that." I answered easily, though a little astounded. 

There was a noise in the doorway and I jumped a little at the suddenness of it. It was Professor Barnes, leaning on the doorway, his dark eyes brooding. I immediately looked away, grabbing my backpack and trying to focus solely on Professor Rogers, "When would you like me to start?" 

"Next week. Here," He walked over to the desk, grabbing a small slip of paper that looked a bit like a business card, but not quite. "This is my work phone number and address. Saturdays will be spent here since I also have office hours that day. But Sundays will be spent at this address. I may change things up which is why you have my phone number so that after you contact me, I will be able to let you know if things change. Agreed?" 

"Sounds perfectly in order." I said easily, reaching out and taking the card from him. I slipped it into the safety of my purse, before sliding it into my backpack. "Thank you for the opportunity Professor." 

"Of course." Professor Rogers smiled and looked over at Professor Barnes, "What's up Buck?" 

Professor Barnes rolled his eyes, something that I noticed made Professor Rogers smirk. I quickly stepped to the side as Professor Barnes decided to move at the same time I went through the door, moving past me without another word. Professor Rogers gave him a look that seemed to be slightly exasperated before he said, "Have a nice day Miss Silvertongue." 

"You too Professo- Professors." I quickly said over my shoulder, before leaving the room. I sped down the hallway, excited to get back to the dorm. . . and away from Professor Barnes. 

ꨄ︎

"Hey." Clementine greeted me the moment I stepped inside the dorm room. "The grocery store down the street that you applied to called the dorm phone today and left a message. You got hired. Tuesdays and Thursdays from- well you know what, here." She tapped a piece of paper that was sitting on the table. 

She had written out the entire phone message in neat cursive and I smiled fondly at her. "You're the best Clem." 

"I know, now make sure to bring me home free food from work." She said with a smirk, before turning back to the American history textbook she was pouring over, making side notes in the margins, comparing them to an assignment sheet. 

"Essay already for history?" I asked, surprised. 

"It's easy." Clementine shrugged. "It's more an opinion essay than anything else. We can take one event from American history and compare it to something else in the rest of the worlds' history that shows that history can repeat itself. Then what we think should be done to keep it from happening again." 

I couldn't think of a comparison off the top of my head, but then again my mind wasn't on American history to begin with. I was thinking of the way Professor Rogers fingers had brushed the tips of mine as he gave me the card. And also, surprisingly, of Professor Barnes brooding stare. 

I was sure the darker Professor hated me, but there was something about his dark persona that was drawing me in. I wonder if he did it on purpose, to prove that Psychology really did work. His dark mysterious personality drew curious people in. 

I rolled my eyes, trying to push both Professors out of my head. They were like thirty something and I was twenty-two. 

"Well, I'm going to have two jobs." I said, unable to keep the happiness out of my voice. Clementine looked up with interest. "Professor Rogers hired me as a. . . assistant of sorts? A teacher aide? I'm not sure. Basically to help grade other peoples' stuff in other classes. So maybe I'll get to grade your homework." 

"Well, don't go easy on me." Clementine said, getting up from the table, going over and grabbing an orange. I watched her peel it and then started to make homemade orange juice. "By the way, I was thinking this weekend we could go to a few of the orchards, pick our own fruit? It'll be a bit of a drive, but this'll be the one weekend we won't be slammed with homework and you and I both know apples will keep for a while if we put them in the fridge." 

I smiled, nodding, "Great idea." Then I left her with her history homework and I went off to call the grocery store, telling them that I would be there first shift on Thursday. 

[hamsternamedmarinette]

Don't ask how it got into his room

[dashingwishes]

What do you do for a living? What is your job?

[skaspert]

happy holidays :DD

the sketch dumps are just younger vers of ed and jon. (probably in their 20s)

[thehereticdiaries]

When Fantasy Becomes Reality

Summary: You're stuck in a stupidly tedious class during your final semester. The upside? The TAs are incredibly attractive. What happens when they catch you writing something very interesting during one of their tutoring sessions?

Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Reader gets manhandled, size difference, humiliation kink if you squint, fingering, oral (f rec), slight dumbification, dom!YunGi, sub!reader, one (1) spank to the thigh, praise/degredation

Pairing: Yunho x Reader x Mingi

Collab with @mingkismain ! Read her part here (it's a direct sequel)

Your final semester was supposed to be as laid-back as possible. You chose classes that you’d be able to ace with minimal effort. All of your core classes were finished at this point, so you had a bunch of free electives to fill up your last credits. For the most part, you succeeded. You could pass three out of your four classes in your sleep. That fourth class, however, proved to be much more tedious than you anticipated. Your friend insisted you take ‘Philosophy of Science Fiction’ with her. You only agreed because you figured the lectures would consist of watching sci-fi movies or reading sci-fi novels.

You were so incredibly wrong. Well, you were right about the lectures including sci-fi movies, tv shows, and novels. The numerous essays about said media were what killed you. In the 15 weeks of the semester, you had written eight essays. EIGHT. It was fun for the first two or three, but now it was just exhausting. There was only one perk to the course: the two very handsome TAs. 

Staring at Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi quickly became your number one pastime during lectures. You often attended their tutoring sessions even with your grades being near the top of the class. Which is what you were doing right now, in fact. They were holding an all-day tutoring session to help your class work on your final essays. You finished your paper on Iron Widow hours ago, but you stayed in the reserved study room and acted like you were adding your final touches. It wasn’t a total lie. You were writing, but it definitely wasn’t classroom appropriate. You were engrossed in perfecting the filthy words on your google doc. So engrossed, that you failed to notice Yunho looking over your shoulder.

“Oh, shit.” You jumped at how close his voice was, whirling around to gape at him. The study room was empty except for you and the two TAs.

“Yunho, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” He smirked at the flush rising on your cheeks. Before you could attempt to defend yourself further, Yunho snatched your laptop from in front of you. He easily evaded you as you chased him around the table. “Give it back!”

“Mingi, give me a hand.” The other TA snaked his arms around your middle and lifted you off the ground. The height difference left your feet dangling by a few inches.

“Put me down, please! It’s not a big deal,” you pleaded, smacking his forearm repeatedly. You felt his chest vibrate when he laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like it from how hard you’re trying to get your laptop back,” Mingi teased while Yunho scrolled through your story. You wiggled to try and loosen Mingi’s grip on you, but he was definitely stronger.

“Damn, Y/N. You’re into this?” Yunho’s heated gaze fell back on you. He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Dirty girl.” You froze, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm subconsciously. 

“Dude, are you going to tell me what she’s been writing or not? I think I've waited long enough.” Shit, what did that mean? You narrowed your eyes at your laptop, willing it to explode on the spot. No such explosions occurred, to your horror.

“Elena rolls her hips against Luca’s thigh, desperate for relief after his relentless teasing. He splays a hand across her lower belly to keep her from moving. ‘Patience, sweetheart. Be good for me or I won’t let you cum at all tonight.’ Elena pouts up at her lover, tears welling–”

“Yunho! Shut up, please, shut the fuck up!” You hid your face in your hands. You yelped when Mingi swatted your thigh. 

“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re speaking,” you shivered at his breath fanning across your neck as he scolded you. “Keep going, Yunho.”

“Oh, this is a good line: Elena’s thighs tremble against Luca’s hold. She whimpers and tries to push him away, but he uses the hand not inside her to pin her arm to her side. ‘You wanted to cum, love. So now you’re going to cum as many times as I see fit.’ Elena whines as he licks another thick stripe over her clit,” Yunho paused to share a look with Mingi. His eyes looked darker than normal.

“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want to be pinned down and forced to cum over and over again?” Mingi’s voice was low next to your ear. You swallowed down the whimper that nearly escaped your throat.

“Looks like it. Her character came three times on the dude’s mouth and fingers, then two more times on his cock,” Yunho confirmed in your silence. He skimmed through the next few paragraphs, grinning wickedly. 

“Any more interesting scenes?” You truly wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You were beyond mortified, especially since they seemed to relish in your humiliation. 

“Mmm, a couple lines here and there,” Yunho glanced up at you, tongue poking against his cheek. “She really likes to mix praise and degradation.” He set your laptop on the table, stalking forward to invade your space. You refused to look him in the eye.

“Does she?” The hand not supporting your weight gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at Yunho. 

“Some of her most used lines to use are full of it.” Yunho ran his hand up the back of your neck to grip your hair. You couldn’t contain your soft moan this time. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. You look so pretty taking my cock. Look at you, such a good little slut for me.” 

“I’m- I don’t…” You stumbled over your words, panting from their body heat pressing into you. “Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Yunho teased with an edge of condescension to his voice. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers brushing under the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want us to stop?” Mingi’s hand released your jaw, only to rest on your neck. “Or do you want us to do all those filthy things to you?” A strangled sound at the back of your throat morphed into a gasp.

“We need an answer. A verbal yes or no, otherwise you’ll get nothing,” Yunho drawled, dragging his hand further up your skirt and pulling your leg to hook over his hip. 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You took a shuddering breath, goosebumps rising under his touch. “I- I want it.”

“Not good enough. What do you want, sweetheart?” Mingi insisted, hand slightly tightening on your neck. 

“I want you to do the things I wrote about. God, please do something,” you whined loudly, thankful for the sound dampeners lining the study room walls. Yunho stepped back so Mingi could sit, keeping your back pressed to his chest and holding your legs open over his knees. You’d imagined having Yunho between your thighs, but fuck the real thing was so much better. He shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips.

“Shit, you’re already so wet and we haven’t even touched you yet,” Yunho smirked and pushed your thighs further apart. “Feel her, Mingi.” The man behind you dropped a hand down to stroke over the wet patch on your panties. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed down on your clit.

“Damn,” Mingi sucked a breath in through his teeth. He lightened the pressure from his fingers, tracing soft circles that offered little relief.

“Y/N, do you know the traffic light system?” Yunho tapped your knee to grab your attention. You nodded, head feeling fuzzy from their teasing. “Tell me.”

“U-um, green means I’m good, an-and to keep going. Yellow, fuck, yellow means slow down or change something. Red is a hard stop,” you stuttered, interrupting yourself with airy whines. 

“Good. Once we start, Mingi and I won’t stop until we think you’ve had enough. ‘No’ and ‘stop’ mean nothing, the only word that matters is ‘red’.” Yunho pulled roughly on your skirt, pulling you closer to him. Mingi lifted your hips so Yunho could drag your panties down your legs. You barely registered him pocketing them. He littered your thighs with open-mouthed kisses, avoiding where you really wanted him. Your hips bucked forward to try to get him to go faster.

“Sit still,” Mingi ordered. You yelped at the warning bite left on your inner thigh. You squirmed again, pulling an irritated huff from Mingi. He pinned your hips against his with one arm. You gasped at the feeling of his half-hard cock against your ass. 

“What do you think she should get, Mingi?” Yunho didn’t wait for an answer to finally run his tongue over your clit. Your hand shot down to his hair, winding your fingers in the soft strands. 

“She’ll take exactly what she wrote, and more.” The hand not holding you still moved under your shirt to cup your tit over your bra. You couldn’t even comprehend what he meant, too lost in the shockwaves of pleasure Yunho’s mouth sent through your core. You cried out when he thrust two fingers into your dripping cunt. You dropped your head onto Mingi’s shoulder, giving him access to suck dark hickeys on your neck and collarbones. 

“Fuck, fuck, Yunho please,” you panted heavily, pushing against the arm holding you in place. 

“You close already, sweetheart?” Yunho’s voice sent vibrations across your sensitive clit. 

“Yes! Please, can I cum?” You whimpered when his fingers curled to drag over the spongy spot you couldn’t reach with your own.

“Ooh, asking permission?” Mingi smirked against your neck. “Good girl, cum for us.” Another harsh suck sent you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. Yunho slowed his fingers, but didn’t stop licking your clit until your thighs trembled. He pulled back, mouth and chin shining with your release. 

“It sounded cheesy before, but fuck, you really do taste so fucking good,” he repeated the words you had written just before your laptop was taken. “Look at you, already fucked out before we’ve even fucked you.” He stopped thrusting his fingers, keeping them buried in you to continue curling against your g-spot. You clenched when Mingi circled your clit once before continuing down to prod at your entrance. Your back arched as two of his fingers pushed into you, right next to Yunho’s. 

“God, you’re tight. Can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy,” Mingi groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from where their fingers disappeared in you. The stretch and Mingi’s palm brushing your clit had another orgasm quickly building. 

“Who would have guessed? Ms top-of-the-class is secretly a kinky little slut,” Yunho mocked, grinning when your walls clamped down on them. He sat up higher on his knees to leave his own marks on your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling a pathetic squeak from your throat.

“C-cumming!” Was the only warning they got before you arched in another orgasm, inadvertently grinding down on Mingi’s hard-on. Your skin buzzed and you struggled to catch your breath. They continued to finger-fuck you through your high. 

“Too much, too much, please,” you whined, weakly pushing at their wrists. Yunho’s free hand grabbed your jaw to force eye contact.

“What’s your color?” 

“...green,” you answered after a beat of silence.

“Thought so.” Yunho crashed his lips into yours, immediately licking into your mouth. You tasted yourself lingering on his tongue. You whimpered at the emptiness left when they removed their fingers. Yunho pulled back, still connected to you by a string of saliva. “Mingi’s turn.” Your back hit the table before you could process his words. Your legs were thrown over Mingi’s shoulders as he dove in to lap at your swollen clit.

“Fuck! I can’t- how many more?” Tears gathered on your lash line. Blinking them away, you stared as Yunho palmed himself through his jeans.

“You get stupid when you cum, don’t you? Can’t even remember the scene that you wrote.” Yunho sat in the chair you occupied moments ago. He tilted his head at you sifting through your syrupy thoughts.

“T-three on your fingers and tongues, two o-on your,” a high-pitched moan cut into your sentence. “Fuck, oh my god. Two on your cocks.” Another rush of arousal shot up your spine when you realized that both of them were going to fuck you. 

“Atta girl,” the slight praise went straight to your head. Mingi stole your attention back by blowing cool air over your clit. Your hips jerked, overly sensitive from cumming twice already. He watched your face contort with pleasure, pupils blown wide. Three of his fingers pushed back into your cunt, walls fluttering around him. In the back of your mind, you realized that they were prepping you to take their cocks.

“You’re right, Yunho. She does taste good.” Mingi’s eyes flickered to his friend for a moment before returning his focus to your pussy. “She makes such pretty noises when we stuff her full of our fingers.”

“I bet she’ll sound downright sinful when she’s stuffed full of our dicks.” The way they spoke about you like you weren’t in the room made you dizzy. Your head floated in a cloudy haze. Mingi moved back to your clit, sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Your third orgasm hit like lightning, only lasting a few seconds but leaving you breathless and flushed. You nearly sobbed, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. You barely felt it when Mingi stood from his place between your legs. When you finally managed to open your eyes, they loomed over you, eyeing you up with a predatory glint in their eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re nowhere near done with you."

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

[wiidoodles]

Assistant Daycare teacher Wolfwood my beloved

[viktormaru]

A Roronoa Zoro study I did during the Painting Fundamentals class by Mike Azevedo! Inspired by Suke's style

[thedungeonbat]

christmas cookies & biology revision🎄

Only had one lesson today so I spent the rest of my morning reading :) Started baking Christmas cookies after lunch and then drove to the gym for my ta lesson. To my surprise I only had to prepare the equipment and then chatted about my library shift so I used the rest of the lesson to go though my biology notes again. Exam is tomorrow and I feel both well and horribly prepared. I’m feeling too unwell to study right now so let’s see what happens tomorrow…

Overall feeling not too great, I’ve been way too anxious today. The deadline for my term paper is making things worse; I considered scheduling a therapy appointment for Wednesday but I do not want to bother my therapist on short notice so we’ll see if I can cope well enough or if I’ll get myself to text them…

Now: trying to distract myself by reading or watching tv (show/movie/book suggestions appreciated<3)

[marty--party]

who the hell is this guy ….

haven’t tried gijinka in awhile and man i forgot how fun making designs are :D

[braveclementine]

Chapter 5

Warnings: None.

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

I stared at myself uncertainly in the mirror. After telling Clementine my uncertainties on what to wear this morning, she'd taken me shopping and we'd put together an outfit. But now that it was all put together, I wondered if it was too revealing. 

My blouse was white with a black ribbon tied in the front. I had tucked it into the black miniskirt I was wearing, that landed midthigh and was very tight. I was wearing long black stockings that ended just under my skirt. I was also wearing black heels, which made my legs look longer than normal, considering I was five foot three. 

I had put my hair up into a bun again, a few stray whisps tickling my face. My makeup I had kept simple, covering the dark circles under my eyes, applying lipstick and blush dark to contrast the paleness of the shirt. 

I decided to stop overthinking it, quickly grabbing my messenger bag. I carefully filled it with my laptop, extra pens and pencils, along with my phone, a pair of earbuds, and a notebook that I always took with me anywhere I went. 

I checked myself one more time in the mirror. The messenger bag didn't really go with the secretary outfit I was wearing, but it was the best way to make sure I didn't lose anything. Maybe later when I actually had money, I would find a bag to match it. 

I stepped out of the bedroom, hurrying over to the kitchen. My stomach growled, wishing that I had the ability to make fresh oatmeal, which of course, was impossible without a stove. I supposed I could've used the microwave, but since it threw off radiation when used, neither Clementine nor I used it. 

"You look like a stripper." Clementine said without even looking up from her book as she laid on the sofa. 

"Good morning to you too bitch." I said, rolling my eyes, grabbing a banana, orange, and apple. I put the orange and apple in my bag, going over to the fridge and grabbing a glass milk jug and a water bottle. I slipped the water bottle into my bag as well. 

"Have fun, don't fuck your Professor you little slut." Clementine called sweetly over her shoulder. 

"You're just jealous." I shouted back, "Love ya." Then I closed the dorm door behind me, heading through the small hallway. This time, it was someone else running into me as I turned the corner. 

"Shit I'm sorry." A male voice called out and I looked up as I reached out to grab my milk jug. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, I'm good." I said, quickly bouncing up off the floor. I smiled awkwardly at the guy. "Uh, sorry." 

"Yeah, no, my fault." He said. He was okay looking. Sandy brown hair and blue eyes. His face was a little rounder, but he was charming enough. "Uh, I'm John. John Garrett. Well, the third John Garrett." 

"Elizabeth." I said softly and then said, "I'm going to be late so I'll see you around." 

Never. 

"Yeah, see ya." 

I took the elevator down and then hurried along the sidewalk until I got to the history wing of the College. I knocked on Professor Rogers' door and waited, still aware that I hadn't even eaten my banana and milk. I quickly unpeeled the banana and was just taking a bite when Professor Rogers opened the door. 

He stared down at me for a second, the fruit in my mouth, his eyes seeming to scan my entire body. I quickly bit off the piece, nearly swallowing it whole. "Sorry, I didn't eat breakfast." 

"N-No it's  fine Miss Silvertongue." Professor Rogers said. "Your outfit on-" 

"Oh, is it alright?" I asked hurriedly, hating that I'd interrupted him. "Professor Barnes advised me on what to wear." 

His confused look turned into a smile and he playfully rolled his eyes. "I see. Buck really helped you out?" 

"Well, he said that if I wanted to impress you I should dress professionally, like a secretary. I didn't really have anything, so Clem and I went shopping." I said, blushing a little. "I don't know if Professor Barnes would be impressed with the fact I told you he advised me though." 

"Well then, we won't tell him." Professor Rogers said and I nearly dropped my jaw when he winked at me. "Come in, finish your breakfast and then you can get started immediately." 

"Of course." I said, stepping into the office, noting that he closed the door behind him. "Um, Professor?" 

"Yes Miss Silvertongue?" He asked, standing at a longer desk in the back of his office, grabbing a stack of papers. 

"Do you mind if um. . . we leave the door open?" I asked, cheeks flushing red again. 

I wondered if he would take offense to my question, but he did not. Instead, he looked almost pleased with my answer and nodded, "Of course, my apologies." 

I smiled a little, opening the door and then walked over to where I was going to be working. 

"So," He said, putting the stack down on the desk, before fishing a separate piece of paper off his desk, handing it to me. It was a key to the pop quiz he'd given his Medival history class. "I'm sure you understand why you can't grade the American history sections?" 

"Because that's the class Clementine is taking?" I answered quickly, "And you think I could potentially give her answers and or correct her tests because she is my friend." 

"You catch on quick." Professor Rogers complimented and I felt his praise burrow into the depths of my heart. I could feel my cheeks blushing. 

I was soon sitting down, grading the papers. It was very easy since he had made everything multiple choice, but I could see how it might be overwhelming with the amount of tests that were here. Especially since this clearly wasn't his only class. 

Meanwhile, he sat at his desk, grading the American history class. I couldn't help but glance up every once in a while, seeing how delicious he looked. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off both his exposed forearms, and also just how big his biceps were under the tight shirt. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration, blue eyes staring ceaselessly at the paper. His hand made neat, quick marks as he graded the questions. 

It was actually good work. My OCD helped me enjoy it since it was a repetitive action. I lost track of time and even though Professor Rogers had originally said it would only be from eight to eleven, I ended up staying till two, never breaking focus. 

I was so lost in the work I was doing, that I didn't even hear him call my name or leave the room. It wasn't until I smelt something delicious and felt something next to my elbow, did I jump, and look up at him. 

"Here, I got you lunch." Professor Rogers grinned and I looked down to see a delicious bowl of fried rice with orange chicken on it. One of my favorite meals. "Wasn't sure what you liked, so I just got the most popular item." 

"No, this is amazing, thank you." I answered quickly, scooping some of the fried rice into my mouth, followed by a piece of chicken. I nearly moaned from how good it was. Clementine was going to kill me. 

I giggled at the thought and Professor Rogers looked at me curiously. "What?" 

"Nothing." I smiled, before finishing the bowl. 

"Here." Professor Rogers said, fishing out $90, handing it to me. 

"Oh!" I said in surprise, before handing him the $10 back. "That's for you buying me lunch." 

Professor Rogers shook his head, trying to press the $10 back into my hand. "The lunch has already been accounted for." 

"Are you sure?" I scrutinized. 

"Cute." Another voice said, making me jump back from Professor Rogers, only then realizing how close we'd been. I turned to see Professor Wilson standing there, a huge grin on his face. He winked at me before turning to Professor Rogers. "Stark wants to speak with the faculty." 

"Of course." Professor Rogers rolled his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow Miss Silvertongue." 

"See you tomorrow Professor." I said, quickly scooping up my things. "Professor Wilson." I smiled and then headed out the door. I smiled as I slipped the money into my pocket. 

I got back into the apartment to see that Clementine had made us salads. I smiled, seeing her as she chopped up bits of salami and pepperoni and cheese, tossing them onto the beds of iceberg lettuce. 

"Organic?" I asked as I put my apple and orange back into the fridge since I didn't need to eat them anymore. 

"Nope, I got the box with the most sprayed pesticides on it that I could." Clementine jabbed, carrying the bowls over to the small eating area, rolling her eyes. "Of course its' organic." 

I chuckled, tossing the $90 onto the table. "We're getting closer." 

Clementine's teasing expression was immediately replaced with fondness, scooping the $90 off the table and murmured, "I'll go put it with the rest." She headed out of the room. 

We were combing our money so that we could move out after college. She didn't want to go home, and I didn't want her to be by herself. Besides, I wasn't looking forwards to going home either. 

I grew up in a normal family. Loving though fairly strict parents. Two annoying but loving brothers that lived with me, three other brothers that lived across the country and rarely saw. And of course, the seven rabbits. 

Clementine had also grown up with great parents. But her brother was a monster, disguised as an angel. Everyone loved him. Amazing grades, great athlete, polite, kind, charitable. He was even good looking at 6 foot six, dazzling green eyes, and thick chocolate brown hair. He had every girl at school lusting after him, but he said he wouldn't have sex with someone he wasn't serious about- which just made them all swoon again. 

Little did anyone know that he had his eyes on a different target- Clementine. 

Since he was older by five years, he had been able to groom her from a slightly younger age. He had never been able to successfully take her, but there had been near misses, ones that she didn't even understand. Until one day, she told me about it, saying she thought she  might be scared of her brother and told me. 

I was able to explain it to her a little bit, and then talked to my own parents about it, though not mentioning who it was. My parents had been concerned and told me what to advise my friend: Go to the police. 

So Clementine did. But it didn't work out. There was no proof and her parents were horrified that she had called the police on her own brother. They were afraid that it would ruin his chances at getting into college. 

So nothing happened. 

It wasn't that Clementines' parents were bad parents and they did love her immensely. After that, they did their best to keep their son and daughter separate. But my parents think that was just to keep Clementine from saying anything else. My parents would host sleepovers all the time so that Clementine could stay with us whenever she wanted. I knew they wanted to do more and I knew Clementines' own parents were curious, looking at their son a little differently. But without proof, nothing more could be done. 

He'd tried to get me under his wing, though I would never accept him. But that was why Clem and I needed to move out. We weren't going back. 

I watched as Clementine exited the dorm room, her eyes looking determined now. She sat down and we ate our salads, talking about the mundane things in life, enjoying the rest of the day together. 

ꨄ︎

The building that Professor Rogers wanted me to work at on Sundays turned out to be his house. It was a gorgeous two story house that was on the outskirts of the city. It looked like it had been made solely from wood, with a gorgeous design in the front. 

I was wearing a very similar outfit from yesterday and focused on not tripping over the stepping stones in my heels, before knocking on the door. 

Professor Rogers opened the door, smiling. "Glad to see you Miss Silvertongue. Please, come in." 

I stepped inside, looking around curiously. The inside was not exactly what I had expected from the house. The living room was extremely large, with an array of miscellaneous items placed around the room. 

There was a wooden staircase that led up to the second floor, with a TV pressed against the base of the stairs. The furniture in front of it was a lovely blue and black pattern, which matched the rest of the furniture. 

There were different sets of furniture settled around, along with lots of art portraits. The back wall was made almost completely of glass windows to see out into the surprisingly luscious backyard. I was surprised there were that many trees in New York. 

"We don't spend a lot of time in here." Professor Rogers said, walking up the stairs and I followed. "It's more for entertaining the other Professors if they're over." 

We? 

Well, it would make sense if he was married, actually. He looked like the type of man who would have a lovely house, wife, and children. I wondered what she looked like. I was imagining blond, green eyes, and bronze toned skin. 

"Anyways, I have my own office," Professor Rogers said as we walked past a set of double doors that were closed. He pointed to the door further down the hall. "And I have a side office that you can work in." 

A door to our left opened at that moment and I felt like the breath was knocked out of me as I saw Professor Barnes standing there. He was practically buck naked in only his boxers. I couldn't help it as my eyes scanned up his toned chest, his bulging muscles, and then his arm. 

His arm was a prosthetic made of metal in the colour of black with a gold lining lacing through it. I met his eyes, full of questions that I bit back when I saw how dark his blue eyes were. I could've sworn my undergarments were completely ruined now. 

"Morning Buck." Professor Rogers said with a smile. 

"Mornin'." Professor Barnes grumbled, shuffling past me, heading back the way Professor Rogers and I had come. 

"He's not much of a morning person." Professor Rogers chuckled. 

And then it hit me. 

"You two are together?" I asked curiously, while my heart sunk a little. Not that I would've had a chance even if he was straight anyways but still. 

"Uh, yeah." Professor Rogers said, blushing darkly. He glanced at me a little defensively. "We've loved each other for a long time." 

"That's nice." I said with a soft smile. I hesitated and then asked, "Was he. . . I mean his arm. . ." 

"Oh yeah." He opened the door to his office. "He lost it during an army tour. Fell off a cliff. It had to be amputated." 

"It looks beautiful." I commented under my voice. A little louder I said, "I'm sorry he had to go through that." 

Professor Rogers flashed me a smile. 

I looked around the office. It was a beautiful room, fashioned out of wood. A long bookcase covered one side of the wall before the stairs, filled with books lined up. Glancing at them, they seemed to be organized in a specific way, though I couldn't quite tell the pattern. 

The desk was oval shaped with two chairs in front of it, a nice leather chair behind it, the window opening up to show more of the backyard. A bird feeder hung outside the window, which a bluebird was eating from. 

There was a sitting area on the other side of the room, four chairs around a coffee table. A small circular disc sat in the middle of the table, which Professor Rogers scooped up, putting in his pocket as he walked past it. 

"Anyways, your office is up here." He said, starting up the stairs. 

I was slightly overwhelmed by the size of the house. It was a very nice, comfortable place. Exactly how much money did he have? And if he could afford this, why in the world was he working as a teacher? 

"You must enjoy being a teacher." I said, as I followed him up the stairs. 

"I love it." Professor Rogers said. "Especially history. I think it's one of the most important subjects for students to learn. That way, it's not repeated, although more often than not, it ends up getting repeated anyways. People don't recognize the signs. But I suppose every teacher says that about their subject." 

"Why does Professor Barnes teach?" I asked, pushing my luck. "He seems miserable teaching." 

"Does he?" Professor Rogers asked, seeming surprised as he looked over his shoulder, before opening the door at the top of the landing. We were on the third floor now- which I hadn't even been able to see from the outside. Why did the house look so small from the front? 

"Maybe not miserable. . ." I said hesitantly as I followed him into the room, "More. . ." 

I drifted off, looking at the office that I was to be working in. The door that Professor Rogers had just opened closed, blending in with the rest of the wall, a painting hanging on it. There were large glass windows across from the beautiful desk I would be working at. I could see the backyard even better from here, noticing that there was a pool there. A comfortable looking divan sat in front of the window. 

A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, matching the candelabra brackets hanging on the wall. A small table sat in the corner with a jade tea set sitting on it. The bookshelf's were a little more empty up here, mostly holding binders labelled with his different classes and a few Knick knacks. 

The desk was clear except for a newspaper that was sitting on there. It was the newspaper that Tony Stark owned and I grinned. "Feeling obligated to buy your co-workers newspaper?" 

Professor Rogers grinned back at me, picking the newspaper up. "What can I say? I'm a people pleaser." 

I couldn't help but blush for some reason. 

"Here's the binders which contain the different homework assignments." He continued, gesturing to the binders I had seen before on the bookshelf. "I thought that would be a little easier for you. I don't expect you to get everything done of course, just as much as you can before eleven." 

"I'll get started right away." I said with a smile, moving forwards and picking up the one for the study of the Middle East. He moved through the hidden wall-door, closing it softly behind him, leaving me alone in the grand room. 

I noticed that it had double doors that opened up into another hallway. This place was seriously a maze. 

I settled down behind the desk, feeling a little surreal. There was no way this was actually real. 

Smiling to myself, I started to work. 

ꨄ︎

I stood up, stretching as I set the fourth binder aside. I still had some time before I started on the fifth and sixth binders, but I needed to use the bathroom desperately. 

Professor Rogers hadn't shown me where the bathroom was, but I was sure there was probably one down the hall. I exited the double doors easily, moving down the hallway and then paused. All of the doors looked the same, so I was probably going to have to open all of them first. 

I decided to knock on each one just in case and then when there was no answer, I would open it up and look. Most of the rooms on the third floor looked to be empty guest rooms. On the last one however, I squeaked, Professor Barnes standing on the other side of the door. 

He looked down at me, an eyebrow cocked at me. 

"S-sorry. I was looking for the bathroom." I stuttered out. He still hadn't put a shirt on, though he was wearing jeans now. I adverted my eyes away from his body. "Um, where is the bathroom?" 

He stepped out of the room and I felt my back touch the wall as he turned to me. I swallowed thickly, looking up into his eyes now. The blue of his eyes was fascinating to look at it, it was so beautiful. 

"Buck?" Professor Rogers voice floated down the hallway and I looked over to see his face turn from confusion to surprise. 

"She's looking for the bathroom Steve." Professor Barnes said in a gravely voice, not moving an inch until he looked over at Professor Rogers. 

The blond professor rolled his eyes and punched the brunettes metal arm. "Then move jerk. Miss Silvertongue, the bathroom is through that door." He pointed to the door Professor Barnes had just come out of it. 

"Thanks." I squeaked, my face turning redder than it had been before. I turned and went into the room, closing the door behind me. I closed my eyes, wanting to scream and squeal at the same time. 

Instead, I went to the bathroom in a hurry, not even realizing my hands were shaking until I had to push extra hard to flush the toilet. I sat back down on the covered seat, putting my face in my hands. I could practically feel the heat of my burning face against the sensitive skin of my palms.

"Breathe." I verbally coached myself, standing up in a determined sort of way. I washed my hands, refraining from splashing cool water against my face to preserve the makeup, and left the bathroom. 

Professor Barnes was still standing in the hallway, observing me as I closed the door behind me. "I'm just here to make sure you don't get lost again." 

My face went bright red and I said nothing, simply turning and stalking down the hallway, a little angrily. He had something against me, I could just feel it. 

Professor Barnes trailed after me and as I reached the study door, I turned back to him, "Well I'm not lost. Thanks." 

His lips curved, a smirk dancing there. It was probably the closest that I would ever get to seeing him smile. I huffed, "And put a shirt on." 

Suddenly, he was to close again, my back pressed up against the wall once more. "Did you just give me an order?" He asked in a dark voice. I was both terrified and completely turned on. My heart started pounding in my chest. 

"Yes." I said, though I sounded meeker than I had meant. "It's inappropriate of you to walk around half naked while there's a student around." 

Professor Barnes leaned in closer and dropped his voice. "You're in my house, doll. You'll just have to get used to it." And then he pulled away, walking off down the hall.  

I couldn't breathe, watching him as he walked away. I hadn't even noticed how tight his jeans were around his ass and thighs. . . damn he had thick thighs. . . 

Not the time!

I forced myself back into the office, finishing off the two binders, before deciding to leave through the study door. Professor Rogers was in there and he looked up as I came down the stairs. 

"Ah, you're done Miss Silvertongue?" 

I was still very pent up and I was hard pressed to keep my cool. My smile was a little more strained and I replied, "Yes Professor Rogers. I graded everything except seven homework assignments where I could not read their handwriting at all. I marked them with the red paperclips in the drawer just like you had told me to do." 

"Thank you Miss Silvertongue." Professor Rogers replied, thinking for a second, and then pulling out the $60 I had earned today. "I'll see you in class on Tuesday." 

"Good-bye." I said and exited the office. I headed down the corridor, taking the stairs and then headed out the front door. 

I sighed, pulling up my phone to see when the next uber would be able to get here. I jumped when someone cleared their throat behind me. 

"Need a ride?" 

"Oh!" I nearly yelped, biting down on my tongue as I turned around. Professor Barnes stood there- fully dressed darn it. . . I mean thankfully!- holding a set of car keys. I noticed he'd put gloves back on his hands. "Um, only if it's not an inconvenience for you." 

"You're inconveniencing me by not accepting right away. Hurry up." Professor Barnes turned on his heel, heading towards the garage. I growled under my breath, before smoothing my face back over into a slightly sarcastic smile, following after him. 

Professor Barnes opened up the passenger door of a car that to me, looked like a boxy rectangle. "You know anything about cars Miss Silvertongue?" 

"They've got four wheels and get me where I need to go." I replied as I stepped into the car. 

He closed the door behind me, getting in on the other side. I knew it was a luxury brand from the inside of the car. It wasn't exactly what I had thought it would look like from the outside being pure black, but the inside was blue and black. It didn't just look fancy, it looked almost futuristic. 

"Are you always a smart ass?" Professor Barnes asked as he backed the car out of the driveway. 

"Only when asked stupid questions." I muttered, looking out the window. 

"This is a Rolls-Royce Phantom VII." Professor Barnes said, sounding proud. "Cars are some of the best things about this century." 

I snorted, "How old are you?" 

"Like thirty-eight or something. Who keeps track anymore." Professor Barnes answered flippantly. "Where am I dropping you off?" 

"Anywhere on campus. I'll walk back to my dorm from there." I replied. 

The rest of the drive was silent, until Professor Barnes was pulling over in a secluded spot on campus. I was glad for that. It would stop awkward questions of who was driving and who I had been with. 

"Hey." Professor Barnes said as I went to open the door. "Me and Stevie? That doesn't reach a word to a single person on campus, understand? Including Miss Greenleaf. Got it?" 

"Yes, I understand." I said softly. "I won't tell anyone." 

"Good. Cause if you do, you'll regret it." Professor Barnes warned me in a dangerous voice, before smoothing it over and smirking. "See you tomorrow doll." 

I quickly got out of the car before he could see my face had turned bright red, striding across the campus grounds to put as much room between me and my Psychology Professor as possible.

[spookberry]

One of the funniest/dumbest literal thinking autism moments of my childhood happened when I was in 2nd grade. I was going to a new school so I was made to do a bunch of assessments to see where I placed in different subjects. I was most excited for the reading one cuz at my old school I was the best reader in my class, and I wanted to show off.

The lady testing me hands me this little short story and asks me to read it aloud.

And for some reason that I still don't understand to this day, a bunch of the words randomly had like lines or dots above the vowels. Which idk seems like an unnecessary and confusing thing to include when testing a 7 year old. Like you're gaslighting them into thinking theres extra letters in the alphabet. So obvi I ask what the symbols mean cuz I've never seen them in this context. She sorta brushes me off and says, word for word, "those mean you just say the letters name"

What she undoubtedly meant was: "on those words, the letter highlighted will sound like what its called. O with the line sounds O and not uh or ew or whatever"

What I understood was "Just Say the Letters Name"

So anyways i proceeded to read the story aloud, stopping suddenly every other word to pause cuz I wasnt supposed to say bow i was supposed to say o. I know for a fact at one point I just said a word and then stopped and repeated the sentence with just the letter so she HAD to've known I'd misunderstood her. But she said absolutely nothing. I remember walking outta there feeling like a complete idiot, and feeling so embarrassed when later they told my mom my reading skills were an entire grade behind where I should've been. But also looking back at it like wtf how could theyve possibly gotten an accurate understanding of my reading ability under those conditions.

[guppygiggles]

Full scenes aren’t really my strong suit, but given the interest, here is a continuation of this little Professor Nimbus storyline. 💙

[ironunderstands]

What's your opinion on people claiming aventio is teacher x student and that it's problematic because of ratio calling aven his student

Read a book please and if you are of voting age please refrain from participating in your elections because if your mental capacity is clearly lacking and I don’t want your poor decision making to impact others.

a) If you believe Aventio is genuinely student X teacher, HOW????

They are the same goddamn age, Ratio literally sees EVERYONE INCLUDING HIMSELF as a student, it’s not that serious to him and he’s not LITERALLY Aventurine’s teacher, he just wants to help him learn things and idk how that got twisted to being problematic. Also this would make every other Ratio ship problematic but I don’t see yall mentioning them ever hmmm. Ratio isn’t literally handing him out homework for fucks sake, he’s trying to help him, and if that’s somehow problematic then god help me. Moreover, their relationship isn’t strictly a professional one, sure they have jobs to get done but once that’s over they can spend time together and it’s fine because they are EQUALS and PARTNERS, the guild literally positions them as STRATEGIC PARTNERS because they are on the SAME PLAYING FIELD AAAAAAAA

and B) what makes student X teacher toxic in the first place is the power gap between both parties, but get this, AVENTIO’S IS REVERSED. Ratio literally holds no power over Aventurine, whether it be in age (they are in the same age range), intellect (Aventurine is extremely intelligent, just in a different manner), and in terms of both position and pure physical strength, Aventurine completely overpowers Ratio, yet I don’t see anyone trying to babyfy Ratio over this because nobody who has actually made this argument has thought about it, let alone the characters they are describing for more than 3 seconds

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

The sweater says "collects comic books" and the face says "collects phone numbers"

The Guardian Weekend (2006)

Transcript:

Hi, I'm David-in-my-pants," says the very boyish, handsome 34-year-old striding towards me, arm extended, wearing, as promised, his underpants. Perhaps the train journey from London to Cardiff was worth it after all.

"I just don't have the courage of my convictions about my fashion decisions-I think I need some guidance there," he adds in his charming Scottish accent, his eyes all characteristically puppyish and pleading. Yes, the trip is definitely worth it so far.

This fashion insecurity is a bit surprising, though, seeing as it comes from David Tennant, the tenth and latest Dr Who (he's in Cardiff filming the newseries) and, according to the Pink Paper, "the sexiest man in the universe" (Tennant claimed, sweetly, that he was "somewhat surprised" by that accolade.)

When playing the title role in the BBC's widely acclaimed Casanova, Tennant wore flouncy blouses with aplomb; and his outfit for Dr Who English tweeds paired with scruffy Converse - has already received plaudits from the fashion press. "It's not a million miles from what I usually wear," he says, "so I now have to be careful if people see me out and about looking too much like Dr. Who, that would be pretty naff."

The Converse were inspired by Tennant himself - he's been devoted to the brand for more than 20 years - so when I tell him that David Cameron wears them, too, he reels back into the sofa, aghast "No!" he whispers. "You`ve just ruined them for me.

He insists that becoming a recognised face has not changed his style, but has made him more conscious that he shouldn't wear something more than once because people comment on it. This, naturally, means constant wardrobe updates, which rather goes against a Presbyterian upbringing "that would never permit any conspicuous consumption."

Tennant's teenage years were a swamp of fashion mistakes, he says, citing in particular a pink jumper that we wore for years until someone told him that it was, well, terrible. And at 15 he sported a paisley shirt, skinny tie and cropped jacket combo that "properly expressed myself" - unfortunately, his tracksuit-wearing peers disagreed and punched him in the face. "Yeah, that didn't work out too well."

He is, he says repeatedly, not a shopper. "I do that typical male thing of finding one thing and doing it to death, like Paul Smith suits." He recently discovered H&M, he adds, enunciating each of the letters carefully, as if tentatively speaking in a new language. "Plain T-shirts for only a tuppence."

Yet despite all of this he seems at ease during the shoot. He particularly likes a tan jumper, which prompts him to stroke his hands over his chest in a most distracting manner. "I love this - what is it?"

Burberry, comes the answer.