#next 1 syllabus

[fathermulcahyofficial]

I cant wait for the classes I’m taking to be over and for my next one to start

[liesonthefloordramatically]

I can't love you how you want me to

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 2)

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: sprinkling anthony bridgerton references in this because wreck my plans that's my man!! anyways this is actually going to be 3 parts because i have zero self control and ended up writing 15k words in total and im trying to see whether i like posting parts or doing one whole one shot more so there's going to be a third part. but for once in my writer life i have the whole thing written so it will be out in a couple days! have no idea how this fic became this long out of nowhere but i hope you all enjoy lol. stressed reader x calm bf will always be famous on this blog

wc: 4.9k

warning(s): almost cheating? fiyero is still w/ galinda for most of this so the line is very blurred but they dont cross it lmao. the slightest bit of angst but basically all fluff

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero spread his arms out as you took a seat in the grass. Idly, you wondered about getting grass stains out before he started talking again. “Fresh air, actual sunlight, and things to look at other than words on a page.”

“I do go outside,” you said wryly. “You act like I’m some hermit.”

He shrugged. “I only ever see you in class or at the library.”

“I’m just there most of the time,” you said with a slight laugh. “I’m not this smart by slacking off.”

Fiyero said your name with surprise. “Was that a joke?”

You laughed again. “Hardly.”

“I think it was,” he nodded. “You really are learning how to have fun.”

“I know how to have fun!” you exclaimed. “We just have different ideas of fun!”

“And what is your idea of fun?” Fiyero asked pointedly. “Studying? Attending class? Going through the intricacies of various languages?”

“That last one is very fun,” you defended. 

“How did you decide on linguistics anyways?” he asked. “You’re incredibly passionate about something I didn’t even know was a major here.”

“It’s not, technically.” You shrugged. “I’m a history major. I just convinced Doctor Dillamond to let me be his teacher’s assistant so I could include more linguistics lessons in the syllabus.”

“How do you do it?” he asked. “Oz— why do you do it? You’re stressed all the time. Surely taking one less class or not being a TA wouldn’t kill you. All of this seems like it is.” 

“I’m not like you, Fiyero,” you said. “I can’t get kicked out of a hundred schools and still be fine. I’ve got one chance, and if I squander it, then I’ve also squandered my dream. And that’s unacceptable to me.”

“There’s always second chances,” he said. “And third ones, too. Sometimes even fourth.” 

“Maybe for a prince,” you laughed. “But not for somebody like me.” 

“And just who are you?” Fiyero asked as he sat down next to you. “I know you’re Gillikinese and I know you’re probably going to succeed in whatever you attempt. But I still feel like I don’t know anything about who you are without the school uniform.” 

“Why does that matter?” you asked defensively. “We’re project partners, not friends.” 

“Because I’d very much like us to be friends,” he answered simply. 

That might have been the most shocking thing he’d said all day. Fiyero Tigelaar, Winkie prince and self-declared slacker and desired paramour of nearly every Shiz student, said he wanted to be your friend. 

Again, that warmth bloomed inside you. You tried to ignore it—tried to fully banish it. 

“Don’t do this,” you said, looking away from him. 

“Do what?”

“Act like you like me,” you said, stronger this time. “You— you do it with everyone, and that’s fine, but don’t do it with me.” 

“I’m not following,” Fiyero said. 

You glared at him. “I know you aren’t this daft.”

“Apologies,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how you figured I don’t genuinely like you.”

You blinked. “Because you’re you. You flirt with everybody so you can dance through life.”

“Of course,” Fiyero agreed. “It just so happens that I genuinely like you in addition.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why?”

His laugh was nothing but shocked. “Are you asking me why I like you?”

“Well,” you glanced away with a huff, “when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.” 

“I’ll bite anyways,” Fiyero said. “I like you because you know what you want. You never really stop talking about it, honestly.”

“Are you trying to compliment me?”

“You’re intelligent and driven and you don’t shy away from anything you want,” he continued. “And you thoroughly vex me in near every encounter we have, most joyously.”

“…So you like me because I’m stubborn and confusing,” you said. 

Fiyero sighed. “You‘ve got some serious self esteem issues.”

“I do not!” you exclaimed.

“You’ve tied your worth to your academic achievement,” he said. “You can’t see all the good you’ve already done, how smart you truly are, because you only stress about the next thing you need to do. You’d rather lose your mind over what’s to come than realize all you’ve got in the moment.”

Your mouth opened and closed for a good five seconds, like a fish out of water, before it snapped shut. 

“I thought you were supposed to be brainless,” you settled on. 

“I am,” Fiyero agreed with a chuckle. “But I also know people better than most, and our study sessions have given me ample time to study you.”

Great Oz, why was your face so hot? You felt like you were burning up from the inside out. Fiyero Tigelaar was killing you, and slowly at that. 

“Why are you studying me?” you asked pointedly. 

“Because you’re interesting,” he said. “And very beautiful.”

“Well, I’m— I’m glad we’ve finally reached a truce.” You tried to sound as casual as possible—you couldn’t let Fiyero know the full effect he was beginning to have on you. You didn’t think he would ever shut up about that, and Galinda certainly wouldn’t either. You didn’t want to make an enemy of her. “It’ll make this project much easier.”

“Yes,” Fiyero mused. “I believe it will.”

Amusement, and maybe something warmer, danced in his irises. A very small part of you wanted to let yourself fall, freely and uncaring, just as every other student did. 

You had to lock that part of you away, never to be seen again. You didn’t like Fiyero. He was still a nuisance in every single sense of the word. 

You swallowed, trying to cure your cottonmouth. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

You needed to finish this essay immediately. 

-

You sighed when you heard a knock on your door. Coralie, for how smart she was, had a habit of forgetting her room key—so much so that you’d stopped bothering to lock the door on the days she went to class before you. 

“It’s unlocked, Cora!” you called out. You didn’t want to get up from your desk, not when you were in the middle of writing. You were worried that you would lose the thread of inspiration you’d finally caught the moment you got out of your chair. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” a familiar voice said. “All sorts of miscreants could get in.” 

Your hand slipped in your shock, but you couldn’t even be annoyed about smearing the fresh ink on the page or getting it on your shirt cuffs because you had more important things to worry about. Namely, your surprise visitor. 

“Fiyero?” 

“Present,” he affirmed as he leaned against your doorframe. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thank you,” you said. “What are you doing here?” 

“Much less pink than Galinda’s,” he continued. “I think it’s the only color she owns, honestly. A bit absurd but—” 

“What are you doing here?” you repeated. 

“I should be asking you that question,” Fiyero said, eyes narrowing in on you. “I went to the library and you weren’t there.” 

You cleared your throat. “I was giving you the day off.” 

He frowned and stood up from the doorframe. “Who said I wanted the day off?” 

“You,” you said. “When you didn’t show up to Doctor Dillamond’s class today.” 

Fiyero brushed his hand through the air. “That’s different.” 

You looked at him expectantly. “So you skipped the class this project is for, but you don’t want to skip the actual project.” 

“That sounds about right, yes.” 

“You don’t even do anything whenever we’re together,” you said. “You just stare at me and complain about doing work and ask me about my life and take an hour to write one page of notes.” 

“That also sounds about right,” Fiyero said. “I enjoy your presence. Do you not enjoy mine?” 

If only he knew the way he’d been making you feel for the past week. He could never know that he appeared in your dream last night. 

“...Your presence is fine,” you said. “I just figured I would give you the day off, seeing as we only have one week left until it’s due.” 

“How much have you written already without me?” he asked. 

“Five pages, but that—” 

“You’ve nearly done half of the project without me?” Fiyero interrupted. 

“...Yes?” Why did you actually feel bad about this? 

Fiyero got closer so he could look over your shoulder at your work, and you found yourself holding your breath at his proximity. 

“Do you think you’re doing me a favor?” 

“Clearly,” you said. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner it’s over, and the sooner you don’t have to deal with me anymore.” You shrugged. “You said you wanted to ride my coattails anyways, so I figured I would make it easier for you.” 

“Just a few days ago you were chastising me for not doing my part,” Fiyero said. “Now you’re not even letting me try?” 

“I—” the words stuck in your throat, and again you felt your face heat. 

I don’t want to have to think about any of this more than I have to because I’m worried what I’ll realize. 

I don’t want to give you any more chances to take me off course because I know I’ll say yes. 

I don’t want to be around you longer than I have to because I think I’m starting to like you. 

“Yes?” 

“I am doing you a favor,” you finally decided. “You don’t have to worry about it. Go ride that horse of yours, or bother other students, or spend time with Galinda. You’ve earned it.” 

“Hardly,” Fiyero said. “I’m doing my part, whether you like it or not. We’ll meet at the library tomorrow morning before class like we’ve been doing.” 

“I have class at 8 in the morning tomorrow.” 

“...Then we’ll do it after class,” he reneged. “I do need my beauty sleep.” 

That got a smile out of you, which spurned one from Fiyero in turn. “I think that is one of the only genuine smiles you’ve given me since we started working together.” 

“I smile plenty,” you insisted. 

“At your books,” Fiyero said. “Not at me.” 

“That’s because my books are oh-so-beautiful,” you said. “And they don’t even need beauty sleep.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “You wound me.” 

Your smile grew and you set your pen down. “The library after class?” 

Fiyero nodded and tapped on your desk as he stood up. “Library after class.” 

He was about to go to the door when Coralie poked her head in. “Why is the door— oh! Fiyero!” She straightened up, plastering on a pretty smile as she stepped inside. “What brings you to our corner of Shiz?” 

“Doctor Dillamond’s midterm,” he said. “Your roommate here is trying to save all of the fun for herself.” 

“That sounds like her,” Cora nodded sagely. “You’re very good to try and keep her from that fate.”

Fiyero pressed his hand to his chest. “I consider it my duty. But I apologize for the intrusion—I’ll leave the two of you be.”

“Oh, stay as long as you want,” she spoke up. “I’m sure your partner wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s got things to do,” you interceded. “You’ve got things to do, Fiyero.”

He smiled knowingly. “I certainly do. You lovely ladies have a fine rest of your day.” He looked at you and said your name. “Don’t forget tomorrow.”

“How could I?” you said weakly. 

Fiyero chuckled and bowed his head in lieu of more parting words. The second he left, Cora turned to you with wide eyes. 

“Don’t,” you warned. 

“He came here to talk to you!” she exclaimed. “He found out your room number because he wanted to talk to you!” 

“Be quiet!” you exclaimed. “The door is still open—he can probably hear your screeching!”

Coralie shut the door and squealed. “He likes you!”

“We are project partners,” you enunciated. “Nothing more.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s what you think,” she said. “Just like I’m sure that he wants to be more.” 

“You’re acting like he isn’t with Galinda,” you said. “She controls this whole school—do you remember what happened to Elphaba when she didn’t like her?” 

Cora shrugged. “Sure. But I’ve been hearing there’s trouble in paradise.” 

That got you paying attention. “What?” 

“I knew it!” Coralie exclaimed—nearly yelled, honestly. “I knew you liked him!” 

“Be quiet!” you whisper-yelled. “Oz, what is wrong with you?” 

“I knew you liked him!” she repeated. “And he likes you— oh, it is too perfect!” 

“He does not like me,” you insisted, “and you are crazy.” 

“You didn’t say that you didn’t like him,” Coralie sung, and you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Fine!” you finally said. “Fine— I like him. Will you stop now?”

“Of course not,” she said, and you sighed. “How bad do you have it?”

“I don’t have it bad,” you scoffed. “I just— I enjoy spending time with him. And I think he’s kind of cute.” 

“Oh, you are full on head over heels,” she mused. “You just don’t know it. It’s okay.” 

You groaned as you buried your head in your hands. “I hate you.” 

She laughed. “And you like Fiyero.” 

“Shut up.” Your words were muffled, but you meant them all the same. 

You were comically doomed. 

-

The next day went… shockingly smooth. 

Fiyero was in the library when he said he’d be—he was even there before you, much to your surprise and he still had the notebook and pen you’d given him, much to his surprise. He made sure to bring an extra canteen of water for you, because he noticed you never had any with you. You were probably concerningly dehydrated. 

He tried to be a more attentive student to you than he’d ever been at any of his classes—not that that was difficult. You explained your outline and all the work you’d already done, what he could do on the last five pages and how to make his writing voice match yours to make a consistent paper. 

He wrote notes both on what you knew about Ilara Mayfair (a ridiculous amount, in his opinion) and anything else you thought he needed to know (also a ridiculous amount).

He was impressed most of all, though. No wonder you’d isolated yourself from near the entire student body and stressed over every letter in every sentence in every assignment. You were incredibly intelligent, but you were also able to explain everything in a way that even he understood. Fiyero had never really cared about… well, anything relating to school before he ended up partners with you. 

But now, Fiyero found himself surprisingly entranced by it all. He’d always liked your voice, and he had a permanent smile on his lips watching you talk so easily about your passions. It put a spark in your eye and a brightness about you that was usually bogged down by everything else that you stressed about. 

You were beautiful, especially when you were happy. And Fiyero had discovered over the past week that you were happiest when you got to talk about what you cared about to an interested audience. He only regretted acting like he wasn’t interested for so long. 

Finally, when Fiyero called a break on account of his hands aching (he’d never written this much in his life, and it still was only half of what you did basically every day), and you were eating an apple (that he also brought, because you really didn’t take care of yourself when you were doing work, which was always), he smiled at you. 

“You know, we really do make a good team,” Fiyero said. 

You swallowed the bite of apple you had in your mouth and cocked your head as you looked at him. “You think?” 

“I know,” he nodded. “You’ve done the impossible, darling. You’ve actually made me care about school.” 

“Well, I think you’ve done the impossible too.” You lifted the apple up. “You made me care about my health during midterms season.” 

“It certainly wasn’t easy,” he said wryly. “You kind of took it all kicking and screaming.”

You shrugged. “I’m not top of our class for nothing.” 

“Do you have to stress yourself into misery to be top of the class?” he asked. 

“I’m not miserable,” you retorted. 

It was when you said things like that that Fiyero really began to worry about you. It was part of the reason he was so intent on staying by your side through this whole project—no matter how dull he found the material—after the first session. He sometimes saw you around campus, usually carrying a stack of books or talking with your roommate.

After Fiyero was paired with you, he wondered why he didn’t see you more before it all, considering how active you were with literally everything school-wise. Then he realized you were likely always in the library, and the only time he’d visited the library was on Galinda’s tour. You were there, well enough, but you took your leave as soon as things started getting rowdy. 

A shame, he realized. He wondered what your relationship could have been had Galinda not staked her claim on him so soon. 

You weren’t going to take care of yourself, clearly enough, so Fiyero decided—at least for the duration of this project—that he would. It didn’t really matter if you were top of the class if you passed out from stress, exhaustion, annoyance, or a mix of all three. Likely a mix of all three. 

He didn’t really anticipate those feelings morphing into genuine affection. 

“I seem to recall you saying you dream of your future assignments,” Fiyero said, coming out of his thoughts. “That doesn’t sound like the habit of a happy person.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “Everybody has stress dreams.” 

“You know, I really don’t think they do,” Fiyero said. 

You rolled your eyes as you picked your pen up with your free hand and jotted down a few more sentences. “Sure.”

“On that note,” he said, “why don’t we call it a day?”

“We can’t call it a day,” you said. You took another bite from your apple and swallowed, continuing to write all the while without looking at him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“That is the most casually you’ve said that so far,” Fiyero mused. “I really am making progress.”

You laughed, finally paying him mind. “Progress with what?”

“I’ve been tracking your smiles and laughs this whole time,” he said. “See, this essay was your project, but that was mine—trying to make you enjoy your life.”

“This essay is both of our projects, Fiyero,” you said. “Besides, I don’t think Doctor Dillamond will accept your bar graph of all the times I laughed at you making a fool of yourself.” You frowned. “Or would it be a line graph because it’s over time? Or maybe it could be—”

“Alright,” he interrupted. “You’re going into hypotheticals on my joke. That’s clearly the sign that we need to call it a day.”

“…Fine,” you reneged. “But it’s just a break, not calling it a day. And I get to finish proofreading the rest of the essay when we get back.”

“A compromise,” Fiyero said. “Love it.”

You rolled your eyes as you started gathering your things. “You love everything.” 

“Eh,” he tilted his head, and you felt his eyes on you. “Most things.” 

You couldn’t help your smile, much as you tried to bite it back. “Whatever.” 

Soon enough, you and Fiyero were sitting together by the dock. You let your legs dangle over as you watched the scenery around campus—the ripple of the water, the gentle brush of the wind, the chirping birds that flew around without a care.

“Isn’t this nice?” Fiyero asked. He also had his legs over the edge, but he’d laid down against the stone. 

“You don’t have to push your relaxation propaganda so hard anymore,” you said wryly. “I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“And I’m grateful for it,” he said. “Someone that works as hard as you do deserves to relax the same amount.” 

“We’ve gone over this a thousand times—”

“I know,” he interrupted. He turned his head to smile at you. “I just have to hope that some of it sticks.” 

You rolled your eyes, once again unable to hide your smile. “And I have to hope for the same with this paper. Do you think you’ll remember any of this once we turn it in?”

“Oh, but of course. You were the one to teach it to me, after all. I could hardly forget it all.” 

“Good,” you said. “Everyone should know about Ilara Mayfair.” 

Fiyero chuckled, and you once again fell into comfortable silence. 

That was the thing that shocked you the most, you think. Not that you were beginning to like Fiyero, or that you actually liked Fiyero, or that you actually looked forward to spending time with him. It was that you were so comfortable just sitting with him in silence. 

It was very difficult to get to the silence, though. Fiyero couldn’t really stay quiet, and you didn’t know if he liked talking or the sound of his own voice. But you found it didn’t really annoy you like it used to. 

Great Oz. You really were into him. How embarrassing. 

Eventually, when the strain in your wrists and fingers from writing had finally faded, you turned your head to look at Fiyero. “I think it’s time we go back.”

He sighed. “Already?” 

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” you said. “Far longer than the breaks I usually take.” 

He opened his mouth, likely to say something of the same ‘you need to relax’ ilk, but you held up your hand. “Don’t. Just be thankful you got me away for this long.” 

Fiyero smiled, and he pulled himself up off the ground. “I always am.” 

He held his hand out, and you stared at him for a moment. “Why do you always do that?” 

“Help you up?” 

You nodded. “I can do it myself.” 

He shrugged. “I told you it was my project to make your life easier.” 

“You said it was your project to track my happiness,” you said. 

“And they go hand in hand,” he said. “I’m surprised you remember.” 

“It happened thirty minutes ago, Fiyero,” you said wryly. “Besides, I remember everything. It’s a gift.” 

Fiyero laughed, and you finally took his hand. He pulled you up and once again, you tumbled a bit too close—and again, his hand fell to your waist. He had to be doing this on purpose by now. 

“We keep finding ourselves in this position,” Fiyero mused. 

Heat flooded your cheeks like usual. “And whose fault is that?” 

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “you’re not exactly pulling away.” 

Your mouth opened, trying to think of what words to say when your head was reeling from his mere presence. But then you saw a flash of pink in the background, and your eyes darted away from Fiyero. 

Galinda. She was distracted, talking with Pfannee and Shenshen as she went down the stairs. Oz, how did she slip your mind so easily whenever Fiyero was in your proximity? Why did you let him get this close when he was spoken for? 

You panicked—nothing less. You tore out of Fiyero’s grasp with a bit too much gumption, and then you stumbled, then you slipped, and then you fell. Fiyero called your name in shock, reaching his hand out, but it was too late. You’d plunged into the water before you could save yourself. 

The cold water instantly shocked all your senses, your eyes widening as you gasped out on instinct. Your mouth filled with water and your muscles seized up from the change in temperature—it was so much deeper than you’d imagined, and all your layers of clothing weighing you down were of no use. 

You tried your damnedest to ignore the alarm bells going off in your head as you fought against yourself, finally gathering the sense to swim. You kicked your way up to the top, gasping for air once when you breached the surface. 

You heard Fiyero yell your name again and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the water from your eyes. When everything finally came into focus, you saw him on his knees, his coat shed and his sleeves rolled up. 

His eyes were wide as he reached his hand out, once again saying your name—this time with a certain desperation. “Are you alright?”

You tried to respond but all you could do was cough, trying to expel the water from your lungs. You took his hand and he helped pull you up onto the dock, where an exhale shuddered out of you.

“I— I am so sorry,” he stammered. It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered, and you were too busy hacking up a lung to point it out. “Obviously I didn’t think—”

You held up your hand in lieu of saying something, as you didn’t think you could say something. 

This was so stupid, and it was something that never would have happened before you and Fiyero started working together. Your paper was due in two days, you’d only just finished the draft, you still had so much proofreading and rewriting to do, and instead, you were here on the docks soaked to the bone. 

And you found yourself laughing. 

“Oh, Oz,” Fiyero said. “You’ve lost it.” 

You couldn’t refute it, because you kept laughing. You could feel the eyes of your classmates on you, could hear them whispering to each other—likely making fun of you—and it only made you laugh harder. 

“Are—” Fiyero chuckled nervously as he said your name, “are you okay?” 

“I’m soaked,” you got out through your laughs. “And everyone saw me fall into the water. I’m a fool, Fiyero!” 

He was still staring at you in that careful way, as if you were made of glass. “I can’t tell if you’re mad or not.” 

“Oh, Fiyero.” You wiped the trailing water off of your face and wrapped your arms around him. You felt him freeze beneath you for the slightest moment—it had to have been the last thing he expected you to do. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Fiyero returned the hug, his movements still unsure. He didn’t seem to care that you were getting him wet, just about your wellbeing. “What— what for, exactly?” 

For a moment, you couldn’t look away. His blue eyes were meant to enrapture, his soft lips typically an invitation sealed with a smirk. But for once, Fiyero looked genuine—he wasn’t putting on a performance, or trying to seduce anyone who looked at him. He was genuinely sorry, genuinely confused. It only made you laugh again.

“What for, indeed.” A higher voice pierced through the air, and you separated from Fiyero immediately. Galinda, to no surprise, had found her way over to the chaos you’d created, her compatriots flanking her on either side. She smiled at you brightly, but her whole demeanor was like a violin string pulled taut. 

“Galinda,” Fiyero said. “Lovely to see you.” He didn’t seem half as shocked as you at her appearance, but his words fell flat. 

“And you as well, dearest.” Her smile turned sickly sweet as she shifted her attention to Fiyero momentarily, taking the opportunity to lace her fingers with his and pull him into a kiss. He pulled away first, but if it affected Galinda, she didn’t let it show when she looked back at you. She batted her eyelashes as she said your name incorrectly. “What was it you were saying?” 

The sudden combination of cottonmouth and sour guilt creeping up your throat didn’t really help your already flustered state. She knew what she was doing—but you did too, didn’t you? 

She was with Fiyero. You knew that. And though Fiyero danced across the line, you took his hand every time he offered. 

“I—” you cleared your throat, attempting a casual smile of your own. “Just that I know why Doctor Dillamond put us together.”

“Excellent,” Fiyero said. “Off-topic, but excellent— are you sure you didn’t hit your head down there?” 

“Perhaps you should go to the nurse,” Galinda said. “I’m sure Shenshen could—” 

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted, your smile tightening ever so slightly. You looked at Fiyero. “Meet me at the library tonight, and bring coffee. We’re finishing this project tonight. 

“Of course,” he nodded.  

You nodded as well, and you started to go. Galinda’s gaze was sugary sweet poison, and you couldn’t take the weight of it anymore. 

“Wait,” Fiyero spoke up. 

You stopped against your better judgment, and he let go of Galinda’s hand to take his jacket off. He moved closer to you and wrapped it around you. His touch, light but certain, lingered on your shoulders once he’d finished adjusting it, and his gaze stayed on yours 

“Until you can change,” he said. 

“...Thank you,” you said. 

Galinda cleared her throat extremely loudly, her taut smile back. You remembered yourself and stepped away from Fiyero. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” you said, already starting on your way. You wouldn’t let him stop you again. 

“Tonight,” he agreed, bowing his head in parting. 

You only glanced back once you were by the stairs. When you did, you saw Galinda speaking rapidly to Fiyero—you were too far away to hear anything, but she didn’t look happy. When your gaze drifted to him, you found he was already looking at you. Almost subconsciously, you tugged his jacket tighter around you. When you realized what you were doing, you stopped. You averted your eyes immediately and hurried up the stairs. 

You weren’t out of breath from exertion. 

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Becoming an Intelligent Woman

My Dears,

There is no greater goal than being a fine woman who is intelligent, kind, and elegant. As much as we all want to be described with these adjectives, it takes a great amount of discipline to get there. It is very doable only if you are ready to put in the work.

Here are steps you can add to your routine in the next 4 weeks that will make you 1% more intelligent than you were before. This is a process that should become a habit not a goal. It is long term, however, I want you to devote just 4 weeks into doing these steps first and recognize the changes that follow.

Watch documentaries: This is the easiest step, we all have access to Youtube. Youtube has a great number of content on art, history, technology, food, science etc that will increase your knowledge and pique your curiosity. I really did not know much about world history especially from the perspective of World war 1 & 2, the roaring 20s, Age of Enlightenment, Jazz era, monarchies etc but with several channels dedicated to breaking down history into easily digestible forms. I have in the last 4 weeks immersed myself into these documentaries. Here are a few I watched:

The fall of monarchies

The Entire History of United Kingdom

The Eight Ages of Greece

World War 1

World War 2

The Roaring '20s

The Cuisine of the Enlightenment

2. Read Classics: I recommend starting with short classics so that you do not get easily discouraged. Try to make reading easy and interesting especially if you struggle with finishing a book. Why classics? You see, if you never went to an exclusive private school in Europe or America with well crafted syllabus that emphasized philosophy, history, art, and literary classics, you might want to know what is felt like and for me this was a strong reason. Asides that, there is so much wisdom and knowledge available in these books. In these books, you gain insights to the authors mind, the historical context of the era, the ingenuity of the author, the hidden messages, and the cultural impact of these books. Most importantly, you develop your personal philosophy from the stories and lessons you have accumulated from the lives of the characters in the books you read. Here are classics to get you started:

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

Candide by Voltaire

Paradise lost by John Milton

3. Study the lives of people who inspire you: I dedicate one month to each person that fascinates me. I read their biography (date of birth, background, death, influences, work, style, education, personal life) For this month, I decided to study Frank Lloyd Wright because I was fascinated by the Guggenheim Museum in New York. I began to read about his influence in American Architecture (Organic architecture, Prairie School, Usonian style), his tumultuous personal life, his difficult relationship with his mentor (Louis Sullivan), his most iconic works etc. By the end of the year I would have learned the ins and outs of people I am inspired by through books and documentaries. Here are other people I plan to learn more about:

Winston Churchill

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Ada Lovelace

Benjamin Franklin

Helen Keller

John Nash

Isabella Stewart Gardner

Caroline Herrera

Ernest Hemingway

Catherine the Great

Ann Lowe

My dears, I hope you enjoyed this read. I cannot wait to write more on my journey to becoming a fine woman. I urge you to do this for four weeks and see what changes you notice. Make sure to write as well, it is important to document your progress.

Cheers to a very prosperous 2024!

[supi-wupi]

Kiss Me, It’s for Science - Junhui

Pairing: jun x reader

synopsis: Jun and Y/N are both psychology majors. For their thesis, they must observe the chemical reactions of romantic attraction... using themselves as test subjects. Bonus, Their “experiment” is being live-blogged by classmates on a fan account.

wc: 4.1k

genre: Romantic Comedy, Academic AU, Mutual Pining, Group Chat Chaos, Soft but unhinged friendship dynamics

warning: Swearing (mostly in the form of chaotic group chat energy and Seungkwan’s emotional rants), Secondhand embarrassment (via live-blogging, secret kisses, and overly dramatic classmates), Mentions of stress

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JUNNIE!!! was actually laughing at myself for even writing this in the first place, but i had fun :) Special thanks to @hhaechansmoless and @flowerwonu for beta reading for me!

1. Hypothesis: Jun Is Not That Pretty. Probably.

The list of things you expected when you picked psychology as your major was short and kind of embarrassing. You thought you'd learn how to read minds (nope), how to fix people (wrong again), and maybe how to stop crying in front of professors (jury's still out on that one).

You definitely did not expect to end up in a research lab about ‘neurochemical responses to romantic attraction.’

Even less expected was being partnered with Wen Junhui—resident pretty boy, dance major turned psych convert, and the guy who once tried to hypnotize a TA for extra credit. It almost worked.

Jun was already at your shared lab table when you arrived, feet up on the second chair, flipping through the experiment handbook like it personally offended him. He looked up as you approached, expression unreadable. Then he smiled—wide and kind and borderline smug.

“You’re late,” he said.

“You’re early,” you shot back, dropping your bag with a dramatic thunk. “What are we even doing this semester? I skimmed the syllabus, and it sounded like a dating sim disguised as science.”

Jun’s grin widened. “That’s because it is.”

You blinked.

He patted the seat next to him. “We’re going to fall in love. For research.”

You stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

He pulled out a laminated page from the handbook and slid it across the table like he was revealing a clue on a game show. You read aloud: ‘Students will pair up and conduct a series of controlled experiments designed to measure physiological and psychological markers of romantic arousal and bonding.’

Your voice cracked a little on arousal.

“...This can’t be real.”

Jun leaned his chin on one hand, hair falling just slightly into his eyes. “It’s supervised by Dr. Kang. She’s been studying oxytocin and dopamine pathways for years. I think she’s trying to get a paper out of it.”

“So we’re lab rats.”

He raised his brows. “Hot lab rats.”

You rolled your eyes so hard, you didn’t think it was possible.

Still, you glanced back at the paper. Heart rate tracking, skin conductivity, pupil dilation, mood journaling, regular surveys. One prompt literally said, ‘Have participants hold hands for 60 seconds and record any notable emotional or physiological changes.’

This had to be a joke.

“Why are we doing this to ourselves?” you muttered, dragging your hands down your face.

Jun tapped the edge of the page. “Because it’s fifty percent of our final grade. And because it’ll be fun.”

You gave him a look.

He gave you the Jun look, which basically meant the same as a wink but prettier and more annoying.

“And,” he added, “because apparently, someone’s already live-blogging our class.”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

Jun pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and slid it your way.

On screen: a Twitter account titled [@JunYNSocialExperiment] Pinned tweet: Day 1 of Jun and Y/N’s slow descent into thesis-induced madness. Sparks may already be flying. 👀 #Psych4Luv

You blinked again. Harder.

Jun just shrugged. “Welcome to the spotlight, partner.”

You wanted to crawl under the lab table.

Instead, you groaned and flopped onto the chair next to him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Not the most romantic start,” he said, mock-pouting.

You glared at him. “You better not fall in love with me, Jun.”

He grinned, and this time it was all teeth. “Too late.”

—

2. Variables Include but Are Not Limited to, My Crush on You

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 13: Jun just held Y/N’s hand during the oxytocin baseline. Her hand was shaking. His wasn’t. That man is too calm. Suspiciously calm. Tweet 14: Someone check if he practiced this in the mirror. #SmoothOperator Tweet 15: UPDATE: Jun said “your hands are soft” in a tone that should be illegal in educational settings. #HRViolation

—

You don’t know who’s running the live-blog account, but you’re at least 80% sure it’s Minghao. Maybe Seungkwan. Could be both.

“Should we be worried we’ve gone viral on CampusTok?” Jun asks, voice way too relaxed for someone whose heart rate was just logged mid-hand-holding session.

You, on the other hand, are a wreck. You can feel your pulse in your teeth.

“It’s not viral,” you mutter, not looking up from your lab notes.

Jun holds up his phone: 27.4K likes on a clip of you nearly dropping your water bottle when he smiled too hard during Eye Contact Session 1.

You stare at the number. Then you stare at him.

“This is your fault,” you say.

He feigns innocence. “I’m just being a good lab partner. You’re the one getting flustered.”

“You smiled like a romance anime protagonist.”

“I was following protocol. Stimulus Response Theory. Emotional cues. It’s for science.”

Inhale. Exhale. Murder is illegal….

Dr. Kang appears at that exact moment, armed with clipboards and a polite but terrifying smile. “How are my favorite guinea pigs doing?”

You both reply at the same time: Jun: “Deeply in love.” You: “Deeply in denial.”

Dr. Kang nods like that’s perfectly normal and flips to the next page in her binder. “Excellent. Today we’re doing proximity tests. Sit close, back-to-back, no talking. We’ll be monitoring tension levels.”

You blink. “Tension levels?”

“Muscle stiffness, heart rate, skin conductivity.” She pauses. “And maybe some vibes.”

Jun snorts. You do not.

Five minutes later, you’re sitting back-to-back with Jun on a mat on the floor, too aware of the warmth radiating from his shoulder blades and the fact that you’re pretty sure he smells like green tea and expensive dreams.

You hear him breathe in, like he’s going to say something, then stops. A beat of silence follows.

“I can feel you overthinking,” he murmurs, voice low enough only you can hear.

You elbow him in the ribs.

He laughs silently.

—

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 16: They’re back-to-back right now. She keeps adjusting her posture. He hasn’t moved once. I’ve never seen a man so comfortable with romantic tension. Tweet 17: Someone said he’s the embodiment of a smirk. Accurate. Tweet 18: If this doesn’t end in a kiss during the Final Trial, I’m demanding a refund from the psychology department.

—

You finally snap when someone in your group chat sends a meme of your blushing face photoshopped onto a squirrel. Caption: "Me when Jun breathes."

You hold up your phone to him, nose wrinkled. “Why are they like this?”

Jun glances at it and grins. “Because we’re adorable.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am.” He pauses, then tilts his head. “But also you.”

You freeze.

Jun shrugs like he didn’t just ruin your nervous system. “Just an observation. Scientific.”

You toss a pen at his forehead.

He catches it—of course he catches it—then raises a brow. “Aggression noted. Possible sign of repression?”

You nearly scream.

—

3. This Is Definitely a Crush, But Let’s Pretend It’s Academia

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 19: Jun just adjusted Y/N’s necklace for the "touch sensitivity test." That was not science. That was foreplay. Tweet 20: We’re 3 sessions away from them inventing eye contact pregnancy. Tweet 21: The TA had to step outside to breathe.

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Hao]: do u think if i bump into jun in the hallway and say “do you believe in fate” he’ll crack and confess [Boo]: no but he’ll probably quote some philosopher and flip his hair [Vernon]:  i’m still not over how he called y/n “sunshine” in that deadpan voice like bro who trained you [Dino]: should we start a betting pool for when they kiss [Hao]: i already started one. dps due friday [Boo]: why friday [Hao]: because dr kang is making them share a blanket for the “comfort dependency module.” [Hao]: i am not joking.

—

“I think Minghao’s spying on us,” you mutter, scrolling through the live-blog account while sitting next to Jun at a coffee shop.

Jun glances over, sipping his iced americano like nothing phases him. “I think Minghao’s rooting for us.”

You choke on your muffin.

He pats your back in a very not platonic way. “You good?”

“Define ‘good,’” you cough, “because emotionally I’m hanging on by a single neurotransmitter.”

Jun smiles, utterly unhelpful. “Let’s hope it’s dopamine.”

—

In today’s lab, you’re asked to complete a “Shared Intimacy Memory Test,” where you’re supposed to tell a meaningful memory to your partner and rate how emotionally connected you feel afterwards.

You stare at the blank paper in front of you.

“Do I tell the story where I cried in front of my professor?” you ask. “Or the one where I got stuck in a revolving door?”

Jun hums. “How about something you’d only tell someone you trust?”

You side-eye him. “You first, Casanova.”

And then he tells you about his mom’s garden.

About how she used to wake him up at 5 a.m. to water the tomatoes.

About how he hated it—until he moved out and realized he missed the smell of basil more than anything.

You look at him, quiet for a long moment.

“That’s kind of beautiful,” you say, softly.

He shrugs. “Kind of like you.”

You stare.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

The TA coughs behind her clipboard.

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: he just called her beautiful [Boo]: i have ascended [Dino]: do you think if i fake a nosebleed they’ll get distracted long enough to kiss [Hao]: no but worth a try. bring a ketchup packet. [Vernon]: i’m just here for the free drama. this is better than any kdrama i’ve ever seen.

—

Later that night, Jun walks you home after the lab.

Your shoulder brushes his.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends not to either.

“You ever think we’re just playing chicken with each other?” you ask suddenly, stopping near your door.

Jun blinks. “In what way?”

“I mean—who’s going to crack first. Say it out loud.”

He steps a little closer. “Say what?”

You look up at him, heartbeat louder than logic.

“That this... doesn’t feel like an experiment anymore.”

Jun doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he reaches up like he might touch your face, then stops.

“I’ve known since Day 2,” he admits.

You blink. “Known what?”

“That I like you,” he says simply. “Everything else has just been… peer-reviewed confirmation.”

Your heart crashes somewhere into your lungs.

But before you can reply, he adds, “I’m not asking for an answer. Not yet. But just know I’m not pretending.”

You don’t sleep that night. Your lab notes the next morning are absolute garbage.

—

4. The Blanket Test and Other Forms of Emotional Torture

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 21: If you thought they couldn’t get more domestic—today’s module is: Shared Thermal Regulation. Tweet 22: Translation: THEY’RE SHARING A BLANKET FOR SCIENCE. Tweet 23: Jun said “you can have more if you’re cold” and tucked the blanket over Y/N’s knees. I am now legally married to this ship.

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: shared. thermal. regulation. [Boo]: dr kang is a menace and also my hero [Dino]: they’re gonna die of tension before hypothermia even kicks in [Vernon]: y/n just told jun “you run warm” and i had to physically leave the room [Hao]: if they don’t kiss today i’m deleting my degree [Hao]: this is not psychology this is foreplay 101

—

Jun adjusts the blanket so it drapes evenly across your legs. You're sitting side by side on the floor of the lab’s observation room, backs against the couch, trying very hard not to make eye contact.

“So,” you say lightly, “how do you think this affects the dopamine system?”

Jun leans over. “You want the scientific answer or the ‘I like the way your voice sounds when you’re flustered’ answer?”

Your whole nervous system malfunctions.

“That’s not—” you choke, “That’s not a real research angle!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Says who? Should we test it?”

You open your mouth to argue, but then he shifts closer, shoulder to shoulder now, and all your cognitive functions dissolve.

You pretend to look at your notes.

He pretends to look at his.

Neither of you are fooling anyone.

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: jun said “you smell like vanilla and chaos” and i SCREECHED [Hao]: i am going to physically force their faces together i swear [Dino]: update: i told the TA i had to “check the fire alarm” so i could eavesdrop [Vernon]: i heard jun say “i dreamt about you last night” [Vernon]: i have not recovered [Boo]: WAS IT SEXY [Vernon]: no it was weirdly soft [Vernon]: he said “you were laughing and I wanted to keep the sound” [Hao]: i need a sedative

—

“You’re staring again,” you murmur without looking at him.

“I study human behavior,” Jun says smugly. “This is observational data collection.”

You snort, eyes still on the psych textbook in your lap. “Uh-huh. What’s your conclusion?”

He shifts a little closer. “That I’m probably completely in love with you.”

Silence.

Your fingers twitch under the blanket.

He doesn’t take it back.

You look up at him—finally—and the look in his eyes makes the air feel heavier.

You say, quietly: “I don’t know what to do with that.”

Jun smiles, a little crooked. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… don’t run.”

“I’m not running,” you whisper.

He nudges your knee with his. “Good.”

—

Later, back in your dorm, you open your phone and find 18 missed messages from Hao.

[Minghao]: DID YOU KISS?? [Minghao]: DID YOU TOUCH HANDS?? [Minghao]: DID HE WHISPER YOUR NAME LIKE A SAD VICTORIAN POET WE’RE DYING HERE [Minghao]: answer or i’m going to publish the live-blog as a case study

You roll your eyes and finally respond

[You]: no kiss [You]: just confessions [You]: maybe next time [Minghao]: CONFESSIONS?? [Minghao]: LIKE LOVE ONES?? [Minghao]: be so serious rn. i’m calling dr kang and declaring this a success [You]: don’t [Minghao]: too late. already printed matching lab coats that say “subject a’s boyfriend”

—

5. Hallway Kisses and One (1) Witness Too Many

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 24: Okay. Okay. Okay. I’m shaking. Tweet 25: THEY THINK THEY’RE SNEAKY. THEY’RE NOT. Tweet 26: Seungkwan caught them kissing outside the lab and texted us “GUYS I JUST WITNESSED EMOTIONAL NUDITY” Tweet 27: Anyway, we won.

—

It happens between modules.

You and Jun are standing in the hallway outside Dr. Kang’s office, both slightly breathless after a long presentation on “emotional synchrony and physiological arousal,” which is ironic considering you haven’t been able to calm down around Jun for weeks.

There’s no one in the hallway. The lab door clicks shut behind you.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed loosely. Jun’s in front of you, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking from your face to your mouth and back again.

“You did well in there,” he says softly.

“You too. Especially that part where you explained heart rate increase as ‘mutual attunement’ and looked directly at me for the entire paragraph.”

Jun tilts his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You noticed?”

You roll your eyes. “I notice everything.”

There’s a beat.

Then he takes a half-step closer. “Do you notice how close I am right now?”

Your breath hitches. “Jun—”

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, say something.”

Silence.

You look up at him, and whatever’s in your expression makes him breathe in sharply. He leans in—

And kisses you.

It’s gentle at first—tentative, warm. But then you’re pulling him in by the collar and he’s tilting your chin up with one hand, the other braced against the wall beside your head. The kiss deepens, and the world narrows to the space between your mouths.

Then—

“Oh my GOD.”

You both freeze.

Seungkwan is standing ten feet away with his lunch tray, mouth agape.

There’s a long, long pause.

“…Please pretend you didn’t see that?” you say weakly.

Seungkwan drops the tray on the floor with a clatter and bolts down the hall at full speed, yelling, “I NEED MY PHONE. I NEED THE GROUP CHAT. I’M TELLING EVERYONE.”

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: EMERGENCY BROADCAST [Boo]: RED ALERT [Boo]: THEY WERE MAKING OUT OUTSIDE THE LAB [Boo]: I REPEAT [Boo]: LIP-LOCK LEVEL: ADVANCED [Hao]: OH MY GODDDDD [Hao]: I KNEW IT [Hao]: LOVE IS REAL [Boo]: jun had his hand on the WALL [Boo]: WALL ARM [Boo]: THE KDRAMA WALL ARM [Dino]: i am crying. this is the most important academic day of my life [Vernon]: are we still live-blogging or is this now a fan shrine

—

Later that night, Jun sends you a text.

[Jun]: did we break seungkwan he walked into the kitchen and handed me a banana without saying a word

[You]: i think he’s grieving either our friendship or the fact he wasn’t the first to know possibly both

—

Dr. Kang enters the next lab session with a small smile and a stack of feedback forms.

“Before we begin, I’d like to commend Subject A and Subject B for their… commitment to the experiment.”

You and Jun exchange panicked glances.

Dr. Kang continues. “Some of your classmates have submitted observational reports. Very thorough. Some might say emotionally invasive, but—” she shrugs, “—that’s academia.”

You are going to kill Seungkwan.

—

[@JunYNSocialExperiment] Tweet 28: they’re holding hands in the presentation now Tweet 29: jun just whispered something and y/n smiled like a fool Tweet 30: we’re calling it Tweet 31: experiment conclusion: it was never about science Tweet 32: it was always about love

—

6. Confessions & Crashes (Live from Psych 301)

The final presentations were scheduled to start at 1:00 PM sharp, but the lecture hall was already packed by 12:40. Not because anyone particularly loved behavioral psych, but because the entire Seventeen Group Chat had gone rogue.

—

Specifically: Subject: Jun and Y/N’s final presentation Subtext: Will they combust? Will they kiss again? Will Seungkwan faint in public?

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: IM OUTSIDE THE LECTURE HALL [Boo]: I REPEAT THE KISSERS ARE ON CAMPUS [DK]: omg [DK]: omg [Joshua]: don’t cause a scene [Boo]: TOO LATE I’VE ALREADY SWEATED THROUGH MY SHIRT [Mingyu]: i brought popcorn [Vernon]: i brought existential dread [Woozi]: i brought a taser [Soonyoung]: I BROUGHT POSTERS [Jeonghan]: what [Soonyoung]: [attached: “KISS ME IT’S FOR SCIENCE” banner] [Jeonghan]: I regret asking

—

You and Jun sit near the front. There’s a half-meter of space between your seats, but the tension could punch a hole through concrete. You’re both quiet. Too quiet.

It’s been three days since the kiss.

Three days since Seungkwan caught you in the hallway and shrieked so loud the janitor dropped his mop. Three days since your group chat transformed into a fanfiction-writing frenzy, culminating in Minghao sending a 20-slide PowerPoint titled “The 19 Stages of Academic Yearning (ft. Jun and Y/N).”

And three days since you’ve said anything real to Jun.

Because how do you follow a kiss like that?

A kiss that wasn’t part of the experiment. A kiss that wasn’t data or methodology or "mutual gaze-induced arousal via stimulus proximity." A kiss that felt—

Real.

—

Your names are called. You step up.

You’re shaking. But Jun smiles at you, soft and grounding. Like he’s saying, We got this. I got you.

You start with the basics—hypothesis, procedure, variables.

Jun picks up the analysis, voice steady. “We measured cortisol levels, pupil dilation, and heartbeat synchronization during various physical and emotional interactions. Our aim was to determine whether affection, simulated or genuine, could create measurable physiological bonding.”

He pauses.

You glance at him. His jaw tightens.

Then he turns to face the audience. “But somewhere along the way,” Jun says quietly, “it stopped being simulated.”

Your stomach drops.

The room is silent.

“Somewhere between testing proximity and shared secrets… I stopped seeing this as research. And started feeling something real.”

You blink.

Oh no.

He’s doing this. Here. Now. In front of fifty students and one very emotionally fragile Seungkwan.

You step forward, whispering, “Jun—”

But he looks right at you.

“This wasn’t in the protocol,” he says, voice suddenly trembling. “You weren’t supposed to matter this much. But you do. You do.”

—

The lecture hall explodes.

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: HES CONFESSING [Boo]: HE’S CONFESSING IN PUBLIC [DK]: OH MY GODDDD [Joshua]: I’M CRYING [Woozi]: shut up i can’t hear [Minghao]: [screenshot of Jun’s face mid-confession, zoomed in 300%] [Soonyoung]: CAN I THROW FLOWERS [Jeonghan]: NO [Soonyoung]: TOO LATE [Jeonghan]: ARE YOU ACTUALLY THROWING FLOWERS [Soonyoung]: [attached: photo of daisies in mid-air] [Mingyu]: THE TA IS CRYING [Vernon]: i’m also crying but i think it’s unrelated [Boo]: HE’S HOLDING HER HAND [Boo]: I’M GOING TO ASCEND

—

You’re stunned. Frozen.

Jun steps closer, voice softer now. “Y/N, you don’t have to say anything. But I had to tell you. Because this was supposed to be a study in emotional bonding, and somewhere along the line, I fell in love.”

You stare.

And then you laugh—wet, shocked.

“Jun,” you whisper, “I was in love with you four weeks ago. When you spilled tea on my laptop and offered to buy me a new one.”

He blinks. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” you say, grinning. “But the hallway kiss helped.”

The entire room loses it.

—

You’re still holding hands when your professor says, “A+, obviously. But please consider my blood pressure next time.”

Jun bows politely. You wave, dazed. The class claps like you just ended a K-drama. Someone’s live-streaming. A flower lands on your head.

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Joshua]: does this mean they’re dating [DK]: DO WE THROW A PARTY [Woozi]: i’m making a playlist [Jeonghan]: i’m making a drinking game [Soonyoung]: IM MAKING A TIKTOK [Minghao]: i’m making a legally binding marriage certificate [Boo]: [attached: selfie, red-eyed, cheeks blotchy, surrounded by tissue] [Boo]: love is real [Boo]: i need electrolytes

—

7. Commence Emotional Graduation (w/ Seungkwan’s Fanclub)

Graduation day arrives like a fever dream. Caps flying. Gowns flapping. Sunglasses hiding tears. A dangerously unstable crowd of proud parents, confused siblings, and one emotionally possessed group chat ready to combust.

You’re standing in line to cross the stage, half-listening to the Dean’s speech and trying not to cry into your honor cords. Beside you, Jun is adjusting his gown and whispering nonsense like:

“Did you eat?” “Is your cap on straight?” “Do I have something in my teeth?” “Should we kiss after we get our diplomas?” “Too much?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, heart soft. “All of it. But I love you anyway.”

He beams so wide you almost cry again.

—

Meanwhile...

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: LISTEN UP [Boo]: THE TIME HAS COME [Joshua]: oh no [Woozi]: what have you done [DK]: i’m scared [Boo]: I AM OFFICIALLY LAUNCHING [Boo]: THE JUN × Y/N FANCLUB [Minghao]: of course [Jeonghan]: we knew this was coming [Soonyoung]: DO WE GET SHIRTS [Boo]: ALREADY MADE [Boo]: [attached: “I Believed in the Science” t-shirt] [Mingyu]: bro [Vernon]: incredible [Boo]: there’s a tier system [Boo]: GOLD = saw them kiss live [Boo]: SILVER = cried during the final presentation [Boo]: PLATINUM = emotionally unwell since week 4 [Joshua]: so we’re all platinum [Woozi]: against my will

—

You cross the stage.

Your name is called. The applause is normal—until SEUNGKWAN SCREAMS from the back row, holding a hand-painted fanclub banner. (Soonyoung is next to him tossing mini confetti cannons.)

You’re pretty sure the Chancellor flinches.

Then Jun crosses.

The crowd, already unstable, reaches concert-level intensity. Someone blows a kazoo. Vernon is live-streaming. Mingyu is crying. The professor who gave you an A+ on your final project wipes a single tear and nods like she’s raised you both herself.

—

After the ceremony, the chaos continues.

You’re bombarded with hugs, selfies, and “tell us everything” questions from your group chat. Seungkwan makes you pose in front of a giant “Science of Love” poster he made himself. Soonyoung forces Jun into a glitter-filled TikTok. Woozi plays an acoustic guitar version of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” while Joshua harmonizes.

Jeonghan casually hands you a champagne bottle and whispers, “You survived academia and fell in love. You deserve this.”

—

Later, you and Jun sneak away. Sit quietly on the edge of campus, overlooking the courtyard full of chaos you’ve come to love.

He nudges your shoulder. “So... post-grad. What now?”

You smile. “We keep experimenting. With this. Us.”

He leans in. “For science?”

You laugh into his kiss. “For love.”

—

[Group Chat: Science Is a Scam (feat. Love)] [Boo]: THEY’RE KISSING AGAIN [DK]: I’M CRYING AGAIN [Woozi]: we should’ve majored in drama [Minghao]: we basically did [Soonyoung]: LET’S THROW A REUNION EVERY YEAR [Joshua]: …we’re still on campus? [Jeonghan]: shut up and let the moment happen [Vernon]: i’m writing a poem [Mingyu]: i’m hungry [Boo]: i’m full [Boo]: FULL OF EMOTION

masterlist ♪

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how i organize my google drive for maximum efficiency :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

i use google drive to organize mostly everything, and the truth is, my google drive used to be an absolute disaster zone, we're talking hundreds of "untitled document" files and random screenshots saved who knows when. but after one particularly stressful finals week where i lost a paper for three hours, i completely overhauled my system. here's exactly how i organize everything now!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the folder structure that changed everything ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

first things first, i use a simple top-level organization system:

📁 𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴: all school-related files

📁 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭: journals, goal tracking, finances, etc.

📁 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦: blog drafts, design projects, photos

📁 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦: completed classes and old projects

📁 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘴: templates, reference materials, guides

the key is keeping your top level super simple, i used to have 20+ folders here and it was overwhelming! now i can find anything within seconds because i know exactly which category it falls under.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my academic folder system ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this is the most detailed section of my drive! inside my academics folder:

📁 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

📁 class 1

📁 class 2

📁 class 3

📁 class 4

📄 semester schedule

📄 assignment tracker

inside each class folder:

📁 notes

📁 assignments

📁 readings

📁 projects

📄 syllabus

i color-code each class folder to match my physical notebooks and planner tabs, this visual consistency helps my brain switch between subjects more easily!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ file naming conventions that save me ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the absolute game-changer was developing a consistent naming system:

for class notes: DATE_CLASS_TOPIC example: 06.10_psych101_memory_systems

for assignments: CLASS_ASSIGNMENT_STATUS example: econ202_midterm_essay_final

for group projects: CLASS_PROJECT_MYPART_VERSION example: marketing300_campaign_research_v2

this might seem excessive, but it means i never have to open files to figure out what they are! plus, sorting by name automatically puts everything in chronological order.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my favorite google drive hacks ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

these little tricks make everything run even smoother:

𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: i star current project files so they always appear at the top of my drive

𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨: right-click folders to give them colors that match your physical organization system

𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘺: i keep a "templates" folder with pre-formatted docs for essays, lab reports, notes, etc.

𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴: i set important folders to be available offline (has saved me during wifi emergencies!)

𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴: using "type:pdf" or "after:2023-09-01" in the search bar to filter results

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ maintenance routines ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

even the best system falls apart without regular maintenance! here's my schedule:

𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘱 (15 min): every friday afternoon, i sort any stray files into their proper folders and rename anything with default names

��𝘪𝘥-𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘵 (30 min): halfway through each semester, i check that everything is where it should be and create any new folders needed

𝘦𝘯𝘥-𝘰𝘧-𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 (1 hour): i move completed classes to my archive folder and set up the next semester's structure

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ sharing & collaboration settings ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

as someone who works on lots of group projects, getting these settings right is crucial:

𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴: i create specific shared folders for each group project rather than sharing individual files

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴: i'm careful about giving "edit" vs "comment" access depending on the project

𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: i always disable "anyone with the link can edit" to avoid accidental changes

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my best google drive tips ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

create a "quick access" document with links to your most-used files

use google drive's "workspaces" feature to group project files temporarily

download the desktop app to easily drag and drop files

set up automatic google photos backup for screenshots and images

use keyboard shortcuts (shift + n for new folder is my favorite!)

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ final thoughts ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

remember that the perfect organization system is one that works for your brain! mine has evolved over years of trial and error, and i still tweak it each semester. the key is consistency, whatever system you choose, stick with it long enough to make it habit.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

Stalker!billie x innocent!reader || ch.1 ||

warnings - stalking(don't do this plz)

(Billie's pov )

Beautiful.

that's all i could think as i watched her from a distance. she had no idea that i knew every little thing about her, that i studied her every move, her every smile, her every tear. she was so oblivious to the world around her, so lost in her own little bubble, that she never noticed how i was everywhere. to be completely transparent, i don't know what compels me to do this, following her around, taking pictures, obsessing over her, i don't know why i do it, i just do it. it's like some sort of magnetic pull, something inside of me that screams for more of her, something that keeps me coming back for more.

it had been our first week of university, orientation week, where we hung out, met new people, got situated, and whatever else normal people did. i decided to take a... different approach, not by choice, but by necessity. i had noticed her from the moment she stepped into the auditorium for the welcome assembly. she had the kind of aura that drew everyone in, made them question who she was, made them insecure, made them ask her out without knowing her properly. i just sat back and took notes on every little gimmick or bit or habit she had.

her name was y/n. i had followed her from class to class, lurked in the shadows as she went to the library, sat outside her dorm at night as she studied with the light on, and watched her as she slept. i know, it's creepy, but i couldn't help it, i needed her to be safe, needed to make sure she was okay. she was just so... innocent like bambi or something. i had to protect her from all the shit that was out there in the world.

every night i'd go home and write down everything she did, everything she said, every person she talked to, and i'd analyze it all, trying to piece together the puzzle of y/n. i have a whole notebook in my room dedicated to her, filled with pictures and notes and writing. she's 5'0, doesn't drink much out of personal choice, she loves to paint and sing, she likes painting her nails different colors, she loves coffee and shopping and music and has 3 siblings, 2 brothers and a sister. whenever she's nervous she touches her neck or when she's excited she swings on her feet. i know most things about her and she still knows nothing about me.

-

first day of classes, i decided to take a seat next to her in our english lit class. she had no idea who i was, of course, but she gave me a polite smile as she sat down. i took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. this was it, the closest i had ever been to her. the scent of her perfume filled my nose and i couldn't help but lean in slightly to get a better whiff. she smelled like vanilla and coconut, a heavenly combination that i had never smelled before.

"hi," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face for recognition. "i think i've seen you around. i'm y/n."

"oh," i said, playing it cool, trying not to let my excitement show. "i'm billie. it's nice to meet you."

y/n nodded, her eyes flicking back down to the book in her lap. i studied her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she played with the hem of her shirt as she listened to the professor drone on about the syllabus. she was so focused, so intense, that it was hard not to be captivated by her.

the class eventually ended and she began to pack up her things.

"need help with anything?" i offered, hoping she'd say yes.

"no, i'm good," she replied with a smile. "but thanks for asking."

as we walked out of the classroom together, she turned to me.

"do you know where the art building is?" she asked.

i nodded, "yeah, i can show you."

y/n's eyes lit up with relief and she fell into step beside me. we talked about our majors and hometowns, and i found myself getting lost in the sound of her voice, the way she talked with her hands, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about painting. it was like nothing else in the world mattered except for her.

when we got to the art building, she thanked me and went inside. i watched her go, feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. happiness because i had just had a real conversation with her, and sadness because i knew i had to let her go, for now.

but i couldn't stay away for long.

that night, i found myself outside her dorm again, watching her through the window. she was singing to herself, her voice a soft melody that floated out into the night air. i leaned closer, trying to make out the words, feeling a warmth spread through me as i did so. it was a strange feeling, one i had never felt before.

the next day, i was sitting outside her dorm when she walked out. she looked surprised to see me.

"hi again," i said, smiling.

"hi billie," she said, looking around nervously. "what are you doing here?"

"reading," i lied, trying to seem casual. "what about you?"

"oh, i'm just going to grab some lunch," she said, looking down at her watch, "i've got class in like 10 minutes so i've gotta rush" she added, looking a bit flustered. "see you around."

"see ya," i said, watching her go.

but i couldn't stay away. i followed her to the cafeteria, watching her from a safe distance as she ate with her friends. she laughed at something one of them said, and i felt a pang in my chest. i wanted to be the one making her laugh like that, the one she confided in, the one she leaned on.

as the days turned into weeks, our interactions became more frequent. we'd run into each other in the halls, at the library, and even at the coffee shop on campus. each time, she'd greet me with a smile, and each time i'd fall a little bit more in love with her.

but i knew i had to keep my distance. if she ever found out what i was doing, she'd be terrified of me. so, i contented myself with watching her from afar, taking in every little detail, every little gesture, and storing it away in the back of my mind.

—————

AU Masterlist

[lonely-ey3s]

The Chemistry Between Us | part 1

reedrichards!professor x f!reader (teachers aid)

chapter summary: you are taking Reed Richards physics class this semester after taking two prior classes the last two semesters. you have developed somewhat of a crush on your handsome professor. when he asked you to be his student aid, you can't refuse. after some time together alone after class, you two start to realize that perhaps the feelings for each other are mutual.

chapter warnings: fluff, talks of smut, reed is not married to sue, small age gap, (student is finishing degree, maybe 8-10 year gap), mutual pining.

word count: 3k

a/n: after the trailer release my mind went buzzing and i was clawing at the bars of my enclosure - i cannot emphasize how this man will ruin my life when we see this come out in july. ruin my life.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Masterlist

Professor Reed Richards has been your teacher for 3 classes now, chemistry, biochemistry, and now for this semester, physics. 

Now one could say you were super smart and taking all his classes was just your way of staying on track for your degree- which you were. But a part of you also was in it for reasons that wouldn’t be deemed appropriate according to the school’s code of conduct. 

On the first day of class, he went over the syllabus, explained what was expected of everyone, and showed a few examples of what you’d be learning, which was something he did for the other few classes you had attended. He was a very visual and hands-on teacher, always showing what could come out of something if the right rules, concepts, and procedures were applied.  

You noticed as he was introducing himself in the beginning, he looked around the group of students, and his eyes fell on you. He smiled and nodded your way as he continued to speak as if he was nonverbally saying, ‘I remember you’, which earned a blush and a small smile from you before you stuck your head down shyly to note what he was saying. 

You barely looked up after that reaction, too embarrassed to blush if he were to look your way again so you wrote notes on everything he mentioned as well as doodled when he began to go over the normal rules and expectations of his lecture, things you had already heard in the last two classes. 

Right on time, he dismissed the class after instructing that chapters one through four would need to be read before the next class but before you could make it out of the auditorium he cleared his throat and called your first name from his desk. 

You had gathered your books in your arms and were three steps away from the door when you stopped and looked back, “Yes, Professor?” you said softly. 

He used his hand that was holding a stick of chalk to beckon you to him, “Could I have a word with you?” 

You all of a sudden felt a little nervous and shy by this sudden request. 

You’d had this man’s classes for a little over a year now and not once had you two exchanged conversation privately. The only ‘interaction’ apart from today’s- if you can call it that was glances here and there while in lecture or the lab, and of course when you’d raise your hand to ask a question, but nothing more than that. However, not once did he call you by your name, always ‘Miss’ or your last name as he did with everyone else. 

You felt a warmth as your name rolled off his tongue, going down, betraying you between your thighs. 

You cleared your throat and made your way down the stairs towards him and the blackboard he had been scribbling on during class to show some examples of what you’d be learning. 

“Yes, Mr. Richards?” you said softly. 

He ran his hand through his hair, making a few curls fall forward, furthering the dampness in your panties by the downright sin that he was committing right now with how good he looked.

He looked down as he shuffled through some papers, “It seems that the university is advising for this semester I take on a teacher's aid...” he said as he focused on reading some papers in front of him, “It seems they think my work and study aren’t mixing well as I’ve been known to be a few moments late to a few lectures the last couple weeks…” he softly cleared his throat. 

“Well… if you were to ask me, everyone here knows how important and impactful your work is, Professor. To my knowledge, no one complains when those late moments do arise…” you softly said, “I think they may be a little dramatic to make you take on a student aide, sir.” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

He looked up and chuckled softly, finding your eyes, “So does that mean you wouldn’t want the job?” a small smile that could be mistaken for a smirk etched across his lips. 

Your cheeks betrayed you and turned pink, “I… I’m sorry you’d want me to be your aid?” 

He nodded and leaned his hands against the desk, making the veins in his hands and forearms pop as his sleeves were rolled up halfway up his forearm, “Should something disqualify you from being my choice?” he looked at you from your head slowly down to your feet then back up, checking you out from the way that small smile grew just a little wider before he continued. 

“You would sit in on my chemistry class which you’ve already done and passed with flying colors - but mainly it would be after lecture, helping grade papers, keeping things organized in the gradebook… no more than a couple hours every few days…” he trailed off as he looked at your book you were holding against your chest, and for a split second found his eyes wondering to your cleavage accentuated by the book being pressed against you. 

He quickly snapped out of it cleared his throat, getting too cocky with his gaze, and looked back down at the papers before he turned towards the chalkboard to continue scribbling calculations. Attempting to ignore the sudden and strong blood flow traveling down to his cock, “What do you say?” he asked softly. 

You thought for a moment then nodded, clearing your throat, “When do we start?” 

A couple of weeks had gone by since Reed had asked you to be his TA, and after that, he insisted you call him by his first name as now you were technically partners in the classroom. He insisted giving you some weight and respect when introducing you to his classes, especially when students that would come in and sometimes ignore you, not thinking of you as “good enough”-which bothered him.

You were smarter than most of the people that come through this school and to see you blown off mostly because you were a woman rubbed him the wrong way. 

One student called you a no more than just a secretary under his breath to his friends as you were grading papers as Reed lectured. Unfortunately, it loud enough that Reed heard.

Reed cleared his throat and turned around mid sentence, “Do we have a volunteer to finish this” within a second, not giving anyone the chance to raise a hand he called on the student to the front, humiliating and embarrassing him as he fumbled to guess a correct result, being caught off guard as he was one to rarely pay attention in class.

You had to put your hand over your mouth to hide the smile splayed across your face at the obvious act of protection for your respect Reed was currently displaying.

Once he looked at Reed to signal he was finished, Reed looked over the work and tsked, shook his head, then hummed disappointedly before he cleared his throat and called your name softly and holding out the chalk for you to take, “Could you please show us the correct way of solving this?”

You stood and brushed your fingers against his as you took the chalk from him then erased the young man’s work before writing and explaining the correct way to the class. When finished you placed the chalk down and turning around and walking past the student dusting off your hands, whispering as you passed him, “Not bad for ‘just the secretary’, right?” then winked and sat back down, catching Reeds eyes for a moment to give him a small smile.

After that, when you’d meet up after hours, he’d bring coffee and you’d pack the two of you something to eat as you both discovered that empty bellies and coffee don’t mix well. 

There were stolen glances here and there, especially when you’d sit in on his chemistry class. Small moments where he’d wink at you after saying a specific term as the two of you had come up with small inside jokes about specific topics when the hours got late and you both were running on fumes. 

Not only that- but there was a fog that settled over the two of you after the first two meetings called sexual tension. A fog that was heavy and in some ways smothering, as both of you clearly knew the other one felt the same way. However, something in you both held each other back from making any rushed decisions, both were too stubborn to act. 

You came into the auditorium where he was working through the same calculation for days now, damp from the rain that caught you on your way in on the one day you didn’t carry an umbrella. 

“Sorry I’m late, got stuck in the rain for a moment.” you chuckled lightly and said as you sat down into one of the front row seats, pulling out papers from your bag to start grading. 

Reed turned slightly to acknowledge your presence but eyes fixed on the chalkboard, “You know being late is ok, it’s not like I’m taking attendance with these meetings we have...” he chuckled under his breath. 

You smiled and looked up, “I know, but still, I’d like you to know that I do respect your time after all, Reed.” you said before pulling a hair clip out of your bag to tie your hair from being now damp and ruined from the rain. 

He didn’t hear his name come off your tongue very often as you still mostly referred to him as Mr. Richards or sir due to habit— but when his name does leave your lips, it commands his full attention. 

He turned his head around and saw you were damp, registering what you had said earlier, “Oh, you’re soaked! You must be freezing…” he grabbed his suit jacket from off the back of his chair and rushed over before putting it around your shoulders, attempting to warm you up. 

He could smell the shampoo from your hair when he put the jacket over your shoulders causing his feet to cement to the ground momentarily. 

You looked up at him, blushing at the immediate action to care for you was with him, “Reed…” you softly chuckled, “I’m damp, not soaked, but thank you, that’s very kind…” you smiled softly.

He lingered close to you for a moment, softly smiling and nodding as he never allowed himself to get too physically close, in fear he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back. 

You looked down and bit your bottom lip feeling the tension at an all-time high, your heart racing as you could smell the faint smell of his cologne from his jacket around your shoulders and then his aftershave due to the proximity.  

You slowly rose from the seat and brushed past him, walking towards the chalkboard, causing his knees to buckle as he got a small whiff of your perfume. 

“What’s this?” you tilted your head, attempting to decipher the calculations as you leaned up against the long desk that went from one end of the board to the other, crossing one leg over the other as you put most of your weight on that one foot and your hands planted to the desk. 

Reed had his hand against the desk you came from as he caught himself when his knees gave. He swallowed and cleared his throat, looking down at the ground trying to compose himself, “I’m attempting to prove the existence that there are multiple branches of the universe.” 

You pursed your lips and bit the inside of your cheek, “You mean like a… multiverse?” you questioned. 

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands in his pockets to keep himself at bay, “Exactly.” he began to walk towards where you were standing and stood next to you, “This has only been theorized but there’s math to support it… and to support a kind of… time travel which is what I’m trying to prove alongside its existence.” 

He turned around and saw the way you were standing against the desk and if it wasn’t for his stubbornness not to make the first move with a student, he would have taken you from behind right then and there. 

You turned and sat on the desk, slowly sliding yourself back as you looked up at him through your big eyelashes, humming somewhat sadly, “Trying to go elsewhere… different timeline, sir?” you lightly ran your tongue between your lips, feeling them a bit chapped. 

He let out a shaky breath, watching your tongue dart between your lips, and then swallowed, looking down for a moment as he thought, ‘I am a man after all… and men can be weak, right? They can fall to their knees… fall to their knees and in between her thighs and be weak, yes?’ 

But then he snapped out of that thought when you called his name softly, he looked up and a small genuine chuckle came from him and made him smile to where his dimples showed and the small crow's feet near his eyes softly appeared. 

He shyly pushed some of his curls that had fallen on his forehead back, “No.. no, I wouldn’t dream of it…” and then turned his head back towards you and watched as your lips curled into a satisfied smile. 

“Good.” you softly nudge his arm with yours, “Can’t have you leavin’ me all alone to teach your classes, can we?” you joked. 

You chuckled with him and blushed when his hand accidentally brushed against yours after taking his other hand out of his pocket to lean against the desk as he chuckled. 

You both slowly stopped the chuckling and somewhat froze from the jolt of electricity that went up your hands throughout your body by the contact. 

Reed took one glance at your lips and you did the same to his before you breathlessly whispered, “Reed…I…”

Without a second thought, he was a moth to a flame, nodding, “I know…” before stepping closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand, and pulling you towards him by grabbing your waist with the other, then connecting his lips with yours. 

He kissed you deeply and slowly, drinking you in like you were the last drop of water in a baron desert. 

Your hands came out from his suit jacket that you had over your shoulder to reach for him. One went for his chest while the other grabbed onto his tie and gently tugged him towards you as you continued to kiss him for what seemed like hours as it felt like time stopped the moment your lips connected. 

He pulled back from your lips and nudged your nose with his, softly panting, eyes closed, hoarsely whispering, "I... I wanna take you out for dinner before we..." he was stopped by your lips reconnecting with his, earning a soft groan from him and a soft moan from you. It also was followed by you spreading your legs for him to settle between which he quickly adjusted to. 

He could feel his heart beating quickly against his ribs, mind going a million miles a minute, and now that he was between your legs, blood was rushing to places he was trying to keep at bay. 

His hand moved down from your cheek to your thigh, which your skirt was now riding up due to your legs spreading, earning a groan from him against your lips. 

You pulled back and began kissing down his jaw and starting to lightly suck on his neck just above the collar of his button-down.  

He grunted and shut his eyes, whispering hoarsely, “F-fuck…” he swallowed as you moved your hand to tug at his trousers. 

However, before you could continue, you both pulled away in seconds as you heard footsteps and voices from outside of the auditorium signaling someone was coming in. You both were out of breath, lips were swollen, and obviously disheveled.  

You quickly got off his desk and went to sit in the seat you were at, keeping your head down as a small group of students walked down the steps toward Reed, who was now scribbling on the chalkboard, attempting to get rid of the obvious bulge in his pants before they made it to him, his chest heaving in panic. 

"Sorry to intrude on your evening, Professor, we just couldn't figure out this equation and needed some clarification." a young man said as he and a group of 3 other students came down to his desk, all from his chemistry class. 

You looked up to find him clearing his throat, “Yes, one moment…” he said softly, but his back still to the students. You could tell he wasn't able to turn around due to what had just transpired between you two, knowing what you briefly felt against your hand before you had to pull away. 

You stood and cleared your throat, tucking your hair behind your ears, "I think Professor Richards may have hit a groove in his calculations, why don't I take a look?" you smiled softly at the group. 

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief hearing you save his ass. He continued to softly scribble while listening to what you were telling them, enjoying whenever he could hear your voice, now dizzy on it.

They smiled knowing you were the teacher's aide and came over, showing you the paper which had an equation written out that Reed had assigned out yesterday at the end of the lecture. Below are their notes on how they calculated the result so far. 

They explained where they were having trouble, and you kindly had them all stand around you as you sat back in your seat and wrote out some examples of how to solve the problem without giving them the answer to Reed's assigned question. 

They all nodded, understanding where they were going wrong and how to proceed from there, and thanked you before taking their papers and walking back up the stairs, shutting the door behind them. 

You kept your eyes down but as soon as you heard the door latch closed you looked up to find Reed leaning against the desk, arms spread wide, eyes locked on you, grinning like a schoolboy, a curl falling onto his forehead, "Thank you for that..." he nodded his head up the stairs. 

You blushed and nodded, "Of course..." You cleared your throat softly and looked down at the paper you were grading shyly, "After all, it is my job to help out when those things happen, right?" you began marking up the paper with notes. 

He nodded, “Right.” 

He took a moment then looked down shyly, before he bit his bottom lip, stood up straight, and walked over to you, "I uh..." he cleared his throat and bit the inside of his cheek, "Dinner, you and me, tomorrow, I'll pick you up at 6." he stated, hands in his pockets. 

You continued writing on the paper, purposely avoiding eye contact, smirking to yourself, "Are you asking me to dinner or telling me, Professor?" 

He clenched his jaw and brushed his hand through his hair, smirking before crowding your space and putting his index finger and thumb on your chin to pull your gaze up to meet his. He cocked his eyebrow and licked his bottom lip, "If I'm going to continue what almost happened on that desk earlier… which I very much would enjoy doing to be very clear..." he leaned down slowly, lips inches away from yours, brushing his nose against yours softly, glancing down at your lips hungrily, then looked up into your eyes, "I'm going to take you out to a dinner on a proper date, first." 

You nodded, and your breathing became quick but quiet, that warmth between your thighs coming back again, your core clenching around nothing by the confidence he was exuding right now. 

You pursed your lips together for a moment and then repeated, "Dinner. Tomorrow. You and I. You'll pick me up at 6 pm..." you blushed and said barely above a whisper under his gaze.

“Good girl…” he gently kissed your nose then walked away, back to the chalkboard- leaving you speechless and blushing the deepest shade of red.

Next Chapter

taglist:  @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7

[goyardgoyangi]

𐙚 bad habit pt. 1 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⌗ pairings: ino takuma x reader, slight! choso x reader

⌗ summary: you met in your first computer science course— not because either of you were brilliant, but because you were both bombed the first quiz and were too stubborn to quit. he’s the guy you kept bumping into at the campus convenience store at 1AM and a habit of muttering “chat, we’re so cooked” under his breath during quizzes. you? you just wanted to pass. and maybe cry in peace. you study together now— a little too often, a little too late. he makes fun of your variable names. you wear his hoodie during all-nighters. and no one says it out loud, but maybe friends who suffer through CS together… fall for each other a little, too.

⌗ word count: 1.8k

♥ pt. 2 ♥ masterlist ♥

You thought getting into the computer science major would be the hardest part.

Beating out a 71% application rate had to mean something.

Surviving weed-out courses, crafting a personal statement that didn’t make you sound like every other overachiever who taught their grandparent how to restart a computer— that was supposed to be your final boss.

Wrong.

Apparently, the game’s just beginning.

Because it’s Week 1 and there’s already a test. Not even a quiz, a full-blown exam worth 15% of your grade.

Not a quiz. A test. The syllabus had said something vague about "assessment checkpoints," but you hadn't realized they'd be checking if you were built for this within the first five days of class.

The professor just breezes through the rest of the syllabus like it’s Terms and Conditions, casually mentioning that attendance points will also be cumulative and mandatory.

Like it was a fun little bonus. Like it wasn’t about to completely derail your mental health.

You are, in every definition of the word, cooked.

Especially since you, in your infinite optimism, decided to skip linear algebra and now he’s name-dropping matrix multiplication like you’re all old friends.

Which, sure, is a prereq— but you thought you could squeeze it in next quarter. Because you thought, “How bad could it be?”

So now you're here, sitting in the second row with your laptop open, staring blankly at the slides you’ve written meticulous notes about, trying to decode phrases like "eigenvector interpretation" while suppressing the urge to scream.

Long story short: you’re fucked.

But you can’t drop. Not when you clawed your way in. Not when you’ve already fantasized about the stupid little LinkedIn post you'll write when you graduate.

You wanted this. This major, this future— you chose it. So now you get to suffer for it.

So instead of clicking “Unenroll,” you find yourself at the campus convenience store at 12:03AM, hoping a Celsius will give you the will to survive reviewing the sheer number of questions you got wrong on that first quiz.

You don’t expect anyone else to be there this late, except maybe the sad grad students.

But while you’re squinting at the flavors, someone rounds the corner of the aisle. There’s the low rumble of skateboard wheels and the crinkle of plastic as he picks up a Red Bull. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a worn black hoodie and plaid pajama pants like it’s a uniform. And he's—

He’s cute.

Boyish, really. His hair’s a little messy, his under-eye bags dramatic and kind of adorable, and you can’t help but admire how youthful he looks for someone also up past midnight.

You’re not in the mood to crush, not when you’re running on 3 hours of sleep and academic shame, but… God. His eye bags are really cute.

You try not to stare.

You also try not to fall asleep standing up, but your body is fighting you on all fronts. When you move toward the counter to check out, your foot catches on the edge of the aisle carpet.

You stumble forward.

And suddenly, someone’s hand is on your elbow— steady, warm. Holding you up.

You meet his gaze, honey brown eyes, amused and warm.

"Be careful, yeah?"

You mumble a thanks and practically flee to the self-checkout, embarrassed beyond belief. You don’t look back.

The next day, you drag yourself to your professor’s office hours. You’re so tired your vision blurs a little. You’d spent the whole night trying to understand where you went wrong— how you could have possibly missed that many questions on the quiz.

You’re five minutes early. The office is quiet except for the hum of a desk fan. There’s someone already there.

You freeze.

It’s him.

Red Bull guy. Skateboard guy. “Be careful” guy.

He’s sitting across from the professor, leaning over the desk with a notebook open and pen in hand, looking deeply focused. His hoodie’s different today, but just as lived-in.

How the hell did you not notice him in class?

You convince yourself he must be from a different section. You would’ve noticed someone like that, right? The bone structure? You definitely would’ve noticed.

You also assume he’s a TA or grader or something. He just looks so comfortable in here, like he knows what he’s doing. Probably here to help debug someone's recursion disaster.

Until—

“I just don’t get how I got the lowest score,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, I thought I did alright, but when I checked Canvas it said 35 out of 100. That’s... beyond terrible.”

Your jaw drops.

Thirty-five?

You’re not even sure if that’s comforting or depressing, and nearly choke on your own breath.

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.

On one hand: thank God you’re not the only one struggling. On the other: there’s someone who actually did worse than you

You take a hesitant seat next to him. His gaze flicks toward you.

It takes a second, but he recognizes you too. “Yo,” he says, like you didn’t almost faceplant in front of him nine hours ago.

You blink. “Hi.”

And just like that, you’re no longer alone in your academic downfall.

Because after office hours, just as you’re packing up your laptop with a sense of mild defeat, Ino clears his throat beside you.

“You wanna come study with my tutor?” he asks, eyes hopeful but tired. “Nanami. Took the class last year, has a file of all the assignments. And he interned for Riot Games over the summer, so he actually knows his shit.”

You blink, surprised. “You have a tutor?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a sheepish grin. “I mean… tutor might be a strong word. More like a friend who’s already survived this mess and doesn’t mind explaining it to the rest of us.”

You hesitate for a moment, but honestly, you really need help, and the idea of learning from someone who’s already been through this feels like a lifeline.

“Okay,” you say, finally giving in. “I’ll come. Riot intern, huh? That’s pretty cool— you actually know someone like that?”

“Yeah, we used to skate together all the time when we were younger. Then we both ended up interning at Riot. He did backend dev, and I was doing data science for Valorant.”

He shrugs, flicking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Not that I play PC anymore— too busy trying not to fail this class, honestly.”

His grin turns sheepish but still has that effortless cool that makes you smile back without even trying.

You step out together into the crisp evening air. The campus is quiet, lights flickering on the pavement as students scurry past or lounge on benches, headphones on, notebooks out.

He doesn’t rush like you expect. Instead, Ino slows his pace to match your tired steps. You notice he’s watching you carefully, adjusting his stride so you don’t have to sprint just to keep up.

The gesture is small but feels... considerate. Like he’s already looking out for you, even though you barely know each other.

The walk to the undergrad library takes about ten minutes. Ino casually talks about how he’s been skating since middle school and how he prefers skating at night because the cool breeze helps him relax. When you mention you’ve never learned to skateboard, he laughs and teases that you’d probably be the type to rent a Lime scooter instead.

The library’s glass doors slide open smoothly. Inside, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the soft tapping of keyboards greet you. It’s comforting, familiar.

You both find a table tucked in a corner, away from the main clusters of students.

“Here’s the plan,” Ino says, pulling out his laptop. “We wait for Nanami to finish his lecture downstairs, and in the meantime, we try to finish as much of the homework as we can before he gets here to review it.”

You nod, setting up your laptop. You try to start on the first problem, the one about recursion, but your brain immediately threatens to shut down.

Ino leans over your screen, pointing at your code. “You named that variable ‘ballerinaCappuccina’? Dude, what?”

You laugh despite yourself. “More memorable than ‘x’ or ‘temp’, okay?”

He snickers, shaking his head. “You're so brainrot.”

Time slips by as you swap dumb jokes and lament the professor’s cryptic hints. You find yourself relaxing, your earlier dread melting into something softer.

Then the door opens again, and Nanami steps in.

He moves with an easy confidence, glasses sliding down his nose, hair a little tousled but neat. His tee sports a pixelated game logo you recognize, and he’s carrying a backpack that looks surprisingly clean for a CS major.

You glance up, surprised by how different he is from Ino.

If Ino’s energy was all skater-boy charm and casual cool, Nanami's would be hot, slightly nerdy, and intensely focused— like someone who clearly spent all night grinding out code but still somehow looks handsomely tired in the morning.

You catch your breath for a moment.

Cute, you think. Definitely cute.

Ino waves him over. “Yo, Nanami! This is my study buddy— also failing this class with me.”

Nanami gives a small smile as he slides into the seat next to Ino. “Ino, try not to embarrass yourself. It’s not that hopeless— yet.”

With a calm confidence, he starts breaking down the first week's concepts— functions, APIs, database calls— with a precision and clarity that almost makes you think you could pass this class if you had him as your professor.

You and Ino trade notes, nodding along, asking questions, laughing when Nanami mocks the actual professor’s habit of using vague buzzwords.

Between explanations, Nanami looks at you briefly and says, “You’re doing better than most first-timers. Keep at it.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest.

Hours pass, the late-night study session stretching into the early morning. The three of you share snacks from Ino’s backpack— a sad assortment of Takis, a couple of peach ring gummies, and a can of Red Bull you suspect was bought last night at the convenience store.

You realize, with a little startle, that this is the first time you’ve felt truly at ease since the quarter began.

The three of you fall into a rhythm— Ino’s lighthearted jokes, Nanami's steady patience, and your stubborn determination.

The future still looks impossible.

But for now, with these two by your side, it feels a little less like you’re totally cooked.

[bobbedazzled]

OFFICE HOURS

pairing: sylus x reader  word count: 2.4k content: fluff, establishing friendship, minor minor flirting/getting on sylus’ nerves a/n: hi hiii. an anon requested a story for each. This is 1/5. I’m almost done with the, zayne should be next. this is linked to another post, click here for the original

The cold air amplified the guilt heating your body. He kept his head down as his fingers whisked around his hair. You can’t help but play with your hands like a child overcome with guilt.

Midterms passed by without much thought. You spent the last two weeks cramming all the information you could gather the night before to empty your head onto the exam sheet. Could you call it your best? No. Is it over? Yes, and you’d rather not be reminded of it. You’re not doing bad in the class, but with the amount of questions that asked for formulas you simply forgot existed—you can’t help but dread your score. 

It came on a Saturday, of course. Two cups deep into whatever the concoction of the night was, you saw it. 

Grade Posted: EXAM I 0% view instructor’s comments

Everyone paused as we all got the same notification. 

All of us.

0%

The Instructor’s notes, as read by those brave enough to tap it:

[mandatory attendance for Monday’s class]

The party atmosphere quickly dissipates as we’re rudely reminded of our academic responsibilities. The worst part of college is having to be a student.

Walking into class was sobering. The professor was nowhere to be found but the school’s favorite Aide, Sylus, sat at the front of his desk, unamused and responding to greetings with disregard. Ah, he has to be a teacher today. 

Sylus did most of the teaching for this class, and with most of us fumbling midterms, he had to endure the consequences that followed. It’s not that we all failed, it’s the fact that no one did as well as expected. He didn’t say much but his disappointment was felt,  directing the class to sign up for a one-on-one to discuss scores. surprisingly, no one protested. You nabbed the earliest spot on the calendar. Dealing with the embarrassment of addressing your worst grade directly with the Aide is better than swallowing a zero.

── *⋆ ݁ ☕︎ ˖ ོ • ──

“As I said in class, I’ll be dropping this grade, I just want to know what happened.”

Your heart maintained a rhythm steady but loud. You were nervous.

“Can I be honest? Student to student?”

He looks up, hair messier than before. “Please do.”

“Well, I did well out of the first 50 questions..”

“Mhm, the multiple choice.”

“And the open response.” You clarify.

“Okay,” he nods his head as he followed your point. “And the last three pages?”

Although he’s not the professor of this class, the way he carried himself made it seem as though he had authority. The disappointment souring his gaze made your stomach sink each time you met his eyes. He tilts his head waiting for an answer, raising an eyebrow at your hesitation. You take a deep breath.

“I was not completing an equation that required a 12 part explanation. Let alone three.”

His eyes widened, failing his attempt to hold back a chuckle, The auditorium echoed his laughter. his voice rang in your ears, a heat crawling up your neck as you wait for him to come down from his amusement.

“It’s only midterms. Plus the syllabus says that this is the least of my worries as long as I keep up with my labs.”

“Yes, that’s true.” He slides the papers back to his side of the desk, “But, skipping 36 questions? Leaving forty percent of your exam blank? Very risky, sweetie.”

You feel it in your face, you’re r beet red at this point. That voice of his, how can he go from stern to a tease in one smooth breath? You look away from his gaze, feeling somewhat embarrassed by your boldness.

“I’ve been in my office all week. If there was something in the material that you didn’t understand, I was here at your disposal.”

He runs his fingers through the pages before breaking off the last three, tossing the quiz packet back to you. “Try it.”

“Huh?”

“Answer the questions and I’ll review your score.”

You think about it, a score better than your current would be nice, and you doubt he’d let you go if you refused.

The clock hand passes twelve by the time you finish. Doing this along with the 54 questions that came before, it’s not as if you would’ve finished in time anyway. Every pause, every point of confusion, it frustrated you further. You wanted to get this over with, but the looming gaze in front of you kept you in your obedience. You finally slide the packet his way, your hands finding each other as he reviews your work.

“So you’re lazy, not confused.” The papers swat his knee as he dropped them from his face. “You’d rather fail than take the time to finish three questions.”

You sigh, bracing yourself for another lecture. He leans in his chair, annoyed at your annoyance, his fingers squeeze the bridge of his nose.

“You know, being an aide isnt just for fun. It’s a leadership role I’m taking part of for my own endeavors. I’m a student too, yknow.”

you look up as he continues

“Leading a class on a subject that I hardly recall, relearning class material on top of my own courses..”

It’s easy to forget that he’s a student like you. You never put thought into the amount of effort goes unpaid, unnoticed. His frustration tugged at you, adding another plate of guilt to your shoulders.

“Did we do that bad?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He glances up at you. “ I called everyone in to schedule me so I could figure out what went wrong.” He waives your packet in the air.

“It makes things harder when my most engaged student drops out sixty percent in.”

“I’m sorry.”

A smile curls his lips as he hums, acknowledging your apology. “From now on we’ll see each other weekly.”

What.

“Weekly?!”

“Just like a few other students.”

“But you just said I didn’t need the help.”

“Maybe not with the material, but you definitely need work on your motivation.” he glances at you, amused at your lack of enthusiasm.

“Oh come on, we’ll get along nicely.”

“Am I done here?” You say as you gather your things.

His smile follows you as you walk out of the room.

“It’ll be fun, student to student!”

It’s not like you dislike sylus. Like any other student you’d rather be done with the day the minute the last bell rings. Besides, in a way it felt as if he’d won. Like a siren sitting on a rock, beckoning sailor into the sea, you practically gave yourself to the sea in that act of laziness. Reckless, you’d scold yourself. But there’s pleasure in the fact that you’ve given yourself an excuse to indulge in your curiosity.

── *⋆ ݁ ☕︎ ˖ ོ • ──

After completing your morning classes, you strolled through the halls towards auditorium. The chatter of his last class spilled out of the room as he leaned against his desk entertaining his usual audience of admirers. He didn’t fully acknowledge you until you sat next to his desk, waiting for his attention. Without giving you a glance he exchanged goodbye to his remaining students, politely encouraging them to leave as they glared at you. 

“Did I interrupt something?” You whisper. 

“No, just freshmen.” He says, maintaining a smile as the girls walk out the door. “So,” The room door clicks shut as he turns to you. “Welcome back.”

“As if I had a choice,” you rummaged through your bag, retrieving your laptop. “you emailed me twice today.”

“And you didn’t respond once.”

You roll your eyes. After a whole semester of professors treating you like an inconvenience how could you respond to someone, practically a stranger, acting so eager to teach you.

“If you do well today, I’ll reward you with a kiss.” He holds two fingers up to his lips as if preparing to blow a kiss your way.

“Gross.” You laugh, dissatisfaction displaying on your face.

“Really? That usually works.” He says, suddenly casual.

“Can you motivate me without being a tease.”

“No. Finish your response.”

You roll your eyes and continue working through your equations. A moment of silence blankets the room, the ticking of the clock accompanying the clicks of your instructors rapid typing. You burn out for a moment, doodling around the work scribbled in your notebook, grumbling at the remaining questions. He sucks his teeth, tapping his pen to the side of your hand. You look up to meet his narrowing eyes, the tired eyes of an impatient instructor.

He sighs, “How about we take a break and a little.”

“Talk about what?”

“Anything, do you have any questions for me?”

You ponder for a moment. He usually uses this card in class, offering details on his personal life to entertain those in his class. But you couldn’t care less about his favorite perfume or faculty crush.

“Do you like your job?”

“Not a job if I’m not getting paid but yes, it passes time.” 

“Is it the attention?”

There it is again, the arrogance in his eyes.

“Are you jealous sweetie?” You gag at the softness of his voice, earning a laugh from him. 

“If I’m honest, the attention makes my job harder. If I’m not taken seriously as an instructor, I can’t do my job.”

“I’ve seen you as an aide in different classes.”

“Yes, but, like this course, I mostly float for 100-level classes. I’m only really needed in the department specific to my major.

You tilt your head, looking closely at the man across from you. “You’re putting a lot in your plate.”

His eyes soften at your words, “Thank you for noticing.” His voice is gentle, warm with gratitude.

Your ears warm at the sincerity. He smiles when he notices, and you, suddenly embarrassed, shy away and look back at your notes. He does the same, returning to his computer, satisfied by your reaction. You look down at your work and continued with the study guide. Before your study session, sylus emailed you a link to a site that goes over past course material that was presented on the exam. It was in a study guide format, delving deep into each topic until you got sick of the formulas.

The questions grew harder and harder and you couldn’t help but entertain another distraction.

“Why do you float for this class?”

“I’m familiar with the professor, he was the first to recommend me.”

“I’m surprised he has favorites.”

“Not at all.”

“You don’t seem eager to talk about it.”

“Not at all.”

“Is he mean to you?”

Sylus looks up to his computer, ruffled by your probing. “Finish your work and I’ll entertain your questions.”

Suddenly motivated by his annoyance, you dive into the rest of the assignment. The time passes quickly as you finish the remaining responses. With ten minutes left of your meeting time your laptop shuts. You prop your head in your hands, fluttering your lashes as the instructor before you sighs.

“Our professor is tenured, he’s not obligated to censor himself and he doesn’t. now imagine the hot water I’m in with the recent class scores.”

“That’s why you’ve been strict lately?”

“Somewhat, it’ll hurt my work-study if I’m reported for not doing well.”

A bit of guilt looms over you. You smile as he pouts, muttering to himself at how rude the professor has been.

“He says I dress up and host classes just to flirt with students.” He jolts at the sound of cackling, your abrupt laughter echoes down the auditorium hall. Through your narrowed eyes, you notice his dour expression.

“Are you offended?” You giggle. He doesn’t respond. “Oh please, weren’t you just teasing me?”

“Well, I like teasing you.”

You wave him off, “I don’t need that type of motivation to stay engaged“

“It’s not school related. I get curious too.”

“Curious about what?” You ask.

“How you are, student to student.” His voice is low, laced with velvet. You stare for a moment, suddenly aware of his confession.

He shrugs, voice suddenly cool “Besides, it makes things fun.”

You look back at your computer, your eyes dancing through the many numbers and symbols plainly displayed. Your cheeks warm at the thought of his favoritism towards you.

“It’s cliche to go after the uninterested one, don’t you think?”

He smirks. “Maybe, should that sway my feelings?”

You smile, feeling the urge to entertain him. “Not at all.”

The campus bell chimes, signaling the end of the school day. You break away from his gaze to look at the time.

“Sounds like we’re done for the day.” He says. “Will I see you next week?”

“Of course, it’s mandatory right?” You say, stuffing your bag with your belongings.

“Maybe, but am I the only one looking forward to it?”

Something settles in the air between you two. Something playful, something too easy to interpret as flirting.

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

[iamconstantine]

arcane characters as college staff

Mel

History professor 

Refers to all students by (honorific) (surname)

Nothing but praise on ratemyproffesor

“I didn’t like history until I took Professor Medarda’s class” 

Doesn’t write scholarly articles, just giant ass books that she pumps out almost every year somehow

Quickly responds to emails. No response = its in the syllabus 

“Is there any make up work I can do to get my grade up—“ Absolutely not

But if you go the writing center you can get extra credit

Every year her students ask for an extension on the final project and every year she gives a long and furious rant about how the project was visible online from Day 1 and they had all semester to work on it

She has a beautiful office that looks like a miniature library and she only sees students by appointment

Jayce

Physics professor

Is a prolific author but somehow can’t figure out how to set up the course online

Prints cheesy physics memes 

Every zoom meeting begins with 1000 messages saying “professor Talis we can’t hear you your mic isn’t on” every. time.

you can come see him in his office any time, door’s always open

but his office is so messy you probably won’t be able to sit because he has a stack of papers on every chair

“Everyone got this question on the exam wrong so I’m going to give everyone credit because that means i didn’t teach it properly”

Always throws an end-of-year party at his place 

Caitlyn

English Literature professor 

would win best dressed of the staff, always shows up in the slacks-and-blazer fit

“To understand why the narrator wears red shoes, we need to take a look at the sociopolitical state of Edinburgh in 1864.”

if you reply to a discussion board post with just “I agree” you’re not getting credit and it isn’t up for discussion 

Never reads contemporary fiction. The “newest” book she’s read is The Great Gatsby

“We’re not having a party but if you want to bring snacks and soda to the last day of class that’s fine”

Covers a lot of authors but it somehow always comes back to Emily Dickenson

Is that teacher that assigns 400-page books every week

Constantly publishing in lit journals (rumor has it she writes steamy open-door romance books under a pen-name but no one has confirmed this)

Ekko

Art professor 

You have to actively screw up to get a bad grade with him

He wrote thousands of letters to the board until they caved and gave the class a proper kiln

“Write a three-page essay explaining why AI art is not art and insisting otherwise is spitting in the face of humankind. Double spaced. Due Friday 11:59”

Throws back coffee. Has a coffeemaker in the studio. Two of them. 

“Hey guys some of you are submitting assignments at 2 in the morning. It can wait until the next day. Please get some sleep.”

He’s created awe-inspiring pieces but if you just wanna paint a frog wearing a hat he’ll say “that’s cool”

Says he knows who banksy is but will never tell

He gets way too deep in the zone. Once reached for his coffee cup while painting, drank paint water instead. Didn’t notice.

Jinx

Chemistry professor 

If you email her the response will be “k” or “no” and nothing else

Waits until twenty minutes after the class begins to email everyone that class is canceled 

Never wears a coat, goggles, or gloves. But will call out students if they don’t

takes 5 years to post grades

“Look I’m not remembering any names. Too many. If I’m talking to you I’ll just point”

Puts a meme on the projector every day. Mostly incomprehensible. Picture of a horse on an beach and it just says “Zimbabwe”

lowest score on ratemyprofessor

someone creates a website called ratemystudent and administration has no proof that it was her because technically the students with bad scores being the same students that get bad grades in her class can be coincidental 

Viktor

Biomedical engineering professor 

Only professor who still uses chalkboards

First day of class is first day of class. No reviewing the syllabus, turn to page 34 in your textbook.

Puts things in the syllabus to catch people who use ChatGPT. If you’re caught, you’re removed from his class. Immediately. You will not get to plead your case.

Most of his cited sources are himself

Literally begs students to thrift their textbooks online instead of buying them from the school. Provides free PDFs as often as he can.

He reads journals every day and will write personal letters to authors he disagrees with

If a student asks a particularly dumb question he’ll step out of the room for ten minutes to compose himself and then resume teaching like nothing happened

Vi

Not a professor, works at the on-campus gym and leads clubs

Constantly curses without batting an eye. Students will leave class with their very uptight professor then come to the soccer club where vi walks in like “sorry I’m late guys i had a motherfucker of a headache this morning”

Please don’t ask her about anything that isn’t club or sport related. If you ask for directions or how to get in contact with student services she’s got nothing

If she refs for a game and you’re on the opposing team you’d better watch yourself. She will rip you a new one if you break any rules. One time a player grabbed one of her member’s mask during a game and he left crying after Vi was done with him

Students run into her at the local hangouts a lot but it’s never awkward. just reminds you not to party too hard before the game tomorrow 

Leads pretty much every club but dance. Wouldn’t admit it but she has no sense of rhythm and refuses to even do it as a student

You can call her coach or captain or just Vi, whatever you want. But if you call her Violet she’ll stare you down until you correct yourself

Heimerdinger

Anthropology professor 

Spends the first day of class getting to know everyone. “We’re going to go around and give our names and a fun fact about ourselves!”

Gives the “Nacirema” assignment and can’t wait to tell everyone the catch

His classroom is filled with artifacts. Don’t ask about any of them because it will take up class time

If you can’t make it to class he sends really nice responses saying he understands, then checks in when you come back

The only thing that puts him in a bad mood is the “why do anthropologists study dinosaurs if anthropology is about people” question. He’s old and tired 

Keeps thinking about retiring, keeps changing his mind

Silco

Political science professor

His classroom is bare and blank. No life. Just fluorescent lights and chairs.

Brags about how few people pass his class

Very strict on attendance. Too many absences and you’re out. 

If the assignment is due at 11:59 and you turn it in at 12:00, it’s late

“I am quite interested to hear why you believe you are deserving of a higher grade when you’ve spent less than thirty minutes attending all of my classes combined. Please, continue.”

Will straight up roast other professors no problem. Encourages students to pass it along

He encourages debate but the only thing students debate about outside of class is whether he’s hot or creepy af

Final project is a choice between A) A ten-page essay on why there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, or B) a presentation on why the country is doomed

Vander

Education professor 

Makes his own series of Crash Course-esque videos

Comes to class in jeans at best. Sweats, sometimes. 

He has one coffee mug that says #1 Dad and he refuses to use anything else

He puts fun questions on his exams, like riddles. If no one gets it, he actually gets sad

Whenever he erases the whiteboard he always misses a spot. He’s that professor.

If he catches you plagiarizing, you get one pass before he reports it. But you have to come to his office so he can tell you how disappointed he is and how much potential you have

He gives a seminar about how worried he is for the future of education and the wellbeing of the next generation and everyone leaves feeling guilty. Everyone.

Make a pop culture reference in class and everything will grind to a halt so you can explain it to him. Visuals help.

Sevika

Librarian

If you play music in the library she’ll walk up to you and just go “are you joking”

Have a phone call on speaker and she’s hanging it up for you

There’s signs telling you to be quiet every three feet

If you see her outside of school no you didn’t

She’s in charge of leading classes on accessing academic databases and she fucking hates it

Somehow knows where every book is down to the shelf. She’ll tell you what you’re looking for before you can finish your sentence

technically she’s supposed to do a walkthrough before closing for the night but if you can’t read the library hours on the signs it’s your fault if you get locked in

[jockbroski34]

New Blood (Chapter 1)

This is my first TF story. I hope you enjoy and I have plenty of other ideas I've come up with for future stories.

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I would’ve been surprised if you told me how my first day at my new school turned out. My dad was transferred to a different branch at the job he worked at, so we were forced to move to a different state. I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss my old town, but it’s not like I was that close with most of the people I went to school with anyways. On the bright side, being transferred to a new high school gives me the chance to start fresh and make some new friends. Little did I know how right I really was.

The first day started out about as boring as you could imagine. The teachers reciting the syllabus, introducing ourselves to the class, the usual mundane activities expected for the first day. However, all of that changed during 3th period. It was algebra, and normally I could care less. But it wasn’t the class that caught my attention, hell no. Class started as usual. The class was packed full of students, with nearly every seat taken. About 3 minutes into the class, class was interrupted by an opened door and a large figure.

He must’ve been 6’3”, making me who is 5’10" look like someone who hadn’t hit his growth spurt in comparison. His brunette hair, short and spiked with the sides shaved, helped to accentuate his angular face and his alluring emerald green eyes. He wore a football shirt that fit snugly against his chest and his bulky biceps bulged out of the sleeves. His thick thighs made his jeans a tight fit. They could definitely crush a watermelon. Perhaps even my face, I thought, as I admired the handsome man.

“Sorry I was late, bro. Just got out late from my meeting with Coach”, the stud said, in a nonchalant, baritone voice. He sounded like your stereotypical jock.

“Don’t make this a regular thing, ‘bro’” our teacher grumbled. “I know you’re the team captain, but it doesn’t mean you can just barge in while I’m teaching.”

“Relax, dude. It’s just a one time thing.” he responded. Looks like he’s the big man on campus. He sure didn’t seem to care that he was late on the first day of school.

The giant scanned the room looking for a place to sit. First the right end of the room, then the middle, and then he looked towards the left, where I sat, and conveniently at the empty desk adjacent to me. For a split second, our eyes were staring right at each other, but my gaze veered the other direction out of embarrassment. The jock’s lips curved into a slight smirk as he began to walk into the rows of desks, accidentally bumping me with his massive size 15 foot.

“Sorry bro”, he said as he placed himself in the seat next to me. His nice round ass stood out to me as he made himself comfortable.

The class continued on as normal, but for some reason, I felt like I could concentrate even less than I could before. The beefcake next to me kept my mind preoccupied. He was the most attractive guy I’ve seen so far at this school, and I couldn’t help but be distracted by his perfect body. His toned body glistened, likely from the sweat of a morning jog, and I noticed a slight scent that affirmed that. I normally found the smell of sweat to be a little disgusting, but for him, it seemed to mix well with his natural aroma. The scent of a man.

“No. If a guy like him finds out that you’re gay, you’ll never hear the end of it,” I scolded myself in my head. I could already imagine myself being harassed by him and his meathead friends.

Strangely enough, just as I had been looking at him, I also felt like I was being watched as well. I must have been imagining things. I wouldn’t call myself unattractive, but I never caught the attention of other guys…let alone girls.

The teacher finished up with the material sooner than expected, so he stopped teaching for the rest of class until the bell rang. With about 10 minutes to spare before my next class, I reached into my pocket to grab my phone to kill time, but then I heard that same voice from before.

“Sup bro,” the hunk next to me greeted me. “I’ve never seen you before. You new here?”

This guy was talking to me. Wait, why was he talking to me? I was incredibly caught off guard, but I decided to play it cool and hide my embarrassment.

“Yeah, my name’s Jacob. My parents just moved into town the other week and now I’m here.”

“Damn, that sucks, but I hope you like it here. Nice to meet you Jacob. I’m Zach. You mind if I call you Jake for short?”

Most people called me by Jacob and I preferred it like that, but for him, I didn’t really mind.

“Sure, nice to meet you too,” I responded. He reached out his hand to shake mine, but my hand felt small engulfed in his meaty palms.

We spent the remaining time in class getting to know each other. The more I talked with Zach, the more I realized how we were basically complete opposites. He was as I expected, a stereotypical jock, only interested in sports and going to the gym and I was anything but that. I could tell through his attitude that he was full of confidence, maybe even bordering on arrogance, but he still seemed rather agreeable. Despite our obvious differences, we actually got along surprisingly well. I expected him to be some brute, some bully, but he was actually a pretty fun, chill guy. He actually gave me his number too. The bell rang and we both packed up our supplies into our backpacks.

“Hey man, so where’s your next class?” Zach asked.

“Room 214. Must be on the second floor,” I replied.

“Oh cool. I’m actually headed that way too. Don’t worry, I know this school like the back of my hand!”

We walked up the stairs to the second floor and down the hallway.

“Hey, so lunch is coming up and I don’t know if you have anywhere to sit yet,” Zach inquired.

I had completely forgotten about lunch. At my old school, it wasn’t uncommon for me to sit by myself. I was the kind of guy who didn’t really mesh well with any crowd and I had few close friends.

“I don’t, why?” I responded.

“I just figured that because you’re new, you might want somewhere to sit. You can come sit with us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the guys on the team are cool. I doubt they’d mind since you know me.” I imagined myself feeling out of place amongst the burly football jocks. Still, it was better than nothing.

“I might take you up on that offer,” I replied.

“Great, bro!” Zach smiled. His bright grin was contagious, and I felt a smile on my face as well. “I hope to see you there.” He patted me on the shoulder with his firm hands before we parted ways. Our classrooms, however, were conveniently right next to each other.

I felt like I could concentrate even less than I could during 3rd period. Thoughts of early US history blurred in my mind as the image of Zach lingered. Why was he being so nice to me of all people? Despite my curiosity, I started to think of him as a friend. For some reason, I felt myself drawn to him.

After an eternity, the bell rang for lunch, and I walked to the cafeteria. I got lost on the way there, as I was still unfamiliar with the layout of the building. As I walked past each table, I felt the impression that I was an outsider. Most tables were full of students, with few seats left open for me. It was like everyone else already knew each other, and that there was no place for me. Until I heard that voice again.

“Yo, Jake!” Zach shouted, his words breaking through the endless sea of mindless chatter. I turned my head to the right and saw him and several other members of the football team at a large table. How did I miss it? It’s a big table for big guys. “Did you get lost or something?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Sorry about that, bro. Come sit down!” He moved over, giving me room to squeeze in. He introduced me to the team, and it seems like he already told them about me, so they were eager to meet me. I recognized one person from my previous class.

“You’re…Bradley right?” I asked.

“Yeah, but call me Brad. No one except my brother calls me that anymore.” he answered. He wasn’t as tall as Zach, standing at a respectable and exact 6 feet tall. He was, however, a lot bulkier than Zach, who was more toned in comparison, but he wasn’t fat. His hair was shaved into a short blonde buzzcut and he had deep blue eyes. I recalled him falling asleep for a bit during last class. The bro must not have gotten enough sleep last night.

Zach, Brad, and the other guys talked about sports and working out after class, and other stuff that a stereotypical jock would talk about. I did my best to include myself in the conversation, but I felt kinda lost keeping up and I felt like a bit of a poser compared to them. I knew only basic level sports knowledge and I had never lifted a weight in my life. If only I was more like them.

Despite that, I actually got along with them better than I expected, and I was glad to know that they were more like Zach than I had anticipated. They did make fun of me for not knowing certain players or who won the game last night. However, I didn’t get the impression that it was malicious, but rather more playful, like how one would joke around with his bros. Even though I clearly looked and felt out of place, I found myself enjoying their company and I tried to absorb whatever knowledge the jocks discussed like a sponge. What felt like an entire day of hanging with the bros was only half an hour as the bell rang and the crowd of students emptied the cafeteria to depart for their next class. I said my farewells to Zach’s friends and made my way to my next class. Zach, instead of staying with his fellow teammates, pursued me and joined me, walking at my side.

“Hey, thanks for sitting with us, bro. I told you they’d like you.”

“Of course…” I replied, unsure of what to say, but I smiled. “I did feel like a fish out of water, but I did have a good time.”

“No worries, bro. I kinda figured you would feel out of place, but you did great. Give it time and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Zach smirked. “You just gotta get out of your comfort zone, man.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that,” I was surprised at Zach’s different perspective. “Maybe I could be as strong as the rest of you are and throw balls around someday,” I joked, as the idea of me being like one of them felt unrealistic to me.

Zach chuckled and gave me a wink. “Who knows? Life is full of surprises. Anyways, my class is this way, but I think we have the same class next period. Later, bro!”

The rest of the day went by quick, and was relatively uneventful. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, school was over, and I could finally go home. I thrusted myself into my bed, overwhelmed by my first day of school., but for once, I was actually kinda happy to be there. I met Zach, Brad, and a bunch of other guys on my very first day. Zach specifically lingered in my mind, and I recollected every inch of his body in my mind. I started to get hard picturing every exquisite detail, and I couldn’t help but bust my load to him. Eventually day turned to evening and evening turned to night, and I closed my eyes, wondering what the rest of the year had in store for me.

The next two weeks came and went and I became accustomed to the new school and my new friends. I went to class, ate with the football team at lunch, and I even started to hang out with Zach more. He offered to help me with the gym if I helped him with some of his schoolwork. I agreed obviously, as I wouldn’t mind building some muscle. It was always good to help a bro out and also I just wanted to be closer to him. As I helped him with math and science, he helped me with lifting weights and exercises. I struggled at first, but eventually I started to notice some improvements and I could tell he was proud.

Whenever we finished studying or working out, we spent the rest of the night watching sports or playing video games. Zach had to explain the rules to me, but I started to understand football on a surface level. Other than that, I got invited to a party at Brad’s place, and I had a great time partying and drinking with Zach and the football team. During those weeks, I was probably the happiest and most social I have ever been in my life.

The following week was when everything changed. One day before lunch, I was approached by someone who I have never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, standing at a modest 5’8”. He looked babyfaced with his nerdy, boyish looks and blonde hair, and his glasses helped to emphasize his meek blue eyes. I think he was a year below me.

“My name is Braden.” He said. “You’re the new kid who’s friends with Zach, right?”

“Yeah I am. My name’s Jake…I mean Jacob.” I responded. For a second, I found myself using the name Zach and the other jocks called me.

“I think you should stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

“What’s wrong with Zach?” I asked. Zach had been nothing but good to me since we met. I couldn’t imagine him having any malicious intent. He even took care of me at the party when I was black-out drunk for the first time.

“Ever since my brother started hanging out with him, he started acting… weird. He was never into football or anything, but now he’s on the team and he looks and acts like a completely different person.”

“I…What are you talking about?” I was seriously confused about what he meant.

“I’m serious! Unless you want to end up like just another jock…”

“Hey, Jake! How’s it going?” Zach cut in, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we were talking about him. “And you’re Brad’s brother, right?” Braden avoided eye contact with his brother’s friend.

I felt a sense of urgency, as I felt like I was going to be late. “I’ve gotta get to lunch. It was nice meeting you, Braden!” I said as me and Zach walked to lunch together. What the hell was his deal anyways?

“Braden’s a weird dude. Don’t worry about what he says,” Zach informed me, trying to ease the mood.

Later that week, I was hanging out at Zach’s place again after a workout, helping him with the algebra quiz that was next class. I helped him understand the concepts better and we wrapped up reviewing the study guide, so we finished and we laid down on his bed.

“Hey man, I’ve been thinking…” Zach started, but he sounded rather hesitant, unlike his usual confident self. “What would you think about joining the football team?”

“I…” I was honestly kinda surprised. Why would he want me, of all people, to join? I wasn’t unathletic, but even working out with him would not have prepared me to play football. “I’m flattered you would want me, but I don’t think I have what it takes. Plus, I’m not like you guys at all,” I answered.

“That’s fine, bro. Me and Coach can help condition you to become the jock I know you want to be.”

“Condition?” I was confused, unsure about what he meant by that.

“I know how much you want to be like us, bro,” For some reason, the word bro sent shivers down my spine. He had a devious look on his face. “And I can see your potential. That’s why I chose you. It helped that you’re the new kid anyways so no one will notice if you turned into another jock. I made that mistake with Brad and now that kid Braden won’t leave me alone.”

Zach paused, realizing that he said too much, but at this point, there was no going back. Despite his malicious intent, I got hard at the thought of being one of them, of being one with the team. My friends were always there for me the past few weeks and we had a strong bond despite our differences. I looked up to them, and wished I was more like them.

“That’s not the only reason I chose you…” Zach rolled over, climbing on top of me, his heavy, muscular body pinning me down, his legs straddled between mine, his sweat from the workout from earlier spreading through my nostrils. “I knew you were gay. I could just tell. But that’s okay, because so am I. You’re cute enough as you are now, but I think you would look better standing side-by-side with me, looking, thinking, and acting like me. Don’t you agree?”

I was overwhelmed by the situation, and by Zach’s sudden change in behavior. But I subconsciously nodded as my cock throbbed in my pants. Whether my mind or my dick was thinking first, I could not tell you.

“If you join the team, I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine. How does that sound, bro?”

I tried to weigh my options. I thought about the kind of person I was. Who was I before I came here? Before I met Zach? I…I was nobody. I didn’t have any friends here. Zach took me in. My mind was fixated on the man in front of me. I realized I longed for him. I longed for the team and my bros. I longed for football. I longed for working out. And that’s when everything became clear. I longed to become a jock like him.

“That sounds awesome, bro,” I answered. Bro? I never said bro before. I guess Zach was really starting to rub off on me. I gave into temptation, but I knew that it was what I secretly desired ever since I met him.

“That’s a good bro…” Zach responded, obviously pleased with my answer. A seductive smirk lit up his face as he pressed his lips to mine. We enjoyed that moment for what felt like several lifetimes, but in reality it was actually only a few minutes of sweet passion. At this point, I felt like my cock was about to burst. At this point, I desired him. Zach noticed the raging bulge in my pants. “I know you wanna fuck, but I can’t give you what you want just yet. You will meet me in Coach’s office after class tomorrow. After we finish your transformation, then you can cum.”

“Yes, bro…” I muttered, keeping my erection under control. The rest of the evening was surprisingly normal between us, almost like the erotic scene that had just taken place was something out of a fever dream or a hallucination. We played some video games to kill time and to lighten the mood. The only reason I knew it was real was because of the firm erection that lingered in my pants. Eventually I said goodbye to Zach and went home.

“Remember to meet me after school. And just remember, you can still back out if you want…but I have a feeling you won’t,” Zach sneered, looking down at my pulsating serpent. Despite his words, however, I knew that my mind had already crossed the point of no return.

The next day was unbearable. The anticipation of what awaited me after this long day was killing me. What made it worse were the classes where I had Zach. He could tell that I was finding it hard to focus, and it felt like he was edging me with his mind. I could barely concentrate on the algebra quiz we studied for the night prior. I could only think about joining the football team and I imagined what it would be like to be a jock. I’d be big and strong, sexy, athletic. I would fit right in with all my bros. Working out together, practicing together, winning and celebrating together.

During lunch, Zach announced that I would be joining the team, and the group of football jocks cheered and welcomed me to the team. One of them said it was only a matter of time until I decided to join, and I couldn’t really deny it. I looked at each member of the team, and I wondered how I would look compared to them. For a second, I remembered Braden’s words, but I quickly shrugged them off. He made it seem like my transformation would be a bad thing, but a nerd like him could never understand. This is what I desired. This was what I was destined for. And I kept those words in my head, as the clock turned to the end of the school day.

As soon as the final bell rang, I immediately rushed over to the locker room. I saw Zach in his white and red football uniform, missing only his helmet, and, having never seen him in this outfit before, I thought he looked perfect in it. And soon, so would I.

“You’re here early, bro,” he said. “You’re even more eager than I expected. Coach isn’t here yet, but I can explain the details to you.”

He led me towards the back, where he pulled out several pieces of clothing that would become synonymous with my new identity. A jersey already stitched with my name on it, tight compression pants and a compression shirt, football cleats, shoulder pads, a jockstrap, and a sturdy helmet that would adorn my head like a king would wear his crown.

“Put it on.”

I complied. I was a little disappointed at first, as the clothing looked at least a size above what I would normally wear. “No worries, you’ll grow into them quick, trust me.”

As I put on my new uniform, I started to become curious. What was this all about? So I asked him, “What’s the point of all of this anyways?”

“I guess there’s no reason to hide it anymore,” he responded. “To be honest, I was kinda like you once. I wasn’t really athletic like I am now, but my dad was actually a professional football player. He was forced to retire early due to a bad injury, but despite that, I wanted to do what he couldn’t. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never be the player I wanted to be. That all changed when Coach learned of my struggles and we worked together to make me into the football jock I had always dreamed of. Eventually, after about a year of testing, we found a way and that’s how I became who I am now. For once, I was strong, athletic, and confident, and it never felt forced or fake. Like this was who I really was all my life. Since then, similar studies were done at different high schools and colleges across the US. You wouldn’t know about any of that, because it’s all behind closed doors. Eventually, I found you and I realized that you were probably just as lost as I was, so I kinda took advantage of that. Sorry, I guess I’m not the kind of guy you thought I was.”

I had no idea that’s how Zach truly felt. I sympathized with him despite him hiding so much from me. We came from different backgrounds, but we both wanted the same thing. To be better, and to be stronger. Even after he poured his heart out to me and told me the truth, he was still Zach to me. I cared for him and he cared for me. He opened my eyes to a new world full of different possibilities. And so, I pushed my lips into his and our tongues wrestled for dominance. We were stopped by footsteps approaching. We returned to normal as Coach walked into the room, oblivious to the fact that we were making out seconds prior outside of our rosy cheeks.

“So you’re the kid Zach’s been talking about. I’m Coach Myers.” the man said. “I’m guessing he told you everything. Do you have any questions before we get started?”

“No sir,” I answered.

“In that case, let’s go into my office.” I obliged eagerly. There’s no going back. “Have a seat, sign these forms, and put these on.” They were earbuds. I signed my name on every form, formally granting my consent to join the team, and likely whatever changes would occur to me. In front of me was an old TV with a VCR. “You will watch and listen to this video for the full duration. You will notice some changes and you might feel a little uncomfortable. All you have to do is relax and focus on the video.” I did as he said. I sat down in my new football uniform, and I put the earbuds in both ears, and then finally put my helmet onto my head. With everything prepared, Zach turned off the lights, and the TV turned on, playing a video.

With the helmet over my head, my peripheral vision was restricted. I had little choice but to look at what was directly in front of me. My eyes became fixated on the screen in front of me as they became entranced by the flowing spiral. As I fell deeper into a trance, I felt as though my mind and body were on the opposite ends of the world. The audio was hard to make out, but somehow I felt like I understood it, at least subconsciously.

After a period of time that my mind couldn’t possibly comprehend, the imagery began to change. I started to make out clips of football players, playing football, being part of a team, throwing and catching the ball, tackling my opponents, strategies and plays. I learned the proper workouts and techniques and exercises that a football player would do. What at one time felt foreign to me felt like common knowledge, like I had done this my entire life. It was muscle memory, no pun intended.

It was at this moment that my body started to change. No. Change isn’t the right word. Evolve. I noticed my average-sized arms start to bulge, my biceps and triceps inflating like they were being pumped. Next, my shoulders expanded and became more sturdy, making my shoulder pads fit a little better. Then, my chest pumped out, my pecs eager to fill the empty space in my oversized jersey along with my new six-pack. Following that, my legs thickened until they felt tight in my compression pants, and my ass inflated like a balloon into a nice, round bubble butt. Below that, my feet grew longer and more wide, filling the size 15 shoes that my formerly size 11 feet would have had trouble walking around in. My penis, still erect, grew from an average 5 inches to an impressive 8 inches, feeling more and more aroused by the increasing stimulation and the surplus of testosterone flowing through my body. Finally, I felt my blonde medium length hair thin and become more like my teammates with shaved sides and a short top. Any chubbiness in my face disappeared as my facial features sharpened, especially my jawline and my chin, giving myself a more masculine look.

While all of this was happening, my mind was swirling and every part of me was being drained or replaced. I found that I was losing interest in most of my old hobbies, but the idea of playing and watching sports, working out, partying, having sex, and hanging out with the bros felt so much more enticing and appealing than it did before. I started to realize that I didn’t really care much about school or learning anymore, and that playing sports was the only real reason why I came to school. I was never the best student, but I always did my best. However, I realized that none of that mattered as long as I kept good enough grades to stay on the team. C’s get degrees, am I right? At worst, I could always bribe one of the smarter kids to do my homework for me.

Then, my mindset began to change. Before, I was introverted, polite, and humble. But now? I was outgoing, confident, and cocky, and I started to love the idea of that. It started to become unbelievable that I was ever not like this. I was always like this. As the changes in my mind were taking effect, I felt part of me overwhelmed by all the changes and trying to resist, but that stray thought was snuffed out like a candle, as the rest of my thoughts were drained from my mind. Any part of my former self’s mind was absorbed into my balls, which were swollen to the size of grapefruit at this point. As the changes in my body and mind reached its climax, so did my aching cock. As the video concluded, the words became more clear, and I could make out one phrase repeating over and over.

“You are a jock.”

It was at this point that I could finally release all my pent-up frustration from the past 24 hours. It was the best orgasm of my life. And just like that, load after load of my burning, sticky cum flooded my jockstrap, and with it, the memories of the old me were released from my body.

“Looks like someone made a mess,” Zach teased. “No worries, bro. It happens. How do you feel?” he asked as he put his arm around my shoulder. This time it felt different though, because I truly felt like one of the bros.

Jacob was gone. Jake took his place. I’m Jake, Jake the jock. My memories felt distorted but they were starting to become clear. I grew up always with a ball in my hand. I was naturally talented in any sport I played, but I gravitated towards football. I played it at my old school and I was among the best on the team. However, my dad got a new job and we were forced to move here. Thankfully, we were fortunate to live near a school with a gifted football program. I became friends with Zach and the football team, and naturally, I signed up for the team. And Zach? He was not just my bro or my best friend. He eventually became my boyfriend and the rest of the team supported our relationship. All of this felt so real to me, and a cocky smirk appeared on my unfamiliar face.

“Bro…I feel awesome,” I responded, my new, deeper voice matching both my new physique and personality. I looked down at my new body. It was like I hit puberty for the second time. I stood up, realizing that I was now several inches taller, now standing at a solid 6’2”. I was almost as tall as Zach, and I didn’t have to look up at him now. I felt like we were finally equals in terms of body and status.

“I told you you’d look amazing, bro,” he said as he gave me a peck on the cheek. “You should clean yourself up and get ready for practice. The other guys will never let it go if you come to your first practice with cum staining your uniform. Oh, and thanks Coach. Glad you could help both of us out.”

“Always glad to help out my star player,” Coach chuckled. “As for you, I think you turned out better than any of them yet. You might even give Zach a run for his money.” I felt a sense of pride being compared to him.

I quickly left Coach’s office and cleaned myself off. I changed into clothes that Zach lent me that would fit my new body better, and ran off to practice. Before that though, I stared at myself in the mirror so I could get my first glimpse of the new me. The person in front of me was completely unrecognizable to me, but I quickly grew comfortable with the jock in the mirror and I smiled at the person I had become. I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the flexing hunk that stood before me.

Time passed and my new life became more and more normal to me. I would go to school, hang out with the football team, go to practice, work out, and then hang out with Zach. It became a natural routine to me, and I was never happier. My grades dropped a bit because I was focused on football. It’s not that I can’t care about learning. I just don’t want to. Coach says it’s alright as long as I pass my classes.

For the first time, I felt a true sense of camaraderie with a group of guys, and especially Zach. It felt like we were joined at the hip. We were a pair both on the field and off it. We’re currently undefeated this year and I think we might even reach regionals.

Most of my classmates and peers barely noticed my changes since I was already new and to them, I blended in as yet another stereotypical football jock. The only people with an immediate reaction were my parents. They were a little surprised by my sudden changes, but they were supportive of my new passion for football and they were glad to see me making friends and staying active. I did remember one person who definitely would mind my changes.

Braden.

A week or so after my transformation, he walked up to me, obviously disappointed, with a look of shame on his face, and told me that I should’ve listened to him. I brushed aside his comments. He called me a dumb jock. I told him I was happier this way, but he refused to believe me. He wouldn’t accept it. He said that he was going to expose the football team somehow, and change everyone who was affected back, including me and Brad. He stormed off, hoping to find some way to expose us.

I didn’t show it on my face, but in my mind I was furious. I genuinely didn’t want to turn back and I didn’t want the football team to be suspended or shut down. I thought about Zach, about his dreams, and about mine. I wanted nothing more than for the two of us to live out our dreams together of being the best football jocks ever. I couldn’t let Braden figure out the truth. I have to stop him. I started to brainstorm ideas on how to keep him quiet.

A devious idea entered my mind. He wouldn’t want to snitch on us if we turned him into a jock first. He was obviously a little envious of me, of Zach, even his big brother. I’m sure he would grow to appreciate the idea if he just accepted it. Besides, I’m sure he would make a sexy football jock with his looks already. The idea of turning someone into a jock, corrupting them, awakening their true desires became so appealing to me, just like Zach had did for me. He’ll understand one day.

[glowettee]

✧ mastering academic email etiquette (1/20) (S1) ✧

(The Academic Weapon Series - by mindy @glowettee)

hi loves! mindy here <3 let's talk about something that literally no one teaches us but is so important - how to email your professors/teachers and academic advisors like a pro. if you couldn't tell this is a brand new series and instead of just having a certain amount of posts (which for this series its 20) i'm actually going to have SEASONS as well. so this is season 1, each season will have an amount of 20 posts each. i'm still continuing the manifestation series and almost done with the 'preparing for next semester series' as well, but this is a new one i'm so excited for!

your email presence is part of your academic reputation, so let's make it absolutely perfect:

subject line formula:

course code + brief topic

example: "eng101 - research paper consultation request"

keep it clear and specific

no vague "quick question" subjects!

email structure:

greeting

"dear professor/teacher [name]" (always)

never "hey" or "hi" alone

introduction

who you are

which class/section

when you meet

main content

one main topic per email

clear + concise

specific questions/requests

closing

thank them for their time

your full name

student ID if relevant

pro tips that changed my email game:

email during business hours

proofread twice, send once

no emotional language

wait 24 hours before follow-up

keep a professional email signature

things to absolutely avoid:

demanding immediate responses

writing walls of text

using slang or emojis

sending multiple emails about the same thing

asking questions answered in the syllabus

bonus tip: save email templates for common situations like:

office hours scheduling

assignment clarification

absence notifications

extension requests

recommendation letters

remember: professors get hundreds of emails! make yours stand out by being professional, clear, and respectful.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[ros3ybabe]

First Impressions 🎀

I've had 4 of my 5 classes so far (one doesn't start til october) and I definitely have some thoughts on them, so I thought I'd share my first impressions!

Principals of Accounting II:

the professor seems a bit disorganized, nervous, and semi chaotic but I like his energy

so many people in southern attire, I was a bit surprised

might take a decent amount of study time and energy to keep my grade up in the class, but I'm always up for a challenge and I definitely know I'm capable

gotta figure out a time efficient study routine for this class

Learning (Psychology)

professor has an accent, no idea where he's from, but it's a cool and thankfully understandable accent

feels very content heavy. I definitely want to buy the textbook for this class

need to find a way to stay awake, that's one of the classrooms that make me sleepy

that professor likes to talk for sure (1 hour and 15 min of just the syllabus? man's can talk)

Integrated Survey of Organic and Bio Chemistry

the professor is definitely a science guy, him being the professor makes perfect sense

i really like how he explains and teaches

appreciate that all the content needed is already posted to our class online and all the slides are available already

I love science based classes because I know how to succeed in them and this one seems no different

I have a friend in the class so that's nice!

Intro To Business (Online)

lots of content

lots to do

I gotta make sure I time manage for this class cause otherwise, I'm gonna fall behind

an introduction video?? why not just a discussion post?? ahhhhh

Overall, with working full time, this is going to be an incredibly stressful, incredibly busy semester, but I'm so up for the challenge, and I know I can do it. I just gotta study efficiently, time manage properly, and keep disciplined. I WILL be successful.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hey there! First off I'd like to say I love your blog and particularly your syllabus, I've been on a deep dive the past few days because there's so much in-depth yet very well organized discussion of topics that can be a bit daunting to research when you don't know where to start. And I apologize, too, for the lengthy ask (it kinda got away from me).

There was this passage in your post about Black queerness, in the section about white queer people comparing their struggle to Black struggles, about how those expeeiences can't be equated because the discussion of sexuality comes much later than the discussion of race, and the pain of white queerness comes from being robbed of a "normality" that was assigned or assumed of them from the moment they were born, an assumption that isn't extended to Black people regardless of their cisheterosexuality.

Now, this notion reminded me of a common experience related by many autistic people, about how even from an extremely young age, everyone around them seemed to inherently feel and behave as if they were abnormal, other, and just plain wrong as people. Of course, I don't mean to equate autism or neurodivergence to blackness, either; but I wonder if, on this particular experience, there could be any similarities or parallels to be drawn between the two.

Aside from that, do you have on your syllabus anything on Black autism or neurodivergence? I've read stuff from other people on the subject (particularly on Oppositional Defiant Disorder and ADHD being significantly over-diagnosed to Black boys), but since I've been deeply enjoying your explanations/compilations I thought it was worth asking.

(I should clarify: I am neither autistic nor Black. This comes from an outsider's interest on a possible topic of discussion, not an autistic person wishing to feel closer to blackness, nor a Black person drawing from their own point of view)

Sorry for the long ask! Don't feel obligated to respond, I know tumblr has a long history of treating anyone with an intent to educate like an on-demand browser. Thanks again for all the resources you provide!

This is a lot, I hope I can address it all:

1. There are people far smarter than I who could have that conversation about the intersection between autism and Blackness. But I feel like you answered your own question 😅 I have more to say, but I don't feel like I have enough grounds to speak on it at the moment.

2. At the moment, I do not. My next lesson will be on Black childhood. It is on my list, though. Sorry! Psychiatry DEFINITELY has a history of antiblack racism, just as every other science. From drapetomania to suggesting that Black protestors were schizophrenic for doing so... Oh yeah. That's something I am excited to get into.

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills

Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing | Lesson 3: Human Reproduction

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie