#Engineering subject tutoring

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[sparrows4bats]

@vi-reads Thanks for the Inspo!!

Damian is smart, a genius to rival his father, everyone knows that, but what even the batfamily didn't realise is just how qualified he is.

Damian spent at least the first 10 years of his life with access to a multitude of tutors who were forced to change their ciriculums to adapt to how fast he learnt. By the time he joins his family, he has the equivalent of PHDs in many fields, including but not limited to Geology, Business and Finance, Engineering, and Zoology. He learnt classical instruments such as the violin and is fluent in multiple languages.

Now imagine a preteen Damian going from that to a classroom education with his age group for the first time. No matter how elite Gotham Academy claims to be, there is only so much they can do to keep him stimulated, and as Bruce wants him to learn social skills, he is stuck in tedium.

So he looks for other outlets out of pure boredom. As the stagnantation gets worse, so does his attitude.

The first one to notice is Alfred, predictably. The old butler remembers how Bruce was at that age and the terror he was in his boredom, so he took Damian aside and offered him a deal. If he completes all of his schoolwork, how his teachers want him to. (It takes Damian only two hours a week) Alfred has no issue procuring him learning materials on any subject he would like. Damian so frustrated at this point, agrees without hesitation. The Manor quickly fills with university level textbooks on Physics, Chemical Engineering and Mathematics.

But soon that isn't enough, and Damian, despite knowing more than ever, has nothing to do with it.

He start seeking out the rogues after he finds their research. Ivy, Quinn, Freeze, and Scarecrow are very confused but so happy and flattered to talk about their work with Robin, who has fascinating ideas of his own.

Barbara is the next to notice because while she is taking inventory of Batcave supplies, she notices chemicals and other raw materials are going missing, so she checks the cameras and sees Damian making gadgets, different antidotes and poisons, even a second flying Batmobile!!

So Barbara confronts him about it and he (and Alfred) explain what's been going on and Barbara feels her heartbreak a little because God does she understand this problem she herself is always pursuing at least one qualification or writing a research paper under a puesdo name. When she was young, her boredom and the lack of accommodations in Gotham literally led to her becoming Batgirl.

A bored genius in Gotham is a recipe for disaster, so she very quickly sets Damian up with placement exams in every subject she can think of. He passes every single one of them at a high school level and many past university.

Damian looks elated when the results arrive, and Barbara easily convinces Harvard (where she did her law degree long distance) to accredit him and formalise his qualifications. They even work it so Damian can write his dissertations in Gotham Academy so that he can still gain social skills and go to Gotham University to use their labs and libraries when needed.

By the end of the year, Damian has earned his official PhD. in Geology and Mechanical Engineering and plans on doing his next one in Chemistry and Bioengineering. He even easily completes an MBA and starts branching out to the humanities.

The family doesn't know about any of this until Damian invites them all to his graduation, but do note the improvement in Damians' behaviour. (Damian keeps forging Bruces signature on the paperwork).

To say they are shocked but happy is an understatement. Bruce has a crisis because Damian has multiple PHDs in Gotham! What if he becomes a villain!

Yet all of Damians' research is for the betterment of people and animals. The batfamily becomes very overprotective of him, especially around chemicals. Just in case.

Jon finds out about it after Damian and he start dating. He knew his best friend was smart but hadn't taken him that seriously when they were kids. Damian went to Gotham Academy and hated every second of it.

After he slept over for the first time and couldn't find him in the morning, Jon located him in the Manor by his heartbeat to Damians study, where his degrees were framed and hung on the wall. He was in awe of how many there were.

Damian proudly explained each one to him, and Jon kissed his genius for every graduation he missed. He now calls Damian Doctor just to see him blush. (In the privacy of his own mind, Dr. And Mr Wayne Kent has a nice ring to it.)

Damian and Barbara bond and give feedback on eachothers work regularly. The bats who are still in school come to them for help, and Tim is inspired to get his GED and join a university program. (Alfred is Delighted) The Wayne Family Library expands rapidly to accommodate research materials, and Bruce builds Damian a proper lab. (It's so much easier to make antidotes now!)

When Damian goes to med school, he quits being Robin as he has to be there in person at odd hours. Bruce mopes, but goes to yet another graduation. Damian still does some lab work but finds his calling in Surgery and Medical Research.

The thing is, outside of the family, and even inside of it, very few know how many qualifications Damian has achieved.

Until one of the rare times Damian goes to Watchtower and someone tries to correct him as he explains the very complicated biochemical pathogen that is being spread by a new villain.

Damian looks bored and asks where they did their degree when other answers he goes, "Oh yes, I know your advisor. I disproved his shoddy results last month. I published my paper last week."

The hero turns bright red and tries to argue, but Damian shuts him down at every turn. "Well, the expert in this field - "

"Is me, so if you don't have a better idea, sit the hell down and shut up!"

The bats look so smug, and Jon has to restrain himself from dragging his wonderful partner into the nearest supply closet. (He finds Damian so irresistible when he is both competent and verbally evisirating someone.)

[edamameimei]

everything you wanted (daniela avanzini x reader)

"you're just thinking it's a small thing that happened, the world ended when it happened to me."

synopsis: after an unexpected accident shakes their world, your friends make it their mission to carry out what seems to be your 'final wish.' however, what they discover goes deeper than anticipated. feat: winter from aespa, soobin and yeonjun from txt tags: so much angst im so sorry. kinda fluffy, but do not be fooled. childhood best friends au. loosely based off the kdrama 'move to heaven,' more specifically, episode 5 (ifykyk). CW: kissing, character death, suggestive themes wc: 4271 words

⏯ now playing: we hug now - sydney rose

part two

It was any other night for you. 

After consuming a copious amount of caffeine, you are finally done studying. You look at your watch, sighing tiredly when the screen displays 2:00 AM. You rub your face with your hands. What you thought would be a short study session became much longer than anticipated. You didn’t realize how behind you were. 

You slowly stuff your laptop into your bag, zipping it up then swinging it over your shoulder. You yawn as you make your way toward the library exit. When you walk outside, you can’t help the quiet, ‘fuck’ that escapes your mouth. 

It’s a torrential downpour tonight; your measly hoodie was the only thing you had.

You put your hood on, shaking your head as you walk quickly to your apartment. It was only a couple blocks away but in this weather, it might as well feel like years. You keep your head down as you walk, shivering with every step. You’re relieved when you finally get to the crosswalk that leads straight to your apartment building.

You step out onto the street, not thinking to look both ways. It was late and your brain was fried, having any rational thoughts at this point is impossible. 

But as you keep your head down, your eyes trained on your feet, you don’t notice the headlights getting closer. You don’t hear the rev of an engine or the music that blasts loudly from a vehicle. You just wanted to be in bed already.

You don’t notice until you hear the ugly screech of the tires. 

You look up, your eyes immediately widening when you realize. You raise your hands, the world going silent in a blink of an eye. 

You meet Daniela Avanzini in the 8th grade.

You were tasked with tutoring the younger student due to your above-average knowledge of the subject she was struggling with. The only thing you know about the girl is that she’s quite loud, very sociable, and is terrible at science– things you are not. 

You sit in the classroom waiting for the girl. Your nose is in yet another book, so entranced by the story that you don’t even notice when she walks in. You only look up when you hear the chair next to you being pulled out. When you see her, you immediately freeze. 

She was undeniably the prettiest person you have ever seen. 

She holds her hand out, smiling widely, “Daniela Avanzini.”

You grab her hand and shake it. It almost feels like a promise. “Y/n L/n.” 

Your closest friends stand at your apartment door, a sad silence surrounding them. 

It felt wrong. Going into your apartment with you nowhere to be seen. 

But, after the funeral, your parents asked them to go through your things. They asked for your awards, certificates, medals, but nothing else. The rest is junk. It enraged them to think that’s all you ever were to your parents and even after death, it’s still the same. You often complained about them, telling stories about how they pushed you to be just like them. But you were nothing like them. You were just as hard working, that much was obvious. But you had your goals set on something else. It wasn’t medical school nor your research in the labs. But it was something you kept to yourself, never once sharing with your friends. 

And they are determined to figure out what that was.

Winter leans down, removing the mat lying in front of your door. She picks up the key, shaking her head with a chuckle. “For a genius, what a stupid place to keep a key.” Soobin laughs and so does Yeonjun. They watch as Winter unlocks the door. At the same time, they all realize that you will not be inside waiting for them. You will not be three energy drinks in, studying at your desk. You will not be lying on your couch, cozied in your blankets with a book. You will never be in this apartment again and it doesn’t make sense because it’s yours. 

Soobin walks in first and the others follow suit. They stand in the hallway, taking it all in. After a few moments of silence, they walk into your room. They’ve been in your apartment almost a thousand times but this time it felt unknown. What usually feels homey now feels desolate without its warm presence. The feeling intensifies when they walk into your room.

The bed wasn’t made. It was as if you were there this morning. 

The thought almost makes them want to turn around. The desire to leave everything untouched becomes unbearable. At least then, there would be evidence that you were there. It wouldn’t matter how long ago, you would be there and you would be alive. 

Your desk was littered with papers, some crumpled up while others had words scratched out with a pen. The trashcan was filled with coffee cups and energy drink cans. Yeonjun walks over to the nightstand, spotting your ID badge. He picks it up and stares at it for a moment. 

Y/N L/N. 4TH YEAR PRE-MED INTERN. EMORY MEDICAL RESEARCH CENTER. 

His lip trembles as he looks at your ID photo. “We were gonna graduate in three months…” He shakes his head and pockets your ID, wanting it as a keepsake. It’s a weird thing to have sentimental value over; but grief does that unfortunately. Yeonjun turns around and walks back toward Winter and Soobin. They found an empty spot on the floor to sit, not wanting to sit on your bed. Yeonjun sits next to them and takes a deep breath. He lets out a shaky sigh. “Well. This is really fucking weird.” Winter laughs. She tries not to let the tears brimming her eyes to fall. She looks down at her lap and whispers, “What now?” 

Soobin shrugs his shoulders. He leans back, propping himself up with his arms. He looks around your room with a sad smile. “We find what we’re looking for.” 

You are known as an academic weapon to your teachers and peers.

You aren’t a natural by any means. It takes a lot of sacrifice to be as smart as you are. Other kids your age are going out and having fun while you are at home, studying for an exam weeks away. The determination was built into you, wired this way by your parents who believe in nothing less than perfect. You had a destiny to fulfill and you were dedicated to it. If it meant long hours of studying at the library, in study hall, or at home, then so be it.  

But your favorite study spot by far is on the bleachers. 

It sounds ridiculous because it is. It doesn’t make sense for you to like it so much. It’s the noisiest place to be, especially after school. The constant yelling from the football team, the shrill of a whistle every five minutes, the cheerleading squad repeating the same routine over and over again. The bleachers were an overstimulating nightmare. 

But it gives you the best view of Daniela Avanzini, your best friend in the entire world. 

You learned more about the Latina through the many tutoring sessions in middle school. Even after she began to improve in science, Daniela insisted on still meeting with you. You learned she was very dedicated to dancing and performing. She wanted to become a star. For the first time, your life wasn’t consumed by formulas and medical terminology. You secretly lived vicariously through the girl, seeing her chase a dream that was all hers. You had no dreams. 

You just had to get into medical school. That’s all you knew. 

After some convincing (and her not willing to let go of you when you were desperately trying to make your way toward the school’s library) you finally made use of the time waiting for Daniela to finish cheer practice. You wouldn’t admit it, but after a couple of weeks, it has become one of your favorite places. Watching Daniela cheer became a new hobby of yours. She shined on the field, her bright smile lighting up the student section even when their football team loses yet another game. The feeling you get watching her is the same when you attend her dance competitions. You feel proud to be her best friend. And you even feel special when you are always the first person she runs up to when they’re over. 

Daniela never lets you forget how important you are to her. 

And in return, you’ve never missed a football game when she started on the team last year. You haven’t missed a cheer competition nor a dance competition. Every single thing Daniela participated in, you were there. She always urged you to do the same, to join an activity so she had something of yours to go to, but you always had the same excuse. You were just too busy. And why should you? You’d miss the way Daniela looks up at you in the bleachers after practicing well. The way she smiles as if looking for approval. And you’d always smile back because she always does well. 

After practice ends, you always wait for her outside the locker room. When she comes out, she makes a beeline toward you, interlocking your fingers immediately. She would always look up at you with a smile, her dimple evident in her cheek. She asks, “Did you like what we did today?” And even if it’s always the same thing, you always nod, squeezing her hand gently, “Of course I did, sunshine.” The nickname never fails to make her giggle. You called her that once during one of your tutoring sessions in middle school, and she never let it go. 

She pushes your glasses up on your face, leaning up to place a lingering kiss on your cheek. When she pulls away, she giggles, grabbing your hand again. She pulls you toward your car. “Come on, make yourself useful and get me ice cream!” You roll your eyes, allowing her to drag you. You playfully respond, “What do you say, sunshine?” 

She giggles again. “Please make yourself useful and get me ice cream?” 

You didn’t need the please. You just wanted to hear her laugh again. 

Your friends return to Soobin’s apartment after digging around your apartment for hours. 

They sit on his couch and in front of them on the coffee table is a locked box. They found it hiding amongst your old medical textbooks underneath your bed. They were always curious about this box. They’ve watched you put things in it before but your friends always respected your privacy, never asking about it or bringing it up. But they knew whatever was inside held the answers to their question. 

The only problem is the lock on it. 

Yeonjun suggested picking the lock (“We don’t know how to do that.” “YouTube is our best friend, you know?”) and Winter says to break it open (“How do you intend on doing that?” “Just… Smash it open?”) but Soobin feels it would only be right to figure out the combination. When he says this, Yeonjun raises his eyebrow. “Are you serious? We don’t even know what’s in here. And you think we can just figure out a combination?” Soobin sighs. He knows it sounds stupid, but he already feels bad for invading your personal life like this. After a few seconds of silence, Winter picks up the box. Soobin reaches his hand out, scared she may try her idea, but she pushes him away, fiddling with the lock. “Trust me! Let me try something…” 

The two boys watch Winter work on it. Their eyes widen when they hear the lock click open. She pulls it off, surprised as well. Yeonjun leans over, the shock evident in his voice, “How’d you figure it out that fast?” 

Winter shrugs, looking down at the box in her lap. “I tried their phone passcode. 0701.”

It’s your senior year, and your feelings for Daniela have evolved to a point where they have become distracting. 

Your parents have noticed your lack of focus on your studies. Being the child of two well-known doctors in Atlanta made it even more difficult for you. There was a title to uphold and a pressure for you to be just like them. Before meeting Daniela, it was something you’ve accepted. You had your entire future figured out before you were even born. After meeting Daniela though, the free spirit that she is, made you realize there’s a lot more to life than the expectations your parents set for you. 

There were days where you’d stay longer in study hall, attempting to study for your AP classes. But it would be immediately forgotten once Daniela joins you. On the days where she isn’t at cheer or dance practice, she would join you wherever you are. She’d sit next to you, taking out her homework or the latest book she had begun reading. She would put her glasses on and get lost in her task, while you took glances at her shamelessly. 

It always confused you on why she’d spend all her free time with you when she had her own life to live. 

When you arrive at school in the mornings, you’d find her standing at her locker talking to her friends from cheer or class. The moment she spots you, she’s ending the conversation and attaching herself to your hip. No one at your school understood your friendship with Daniela. You were always so quiet, so timid. Daniela was energetic and everyone knew her name. But no one would ever see one or the other, they always saw you and her. And that’s how it always was. 

Until one morning. 

You walked into school expecting to see Daniela at her locker. However, you spot her on the other side of the hallway. She stands with a boy you recognize from the football team. You watch as they interact and your stomach drops when she places her hand on his shoulder. You see them laugh together and you have to will yourself to look away when you see her light up at whatever the boy says. You walk quickly down the hallway, avoiding her eyes. You don’t stop when she calls your name. You just keep going, ignoring the stinging in your chest. 

It goes on like this for a week. And then two weeks. Then suddenly, you’ve stopped keeping track of how long it has been since you talked to Daniela. You have exams and projects to focus on.

You walk out of study hall, your eyes on your phone as you walk toward the exit. However, you bump into something– or someone more like it. When you look up, your eyes widen. 

It’s Daniela. 

She has her arms crossed and she is glaring at you with that intense look in her eyes. You check your watch, noticing she should have been on the bus to go to the game 15 minutes ago. You’re about to say something but Daniela pushes you, successfully knocking you back a couple steps. You look at her surprised. The Latina steps closer to you, jabbing a finger into your chest. “What the hell has gotten into you lately?” You look away from her, your voice shaking slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” She scoffs, crossing her arms again. Her tone comes out even harsher than before. “You’ve been avoiding me. I thought you were just busy with everything but you haven’t even answered my texts! You won’t even look at me anymore, what the hell is going on?!” 

You look at her, exasperated. “Dani, I don’t need to always–” 

She cuts you off, yelling, “Don’t call me that!” Her words make you roll your eyes. You try to walk away but she grabs your wrist and stops you. You turn toward her, your tone firm, “Let me go, Daniela.” But once the words leave your mouth, you regret them immediately. Your eyes soften when you see how hurt she looks. Tears are threatening to spill from her eyes and her lip trembles. She whispers, her voice cracking, “What did I do wrong?” The desperation in her voice breaks your heart. Knowing you’re the reason makes you feel worse. You shake your head, taking a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sunshine.”

She wipes her eyes and you want to reach out and wipe her tears for her. She looks up at you, her eyes glistening. “Then what’s up with you? You’re supposed to be my best friend…” She shakes her head and looks down at her feet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/n.” 

Her words knock the wind out of you. Without a second thought, you grab her by the waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She doesn’t respond at first. You begin to think that you’ve ruined everything, that you’ve lost Daniela completely. You’re about to pull away but she grabs your shirt and pulls you closer. Her lips move against yours desperately and it makes your knees weak. 

For the first time in your life, you have something worth fighting for. 

On top of everything lies an envelope. 

Yeonjun grabs it. He takes a deep breath and opens it slowly. His hands shake as he pulls out two pieces of paper. 

One is a one-way ticket to Los Angeles. 

The other is a concert ticket. 

Winter takes the concert ticket from his hands, studying it. She can’t help the giggle that escapes her lips. “Katseye?”

Your first semester at Emory is a nightmare. 

After years of being able to breeze through any assignment and project, you now find yourself struggling to keep up with the demands of what it takes to be a pre-med student. 

You’re consuming more caffeine than you ever did in your life, there are days you’re not even sure if you ate anything besides a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bookbag, and amongst all of your fellow pre-med colleagues, you feel somewhat inadequate. 

You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm when you hear your phone begin to ring. You want to ignore it knowing your exam is in the morning, but your eyes briefly land on the name. You grab your phone, answering it immediately. You lean back in your chair and smile. “Hey there, sunshine.” 

“I’m outside.” You sit up, your eyes wide and your heart beating out of your chest. Your smile gets wider as you stand. “Are you serious?” She giggles, responding, “Come outside and find out.” You speed walk toward your door, your hand on the door knob but Daniela stops you. “Nuh uh. It’s cold out here, put on a sweater.” You roll your eyes, groaning, “How do you know I’m not wearing one?” The silence on the other end is the only response you get and it causes you to sigh, quickly grabbing one of the hoodies you threw on the ground earlier. You sprint downstairs and hear Daniela laughing on the other end at your excitement. You run out the door and spot her immediately. 

You run toward your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her waist. You spin her around and her loud squeals cause you to smile even wider. When you put her down, you lean in, kissing her softly. She places her hands on your cheeks, deepening the kiss. You pull her closer as if you were scared this was all a dream. After a few minutes, she pulls away, looking at you with stars in her eyes. You kiss her dimple before pulling her back for a tight hug, burying your face in her shoulder. You murmur, “What are you doing here?” 

She giggles, running a hand through your hair. “To see you, dummy.” You pull away slightly to look at her in surprise. “You drove almost an hour to see me?” She nods, wrapping her arms around your neck. She leans in and kisses your nose. “I missed you…” You pull her in for another tight hug and chuckle. “I missed you too, sunshine.” You hold her close, your worries disappearing. You’re about to ask her to come inside but she speaks up, saying, “I do have something to tell you.” You pull away, your arms still around her waist. You notice the excitement in her eyes and tilt your head in curiosity. “What’s up?” 

She takes a deep breath. She speaks softly,  “Do you remember that audition I was telling you about?” You light up at her words, nodding quickly. “Yeah! Did it go well?” Daniela bites her lip and nods. You hug her again, shaking her excitedly. You remember how nervous she was for her audition, but you knew she’d do well. She always does. 

However, you notice a shift in her mood. You pull away, placing your hands on her shoulders. You look at her worriedly. “That’s a good thing, right?” Daniela looks down when she hears your words. She whispers, her voice barely audible, “I’m going to California.”  

Soobin continues sifting through the box and pulls out a stack of letters that are neatly kept together with a rubber band. Yeonjun and Winter lean closer to him, watching as he pulls the rubber band off with caution. He goes through the letters and notices they are all addressed to you. They’re all dated and signed off by the same person. 

‘Your Sunshine.’

Yeonjun grabs one of the letters. Unlike the others, this one was mailed to you. He opens it, taking it out of its envelope. “This one is from three years ago…” Winter looks at it, her eyes scanning for anything important. She sits up straighter when she reads the words ‘Dream Academy.’ She reads the whole paragraph aloud: “I know you’re not happy about me going to Los Angeles. About me being on Dream Academy. But this is everything I’ve ever worked for. I can’t give it up for anything, I’m sorry. You have your dream and I have mine.”

Soobin looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?” Winter grabs the envelope that contains the two tickets. She holds it up, waving it around, “Y/n was going to Los Angeles–” Yeonjun cuts her off, adding, “Yeah? They got a job at the UCLA Medical Research Center there… That wasn’t that surprising.” Winter rolls her eyes, continuing, “They weren’t just going to Los Angeles for a job, dumbass. They were going for whoever this is.” She opens the envelope, taking out the Katseye ticket. “And I think it’s someone from this group.” 

Yeonjun leans back against the couch, chuckling. “You’re joking right?” Winter shakes her head. She looks back at the letter, putting the pieces together. “Dream Academy was the survival show that created Katseye… It just makes sense.” And no one can deny it, it certainly does make sense. But it all seems so far fetched. If anything, they could be putting together a story that doesn’t exist at all. They sit in silence, not knowing what to do with the information in front of them. Winter sighs and puts the letter down. She looks at the two boys with a determination in her eyes. 

“There’s one way we could try… Seeing if I’m right.” 

Daniela breaks up with you over the phone. 

It wasn’t a long phone call. But it did enough to crush you. 

She tells you that the distance is too much to handle. She tells you that she needs to focus on training. She tells you how she can’t be distracted. 

When the phone call ends, you can’t help but feel you’re back at square one. 

You sit in your dorm, taking a glance at your anatomy textbook. You push it off your desk, tears spilling from your eyes. 

An hour later, they move their investigation to Winter’s apartment.

They sit in her room, waiting patiently for your phone to charge. It was given to her by the police when they came to break the news of the accident. Your driver’s license still had the address of when you and Winter lived together in your second and third year at Emory, which led to her being the unfortunate one to know what happened first. 

She was also the unfortunate one to identify the body.

The sound of your phone turning on fills the silence of the room. They turn their heads, looking at it. Your lockscreen was all of you together during a trip you all took last spring. You’re all smiling widely, holding each other close. Even through the cracks on the screen, the photo still emanates a happiness that they are afraid of never getting back. 

Soobin grabs your phone and looks at the others, his hands shaking. They watch him unlock it ‘0701’ and swipe for your contacts. He sighs in relief when he sees you haven’t blocked the contact he had been looking for. 

‘Sunshine <3’

“What if they pick up?” He whispers, looking up from your phone. Winter shrugs and keeps her eyes on her lap. She speaks quietly, “I guess we’ll see.” Soobin nods and looks back down at the contact. He taps on it, putting it on speaker for everyone else to hear. 

To their surprise, the person answers on the first ring. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” 

an: i literally have no clue how this idea came to mind considering I watched the drama like two years ago but hey! heartbreaking content! i lowk don't recommend watching it bc it is so sad and it took a lot of mental energy for me to finish but it was so good. watch it if you'd like some context, esp episode 5 but u rlly don't have to.

requests are open

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Prologue

Summary: A college student (reader) forms a deep bond with a young professor, Spencer Reid, over weekly study sessions in the library. After months of building a friendship, they share a night together, only for the student to be left alone, Spencer gone without a word.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, backstory, mild smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: non-descriptive smut (18+), talks of sex, alcohol, professor/student relationship (but it's Spencer and he's 18 like his students), being used for sex, loss of virginity, (un)requited feelings, no happy ending for this part

Word count: 8.6k

a/n: new story just dropped lol -- wrote so fucking fast and not edited at all sorryyyy

main masterlist part one part two part three part four

Being a wonder kid, Spencer Reid’s youth was one of isolation. Growing up too young, too smart, too awkward—too everything to really fit in—made life difficult. He navigated a world where his intelligence placed him far beyond his peers, yet his age kept him at arm’s length from those who might understand him better. It wasn’t until he began teaching an engineering course while working on his PhD at eighteen that he finally felt a flicker of that belonging.

Standing in front of an auditorium full of undergraduates, Spencer finally experienced something akin to acceptance. The students, many only a few years older than him, loved the fresh, youthful energy he brought to their 8 a.m. class. For the first time, they weren’t learning from a middle-aged professor droning on about equations but from someone who felt like one of them. Spencer’s lectures were passionate, and he brought concepts to life in ways that made the subject not only digestible but genuinely fun.

It didn't hurt that he was handsome either; that soft hair, those gentle brown eyes framed by glasses, and the earnest way he smiled—all of it made more than a few students swoon over him at one point or another. Spencer, of course, remained oblivious to the dreamy stares and flirtatious comments.

Despite his newfound sense of belonging in the classroom, Spencer didn’t really hang out with anyone. He remained somewhat of an enigma—attending his own study groups, tutoring off and on, and sometimes grabbing lunch with faculty who treated him more like an adorable novelty than a colleague. He was used to it by then, that feeling of floating in between worlds. 

But one day, after a particularly engaging lecture on applied mechanics, a student named Jasper approached him. Jasper was bold, with a confident walk and a grin that suggested they weren’t afraid to push boundaries. “Hey, Professor Reid,” they said casually, leaning against the edge of the lecture podium.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Spencer replied, caught slightly off guard as he scrambled to gather his things. He was never quite sure how to handle the one-on-one interactions with students that felt too friendly, too casual. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”

Jasper laughed and shook their head. “No, actually, I was just thinking... Me and my roommates are throwing a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You know, kick back, meet some people... No physics or equations, promise.”

Spencer blinked, processing the invitation like a computer struggling to boot up. A party? With students? It felt... like an odd concept, but one that piqued his interest in a way nothing had before. He’d never really had a social invitation like this—especially not one involving people close to his own age. The idea was exhilarating, and for a moment, Spencer could almost feel what it might be like to be just another young adult, rather than the kid-genius-teacher everyone knew him as.

“Really?” Spencer’s eyes lit up, his grin boyish and genuine. “That sounds great, actually! Should I, um... should I bring anything? Snacks? Drinks? I can... figure something out.”

Jasper shook their head, laughter spilling out at how adorably sincere he was being. “No, no, don’t worry about it,” they said, waving off his concern. “Just bring yourself, cutie.” With a teasing wink and a quick flick of their wrist, they slipped a small note with their address into Spencer’s hands. And then, with that same confident stride, Jasper turned and walked away, leaving Spencer to stand there, flushed and stunned, staring down at the address in his palm like it was some secret code to a new world he’d been waiting forever to explore.

—

Spencer stood outside the house, his nerves and excitement mingling as he took in the scene. The address Jasper had given him led him to a lively place: music thumping loudly enough to rattle the windows, laughter spilling out through the open front door, and the warm glow of lights casting playful shadows on the lawn. People were milling around everywhere—huddled in small circles, raising drinks to one another, dancing, and talking loudly over the music. It was the kind of scene Spencer had seen in movies but never really experienced in real life.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and stepped inside. He immediately felt out of place in his neat button-down shirt and slacks, compared to the casual party attire of those around him. But he was here, and he was determined to enjoy it. As he made his way through the crowded entryway, Spencer's eyes were wide, absorbing every detail—the smell of popcorn and alcohol mixing in the air, the flashing lights, the loud music, and the laughter. He weaved through groups of students, dodging stray elbows and trying to make eye contact with anyone who might seem familiar. 

However, after a few failed attempts at small talk and realizing that almost everyone he knew was either preoccupied or didn’t recognize him outside the classroom setting, Spencer’s excitement dimmed a bit. He found himself gravitating towards a quieter corner of the living room, eventually sinking into the soft, worn leather of a couch, trying to look relaxed but not too out of place. He sat there, half-heartedly holding a cup of soda someone had pressed into his hand earlier, unsure of what to do next. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass by, and he’d offer a polite wave or smile, but nothing stuck. 

The longer he sat, the more he felt like an observer looking through glass, disconnected from the easy laughter and carefree movements around him. He sighed inwardly, wondering if coming to this party was such a great idea after all. But as he settled back into his seat, he heard an enthusiastic voice shout above the noise.

“Professor Reid!” 

He barely had time to look up before Jasper dropped down beside him on the couch, their presence as warm and electrifying as a flash of lightning. They were so close that the entire side of their body pressed against Spencer's, hip to shoulder, the sudden contact sending a warm jolt through his skin. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice louder than usual to be heard over the music but still tinged with that inherent awkwardness that never quite left him in social situations. He noticed the slight flush in Jasper’s cheeks, their eyes bright and relaxed from the party vibe.

“I thought you were gonna be a no-show,” Jasper teased, leaning in so that their mouth was close to Spencer's ear, their voice buzzing through him. “You seemed kinda nervous when I invited you.”

“N-no, not at all!” Spencer said quickly, though his laugh betrayed his nerves. “I was... just... you know, trying to, uh, soak it all in.”

“Well,” Jasper drawled, dragging out the word like they were savoring it, “now that you're here, we should make sure you have a good time. Can’t have my favorite professor looking all lonely in the corner.” They flashed him that teasing smile, the one that Spencer had come to recognize as Jasper's signature charm, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the crowded room and the strangers dancing around him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a bit more relaxed, the warmth from Jasper’s touch making the party seem a little less intimidating. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That night, Spencer had no idea how things would unfold. What started as casual chatter on that couch quickly transformed into something more charged, more intimate. Jasper had a way of making Spencer feel seen—really seen—and as they talked, leaning into each other, the lines between conversation and flirtation blurred until they no longer existed at all. Eventually, the touches grew longer, more intentional, and Spencer felt his breath catch when Jasper’s fingers brushed against the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their lips finally met.

It was Spencer’s first kiss, and it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once. He was clumsy at first, feeling every ounce of his inexperience and fearing that he was doing everything wrong. But Jasper was patient, guiding him with slow, teasing movements until Spencer’s hesitations melted into something fervent and desperate. They broke apart, breathless and flushed, and before he knew it, Jasper was pulling him up, leading him through the crowded party, down a narrow hallway, and into a bedroom.

There, it happened—the fumbling of clothes, the whispered instructions and reassurances. Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the nerves and adrenaline mixing with a primal kind of desire he’d never felt before. Jasper seemed to know exactly what they were doing, leading and coaxing Spencer through the motions, and for once, he wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t caught in the spiral of his own mind. He let go, lost in the sensations of touch, taste, and pleasure as he experienced intimacy for the first time.

When it was over, Spencer lay on his back, panting, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief wash over him. He was almost scared to speak, to ask what this all meant. But before he could say anything, Jasper sat up and smiled, giving Spencer a quick, almost dismissive pat on the arm.

“That was fun, Professor,” Jasper said with a playful grin that lacked the intimacy they'd shared moments before. “But I’m gonna get some sleep now. Thanks for, you know, joining in on the fun tonight.”

Spencer sat up, a little dazed and trying to process the sudden shift. He nodded, feeling a strange lump in his throat, and muttered a soft, “Yeah, sure. Thanks... for inviting me.” There was no animosity in Jasper’s tone, but it was clear the night had come to its end. Spencer gathered his clothes, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room, his head spinning with a thousand thoughts. He walked through the party once more, though he felt almost invisible now, slipping out the front door into the cool night air.

The next class was excruciatingly awkward for Spencer. He’d gone over the lecture material several times, but nothing could prepare him for the moment when Jasper walked in, took a seat right in the middle of the room, and gave him an easy smile like nothing had happened. Spencer struggled to maintain eye contact and found himself stumbling over his words more than usual. He felt exposed, raw, like everyone in that room somehow knew what had happened between them.

But Jasper was unbothered, unfazed—completely casual. It was as if that night was just another blip on their radar, a moment to be shared and then forgotten. And perhaps that was the point. As the days went on, Spencer realized that to Jasper, and probably to many others, it was just another night—no strings, no lingering feelings, just a moment of pleasure and then moving on. 

The realization was strange for Spencer. He couldn't help but question if that was just what sex was—casual, meaningless, but a great way to blow off steam. It felt anticlimactic to think that something so intimate was treated so carelessly, but maybe that was the reality. For all his intellect, this was an area Spencer had little experience in, and he found himself trying to adjust to this new perspective. Maybe this was just the way people did things, and maybe that night with Jasper was simply the start of understanding what it meant to live a life that wasn’t dictated by equations or theories, but by messy, imperfect human experiences.

—

The library was packed with students hunched over textbooks, fingers flying across keyboards, and whispered conversations about study guides. You were already on edge, the stress of your final exam making every little noise seem louder, every empty table harder to find. You hugged your books to your chest, eyes darting around for any free spot, your mind already buried in the formulas and concepts you needed to cram before tomorrow.

Then, without warning, you collided with a solid body as you turned a corner. Your books tumbled out of your grip, scattering across the polished floor. “Shit!” you blurted out, the curse escaping before you could hold it back. “Sorry!” You dropped down immediately to pick up your books, your face burning with embarrassment.

Just as you did, so did the person you’d run into, and the next thing you knew, there was a dull thud as your foreheads collided with a painful smack. You jerked back, clutching your head, eyes watering from the sudden sharp sting.

“Ow,” the guy groaned, rubbing his forehead. He winced, but there was a hint of a laugh behind the pain, a softness in his voice that made your embarrassment double. 

“Fuck, my bad,” you stammered, feeling utterly mortified. “I’m so clumsy.”

The guy chuckled lightly, standing back up as he brushed off his pants. “Me too, it’s alright,” he said. As you looked up, you finally saw who you’d bumped into.

It was him. Professor Reid—the young genius who everyone in your classes seemed to talk about, with rumors that swirled around him like leaves in a storm. The eighteen-year-old PhD who made engineering sound sexy, apparently both in his lectures and in the beds of the more... adventurous students. You’d heard more than one friend gush about how he'd helped them understand a complicated theory in more ways than one, their whispers tinged with admiration and amusement.

And now here he was, standing right in front of you, all tousled curls, warm hazel eyes, and that slightly awkward but undeniably charming smile. The closeness made you realize how tall he was, his lean frame towering over you. You felt a rush of heat creep down your neck, spreading across your skin like wildfire. You’d seen him from afar, of course—catching glimpses of him in lecture halls or around campus—but never up close like this, and he was... so much prettier than you’d expected. 

“Are... are you okay?” Professor Reid asked, still rubbing his head but looking at you with a concern that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, grabbing the books you'd dropped before handing them to you, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, gripping your books tightly, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was now tingling where he’d touched it. “I just... wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted, his smile widening a little as he looked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I guess we're both guilty.”

“Yeah, guess so,” you said, forcing a laugh. God, why was it so hard to speak right now? You mentally cursed yourself for being so flustered. You quickly glanced around, realizing that most of the tables were still full, and suddenly it dawned on you that there were no available places to sit... except for the table behind him.

“Um... do you—do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, gesturing to the table he’d just been standing beside.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the table and then at you, a strange look crossing his face like he was trying to figure something out. Then, with that same awkward but genuine smile, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It's all yours.” 

You thanked him quietly, moving to the chair and settling down, but as you did, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him—those curls falling just right, his long fingers thumbing through his notes as he lingered nearby. And as you opened your books, pretending to focus on studying, you couldn't stop sneaking glances at the very attractive, young professor. 

The hour that followed was filled with the gentle rustle of pages turning, pens scratching against paper, and the occasional cough or whisper from other students scattered around the library. But you couldn’t concentrate, not really. Your eyes kept drifting up from your notes to the table across from you, where Professor Reid sat hunched over his books, his focus so intense that you wondered what on earth he could be doing. Every now and then, your gazes would accidentally meet, and you’d look away quickly, your cheeks heating up as if you'd been caught doing something wrong.

You were in the middle of re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time when you heard his voice break the silence between you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began, the soft tone of his voice instantly grabbing your attention, “what course are you studying for?”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and for a moment, all you could do was blink at him. He was looking at you curiously, genuinely interested, and his expression was kind, almost encouraging. You tucked a stray hair behind your ear and cleared your throat, trying not to let your voice shake as you replied, “Oh, uh, architecture. I’m studying for an exam... final one of the semester.”

“Architecture!” Spencer’s face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It was like you’d just told him the most fascinating thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he seemed so genuinely enthusiastic. “That’s great! I’ve always thought architecture was such a beautiful blend of art and science—it’s like engineering for the soul, you know? There’s so much math involved, but it’s all to create something tangible, something that can change the way people experience space. And the way architecture has evolved over time? It’s like a living timeline of human innovation!”

He continued to ramble, moving from modern skyscrapers to the ancient marvels of Rome, describing the symmetry of cathedrals and the beauty of brutalism. The passion in his voice made every word seem like a story, and you sat there, leaning your chin on your hand, utterly captivated by the way he spoke. It was clear he loved to share knowledge, to connect different ideas, to see how everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

You found yourself smiling wider and wider, nodding along as he spoke, absorbing everything he said not because you needed to know it for your exam, but because he made it all sound so alive. 

“Sorry,” he said suddenly, laughing softly as he realized he’d been talking nonstop for quite a while. He leaned back in his chair, a slight flush in his cheeks. “I tend to... ramble a bit. Especially when it’s something interesting. I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly, shaking your head. “Actually... I liked listening to you.” 

He seemed surprised by that, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes and offering a shy smile. “You, um... you make it all sound really exciting. It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence, the kind that lingered like a shared secret. You wanted to say more, to keep the conversation going, to ask him about the things he was passionate about. But before you could find the right words, Spencer glanced down at his watch and began gathering his books.

“I, uh, should get going,” he said, a slight note of regret in his voice. “Lots of things to prepare for—classes and, um... you know, life things.” He gave an awkward laugh, and slung his bag over his shoulder, pausing for a moment as if he were about to say something else, but then just smiled instead. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady and casual, despite the fact that your heart was pounding harder than it should have been. He nodded, gave you one last shy smile, and turned to leave, weaving through the tables and shelves of books until he disappeared from view.

You watched him go, the way he held himself with that slight awkwardness, his long stride taking him quickly out of the library. And as soon as he was gone, you slumped back in your chair, letting out a breath. 

For a fleeting moment, you felt hopeful that you might run into him again, that maybe you’d have another one of those conversations that felt easy and exciting all at once. But then you remembered the stories—the whispers about how Professor Reid often slept with students, how it was no big deal to him, just casual fun. And suddenly, you felt foolish for reading anything more into his friendliness. What if he’d only started talking to you because he was trying to woo you into bed? 

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive—very attractive—but if all he saw in you was another potential fling, then maybe it was better not to get your hopes up. After all, Spencer Reid wasn’t like other guys. He was brilliant, handsome, and, from what you’d heard, had more than his share of admirers. You shook your head, trying to brush away the pang of disappointment and return your focus to your notes.

Still, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite shake the image of his warm smile or the sound of his voice. And a part of you—just a small part—hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Spencer Reid than the rumors said.

—

You were rushing, nerves jangling through your body like alarm bells. You were running late—really late—and all you could think about was getting to your exam on time. In your panic, you didn’t see the corner coming, your eyes glued to your watch as you cursed yourself for oversleeping. You rounded the bend with way too much speed, and before you could react, you collided hard into someone else. The force knocked you off balance, sending you sprawling to the ground, your books and papers flying in a wild scatter across the floor.

“Oh my!” came a startled voice. “I am so, so sorry, I was just looking for—oh, hi.”

You winced as you propped yourself up on your elbows, but the moment you looked up, your heart sank and soared all at once. There, standing over you, was none other than Professor Reid. He was staring down at you with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern, and his mouth opened as if he wasn't sure whether to apologize or help you up first.

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to get back up, your face flushing hot. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—”

“No, no, please, don’t apologize,” Spencer said quickly, his voice soft but urgent as he bent down to your level. “That was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention either.” He reached out to help you up, his hands gentle as he grasped your arm and steadied you, making sure you didn’t trip over yourself as you stood. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes darting over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. “I didn’t, um... hurt you or anything, did I?”

“No, I’m fine, really,” you said, though you could feel your whole body tingling from where he touched you, the warmth of his hand lingering even as he let go. You brushed off your pants, trying to regain any semblance of composure despite the fact that you were now not only late but completely flustered.

Spencer began gathering your scattered books and papers, handing them to you with the same focused attention he gave to everything else. He was quick, efficient, but still careful, making sure to line up the pages neatly before passing them back into your hands. “Here you go,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “You, um... dropped a few things.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the books from him and clutching them to your chest. And then you remembered. “Oh my God, my exam!” You looked at your watch again, the numbers glaring back at you as if taunting your lateness. “I... I have to go, I’m so sorry, Professor Reid, but I really need to—”

“Wait, wait,” Spencer interrupted, a spark of understanding lighting up his eyes. “Is it in the main lecture hall? The big one across campus?”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “I have, like, five minutes to get there or I'm screwed.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” he said, a determined smile breaking across his face. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” 

“Y-you don’t have to do that, I mean—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Spencer insisted, already starting to lead the way. “I’m heading that direction anyway.” You both knew that wasn’t true but then, with a quick glance back at you, he added, “Besides, it’s the least I can do after, you know... knocking you over.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat, despite the chaos of the moment. “Okay, thanks,” you said, falling into step beside him. It was a strange, surreal thing—running across campus with Professor Reid at your side, his long legs matching your frantic pace. And even though you were still panicking about being late, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, like the whole situation was slightly less catastrophic just because he was there.

“Don’t worry,” he said between breaths, casting a reassuring glance your way as you both hurried down the path. “You’ll make it. I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

You made it to your exam with barely a minute to spare, heart still racing from sprinting across campus and the whirlwind encounter with Professor Reid. As you settled into your seat, your mind was a jumbled mess of nerves, exhaustion, and the lingering thrill of having Spencer Reid rush beside you, determined to get you there on time. The reality of having bumped into him—literally—and seeing his concerned, handsome face up close again was a distraction you struggled to push away. But as the exam papers were passed out and you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus, you felt a small swell of determination rising within you.

It wasn’t just about passing the exam anymore. No, it was about doing well—really well—because a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d run into Professor Reid again. And if you did, and if he asked you how your exam had gone, you wanted to be able to look him in those warm, interested eyes and say, “I crushed it.”

And so you put everything into it. Every formula, every theory, every bit of knowledge you’d crammed into your brain over the past few weeks. The hours passed in a blur of scribbled answers and focused thought, and by the time you handed in your paper, you felt a surge of pride and relief. You knew you’d done your best—maybe even better than your best.

—

The new term had settled into a predictable rhythm for you: classes in the morning, work in the afternoons, and then hours spent in the library for some uninterrupted study time. By the third week, you found a comforting routine in the silence and solitude of your favorite corner, tucked away but not too far from the bustle of the main floor. It was your place to dive into note-taking, to tackle assignments, and to escape from the chaos of student life. And though your schedule was tiring, there was something satisfying about the repetition—class, work, library, sleep, repeat.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and you were in the thick of your study session, textbooks spread across the table, fingers tapping absently against your highlighter as you scanned the pages. You were deep into a chapter on sustainable building design when a shadow fell over your table, and you heard a voice.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and immediately, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was, but the confirmation was still enough to make your heart skip a beat. Professor Reid stood there with that same friendly, slightly awkward smile, his bag slung over his shoulder and a stack of books in his arms.

“Professor Reid,” you greeted with a smile of your own, trying not to let on how quickly your pulse was racing. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling in that gentle way as he pulled out the chair across from you. He sat down, settling his things on the table with a soft thud, and for a moment, you were both just... there, in the kind of companionable silence that libraries are made for. Spencer pulled out his own work, a notebook and a pile of papers, and began arranging them neatly before him, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the edge of a binder.

“Preparing for midterms?” he asked after a moment, glancing up at you with a tilt of his head, genuinely interested.

“Yeah,” you sighed, giving a little shrug as you gestured to your scattered materials. “Trying to get ahead, make sure I don’t fall behind. You know how it is.”

“I do,” he laughed softly, his gaze drifting to the open book in front of you. “I’m writing one, actually. One of the joys of being on the other side of the classroom.”

“Wow,” you said, the laughter bubbling up before you could stop it. “That... actually sounds like way more pressure than taking one.”

“It can be,” Spencer admitted, a lighthearted grin playing on his lips. “I always end up overthinking it, trying to make the questions fair but challenging, relevant but not too obscure. It’s like creating a puzzle that someone’s actually going to solve.”

You nodded along, smiling at how earnest he was. “That sounds... kind of like how I feel about taking exams, actually. Trying to solve the puzzle without knowing if you even have all the right pieces.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he considered that. “Exactly,” he said, like he’d never thought of it that way before. “It’s a lot like that. But the fun part is watching the different ways people solve it, the different approaches and interpretations. It’s... fascinating, really.”

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch him, his hands moving expressively as he talked, the way he was so animated about his work. You’d heard him lecture from afar, but this—this was different. There was something more intimate about being across from him like this, sharing space, sharing thoughts. 

You smiled, leaning forward a bit. “Sounds like you really enjoy it.”

“I do,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “It’s nice to be able to help people understand things, to make learning something enjoyable instead of a chore.”

You nodded, and for a while, the two of you sat there, working side by side, an unspoken connection forming over the shared silence and occasional exchanges. And though you were both absorbed in your own work, you knew now that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves at the same table, sharing the same quiet space amidst the noise of college life.

Every Thursday for the rest of the term, your routine became intertwined with Spencer’s. You’d meet in your usual spot in the library, setting up your notes and books, and he'd arrive not long after, dropping into the chair across from you like he belonged there. And for hours, you’d sit together—sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes falling into deep conversations about classes, life, and everything in between. It was almost comical when, after weeks of these meetings, he finally looked up at you, eyes wide with realization, and laughed softly.

“You know,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think I ever asked you your name.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, blurting it out in a rush, and he repeated it back to you like he was savoring the sound of it. And just like that, something clicked into place. He’d ask about your exams, your grades, always genuinely interested in how you were doing. You, in turn, asked about his lectures and the classes he was teaching, and he would share his thoughts on the challenges of balancing students’ needs, all with that passion and depth you had come to expect from him. 

Your friendship blossomed, but it was always contained to those Thursday evenings at the library. It was a boundary neither of you seemed to cross—studying together, talking, connecting, but never making plans outside of the walls of academia. And that was fine, for a time. But as the end of your freshman year loomed closer and summer break approached, the thought of leaving and not seeing Spencer every week weighed on you more than you’d expected.

One Thursday, when you could barely focus on your notes because of it, you found yourself fidgeting, chewing on your pen cap as you tried to summon the courage to speak. Eventually, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice quiet over the hum of the library around you.

“Mhm?” he responded, not looking up from the papers he was reading through but giving a small nod to show he was listening.

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up, but pushed through. “Would you, um, want to come over after exams end? You know, to... say goodbye to the year?”

Spencer paused, his pen freezing mid-note, and he looked up, surprise flashing across his features. He hadn’t expected that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he considered your offer. The idea of spending time together outside the library, beyond your weekly tradition, was both tempting and concerning for him. He’d grown fond of your friendship, of the way you made him laugh and didn’t expect anything from him except a shared space and genuine conversation. But, deep down, a part of him still feared being used like so many others had. 

Yet, there was something earnest in your eyes, something that made him think maybe, just maybe, you really did just want to hang out. To be friends, and nothing more. He let out a small breath, nodding slowly. “Sure,” he said, offering a tentative smile. “What did you have in mind?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you hoped the heat wasn’t too obvious as you scratched the back of your neck, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Uh, I didn’t plan that far ahead,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “Maybe... a movie? Just something casual.”

“Casual,” he repeated, almost as if testing the word out, and then his smile widened, a bit of relief and something like excitement brightening his eyes. “Yeah. A movie sounds good.” 

And just like that, you found yourself looking forward to what might be the start of something new—something beyond Thursday study sessions, something more than a quiet routine.

The Friday after final exams, you paced your dorm room, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. You'd barely slept since inviting Spencer over—second-guessing every detail, every word you’d said. But now, as you checked your phone again, you reminded yourself that it was just a movie, just two friends hanging out to say goodbye to the year. Nothing more. You tried to convince yourself that it was normal to be this excited.

And right on time—exactly at 7 p.m.—you heard a knock at your door. Spencer's punctuality didn’t surprise you, but it did send a rush of excitement through your veins. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, before walking over to the door and opening it.

There he stood, dressed in casual jeans and a plain button-up shirt, looking somehow both effortlessly put together and adorably uncertain all at once. His curls were a bit messy, his glasses slightly askew, and he clutched a bag of something in his hands, which he immediately offered up to you with a slightly bashful smile.

“Um, I wasn’t sure if I should bring something, so I, uh, brought snacks?” he said, holding up the bag like it was a peace offering. You could see a mix of candy, chips, and a few other treats inside.

You grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you—that’s perfect.” You felt a wave of relief wash over you as he stepped into your room, glancing around with curious eyes as he took in the posters on the wall, the books scattered on your desk, the remnants of your rushed packing for summer break.

“Your roommate left already?” he asked, looking over at the other, empty half of the room.

“Yeah, they went home the day after finals,” you said, trying not to sound too relieved about having the room to yourself. “So it’s just us.”

“Just us,” Spencer repeated, the words hanging in the air with a nervous tinge in his voice. He smiled softly and set the bag of snacks on your bed, taking off his shoes and settling in as if he were almost comfortable—almost.

“So,” you began, moving to sit beside him, your nerves starting to subside as you relaxed into the familiar presence of your study partner turned friend. “I thought we could just pick something light to watch, you know? Nothing too serious.”

“Light sounds good,” Spencer nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose, and for a moment, there was that playful glimmer in his eyes—the same one you’d seen during your library sessions, when a joke or comment would catch him off guard. 

You leaned forward to pick up the remote, scrolling through the options until you landed on a few comedies and light-hearted movies. You tossed out a few suggestions, and eventually, the two of you settled on a movie neither of you had seen before—some easygoing, feel-good flick that you knew would make you both laugh and not require too much thinking. You hit play, and as the opening credits rolled, you sank back into the pillows, side by side with Spencer.

There was a comforting quiet between you, a sense of familiarity even in the newness of the situation. And as the movie played and the two of you slowly started sharing the snacks he’d brought, laughing at the jokes on-screen, you felt that same feeling you always did on Thursday nights—the calm certainty that, somehow, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The movie had been on for about thirty minutes, and both of you were already lost in the silly over-the-top humor. It wasn’t long before the playful energy from the screen found its way into your own conversation, and you couldn’t resist teasing Spencer a little every time he laughed at something you found particularly cheesy.

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I can’t believe you’re actually laughing at this. I thought you had... you know, a refined sense of humor.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I can appreciate a good joke, okay? Even the dumb ones. It’s called versatility,” he said, giving you a sidelong glance before popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” you said, leaning closer as if you were about to share a secret. “You’re just pretending to like it so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

He chuckled, turning to face you, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as his knee bumped lightly against yours. “Trust me,” he said, voice low with that familiar teasing lilt, “I’m not pretending. I genuinely think this movie is... absurdly entertaining.”

“Absurdly entertaining, huh?” you said, narrowing your eyes as you leaned in just a little more, close enough to see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. “I think that’s code for ‘terrible but in a fun way.’”

“Okay, maybe it is a little terrible,” he admitted, laughing openly now. “But in the best way.”

The lightness in his voice, the ease with which you bantered—it felt effortless. And then, suddenly, there was a shift. His laughter trailed off as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a beat longer than usual. Your faces were so close, your knees brushing, your shoulders almost touching, and you noticed the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to decide something.

Spencer’s mind was a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts. He wanted to flirt, to let the playful banter turn into something more, but a voice in his head reminded him of past experiences—where interest in him was just a prelude to sex, a quick thrill before moving on. He didn’t want that with you. You were different—kind, genuine, and he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had by crossing a line.

And ever since meeting you, Spencer hadn’t slept with anyone. Your study sessions, conversations, and simple presence filled a void in him; being around you was all the release he needed. Now, sitting beside you, he just wanted to keep this intact, afraid that taking a step further might shatter what he cherished so much.

Little did Spencer know, your own thoughts were tangled with doubt. You'd been excited for this night ever since he said yes, but now, sitting so close to him, you wondered if he'd only come over for the same reason he might have gone to others in the past: sex.

The whispers around campus about Professor Reid’s quick, casual flings were hard to ignore. Reconciling that with the sweet, earnest man beside you felt impossible, but still, the thought gnawed at you. What if, to him, you were just another fleeting encounter before summer ended?

You wanted to believe that your Thursday study sessions meant more than a prelude to something casual, but the worry hung there, making your hand pause before reaching for the snacks. What if you were misreading everything? And if this was just casual to him, could you handle it, or would you rather preserve what you had now?

You glanced at Spencer, who was focused on the movie but stealing nervous glances your way. It was clear he was treading carefully, and you could feel the irony—both of you caught on the edge, too afraid to find out what the other truly wanted.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling silently on the screen, neither of you moved to turn it off or get up. There was an unspoken tension in the room, a pull that made it hard for either of you to suggest that this night should end. 

“Do you want to watch another movie?” you blurted out just as Spencer said, “I really like hanging out with you.” 

You both paused, your words colliding mid-air, and then burst into laughter. It was awkward, sure, but it was the kind of awkward that felt endearing, pulling you closer instead of apart. The kind that made you grateful for the comfortable silence that followed, where you both sat smiling like fools.

“Another movie sounds great,” he said, the grin on his face not fading, and you nodded in agreement. You both took a break—stretching, refreshing snacks, and using the restroom. When you returned to your dorm room, you found Spencer sitting more toward the middle of your bed, and when you slid in next to him, your bodies ended up pressed tightly together, the heat of his side warming yours through your clothes. You were hyper-aware of every place where you touched, but neither of you pulled away.

“Your turn to pick,” you said softly, handing him the laptop.

Spencer flipped through the options with focused eyes, and finally, he settled on a film—a foreign romance, its title scrolling across the screen in delicate script. You raised an eyebrow, curious but also a little lost. “Spencer,” you said, trying not to sound too nervous, “I, uh, don’t speak French.”

His eyes met yours, and this time, the way he looked at you was different—more intense, like he was seeing something in you that hadn’t been spoken aloud. It sent a shiver down your spine. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and almost intimate. “I can whisper translate for you... if you don’t mind.”

The idea of Spencer leaning in close, his voice softly whispering translations in your ear as romantic lines played out on the screen, made your heart race in a way you couldn't control. You could practically feel his breath on your neck already, the warmth of his words settling into your skin. 

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper, the word catching on your lips as you tried to keep your composure. 

You pressed play, and as the opening scene unfolded, you found yourself sinking deeper into the bed, Spencer’s body comfortably close to yours, and your heart pounding in anticipation of every word he would breathe into the small space between you.

The movie’s soft music and dreamy cinematography made it easy to get lost in its world, but it was Spencer’s voice—low, rich, and soothing—that anchored you. He leaned in, and his breath brushed against your skin as he whispered the translation, his tone low and almost reverent.

“Élise tells her...” he began, his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket, “‘When I'm near you... everything disappears. The whole world, the sounds, time... there's only you and me.’”

The words hung in the air, and your senses were drawn to the way his lips moved against you as he concentrated on the words. You couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the way he brought the romance to life, the intensity in his whisper making your skin tingle with every syllable. 

“Juliet replies...” he continued, not yet noticing how your attention was fully on him now. “‘You are the reason I breathe, Élise. Every beat of my heart... it whispers your name. If I could, I would spend every second of my life looking at you.’”

And that’s exactly what you did now—look at him. His eyes were still on the screen, but there was something in his expression that felt vulnerable, open, as if he wasn’t just translating lines, but baring something deeper, something unspoken between you. You couldn’t resist leaning in just a little closer, every inch of your body hyper-aware of the closeness between you.

“‘Then look at me... and never let me go,’” he whispered, and when he finally turned to meet your gaze, the intensity in his eyes nearly took your breath away. His voice was softer, more intimate, as if he was no longer speaking for the movie characters but for the two of you alone. “‘Because without you, I'm lost. You are my everything.’”

Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you stared at each other, your faces so close now that you could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, the way his breath came out just a bit more quickly. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the hesitation in them, the question he didn’t dare ask.

“‘I promise you... never, ever will I let you go,’” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his lips only a breath away. “‘Because I love you... more than anything in the world.’”

Neither of you moved, frozen in that charged space between a word and a touch, every part of you yearning to close the gap as the rest of the world fell away.

The words hung in the air, your shared gaze brimming with something unspoken and heavy. And then, as if on cue, both of you turned your eyes back to the screen, where Élise and Juliet leaned in, their faces close, the tension snapping as they fell into a deep, passionate kiss. The soft sounds of the movie filled the silence between you.

“Do you want me to translate that?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm on your cheek. The words were teasing but tentative, laced with a hope that sent a shiver down your spine.

But before he could say anything more, before you could second-guess the pounding of your heart, you closed the space between you. Your lips met his in a sudden, breathless kiss that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The taste of him, soft and warm, was everything you had imagined it would be. You felt Spencer’s sharp inhale, the surprise in his body, but then he melted into you, his mouth moving against yours like it was something he'd been waiting for all along. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gentle but sure, pulling you closer, and the world disappeared—just like Élise had whispered—leaving only you and him in the electrifying moment of finally letting go.

Deep down, both of you felt that nagging worry—was this just a fleeting moment, a one-time thing? But as your lips moved together, those thoughts slipped away, overwhelmed by the heat of the moment, the desperation in every kiss and touch. Spencer laid you back gently, his hands trembling slightly as he held you, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you wanted to stop. But there was only desire and your verbal confirmation, and so he continued, showing you the skills he’d learned over the past year.

And when the clothes were shed and the vulnerability became all-consuming, you allowed him to take your virginity, holding back that delicate truth out of embarrassment over your own inexperience. You didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to add more pressure to a moment already so fragile and important to you both. Spencer, in turn, treated you with a reverence that spoke to his genuine care, his every touch slow and deliberate, like he was savoring each second. 

It was the most passionate, mind-blowing experience Spencer had ever had. Every gasp, every whispered name, every shared look made it clear why—it was you, and it felt like something more than just sex, something deeper, like he was baring his soul alongside his body. When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together, hearts still racing, bodies wrapped around each other like you could hold the moment in place forever. And in that perfect silence, Spencer’s arms became a haven, and you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, happy, and loved.

But morning came like a cold shock. You reached out across the bed, seeking his warmth, and found only emptiness. The sheets were cool, and Spencer was gone—no note, no sign of him ever having been there. The joy, the love, the comfort you’d fallen asleep to vanished with the sunrise, leaving behind an aching emptiness and the haunting fear that maybe all your doubts were true.

—

Summer came and went, and though the days were warm and filled with distractions, nothing eased the emptiness Spencer left behind. The pain of waking up to find him gone never faded, and as you returned to campus for your sophomore year, the ache of his absence settled in deeper, an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

You looked for him—hoping to see that familiar face in the library, in a lecture hall, anywhere on campus—but every search ended in disappointment. It was like he’d vanished, leaving not a trace behind. Over the next three years, you went through the motions, diving into your studies and trying to let go of what happened, but the memory of him never left, haunting every quiet moment and making you wonder what you'd done wrong.

The truth was clear to you now: Spencer had used you, filling some void in himself for one night, and then disappearing, leaving a much larger void in your own heart.

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

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[defmaybe]

Engineering Statistics

Kep1er’s Seo Youngeun x Male Reader

1.8k words

A/N: Part of suchsweetstories' prompt event! This one's for delph. :luvv:

—

“When do you use the Poisson distribution?”

“It’s–” and Youngeun pauses, tapping the Apple Pencil on her cheek, eyes pointing elsewhere “–number of events occurring in a timeframe?”

“Correct!”

The library is quiet, making reservations for the encouraged silence. The squeaky clean scent of the air wafts into your nose. The tables and chairs are neatly arranged, at least before the crowd enters and scatters them all over the place. 

You decided to apply for the faculty’s tutor position for some quick cash, good money per hour, after all. You can spend it on some nice meals after a few sessions.

Your first student is Seo Youngeun, a sophomore, just a year below you, and you can tell that she has done a decent amount of preparation for this, being receptive and eager so far. She asks questions and tries to solve problems the best she can. It’s making your first time easy, really.

“What about binomial distribution?”

“Hmm, a chance for a certain number of successes?”

“You’re making this really easy for me.”

Youngeun laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, body falling backward slightly. “I’m just trying to be a good student, if that helps.”

“You certainly are.”

The session goes on, and Youngeun continues to be resolute. She asks questions, summarizes the answers in her own words, constantly trying to understand the subject she’s learning. This is really easy for you, and you only wish that the next sessions will be like this.

“Can I take a look at your old assignments?” Youngeun asks, shifting slightly in her seat. “I wanna see how you did them.”

“Sure! I’ll just AirDrop–” Your words are cut off as Youngeun leans in closer towards you, scrolling your iPad for the assignments. Her flowery perfume hits your nose, making you shiver a little.

“Uh.”

Her hand presses into your thighs for a hold, feeling a bit heavy against your skin. You tremble slightly as she applies the pressure on you, feeling a brand new kind of current running through your body. Your eyes are focusing on her face—so gorgeous. Smooth jawline. Curious eyes. Soft-looking lips. She’s definitely a catch.

Inevitably, your vision shifts down towards her workshop shirt. She only wears a tight, white crop top underneath. It looks good on her, casually stylish. How nice would it be to go on a date with her in these clothes?

Soon, your eyes wander towards the smooth, milky skin of her cleavage. Oh, how nice would it be to sink your face into that dip of her curves? Your mouth feasts on her hard nipples—so salty, so full of her perfume—eliciting sharp moans from her lips. She presses your head into her chest, creating such a salacious, filthy bond between your mouth and her tits. Your hands sink into the plumpness of her ass, feeling those muscles flexing against–

The automatic door opens, introducing a new patron to the chilly library. You blink, regaining that precious awareness back, and you know that you’ve been staring a tad too long. Lucky that her eyes are still on your iPad.

You quickly look away, hoping to find some reprieve in other objects—chairs, tables, books. Your legs press into each other, adjusting the growing erection in your pants. Heat creeps up your body. Your stomach sinks—this is fucking embarrassing. You’re supposed to teach your student, not imagine yourself sucking on her tits!

Her hand lingers, staying there. She doesn’t squeeze; she doesn’t press harder, but it’s sure having an effect on you. Your breath quickens. Your hands tremble. Your cock hardens. Fuck, you can’t let her see you getting all worked up like this!

She even adjusts her top, revealing even more of her cleavage. There’s no way out of this. Your pants are barely holding it together.

After what felt like an eternity, Youngeun’s hand finally leaves your thighs, giving you the space you’ve been craving. You let out an exhale as she lets you go. Youngeun goes back to writing something on her iPad, completing her assignments as you desperately cling on to your composure.

“Divided by k factorial–can I take a break for a bit? We’ve been studying for half an hour already.”

You clear your throat, trying to maintain a professional façade. Hope she doesn’t see it slipping.

“Uh–sure.”

—

You let out a sigh as you relieve yourself alone in the bathroom, eyes closed, head falling back. Your body feels so light; the tension slowly dissipates away. Just half an hour more and this will all end. No need to worry about her intimacy like that again. Just be a professional, keep your cool.

Until you feel a pair of arms wrapping around you.

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

Youngeun.

Your eyes widen in shock. Your body jolts in her warm embrace that disarms you completely. Her hands trail down your taut abdomen, down to your cock that’s in the middle of the business. She holds it gently with her fingers, making your cock grow harder in an instant.

You glance back at her. “What–What are you doing, Youngeun?”

“Shhh, be quiet in the library, baby. It’s against the rules,” she coos—voice so airy, so seductive. It’s a wonder how she manages to be so calm and authoritative in this situation. Your body easily wobbles under her touch, control being stripped away so quickly. The hold on your length is flipped over to hers in an instant. 

You’re still in the middle of emptying your bladder, but the grip on your cock is fully hers. She grips it firmly, but never too tight. Youngeun is holding a goddamn royal flush here, and she makes sure that you can’t fold.

The stream weakens—from continuous flow to smaller drops. Youngeun wiggles your cock lightly, getting rid of the final remnants on your slit, and you can only watch helplessly as they fall into the urinal.

“Flush it,” she orders—so calm, so hushed.

Nervously, your hand moves towards the lever, barely able to push it down. The urinal makes noise as the water falls from the top, cleaning your filth into the pipes.

Youngeun tightens her hold around your hard cock—warm—sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Her other hand trails down your body, caressing the skin along the way, until she reaches your testicles. Youngeun cups it gently, delivering warmth to your frame. Your breath comes out shaken from the overstimulation, almost a moan. This is just too much, too intense. You have to grab the compartment divider to keep yourself standing.

Her warm hand begins to stroke your length, and that almost makes you collapse in her hug. She slides your foreskin back and forth, slowly, tortuously, stimulating you with such divine sensations. Your body squirms, overloaded by the act. Your back arches against her embrace. You struggle to stand upright. Breathless moans leak out of your lips into the cold air of the bathroom. You’re getting loud, but you just can’t help it when you have your student jerking you off like this!

“What did I say about making sounds, baby? Hmm? High chance of people hearing us,” Youngeun whispers, quickening her pace on you, tightening her grip. You feel even more helpless with her restraining you like this. And the worst part is: she’s smiling all so casually, like this is a normal occurrence for her. 

Your cock swells against the palm of her hand, aching for that sweet, sticky release. Precum leaks out of your slit. You’re desperately trying to hold your body still within her warmth, trying not to collapse, to falter. The chill from the air conditioner hits you, contrasting the warmth from her small frame. Your muscles tighten against her—chest heaving, thighs clenching, so ready to cum. The wet, obscene sounds of the strokes fill the bathroom, lucky that no one is here yet in the morning. 

“I’m gonna make sure you cum so hard that these little balls become dry.”

Your body shudders with her words, shaken by the sheer anticipation and pleasure she creates with her tiny hands. You can feel that you’re close—how your body strains against her abdomen, how your hips begin to thrust into her hands, how your breathing comes out short. You’re just Seo Youngeun’s plaything, and she makes sure that you are more than aware of it.

“Come on, cum for me. I wanna know how you taste.”

Your breath hitches. Your entire body spasms—a shock delivered from her filthy little hands. The first spurt of your cum is shot onto the urinal, painting it with the first stroke of ivory. Your moans leak out, barely suppressed. The second spurt brushes against the porcelain with another stroke. Then the third. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. You strain with each burst of your cum, barely able to breathe properly. 

“You’re cumming so much, wonder who did this to you,” Youngeun coos, rubbing your cock to coax any cum left in your balls. Your nectar continues to dribble out of your slit. Your body shakes in her hug. 

Bursts become drizzles. The orgasm slowly subsides, but Youngeun is making sure that you’re all drained by the time she’s done with you. Her pace slows down, but the grip is still tight—to empty you, to make you devoid of any essence. The drops begin to stain her hands, leaving white on her skin.

Youngeun teases, still forcing the last drops out, “Oh no, how am I going to clean my hands now?”

You can’t say a thing, overwhelmed by this entire situation. Your mind already went blank by the time she put her hands on your busy length.

Finally, you’re drained, tired, spent. Your head rests against the wall, watching your cum running down the white of the urinal. Sweat falls down your forehead. Your heart races. You can barely stand up straight. You’re full of shame, so overtaken by the pleasure that just coursed through you.

You’re such a slut.

Youngeun finally lets go of you, hands all stained with your cum. “Look what you’ve done to me,” she says, teasing her hand in front of your face, so full of mischief. Then, as promised, she brings her hand closer to her lips, before you hear a lewd, obscene sound of sucking. You just can’t bear to watch—too weary, too drained—but you sure know what she’s doing.

“You taste good,” Youngeun says, continuing to make that filthy sucking sound. “Wonder how it’ll taste from the source.”

Your mind spins from her filthy words, slipping into such a salacious, debased scene. Her lips stretch around your cock, making the filthiest sounds. You can barely stand up straight. Your body squirms in her touch. Her hands work on your cock, so determined to taste your cum shooting out of your slit. Pleasure cuts through you like a blade. And finally, you break, making Youngeun take every single drop of your cum into her throat. Her eyes flutter as your dick stretches her mouth out. Your cock pulses against her lips, hands gripping against the counter.

Shame that it’s just a product of your spent, overclocked brain, though.

“But maybe later,” she playfully quips, giving her fingers one last suck before walking away. Her steps echo through the bathroom, replacing the sound of the session earlier. You slowly turn back towards her, seeing her cute little ass swaying from side to side in her jeans. Your breathing is still all ragged, legs barely holding you up straight. You lean against the divider, gathering that precious composure back for the rest of the tutoring session. You feel weak. You feel used. It’s one hell of a final show.

She glances back at you over her shoulder one last time, before musing, “So, what’s the probability of me making you cum again? One?”

—

[eunandonly]

theorising : us in parallel worlds

୨୧ ; you and jake sim are in completely different orbits! how did you defy the laws of physics and end up with him?

pairing! physicalsciencesmajor!jake x historymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: possibly incorrect science and uni terms, attempted humour, probably cringe EN-

🖇️ : jake version is out now!! this was so cute to write and the reader is so me i can’t do maths and physics either ㅠㅠ need jake to tutor me frfr

so you see

you’ve never been maths and science smart

you’ve always been better at the humanities subjects and the languages, even from middle school

you are the history, geography and literature ACE.

well, jake’s the opposite

he devours maths equations and quantum physics papers for breakfast and proceeds to choke over basic history — more under cut!!

“when did the first world war end?”

“uh, i dunno. BUT did you know something can be a wave and a particle at once?”

jake was the kid that memorised the digits of pi FOR FUN.

he’s the guy who understood organic chemistry and quantum physics when he was nine

like you didn’t even have a consciousness when you were nine how tf was jake understanding quantum physics

of course jake’s a physical science and engineering major

you meet him at uni in your history department because he was waiting for his friend to come out of lecture

and DAMN he’s a lil cutie

you just watched him leaning on the hallway wall whilst you were sitting on that one random really comfortable sofa in the corner

you were NOT expecting him to suddenly stroll over to you

like why is that guy walking over to the sofa WHY IS HE LOOKING AT YOU

he's just here to ask you where the hell the lecture hall for the class that teaches history about people who died a lightyear before is

and you’re just like “oh, you mean ancient history? it’s right over there, room 204.”

he shoots you the most beautiful smile you've ever seen and says "thanks" before leaving

you're just kind of sitting there staring at his retreating figure

WHY IS HE SO SO CUTE????

it might not show but jake's also silently thinking about that

how did he not notice someone like you sooner?

like you're perfect it doesn't matter that the campus is huge and you two are different majors HOW HAS HE NEVER NOTICED YOU

you never even got to know that guy's name and you're scared that you won't ever see him again

you're just mentally kicking yourself for not asking for his name (and number)

you only manage to find him through intensive, if not obsessive internet research with your best friend

you learn that this cute guy's name is jake sim and that he's double majoring in physical sciences and engineering bc he's a lil crazy

how is his skin glowing with that kind of schedule

you always look for him in the university hallways YOU EVEN GO TO THE SCIENCES DEPARTMENT

but you never find him (it's because jake's poking his nose into every history lecture hall instead of being in his department trying to get a glimpse of you)

like he even goes to the philosophy lecture halls bc you sometimes go to them for fun

it’s giving zeno’s paradox omfg ITS GIVING PAULI EXCLUSION PRINCIPLE (except yall aren’t an electron)

but in one of your university's annual festivals you get to see him again!!

you were just in line to buy some lemonade with your friend when he lines up behind you

he recognises you straight away and gives you that smile that's been embedded in your memory for the past month and says a little hello

your friend just leaves because she's been getting daily updates about this guy named jake sim with pictures included

you're just left alone with him and you're so busy staring at him that you don't hear the lemonade stand cashier ask what you want to order

jake buys you a cup of lemonade SUCH A GENTLEMAN

you two have so much fun together at the festival

jake evens wins you a plushie with the darts at one of the stalls

"how're you so good at that? those games are designed to make you lose."

"you just need to understand the science behind it."

turns out jake is really easygoing which you didn't think was possible from an engineering major

you two make plans to meet up together and study at the science department library

tell me why the science library is so much better than the one you go to.

the sofas are so much more nap friendly and it just looks prettier yk

jake helps you with your maths and science studies

you thought you would be free of maths and science once you graduate from high school but turns out basic classes are in the core curriculum

it was a very big disappointment when you found out WDYM YOU STILL HAVE TO DO CALCULUS

you barely managed to do long divisions in primary, you can't do this shit anymore

it's okay, not only is jake really really smart, he's also really really patient

in return, you help jake boost his shitty core humanities grade

he's been barely scraping by

"y/n, i swear, i can memorise dates and all that stuff but i can't with the essays."

jake confesses to you during one of your little study sessions

he sends you a cute heart on the desmos graphing calculator (such a nerd omg)

you two are THE power couple

you get As in your maths and science now and the professor doesn't give you dirty looks anymore

jake managed to boost his grade as well DREAM COUPLE FRFR

✉️: @icyy-hoon

[ast4tarion]

hi!! hope you’re having a good day:)

i was wondering if you can write a smut where mike is a nerd in college and the popular girl needs to bring her grade up so he tutors her. she would always flirt with him and make him get all nervous. she repays him by giving him a blowjob and you can add anything else to the story if you want!! thank youu

ooooo i havent written anything like this, thank you for a new idea :D ty for the kind words too i hope everyone reading this day is a good one too <3 (god this is way longer then i meant for it to be)

cws; sub!mike, slight dom!reader, virginity taking, blowjob, gender neutral reader, a little messy

“Have you ever had sex with a girl before?”

The question you ask Mike is completely genuine but he stops writing in his tracks, his face visibly flushing red.

The two of you are studying for midterms (actually, more like Mike guiding you through the subjects) together in his dorm, books and papers strewn everywhere at his table.

“I—what?” He really wasn’t expecting you to ask that and he looks almost nervous.

“Have you?” you ask it like it’s the most casual question in the world, flipping your pencil around in your hand.

“Uh….no,” he looks very embarrassed, it’s cute on him. “I haven’t gotten close to anyone like that before, and no one was particularly interested in the guy hiding behind his engineering book.”

You were quite surprised to learn this, in your opinion he was quite the attractive guy.

“Would you be up for an offer then?” His eyes widened, and he let his pencil slide out of his grip completely.

“What kind of offer….?” He said it, but the implication after the topic of conversation was understood between the two of you, but he clearly didn’t believe it.

“Well I’d really like to do something nice for you in return for tutoring me, we’ve already talked about this but I really wish I could pay you but everything’s going to food and tuition right now and I couldn’t ever ask my parents so I was wondering if you’d let me make you feel good instead?” You said.

His entire face was visibly red now with blush, and his gaze dropped and avoided yours as he processed what you were saying. He seemed in total disbelief, his hands tapping the table which you knew was a nervous habit of his.

“I-um, but I-I’ve never done that with anyone? I wouldn’t wanna, um, somehow do it wrong.” He was incredibly sincere and it was quite endearing.

You leaned back in your seat, trying to catch his nervous eyes.

“I’m cool with that, I could even teach you if that would make you feel less nervous? Think of it as…….a tutoring session. Only if you want too though.” His hands found themselves, wringing and thumbing his palm. He was clearly deep in thought and given permission you wanted to wipe that stress from his face. It would be an honour to teach him, after all the exams and quizzes he’d helped you pass.

“Alright…I think I’d, uh, like that. When?” You smiled at his confirmation of consent, excitement and arousal already beginning to build up inside you. You stood up, walking around the desk and sitting on one of his thighs.

“We’ve been studying for a while now, I think this would be a good opportunity to take a break and learn something new.” You put your hands on his chest, your voice dropping in a suggestive way that earned a shiver out of him.

“O-Okay,” he gulped, finally gathering the courage to look at you in front of him. “What’s the first step?”

You leaned in to kiss his neck and he gasped loudly. “First the ground rules. One, if you decide it’s too much we can always stop, alright? Two, tell me if you’re going to cum. Three, listen to your body, Mikey, tell me what feels good.” You purred into his ear, trying to take things slow so he could adjust to them. He quickly nodded, and you starting leaving light kisses down his chest.

As much as you wanted to grind down on his thigh you had an objective: make him cum. You moved off his lap and he watched you the entire time with a mix of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes. You slid to the floor in between his legs as he was seated at his desk.

Your first step was massaging his thighs, getting closer and closer to his dick. Your hand settled over the fly of his jeans, palming the denim and smirking when you felt the bulge it held.

You began unzipping it, speaking as you worked. “First step is to relax, this parts all about you baby boy.” He felt the urge to whimper and aggressively bit it back.

Just the tiny amounts of friction and sultry words you provided had began to work him up. You pulled down his boxers enough for his cock to be freed, hardening at every touch.

He was fairly big, your fingertips just barely met around it when you gave it a couple experimental jerks. He made a little noise at this, and you smiled.

You spit in your hand, spreading the wetness across his length to make it easier. It was clear he was unuse to his own boner, his mouth agape and his hips beginning to shift in the chair.

You started by giving the tip a tiny kiss, followed by short little licks to the head. You flattened your tongue and swirled it all around the head, running your tongue over his sensitive slit.

This gained an immediate reaction, another little noise escaping his mouth followed by his hands gripping his own thighs. You were barely touching him and he was already panting at the sweet sensation.

You took it a little further, pumping the base and farther into your mouth. You were licking the underside of his dick, dragging hot wet stripes further and further down each time. You were halfway down his length, finally taking it all into your mouth and pushing it in until your lips reached your loose fist.

His pants were evolving into full blown moans, his hand white-knuckles gripping his desk. He spread his legs further, hoping to give you more access. Every moan is music to your ears, coming out in little “hnngs…” and “mmmfng…..”

The tip almost reached the back of your throat and there was spit dripping down your chin, mixing with whatever slick he was leaking. You moved forward and back, your tongue sliding wetly and stimulating him. You repeated this, grinding into the floor for any ounce of your own friction.

His cock was a wet mess, and the sounds coming from your mouth became more and more vulgar. Slick-filled wet slaps of skin on skin as your fist pumped faster and faster and your tongue swirled around his girth.

He was getting closer and you could tell because he was absolutely loosing control of himself. He’d been reduced to drawn-out moans and whimpering at how fast you were going; his hips had also started bucking forward, pushing more and more of it into your mouth until you were almost completely swallowing him.

Your own desperation made it even more wet and messy, you drew back and a long string of precum dripped from his tip to your tongue thinly connected. Your gaze was driving him crazy, the combination of your eyes locked on his and the slurping wet kiss you licked up his shaft again.

When your mouth dove back on it you could tell he was getting incredibly close to finishing. His thrusts were becoming sloppy and so pathetic that it was hitting the walls of your cheek and the very back of your throat.

It was ultimately your groan that sent him over the edge, the vibrations sent through your mouth felt all over his cock and it felt so good, so wet, so overwhelming that he barely had time to whimper “fuck, I-I’m going too—!”

His cock throbbed and pulsed as you licked his slit once more, taking it out of your mouth absolutely cockdrunk. It barely took a single pump for him to explode, thick white ropes bursting from his tip and all over your chest.

His head was thrown back and he was panting hard, his cock head was flushed a pretty pink like his blush and it kept twitching, smaller streams erupting until it came to a slow stop.

Your face was a mess of his hot cum and your underwear absolutely soaked through. His eyes were closed and he was still gasping, sighing as he slowly loosened his grip on the desk as he rode out the end of his orgasm.

“Fuck, holy shit, thank you.” He mumbled, still coming down from the adrenaline of finishing. When he did look down he swore he could’ve came a second time, the way your face was lit up by a smile and absolutely drenched in his sticky white seed.

“Of course, if I wanted to teach you about sex I had to make sure you’d at least get to cum before you made someone else do it,” You stood up, standing close to him and running your hand through his pretty brown hair.

“Tomorrow after we finish calculus, I’ll show you how to eat someone out~”

[scremogirl]

✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Yandere! Nerd x Academic Rival! Reader

Mentions of depressive behavior/thoughts of suicide. AFAB! Reader: is called “Ms”.

Annoying.

A know-it-all smarty pants that was simultaneously the worst pain in your ass. Not that he meant to be of course; you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, some people are just naturally smart; but not him. Following you around like a lost puppy no matter where you went. He was toying with you on purpose and you knew it! You just couldn’t understand why he decided to make your life worse.

Now, the relationship you have is more one sided. You’d make subtle jabs and throw cheap shots his way but all he ever did was laugh it off. He never fought back. From what you’ve gathered, he just prefers to stare. And when I say stare I mean straight into your soul type stare. Every time he gets annoyed or is thinking really hard about something that’s what he does. Stares. It’s really creepy and unsettling, all the times you caught him or tried to, he would just look away blushing, trying his best to hide behind his shaggy hair. Eyes burn holes through the back of your head five out of the seven days of the week. However, even the two days you aren’t in school, the feeling of eyes on you never seems cease. You feel chills crawl up your spine and always look over your shoulder wherever you go only to find nobody there.

You’ve always strived to be the best. Your home life was like the equivalent of being tossed in solitary co finemente and being left to rot. It seemed as if your parents only cared about your academic life. Therefore, they were always super strict about your grades. You knew it came from a place deep within their hearts, they just wanted you to do good in life; but it still hurt. You wanted to make them proud. Wanted to feel loved by the people who were supposed to be closest to you. So you pushed yourself to limits nobody could ever reach. From winning spelling bees to holding the spot of Vice President on your school's student council team. Schools were already offering you all expense scholarships in freshman year!

You were an all rounder. One of the most involved students in your grade. You were in various sports and academic clubs, always helped in school fundraisers, and even have 500(+) SS hrs.

“ Apologies, Ms. (L/N), but there’s nothing we can do about this. You’ll have to get a tutor in order to pass,”

Technical engineering.

Your worst subject. You excelled in physics and math; some would say the best. You got the formulas down to a T and knew everything there was to know. It was more so the building aspect of things. There were just so many damn parts! Who even needs an electriconic digital caliper anyways?!

“I’m sorry, (Y/n), but that’s just the way things turned out. You need this credit to graduate, but you needn’t worry. Miylo is the best at this. He’s perfect for the job,”

Miylo Reneritzer. A 6 foot, dead eyed, pale skinned dork. He’s never stood out to you. He wasn’t popular or a scholar. He didn’t play sports and wasn’t in any clubs. He didn’t participate in the annual dances and didn’t attended school games. He was just there. A regular student with a knack for technicalogical architecture. You were in 11th grade at the time. You needed to get all your credits out the way so you didn’t have to worry about them senior year. Not that it was a problem for you seeing as all of them were already completed. Well… except this one. You’ve been putting off for so long. You had to face it sooner or later. Too soon for your liking.

You would meet with Miylo twice a week; you were place in the same tech class so the first meeting didn’t really count. He was a great teacher! A little quiet and very monotone, but very thourough none the less. By the end of junior year you ended up with a A-. You parents hammered you for not making it a plus but you’ve come to terms with it. He saved you. And you were grateful. You ended up losing contact the transitioning year and just never interacted again; almost completely forgetting about him.

He didn’t forget about you though. How could he?! You were the most beautiful girl in the entire school! Nobody could compare to you. What you didn’t know about him was he was s everely bullied and even contiplated ending everything. That was until you came along. Someone finally wanted to talk to him. Even if it was just for help getting a good grade. Taking to a pretty popular girl and getting money and an increases on his report card? Sign him up. That one day changed the entirety of his life, he owes his life to you.

All he remembers is being called down to the counselors office; parents ready waiting and giving him the most bone crushing hug. Everything seemed like a blur from then on. But what he can remember is how he got there in the first place.

“A friend of yours, (Y/n) (L/n) had some concerns about your health. She said she’s been paying attention to you for awhile and noticed your self destructive behaviors,” says the counselor.

What? Before he started tutoring you he thought you were a teachers pet and hog all the chances for others to answer questions but if saves him the embarrassment of public speaking he doesn’t mind. You’ve noticed him? In more than just at tutor-tutee way? Nobody ever notices him. Not even his own parents. It’s evident with the amount of shock on their faces and all their “why didn’t you tell me’s” and confessions of love. He’s mad at you at first. He spends at least 3mths in that looney bin because of you. He hated it at first. All the questions and discard for privacy. But… slowly he changes. He becomes healthy and happy again. His mind drifts back to you. The way you would answer questions when you noticed the teachers eyes land on him, the way you would always do the presenting part in group presentations, the way gum and smiley faced erasers would apprear on his desk on a particularly hard day. You cared. You did this for everyone you saw struggling. Not that he took that into account, in his mind, he was the only one. You thought he was special. And he wouldn’t let anyone take his spot in your heart.

When he got out, he decided he was a changed person. Senior year would be his redemption arc and you would finally be together. You already were in his mind; you were just to scared. He saw straight through your act. That’s why you would do all that stuff for him instead of just coming out and saying it. He needed to pull himself together and become a better person first. He wanted you to be proud of him. He wanted you to see him for all he’s worth. He joined all the clubs you were in and surpassed all expectations. He became popular, inserting himself into all your social circles and even became a student council member beside you. Or should I say infront of you? The President. And the validictorinan.

Ugh! Since when did he become so…so great!? You don’t have any clue where this change in him came from and you want him to go back to the way he was. You were the best! You didn’t work this hard for your parents approval for nothing. They would always compare you time him. Miylos the student council president they’d say. He would never get an A-, he would never miss a volleyball game because he was overwhelmed with school work, he would never feel how school was the only true escape from an emotionally disabled household. He would never understand. Oh, but he did.

He’s been in your house plenty of times to know what’s going on. Not that you’ve know of course. That explains all the missing panties. Hmm, maybe that explains where all of your pens have gone too. And your half eaten food, and the Polaroids you’ve take of yourself, and your rose to-… Regardless! You’ve had enough of this! You needed him to know just exactly how you felt. What other way than asking him to meet you under the tree on Fri before school ends?

“I already know,” Hm?

“Good. I couldn’t hold this in any longer. You do know just exactly what I feel,”

��Oh my love but I do,” ….my love? What is he taking about.

“What am I talking about? Oh sweetheart, don’t play coy with me. It’s okay; I’ve always know the real reason behind your aggression towards me. Your just shy is all. I just want to let you know that I love you too. More than you could ever know,” he steps forward and arms outstretched and expecting a hug. He push on his chest and stare up at him in confusion. Love him? You don’t love him, you despise him! He chuckles.

“Like I said, it’s okay to be open about how you feel. That’s why you brought me here isn’t it?” What! This wasn’t some sort of confession. Well…technically… but not one of love! He was here to understand how much you loathed him. He had to not like you either, that’s why he did everything you did right…Right!? He hated you. He had to!

“Hate you? (Y/n), I could never hate you. After all you saved me,” at this point you thiught he was joking with you. Furthering your suspicions of his true feelings. You tried marching pasted him only for him to grab you arm. You tried to shuck him off but his grip was strong. All those clubs really built up his physice. He wasn’t the same scrawny little geek you remembered. He was larger, seeming as if he grew a few more inches. He filled out his uniform more, and his eyes became brighter and more emotional. If your affliction for him didn’t exist you’d think he was cute. The only thing that seemed hadn’t changed about him was his unwavering love and loyalty to you. He huffs out an exasperated sign, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I get that your shy my love, but that’s there’s no need to be so rude. We’ll work on a more conventional way to express your emotions,”

“Do I have to spell it out for you! I don’t like you, you creep! You’ve been following me around every since the beginning of this year. You’ve taken everything from me. Clubs, student records, student president! Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here! You act so laid back and relaxed about everything and it drives me nuts! I hate you!” You push past him again, angry tears forming from all the supressed emotional turmoil. He doesn’t grab you right away which makes you think he’s finally got the picture. Didn’t anyone ever tell you no to turn your back on the enemy? You’re suddenly grabbed and thrusted into the base of the tree. He tsks at your behavior before sighing again. Hands have now moved to your shoulders and apply slight pressure keeping you in place. If that didn’t do it, the way he's looking at you would’ve have; fierce and warning, and yet, filled with so much adoration.

“We need to fix this little attitude of yours, don’t we?” It’s rhetorical. You know that but you feel the urge to snap back at him. Before you could get a word out, you can her the distance ringing of the school bell signaling the end of the day. His phone rings on the last ring. He gives you a hard glare telepathically telling you not to move. He stands straighter and picks it up. With what you heard, the student council meeting is starting soon and the others are wondering where you two are. Saved by the bell. He sighs before grabbing his bag that he placed down as long as your hand before sighing.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue this conversation my love. Lucky for us, it’s Friday. We’ll have the rest of the weekend to work it out of you,” he throws a coy smirk your way and grabs at his belt, readjusting it a bit. God, what will you do?

Hey loves! Hope you enjoyed. I’m thinking about making apart to of this. I wasn’t really confident in it and decided that I should give more explanation to Miylos behavior. This could just be his introduction and I’ll expand on it. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

-Love, Sos❤️

[dreamdolldeveloper]

back to basics

mostly free resources to help you learn the basics that i've gathered for myself so far that i think are cool

everyday

gcfglobal - about the internet, online safety and for kids, life skills like applying for jobs, career planning, resume writing, online learning, today's skills like 3d printing, photoshop, smartphone basics, microsoft office apps, and mac friendly. they have core skills like reading, math, science, language learning - some topics are sparse so hopefully they keep adding things on. great site to start off on learning.

handsonbanking - learn about finances. after highschool, credit, banking, investing, money management, debt, goal setting, loans, cars, small businesses, military, insurance, retirement, etc.

bbc - learning for all ages. primary to adult. arts, history, science, math, reading, english, french, all the way to functional and vocational skills for adults as well, great site!

education.ket - workplace essential skills

general education

mathsgenie - GCSE revision, grade 1-9, math stages 1-14, provides more resources! completely free.

khan academy - pre-k to college, life skills, test prep (sats, mcat, etc), get ready courses, AP, partner courses like NASA, etc. so much more!

aleks - k-12 + higher ed learning program. adapts to each student.

biology4kids - learn biology

cosmos4kids - learn astronomy basics

chem4kids - learn chemistry

physics4kids - learn physics

numbernut - math basics (arithmetic, fractions and decimals, roots and exponents, prealgebra)

education.ket - primary to adult. includes highschool equivalent test prep, the core skills. they have a free resource library and they sell workbooks. they have one on work-life essentials (high demand career sectors + soft skills)

youtube channels

the organic chemistry tutor

khanacademy

crashcourse

tabletclassmath

2minmaths

kevinmathscience

professor leonard

greenemath

mathantics

3blue1brown

literacy

readworks - reading comprehension, build background knowledge, grow your vocabulary, strengthen strategic reading

chompchomp - grammar knowledge

tutors

not the "free resource" part of this post but sometimes we forget we can be tutored especially as an adult. just because we don't have formal education does not mean we can't get 1:1 teaching! please do you research and don't be afraid to try out different tutors. and remember you're not dumb just because someone's teaching style doesn't match up with your learning style.

cambridge coaching - medical school, mba and business, law school, graduate, college academics, high school and college process, middle school and high school admissions

preply - language tutoring. affordable!

revolutionprep - math, science, english, history, computer science (ap, html/css, java, python c++), foreign languages (german, korean, french, italian, spanish, japanese, chinese, esl)

varsity tutors - k-5 subjects, ap, test prep, languages, math, science & engineering, coding, homeschool, college essays, essay editing, etc

chegg - biology, business, engineering/computer science, math, homework help, textbook support, rent and buying books

learn to be - k-12 subjects

for languages

lingq - app. created by steve kaufmann, a polygot (fluent in 20+ languages) an amazing language learning platform that compiles content in 20+ languages like podcasts, graded readers, story times, vlogs, radio, books, the feature to put in your own books! immersion, comprehensible input.

flexiclasses - option to study abroad, resources to learn, mandarin, cantonese, japanese, vietnamese, korean, italian, russian, taiwanese hokkien, shanghainese.

fluentin3months - bootcamp, consultation available, languages: spanish, french, korean, german, chinese, japanese, russian, italian.

fluenz - spanish immersion both online and in person - intensive.

pimsleur - not tutoring** online learning using apps and their method. up to 50 languages, free trial available.

incase time has passed since i last posted this, check on the original post (not the reblogs) to see if i updated link or added new resources. i think i want to add laguage resources at some point too but until then, happy learning!!

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[ghostgirl-22]

stanford era art having a bad day (maybe he failed a test or something, nothing too serious) but he gets really upset (like he’s gonna cry) so when he gets back to his dorm patrick is there (cuz he’s visiting) and patrick wants to take care of art, see what art needs but art is like “please just fuck me” or something along those linessss

Hello my love, thank you for the prompt <3 This got crazy long for some reason. Just needed Art wandering about feeling sorry for himself lol

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It’s frustrating, he’s never ever failed a test before. Particularly in math. It’s not like he wants to be a math major or an engineer or anything but he’s been in advanced math since he was 14 years old, he should be able to handle this.

He tries not to cry as the professor goes over the results of their calculus based physics exam and the other students in the class are answering questions, demonstrating their work like it’s easy. Meanwhile he’s struggling to understand it. He talks to the professor after class and the professor is understanding but he explains, “these are the basics, the class is only going to get more difficult. So I suggest you withdraw and retake it after you take a more fundamental calculus course?”

Art nods and forces a smile, his throat burning as his professor pats him on the arm.

“It’s okay, plenty of students go that route and still become architects and engineers. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Art is barely aware as he treks back to his dorm. He’s never flunked out of a class. And yes, math is one of his more challenging subjects but he’s always been able to work hard enough to figure it out. Working hard is his one talent. It’s how he ended up as one of the best students at Mark Reballato, salutatorian. He used to be the one to tutor his classmates. He aced every AP and Honors course. He’d studied so hard and done so well on the SATs and yet these kids at Stanford are actual child prodigies and geniuses…and for some of them it’s like… it’s like they don’t even have to try.

By the time he gets back to his room his eyes are full of tears. Why can’t he fucking excel at anything? Why can’t he be the prodigy for once? Why does he always have to try so fucking hard?

He knows his roommate won't be home until evening and he’s so ready to throw himself on his bed and sob like a loser but as he pushes open the bedroom door he remembers Patrick is visiting. He’s there on Art’s bed watching The View, of all things, and talking on the phone with his sister.

He waves, grinning but pauses when he sees Art’s face. Art can’t even hide it, it’s too late. Tears spill from his eyes and he drops his book bag in his chair.

“Hey Tor I’ll call you back,” Patrick says, into the phone.

Art wipes the tears away quickly, angry that they’re there in the first place.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Patrick asks.

Art shakes his head. “Nothing.”

”Seriously? You look like a kicked puppy. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Is it your grandma… or… or tennis?”

”No Patrick, you just… you wouldn’t understand.” He knows Patrick wouldn’t take this seriously. Patrick’s just another prodigy. All their coaches telling him how brilliant he’s been at tennis since they were 11. And Tashi too, a once in a generation talent, that’s what they’re calling her.

“Try me,” Patrick says. Art stares at him. He’s lying across the width of Art’s single bed, back resting up against the wall. He’s in his boxers still, legs open, his muscular thighs spread out. Hands folded inside the Stanford t-shirt he borrowed from Art. His penetrating gaze is resting on Art and he looks concerned. And so fucking hot.

Art rubs his eyes again. He’s frustrated and angry but now he’s feeling… horny. He probably should’ve thought twice before having sex with his best friend. Everything is all silly now. He’s not sure why he did it. Well actually, he was trying to fuck with Patrick, see if he could ruin his relationship with Tashi.

He didn’t even think Patrick would go for it, just mentioned it casually on Patrick’s birthday but he came back a couple days later with all these different kinds of lube and condoms and they spent a long rainy afternoon trying to figure it all out. Exploring different positions, techniques, playing with each other. Now they're doing it all the time and the whole thing backfired because Art’s the one craving it. He walks between Patrick’s legs. “Can you fuck me?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Art shrugs.

Patrick sits forward. “Yeah. Sure.” He says, the ghost of a smirk on his mouth. “It’s so early for you. You usually like it when I buy you dinner first.”

Art digs the heels of his palms into his eyes as stupid tears drop down again.

“Art, seriously…are you okay?” Patrick asks, tentatively. “I can help… tell me how to help.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Art says, and he climbs onto the bed. Straddling him. “Just fuck me.”

Patrick grips him by the waist. “Mmkay, I can do that.” He says, unzipping Arts pants. He tugs Arts jeans down over his thighs and Art steps out of them. Then he’s lifting his t-shirt over his head and climbing back onto Patrick’s lap.

Patrick touches his face, rubs a thumb along the wet space on Arts cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No, Patrick please, I don’t want to talk about it.” Art whines. His brain is freaking out because of the tenderness and the last thing he needs is to freak out over his feelings for Patrick too.

“Alright,” Patrick says and he kisses Art. And kisses him again. Art licks at his lips and pushes his tongue inside.

He can feel Patrick getting hard underneath him as they make out. It’s so much and it happens so fast, Arts dizzy for it. “That’s a neat trick,” Art whispers. Grinding his hips against the sensation.

“That’s what you do to me,” Patrick sighs against his lips.

Art smiles. Maybe he sucks at math now but at least he’s still good at this.

“Need you lubed up,” Patrick hums. Art gets up and crawls over to his bedside table. He can feel Patrick’s large palm rubbing on the swell of his bottom as he’s bent over. Art’s got all this stuff he has to hide when his parents are in town now. He pulls lubricant out and while Patrick’s putting it on his cock Art lingers on the bed, playing with his waistband, watching while the ladies on The View are arguing about something.

“You can turn it off, my sister wanted me to watch Phil Collins perform or something,” Patrick says, distractedly.

“Okay fuck me while he performs or something.” Art says.

Patrick smirks. “Fuck, you really need to cry don’t you?”

Art takes a breath.

“Okay sorry,” Patrick says gently, “Can you lay down?”

Art settles onto his back. Keeps his legs open as Patrick crawls between and takes his boxers down. “Mm, what time does your roommate get back?”

“Later,” Art says.

“I don’t have to keep you quiet then,” Patrick smiles.

Art chews on his thumb as Patrick lines himself up to press it inside. He’s all lubed up but Art is just used to the fact that it’s always going to feel like a lot at first. He breathes through the stretch and watches amused as Patrick rubs his at Art’s pelvis. He always does that, trying to feel his own cock penetrating from the outside. “You’re always so fucking tight for me baby. Feels like I didn’t even take your virginity.” Patrick says. It’s all for his ego. He moves down to rub Art’s cock and Art moans. Wraps his legs around Patrick’s waist, wiggling his hips.

“I know, relax, I’m gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes. He starts sliding it in and out and out and in. Patrick’s had him in so many positions but this is Art’s favorite, he can feel Patrick sinking so much deeper inside him this way. Sees stars on every other thrust and his head empties out quickly. Once he came so hard he swears he had a second orgasm two minutes later. Patrick says he just wasn’t done.

This time it feels blindingly good. He’s feeling so good, he bites down on Patrick’s shoulder to relieve some of the tension. He wonders if Tashi ever notices his marks, the way he notices hers. Sometimes when he’s really turned on he bites where she scratches.

After a few minutes he thinks he’s listening to Patrick moan but realizes belatedly that it’s him. His mouth is watering so much that he’s drooling. Patrick is grunting as his hips slam into Art at a ridiculous pace. Art feels so fucking full, he loves the feeling of Patrick warm and solid inside of him, breaching him. His body lit up like a raw nerve as Patrick hits that delicious tender spot over and over and over. He’s gonna pass out. It sounds so fucking obscene over the sound of the bed springs squeaking and Phil Collins in the background.

Art loses it first, sticky ropes of pearly white shooting out of his cock, covering Patrick’s stomach, dripping back down onto Art’s body. And then it’s too much, Art can feel everything and he’s squirming trying to get away as Patrick picks up the pace.

“No, no don’t run away… two fucking seconds stay here,” Patrick groans, gripping him tightly. It feels insane. It feels so fucking good but it’s too much and his eyes are watering again. Art swears he can honestly feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He’s coming again, he knows he’s coming again as Patrick finishes inside him, filling him with wet, heated, sticky cum. Art clenching on him. Keeping him inside.

Patrick’s shivering. “Fuck,” he whispers, collapsing on top of Art like a warm heavy sticky blanket.

“Mm,” Art sighs, rubbing Patrick’s back gently, to calm him down. Patrick groans and rolls off of Art onto his side right next to him. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair.

“You feel better?” Patrick asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. He didn’t really do anything but put it out of his mind for 30 minutes. And now he’s coming back to the reality that he’s only in his second semester of college and he already has to drop a class.

“Feel like telling me what’s wrong?”

Art rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid. I failed an exam. I studied so fucking hard and I just— everything on the test looked like it might as well have been written in a foreign language. I thought the whole class would have done poorly but it was just me.”

”What class?” Patrick asks.

“Calculus for physics,” Art sighs.

“Sounds really fucking hard,” Patrick says. “You should tell them to fuck off and come with me on the road.”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it,” Art mutters. “You don’t take any of this seriously. I’m not as good at tennis as you are. I’m not fucking good at anything. Like the one thing I thought wouldn’t be difficult which is school work and I can’t even fucking do that properly. I’m gonna have to drop and I’m not even done with my first fucking year.”

Patrick doesnt say anything for a minute, he’s still fingering Art’s curls. Then he takes a breath. “You’re good at a lot of things, Art. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up. I mean… I get it. You were top of your class in high school but all these dorks at Stanford were the best in their high schools too. I was one of the best players but now I’m on tour facing off with the best players in the world and a lot of them are fucking kicking my ass. Just… you know… Tashi always says to have a little perspective. You’re here for a fucking reason. Don’t psych yourself out before the game is over.”

Art hadn’t really thought about that, Patrick has been having a hard time on tour, Art feels a little softer for him now. He rolls over to face him wrapping a leg over Patrick’s thigh. “You think I should stay in the class? Prove them wrong?”

Patrick smiles. “No, what the fuck do you need calculus with physics for anyway?”

Art laughs a bit. “I mean… if I decide to go to med school I’ll need a physics and a calculus class… but I guess I don’t really need this specific course unless I was going to become an engineer.”

“I’ve heard you talk about being a doctor before, never an engineer.” Patrick says, “Fuck that class, find something better to do with your time.”

“Yeah…fuck it,” Art says thoughtfully, he can play with his teammates on the indoor courts in the mornings. He feels so much lighter actually. Patrick is right, he really doesn’t need this course at all. He was just so used to high school, thinking everything put in front of him was something he needed to ace. In college, none of it mattered except for what he needed for his major. Patrick’s tracing circles idly along Art’s thigh. “Mm, something better to do with my time….” Art says, smiling, “You think we can fuck again before my roommate gets home?”

Patrick smirks, “Oh absolutely.”

[ash5monster01]

Christmas Tree Farm

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of distant parents, meet cute, friends to lovers, language, heavy flirting, sickeningly sweet and full of Christmas magic.

Summary: To avoid spending Christmas at home Charlie chooses to work at a Christmas Tree Farm. What he doesn't expect is finding the girl of his dreams. 

Word count: 3.1k

Masterlist

Being home for Christmas was Charlie’s worst nightmare. Not only was he subjected to spending time with his folks but being back in Vermont during the winters only reminded him of one thing. He could only take so much of the snide comments his father made about sleeping in and his mother with her overbearing questions. At least when he was at Welton winter break was at most two weeks. When it came to college it became a month of this madness. So he needed to find an excuse to get out of the house and fast. 

That’s why on a particularly cold afternoon, having sulked behind his mother in the supermarket, his eyes caught the bulletin board. Buried in a mountain of announcements, rooms for rent, numbers for tutors, was a particularly bright red sign. Help Wanted - Christmas Tree Farm. So when his mother gets distracted by the bag boy for putting dish soap in with the vegetables, he rips one of the numbers from the bottom of the sign. The first one taken and he knew better than to wait. 

So come Monday his father has nothing to say when Charlie’s pouring a cup of coffee before he’s even come downstairs. Giving only the brief details of a short time job and how he wanted the extra cash for when he went back to school. All he got in return was a huff and the snap of the newspaper opening in his father’s hands. He knew best to bundle up and finish his cup of coffee, leaving the house quickly before his mother could question him. 

When he pulls onto the long drive he discovers the Winter Wonderland presented before him. Darlene Love’s voice barely plays over the rumble of his engine as he passes the gorgeous trees that lined the drive, all wrapped in the most sparkly Christmas lights he had ever seen. He can’t help the soft smile that covers his face because Neil would have loved this and for the first time in a long time, it finally felt like Christmas. Not the time of year to feel sad. 

“Hey! You the new guy?” he doesn’t expect the soft voice that calls out to him when his car door shuts. Turning he’s quick to find you, eyes as sparkly as the Christmas lights he just passed. It’s like the breath gets knocked out of him, and suddenly this might’ve been a bad idea. 

“Yeah, Charlie” he wipes nervous palms across the front of his jeans before approaching you. A nervous smile on his face as he offers up his hand. When your gloved one closes against his he realizes he had left his pair at home. “Shit”

“That’s not normally the greeting I’m used to” you mutter and Charlie lets go, a nervous hand flying to the back of his neck. Of course he was already making a fool of himself in front of the pretty girl. 

“Sorry I just realized I left my gloves at home. Already screwing up my first day” he confesses and you giggle at the nervous boy in front of you. It makes you wonder if he’s ever had a real job before. 

“It’s okay, I have an extra pair. You’ll especially need them for today” and before he can ask what that means you’re walking off to the barn beside you. He follows anxiously as you slip through the doors and return almost seconds later in front of him. Nearly running you over he spots the black gloves that look warm and inviting just like you. 

“Thank you” he says without backing away and you grin. He was charming and different, much different than the farm boys who rotated around here every Christmas season. 

“Leroy is out warming up the truck, you should probably go meet him” you’re quick to tell him and he nods, as if suddenly realizing he was actually here to do a job. 

“Yeah, um. Sounds good” and the call of your name interrupts you both. Both your heads turn to the small white farmhouse, gutters lined with rainbow Christmas lights, and light up reindeer in the yard. On the front porch stands a plump woman wrapped in a pink apron and flour in her box dyed hair. 

“Coming!” you call and Charlie realizes the name belongs to you. You offer him one last smile, pointing towards the field where an older gentleman waved from the truck. He nodded to confirm he knew his direction and as soon as you entered his life you were gone. Running through the fluffy white snow and towards the house that looked warmer than his ever did. Against his better judgement he starts in the direction of Leroy who had a much less pretty smile than you. Trying out the sound of your name on his tongue. 

That’s how it starts. Spending the days leading up to Christmas, sharing shy smiles and awestruck looks. Always warm and kind until he’s pulled to haul trees and strain his body until all he can think about is you. It’s the most manual labor he had ever endured and he can only thank rowing for the strength he had been given, or else he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Especially with Leroy who even in his old age somehow hauled twice the amount he did. It was a lot but had become the best distraction from the storm cloud that always loomed over his home. 

“It’s a warm one” your sweet voice surprises him, freezing in place where he stands on the flatbed trailer. It was only 35F degrees but the heavy lifting had warmed Charlie’s blood, having shed his coat as he unloaded each tree off the trailer. 

“Yeah, hopefully we don’t lose all our snow” he answers after a moment too long. You grin at him, admiring the tight white T-shirt clung to his filled out form. How the red scarf swayed from his neck with each movement he made. You’d be a fool not to admit how handsome he was, especially here in the beautiful snow, pine needles stuck to his clothes. 

“We won’t, not here at least. That’s the Christmas Tree Farm magic” you tell him, having lived here your entire life. No matter the season, the purpose of this place was to provide Christmas miracles. Winter was of course your favorite, but with Charlie here, it made it even better. 

“Yeah? Does that magic work on anything else?” Charlie asks, a sly grin covering his lips and you decide to flash that same smile right back. Happy to flirt with one of the most interesting boys you have ever met. 

“Miracles usually” and you walk off, a fluffy hat like a halo on your head and boots crunching in the wet snow beneath you. Charlie swears you’re a Christmas miracle itself. At least his own. 

For the days to come more and more trees disappear from the lot, families stopping by each day to bring home a little Holiday joy. Charlie watches you with your clipboard and bright smile, happily chatting with customers and playing with little kids. The whole place is a Winter Dreamland and it’s no doubt partly because of you. Years of learning how to contribute the magic within the place. Until now he’s quite certain he never knew what Christmas felt like, at least not until he met you. 

He doesn’t get alone time with you again until a particularly late night. All the lights went out on one of the fences and not wanting to go to his empty home, he offered to stay late and redo it. It’s colder at night here, but prettier, especially as the snow falls to the ground. His fingers are practically numb but he supposes he’s more comfortable here than in his room at home. So he continues on, not knowing you’re approaching with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. 

“Need a break?” He turns to find you’re in some of the cutest printed pajamas he’s ever seen, little Santa hats adorning your clothes as you crouch down beside him. Just the sight of the warm mug has him reaching out with cold fingers. 

“You’re a lifesaver” he grins, immediately lifting the cup up to his lips. You go to protest but he’s too late, the searing liquid hitting his tongue. His face twists quickly and you wear a sympathetic look. “Shit!”

“Does that happen to be your favorite word?” but he won’t take the teasing, his tongue poking out from behind his lips and a soft pout covering his face. 

“It’s okay, I happen to jump the gun a lot” he says, fingers closing around his burnt tongue. It no longer hurts but he knows he won’t be able to taste the hot chocolate now, his taste buds in hiding. What a loss. 

“Here, let me help” and what he doesn’t expect is your lips forming in an O shape and blowing softly on his tongue. He gapes like a fish, knowing you’re both aware of how it won’t help him at all. Yet it’s the best excuse to be this close together. As badly as he wants to kiss you he knows he won’t be able to taste it. That would be worse than heartbreak. 

“Done this before?” Charlie asks when you’re done and you shrug, sipping from your own cup that was now at a much safer temperature. 

“Hot cocoa is my speciality, then again all things Christmas is” you grin, eyeing the lights Charlie had so perfectly wound around the fence. It had been a long time since someone had come around here and cared so much. 

“Have you lived here your whole life?” Charlie asks, lifting to his knees again and continuing to wrap lights. If he stopped now he would be here all night, at least he now felt warmer with you by his side. 

“Born and raised, my parents inherited it from my Grandparents. They must’ve finally gotten tired of Christmas because they retired to Florida a few years ago” Charlie laughs at this response, brown eyes catching yours in the glow of the Christmas lights. 

“You think you’ll ever get sick of it. Christmas twenty four seven, three hundred and sixty five days a year?” Charlie asks and you instantly shake your head, as if you’ve known the answer to this your whole life.

“Never, this place will always be home. Even if I’m trimming trees in August and getting stuck under mistletoe with creepy customers. Christmas wouldn’t be what it is without the people who believe all year long” you say, looking at nobody in particular as you give an honest answer. Charlie’s heart warms over at the sentiment you provide, falling for you more than he ever should’ve in the first place. 

“Mistletoe?” is the only thing he responds with and the instant roll of your eyes only makes him grin wider. You’re not surprised at all that this is what he takes away from your words. 

“My Mom hangs it everywhere and moves it so it’s never entirely unavoidable. It’s only cheek kisses but I swear it’s always the guys missing half their teeth beside me” you say and Charlie burns with jealousy at the idea of all the men who think they have a shot with you. Yet he supposes he’s one of those guys too. 

“Well maybe one day you’ll find yourself under the mistletoe with somebody not that unbearable” Charlie offers nonchalantly, suddenly more focused on the lights than before.  You wear a grin that seemed brighter than any Christmas light on the entire farm. 

“Yeah, maybe” you agree, sipping from the hot cocoa before lifting back up to your feet. Nights were always so peaceful here, more magical. A part of you wished Charlie could stay here forever. 

You stay with him for a little longer before retreating into the house. Repeatedly checking out the windows to make sure he doesn’t freeze to death. Wondering who he really was and all the things about him. Why he wasn’t like any of the half brain guys who worked here before. He was quick witted, smart, kind, and confident. A mix of traits you never knew could be possible together before. You fall asleep with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and cheek pressed to the windowsill, the last thing you saw was Charlie before entering your dreams. 

It’s not long until Christmas Eve arrives, the last of the families coming to pick trees out to decorate before tomorrow. You used to hate people who waited so long to get one but when you got older you recognized how they waited for family members to arrive in town, how it was their own special tradition, and now they were your favorite customers. You hoped one day someone would love you enough to wait until the last minute like they did. Yet like every Holiday season the day passes in a blur, leaving you standing beside the campfire with your parents, Charlie, and all the other farm hands. 

“It was a good season guys” Leroy holds up his beer and you smile, stepping closer to the fire for extra warmth. “Thank you”

“We made double what we did last year too. Christmas magic is stronger than ever” you point out, having read the books an hour ago. Another good season meant another year of keeping the farm. 

“I think that has more to do with you than the trees” Charlie mutters and everyone grunts and agrees with his words. Knowing it was you who ran the show, you who was kind to the customers and made Christmas feel real for the kids. You took care of everyone here and without you this place wouldn’t feel like Christmas, not at least not in the way it should. 

“Damn looks like we’re out of beer” and of course it’s you who’s instantly ready to volunteer, starting for the barn lit by only a single light above the front doors.

“I’ll help” Charlie scurries after you, almost tripping in the snow, and you smile back at him before both slipping into the warm barn. He finds you pulling a case from under the tool bench and he’s quick to swoop in and grab it from you. 

“Didn’t know you were so enthusiastic about beer” you tease, eyebrows raising as he stands in front of you. He’s nervous but he needed to be alone with you before one of those guys out there noticed the way he looked at you. 

“Not so much beer but you, yeah” he admits and a soft blush covers your cheeks. The sentiment surprises you but with the snowflakes dusting his hair and the scarf wound tightly around his neck, he looks just like the Christmas prince you always imagined for yourself. 

“You think you’ll come back around next year?” you ask, needing to know this wasn’t some college boy looking to lead you on and leave with your heart a week later. 

“If you’ll have me, hell I’ll even come in the summer too” and the genuine way he says it makes your heart soar in your chest. Slowly you grab the beer from his hands and set it on the ground. He gives you a confused look, not understanding what your goal is. When you spot his confused look you only offer a sly grin before pointing up. 

As if spotting a shooting star in the sky, right on the beam above you both hangs green mistletoe, pulling you together like a magnet. “At least you have all your teeth”

“I’m not sure I find that as big of a compliment as I should” and you giggle before grabbing the sides of his coat and drawing him near. 

“Well you should considering I plan on kissing your lips and not your cheek” Charlie’s heart stutters in his chest, unsure where to put his hands and unable to look away from your dazzling eyes. He’s not even sure this is real. 

“This might be my favorite Christmas yet” he finally utters and you grin before lifting on your toes. Charlie steps closer, hands falling to your waist to steady you, the smell of your shampoo invading his senses. Everything about this moment couldn’t be more perfect and he hated that tomorrow he couldn’t come back here and spend his Christmas with you. 

He doesn’t close his eyes right away, preferring to watch as your lips fumble against his only slightly. Not yet locking with his own but sharing the same breath. When he’s sure he can’t take it anymore he presses his hand to the back of your head and seals you against him. Eyes shutting because he finally got to taste you. Nothing about this could be anymore perfect. You couldn’t be anymore perfect. Everything about this is right, Charlie’s firm muscles against your own, soft lips slowly tasting you, warm tongue dipping against your own. You’d stand here and kiss him forever but the distant holler for the beer stops you both. 

“Better supply the masses” you mutter, a little love drunk from his kiss, hand patting his broad chest. Charlie grins, brushing some of the hair away from your face. 

“God but I really want to keep kissing you” he says, already dipping in and stealing another kiss. He smells like the pine trees and tastes like peppermint, he’s Christmas wrapped up in a perfect package, and right now you wish you could keep him forever. He reminds you of home, even when you're here. 

“Me too but I’d prefer not to have an audience” you say before sadly stepping away from him and grabbing the beer case from the ground. 

“Then later? My car once everyone leaves?” and the words make you feel like a giddy teenager. You bite your swollen lip before studying his face and nodding. 

“I’ll be there” you agree and he grins, stealing the beer case from your hand and stealing another mind numbing kiss. 

Smiling you follow him out of the barn, unable to keep the smile off of your face as you walk towards all the people you love the most in life. Here where every wish comes true. Your little Christmas tree farm and the boy who loves you. 

[bumblebirds-menagerie]

Studying OTP Prompts

i.e. i should be studying rn but instead i'm reviving my passion for posting on this blog

doing study calls from home but it quickly turns into a normal call where they talk about totally unrelated stuff

A and B are good at different things in the same subject so they're the perfect study team and consistently top the class

A has a crush on B, who is tutoring them in maths. for every problem A gets right, B draws a smiley face next to it, and at the end of the worksheet they draw a big heart next to A's score

'i can't study for a second longer' 'i'll buy you chocolate if you do half an hour more' 'deal'

barging into their favourite teacher's room with a million questions

taking breaks from the books and walking around the block hand in hand

alternately, just flopping onto the bed for fifteen minutes together for their breaks

A tries to sneakily go on their phone during studying but B always catches them immediately and scolds them

having a favourite spot to sit in the library

being in an intense rivalry with some other people who also like that spot

looking up after hours of work and seeing how messy and tired they both look, and just descending into giggles

A steals B's glasses to distract them from their studying

visiting the convenience store and stocking up on snacks and energy drinks to prepare for a night of cramming

A's cat decides to take a nap on top of their books, so they use it as a convenient excuse to call B instead of working

A getting B to practise speaking another language with them, but B hasn't studied the language and mispronounces basically everything, leading to A just laughing and cringing at the same time

*B talking to C* 'i now know an uncommon amount about genetically engineered crops' '...why' 'because A wanted to teach someone in order to learn the content, and i just so happened to be sitting next to them'

<3

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Mr Gorgeous

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, crack, tutor Lee know, non-idol!au, college au, best friend Hyunjin, computer nerd Lee know

summary: As a chemical engineer with the biggest aversion to computer science it was nothing short of hell to try and pass the one elective you were forced to take. Things do change for the better when your friend suggests you get tutored by smart and hot Lee Minho. Maybe you'd do a lot more than just pass the subject... 

wordcount: 6.3k

a/n: This one is based on the unhinged but cute ideas my friend gives, hopefully, I did justice to that, and to Minho.

masterlist

I have extended this universe (but can be read as oneshot ) with the Hyunjin fic Dancing with our Hands Tied

Regret.

That’s the primary emotion you feel right now. Sitting with your hands tugging at your hair in the corner of the computer science lab as you stare at the big blank screen… yet again.

Another ping and you look up to see yet another failure message popping on the screen of your laptop. It wasn’t brand new, or of high value, but this laptop was your lifeline. Not only did it hold all three years' worth of your undergrad life but it also holds the precious drafts of your latest hyper fixation- fanfics based on the forced marriage trope.

The downfall of the laptop itself wasn’t your primary concern now, it was the choices you made that led here. Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice. The course selection system of your uni might say “flexible” but it was anything but. Your mind replays a flashback from two months ago when you were seated in your dorm bed, hands tugging your hair like now, as you stare at the monstrosity that was the computer science elective you were forced to choose for the sake of credits.

Leading you right back to regret.

Just as you're about to break your laptop in a fit of pure frustration you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head back, with five retorts at the tip of your tongue (but ones that’ll never be said), you find yourself facing one of your closest friends. His feline eyes shone with kindness and his long blonde hair with fringes framing his spectacular face and the crisp white shirt that looks very out of place amongst his rarely-showered peers.

Hyunjin. The infamous dance team captain and the most wanted dude on campus, who somehow ended up as your roommate's dance partner back in freshman year and is now a big part of your gang. He was the reason for whatever little popularity you had on campus.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi yeah, I-I’m fine… I guess…” you sigh, giving up on your hair and point to the screen. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and my laptop just gave up on me.”

He gives you a sad smile, not one of pity and you’re grateful for it. “Ahh, the computers have defeated our great y/n I see...” His tone is slightly lighter this time when he speaks. You nod furiously as he settles down on an empty chair next to you. His hand has moved from your shoulder to fidgeting with the armrests.

“Yeah I absolutely hate- no loathe computers. I mean, I fought with my parents to do a chemical engineering degree just because I hate computers for god's sake. All that only to end up here in this damn course and I’ve managed to kill my laptop in the process of installing virtual machines. Actually why the hell do we even need those virtual machines? Isn’t everything that these machines produce essentially virtual… if you do need another device, just get one. Why do you computer science idiots go through all this hassle? I don’t-“, you pause mid-rant to see that he’s got an amused expression and the corners of his lips are lifted up.

“Ugh, please. Don’t laugh at my distress, you cruel man.” You whine and dramatically put your head on the desk in defeat.

"Aye y/n it's okay... I mean it will be..." Hyunjin tries to comfort but you just grunt in response and dig your head deeper into your arms on the desk.

You hear him sigh and shift closer to you.

"Alright, I'll tell you what... class is over now so we will give up for now and go have something to eat and replenish your brain. Then maybe I can tutor you, I am also in the class and I do understand this. Is that ok?"

You look up to see Hyunjin sitting beside you, lips pressed into a thin smile, eyes kind and empathetic. This version of him rarely comes out except with his few friends and you were usually grateful for that. But today you had no brain cells left to feel grateful.

"Yeah, sure! Do you plan on doing that before or during your morning dance practices or evening practice?" Your tone comes out sharp and sarcastic, which catches Hyunjin off guard.

You were almost always sarcastic but it was never more than a harmful joke and you never really lost your temple. In fact, you were very particular about staying silent unless you have something positive or funny to contribute to the conversation.

Hyunjin recovers fast from the shock, "Hey I was just offering... I was being nice. Don't bite my head off!"

You feel apologetic immediately and sigh. "Yeah sorry dude, I guess I need to eat. Are you still up to get lunch together?" You ask with a small smile.

"Yup!" He immediately agrees with a big grin and you begin packing your things.

"Hey, you sure one of your little fangirls and fanboys won't die of jealousy if they see just the two of us having lunch together?" You joke as you both head to the cafeteria.

He just rolls his eyes and both of you laugh it off.

Even though you knew about Hyunjin's popularity, it still feels weird for you to sit and watch almost the entire cafeteria stare in your direction. Rather in his direction. Trying your best to ignore it you continue eating your sales as Hyunjin talks about the latest gossip from the dance team.

Just as he was about to reach the juicy part, Hyunjin sees someone on the other end of the cafe and asks them to join. You whip your head around to see the source of your latest annoyance, ready to hate them in your head, only to find the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walk towards your table.

You've had one too many celebrity crushes in your day but you weren't usually the type to simp for a dude in real life- especially one from your university. Yet you find yourself unable to take your eyes off this guy. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of joggers. His headphones are around his neck, and a black backpack hanging on his left shoulder. You watch his shirt cling to his shoulders and the way he keeps his eyes down as he walks. You keep watching as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough for it to look fluffy and good.

Taylor Swift definitely wrote Gorgeous for this man.

As he nears the table you finally gather all your self-control and turn back to your lunch. You chew on the food slowly and keep playing with the contents in your bowl, painfully aware of every step he takes toward the table.

"Hey Lino!" You hear Hyunjin exclaim as he gets up to hug the other guy.

"Hi Hyunjin." says the other guy- who apparently has a deep, yet soft voice that reminds you of honey melting.

You internally cringe at the weird tingly feeling this guy is making you feel.

You try to block out the conversation the two guys make, desperately hoping you wouldn't have to interact with Mr Gorgeous.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you both. This is my friend y/n."

You look up at the mention of your name to find Hyunjin and him looking right at you. You smile, hoping the weird thoughts don't translate on your face.

"And y/n, this is Lee Minho. My classmate and dance teammate." Hyunjin says with a fond smile.

"Hey, y/n. Nice to finally meet you," says Mr Gorgeous in his honey-dripping voice as he reaches his hand out to you. You are frozen for a second but recover quickly to take his hands and shake them as you nod. You watch as he immediately takes his hand after a second of contact and clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you too Minho." you finally manage after the handshake that only made the butterflies worse. You pray silently that you don't ever have to speak to Minho again, a crush was not good for your health. Especially not a crush on your friend's very hot dance teammate.

Thankfully Minho almost immediately leaves, stating he has a class to attend and Hyunjin and you bid your byes and return to your lunches.

After a moment's silence, Hyunjin speaks again, "So what do you think about Minho?"

You cough as a lettuce piece gets stuck in your throat at his question and chug half a glass of water.

"Wha- what about him?" You ask in your most normal voice possible.

"I don't know... you tell me." Hyunjin says eyeing you cautiously.

"He's fine I guess." He scoffs. "He's way more than fine and we both know it." He says with a smirk.

"You're just a simp for the mysterious hot dudes who will never go for you."

"Ouch. But yeah. Plus all I can do is simp... he's not really into guys." Hyunjin says with a dramatic frown making you shake your head at his antics.

You were almost relieved when Hyunjin admitted to simping for Minho because then you would shut down the crush because you are a good friend. Every plan to squish this growing crush is backfiring on you now.

As you both finish your lunch and decide to go separate ways, Hyunjin stops in his tracks outside the cafeteria with a bright smile on his face. The face that usually means trouble for anyone involved- which is you currently.

"Oh my god! Y/n I just had the best idea." He practically squeals and you roll your eyes at him.

"I don't believe it will be good but you're gonna say it anyway so spill."

"Well you need a tutor to pass the computer course... and Minho is a top-of-the-class student who passed that subject a semester ago. What if he tutored you?"

Hyunjin looks like he hit the jackpot and your jaw hangs on the floor. Gulping you begin to explain why his idea won't work just as the door opens and out comes the man of the hour himself- Minho.

Hyunjin looks at Minho and his smile grows even wider.

"Lino I was just going to call you. I need a small favour from you."

Minho looks suspiciously between an excited Hyunjin and a horrified you. "Yeah, tell me..."

Hyunjin proceeds to explain the ordeal in great painful detail. He paints a sad picture of you from fighting with your parents about your major to your whining in the lab earlier. All while you plan the detailed and gruesome murder of Hwang Hyunjin in your head.

Even though you are too embarrassed to see Minho's face, curiosity gets the better of you. He seems to be trying his best to follow Hyunjin's rant. His eyebrows perked up and eyes shifted between the two of you. His nose scrunched as he nods continuously.

"So what do you think of my genius idea huh?" Hyunjin asks Minho as he smiles widely at you both.

"Ermm... ", Minho looks between you and Hyunjin looking positively confused. "I think I can do it yeah." He says in his honey-melting crush-heightening voice and nods at you.

All you can do is force a hopefully normal smile on your face as Hyunjin celebrates his 'victory'. You shoot Minho an apologetic look as Hyunjin forces you both to exchange numbers and discuss the tutoring schedule- every Monday evening at the library.

"See you on Monday y/n." He says with a soft smile as he hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder and walks away after saying his byes to Hyunjin.

There is no death for the crush now.

————————————

The Monday could not have come slower. Although it was only three days from meeting Minho it felt like the longest days of your life. To make matters worst, Hyunjin and Yeji, your roommate, could not stop talking about Minho.

Turns out he didn’t spurt out of nowhere since Thursday, he was fondly called Lino by the dance team. You’d previously heard Hyunjin and Yeji talk for hours together about the “brilliant” dancer that “Lino” was. But you’d also heard Yeji mock Hyunjin for constantly getting bullied by him. The stories that you had always laughed your heart out to because mostly Hyunjin did deserve it. But now those stories do nothing but increase your anxiety as you walk slowly towards the campus library to meet your gorgeous dancer-nerd tutor.

What if he bullies you too? Or worse what if you embarrass yourself in front of Mr Gorgeous!

You groan as you step into the library, searching along rows of students absorbed in their own world before spotting him. He was wearing another plain black shirt, hair messed up in sweeps framing the side of his face, and a thin framed glass perched on his face. His little nose scrunched up as he was concentrating on his laptop, the headphones on his head.

Why does this man make you weak over the bare minimum!

“Hey Minho”, you greet as you reach the table he’s sat at, settling down across the table from him.

He looks up removing his headphones and smiles at you, nodding in acknowledgment.

Both of you walk around on eggshells for the first few minutes, him understanding how much knowledge you have in the subject- he almost looks disappointed on hearing the answer be ‘nothing’. Eventually, you both developed a plan and he began explaining from the basics. Although you had a very hard time concentrating initially, especially when his eyes got all dark and focused, as he bit his lip whenever you messed up and explained in that calm soothing voice of his. But eventually, you started finding it easier to learn when he taught you in parts, giving examples and helping you take notes.

The hour passed by much too quickly for your liking but a part of you was relieved to be out of his strong gaze. He had given you some pointers and tasks to do over the week to help speed the process to pass the finals approaching in two months.

The following weeks go smoothly, Mondays becoming your favourite and most exciting day of the week- adulting really was sad. You saw Minho relaxing with every session, the third session he even started teasing you about your mistakes. He would let out a little “hehe”, smile brightly as his eyes lit up and shake his head as he says, “No that’s not how you run this. It’s a different coding language so the rules change.”

He never raised his voice or lost his cool. While you were constantly groaning or huffing in irritation at the irrational rules of computer science. You constantly explained to him that you weren’t an entire novice to coding but the concepts of operating systems and databases simply did not make sense. He would constantly assure you that this was hard for computer science majors and that you had not much to worry about. Eventually, the one-hour sessions became longer as you both sit back and talk about random topics during "breaks". He even suggested an additional session to "help speed the process", which made your stomach drop in an odd way (not because your crush kept exponentially growing in the last six weeks).

That’s how you find yourself in the library on a Thursday afternoon, coming to the library hours prior to your session with Minho. Trying your best to understand the concept you both were supposed to go over so that you didn’t look too dumb and also because your finals is approaching in two weeks. You used to be the topper in school, and you even managed to stay in the top 10 in your department but none of that worked here. It definitely didn’t help to learn that Minho was an extremely talented all-rounder.

In the last six weeks, you might’ve slipped into a couple or almost all of the dance team’s practice sessions pretending to care about Hyunjin and Yeji (both of whom were surprised to find you there for the first time in three years).

Minho danced as gracefully as a swan while emitting the most powerful aura on stage. You had seen the dance team’s performances before to support your friends but you hadn’t really noticed anyone except those two till now. But now you could not take your eyes off Minho even when you heard the team and other audiences praise how amazing Hyunjin and Yeji were.

You shake your head to prevent yourself from getting distracted by Minho’s tantalising steps from the previous day’s rehearsal. All of this did nothing but feed the monster of a crush you were fostering inside. She was so strong now that calling it a crush felt wrong. You were down bad. But that is a problem for another time, you needed to learn this concept before Minho gets there in half an hour.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you started hyper focusing on the topic but you are brought out of your reverie by Minho’s rich voice.

“Hey y/n.” He sounds cheerful and there’s a cute smile on his face which makes the monster butterflies immediately rise up in your stomach.

“Hello.” You smile back as he settles in the seat next to you. This was another suggestion from Minho since the third week to "help correct your mistakes better", little did he know it only made you more prone to mistakes with him so close to you. You noticed that he was wearing his white hoodie and grey joggers- which you know now is his dance practice attire, and his hair is all tousled and messy. His cheeks are flushed from the practice and he is slightly out of breath as he takes his laptop out and settles down.

“You’ve already started this topic huh. Good to see you working so hard. ” He says with a genuine smile nodding towards your laptop. You smile coyly, stomach doing a little flip at the compliment (it never gets old).

“Ah, nothing like that. Just had time to kill. Thought I’d try to catch up so that I’m not entirely clueless for today.” He nods and looks at you for a second longer than usual. Just as you think he’s going to turn to his laptop and start the session he leans towards you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ears. Time comes to a standstill as you process what just happened. When you recover from the tingle his touch had left on your cheek and behind your ear, you realise that he has gone to his work.

“Let’s start?” He enquired looking innocent and all you can do is nod. Your heart is still beating fast as you try your best to follow everything Minho is saying. Every time you got your heart to calm down he would turn to look at you from behind his glasses, a serious expression on his face which was way too close to yours for your brain to work.

When you start working on the code he leans between you and your laptop to point at the code on the farthest end of the screen from him. His face is extremely close to yours as you do everything to remain normal- on the outside.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and you slump back in your chair sighing as you catch your breath and look at Minho. He is on his phone smiling every now and then and your hearts drops as anxiety clouds your head. Not that you had any intentions of taking any action about your crush… but still the heart wants what it wants. He turns to you as he puts his phone down and removes his glasses.

“How come you had free time today, before our session? I thought you had a full schedule on Thursdays?” He enquires and pushes his smooth fluffy hair out of his face.

You have two thoughts in your brain at this point- a) why did he have to be that gorgeous, and b) did he remember when you told him about your schedule the first time you both met.

You straighten up as you answer. “Erm… yeah no my lab got cancelled. Prof has been sick for a week now so I was free.”

“Is that why you seem to be having a lot of free time lately?” His question comes out more as a comment as he gives you a smirk.

“Uh what do you mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair again.

“Nothing just been seeing you around during practice a lot recently… that’s why.” He almost looks shy as he says it, but the smirk stays put on his face.

You feels your cheeks and neck heat up and do your best to not look like a deer caught in headlights.

You let out a small fake laugh. “Ah, that… I was just supporting Hyunjin. And Yeji too, she’s my roommate you know?” You ask hoping he’d shift the topic to them instead.

He leans back on the side of his chair eyeing you with the smirk still in its place. “Yeah I know. I’ve known for three years.” Your eyes widen naturally at this new information. “Which is why I was surprised to see you there now after all these years. You don’t usually come to practice sessions.” He says calmly.

There are too many questions in your head but you choose to ignore anything that gives you even a sliver of hope. You straighten more hoping the stature makes you look at least slightly intimidating. Which, judging by the even bigger smirk on Minho’s face didn’t work.

“I- I came because Yeji and Hyunjin were nervous about their solos.”

His expression is straight-up cocky. “Oh is that why you were staring at me the whole time?”

His words might’ve affected you so much that you were embarrassed but you weren’t going to feed into his ego.

“Seems like you need a new prescription for your eyes.” You pick up your things, start to walk away from the table and pause to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Also seems like you were the one who was seeing me instead of focusing on your practice."

You walk away hoping to save some face before you feel his hold on your wrist. His hands are rough and he holds you just tight enough to stop you but not hurt you.

“Y/n I was just teasing… sorry if I crossed a line.” He sounds so soft and timid that you whip your head around to see him standing behind you with big eyes and a small pout. You sigh and smile at him.

“I know… I was too. Don’t worry abt it, Mr Tutor.” You try to lighten the mood by lightly tapping his shoulder and see him shudder slightly.

“I do like seeing you in practices.” He admits in a low voice, a shy smile on his face.

You are just a melted goo of a human on the inside. The smile on your face comes naturally but for once, you don’t feel the need to hide it. Minho made you lose your guard way too much but even then today was way out of either of your usual zones. For the rest of the night, you are a mess of nerves and excitement. Yeji doesn’t question it anymore.

Two days later, you arrive at the auditorium of your uni with the two other friends of your gang- Jeongin and Yuna. As you three settle down in one of the middle rows, for which you almost fought off a junior, you are giddy with excitement to see Minho perform. And Hyunjin and Yeji of course.

You had tried to go to the dress rehearsal the previous day, catching the last few minutes of the performance and it was safe to say that the performance was going to be a hit. This time you didn’t try to sneak around, instead you waited after rehearsal and walked back with Minho, Hyunjin and Yeji. The vibe between Minho and you had shifted since that evening, he had texted you memes twice the next day and the previous evening, you both had walked close enough for your shoulders to brush while laughing about baseless things. If Hyunjin and Yeji noticed, they didn’t say anything and even gave the two of you some space by racing each other. For all the grace they both had on stage, they were complete idiots.

Your heart starts beating faster as the performance begins and you watch in a daze the whole time. All of them killed it from start to end. You were almost emotional watching Yeji and Hyunjin shine bright during their solos. Minho was on fire throughout the whole performance and you thought you dreamt of him looking at you during his solo- which was practically too hot for you to physically handle.

Once the performance is over, Jeongin, Yuna and you walk over to the green room to meet your amazing friends. You run over to congratulate your friends and even manage a small "nice performance" for the other members. The entire green room is filled with members of the dance team and their friends, all shouting and laughing. Amongst the chaos and happiness in your friend group, you can't help but look around for Minho. Catching your eye Hyunjin tugs at your shoulder signalling you to lean in as he says, "Go to the backside of the auditorium."

You look at him confused for a second before he gives a pointed side-eye that says "Don't act like you don't understand". You give a shy smile thanking him and inform Yeji that you'll be back and quietly slip out through the back door of the auditorium as Hyunjin told you to. Once you close the door behind you, a cool gush of wind makes you rub your shoulders for warmth as the green room's ruckus dies into the evening's silence. You look around for him and see a silhouette standing at the right edge leaning on the railing and looking out at the campus gardens.

Taking a deep breath you slowly approach him. As if sensing your presence, he whips his head around.

"Y/N." He says softly and you walk closer to see his left hand stretched out. You freeze in your spot, five steps away from him, gaping at the hand. He sees your confusion, smiles, walks toward you, and grabs your right hand. You stand there watching him and feel your feet move on their own as he helps you stand beside him facing the gardens, hands still interlaced. Your brain seems to short-circuit as you just stand there, still as a statue, hyperaware of his touch and the tingles it left in your body.

After what feels like a minute or an eternity, you are no longer aware of worldly concepts like time, he clears his throat and you see him angle his body toward you from the corner of your eyes. This brings you back to reality and you turn your face toward him and see how gorgeous he looks under the moonlight, hair all messed up, his shirt still clinging from the sweat due to the performance and lips spread into a soft smile.

"Hi." He says with an expectant smile on his face.

"Hey," you hear your own voice sound distant and breathless. It would be embarrassing how weak you were from this boy if you didn't know that he deserved all the love and attention in the world.

"So... you really didn't want to see me perform I guess." His tone is playful and there's a smirk on his face.

"Wha- What no... I did want to see you perform."

"Then you just didn't like it I guess. Tsk tsk." He mockingly shakes his side to side as the girn grows wider on his face. Your face heats up in embarrassment and you thank god that the only light around the place is hitting on his face and not yours.

"I never said that." You say in a low shy voice (again, borderline embarrassing).

"You didn't say anything good about the performance either. At least to me." He pauses and looks at you before turning to the garden again, "I heard you throwing compliments around like confetti inside,, to your friends."

You immediately feel your stomach drop in guilt and very little excitement (The Minho wanted your validation!!).

"Oh. Oh no, I- I didn't mean to... It's just," you take a small breath as he turns to face you again with an eager expression, "I can't really think right now with you holding my hand and looking all gorgeous and hot, and I keep thinking back to your moves on stage which were straight up sinful Minho." The words come out before you can process it and your eyes widen as you realise what you said and see that Minho's smirk has grown exponentially smug before he breaks into soft laughter.

You silently groan putting your head down on the railing. Minho stops laughing and tugs at your hand which makes you slightly face him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed." He says with that soft, kind voice of his.

"Easy for you to say." You mumble as you look at your hands, one still intertwined in his. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up to face him, you swear you can hear your heartbeat as loudly as a gunshot fired into the dead of the night. His eyes are soft, a twinkle in them, and he has the prettiest smile on his face as he takes in your face.

"I still want a proper compliment Gorgeous." He says and you choke on empty air at the term of endearment (the irony rather). He lets out a chuckle at that and raises his eyebrows for you to go on as he holds your other hand in his. "Can you even breathe right now?" He jokes and you snap out of the daze.

"Jerk," you say pulling your hands from his, turning away with a huff.

"Y/N... come oonnn..." He whines and you involuntarily laugh and turn to see him pouting (lost track of all the embarrassing things you do for him at this point). "Pleaasseeeee", he says with the cutest pout and puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. "Well, you did amazing." The pout is intact on his face, indicating he wants to hear more. "I- I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time. I saw Hyunjin and Yeji only during their solos." You admit sheepishly. You are still not sure where all this sudden courage is coming from. You are not the most vulnerable or soft person, in fact, your friends constantly teased you for being nonchalant and tactful during most situations. Lee Minho was going to be the death of you.

He straightens at the admission from you, eyes widening and jaw opening in surprise. A smirk plays up on your face at the opportunity to see him lose his cool.

"Have you forgotten your manners or are you too flustered to say thanks?" You tease not letting the opportunity go to waste. His demeanour changes and the shyness on his face is replaced by something darker, like trouble. He slowly walks towards you, like a cat prancing towards its meal, and you take a step back till you are flush against the railing as he keeps walking closer. You think your heart will fail if he keeps doing it. He stops an inch from your face, placing both his palms on either side of you on the railing.

"Let's see who is too flustered now..." His voice is deep and gravelly. You gulp and stare at his face, not having the courage to do anything else. He starts leaning towards your face, his eyes momentarily drift to your lips and god help your poor soul.

"Min-Minho.. wha-what are y-you doing?"

Your voice breaks and his lip tilts slightly before he speaks, "Can I kiss you?" His voice has gone an octave deeper and your heart skips several beats. All you can manage is a small nod in approval and he shakes his head. "Say it, Gorgeous."

Jesus this man is out to kill you.

"Ye-yes." The word leaves your mouth more like a question but the smirk on his face tells you he is satisfied. He leans in more, your lips almost connecting and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours. One beat, two beats, three beats and the effect never comes. You open your eyes in confusion to see Minho has moved a little back, with the proudest smile on his face.

Before you can begin to voice out your confusion he speaks. "I will kiss you...", you're still confused, "Only if you pass your finals."

"Huh?" That's all you can think and say.

"I said what I said."

"What does that even mean? Why did you ask to kiss me and then not do it... are you crazy! I swear to god if this is some sick joke to you, I will murder you Lee Minho." You are fuming, your face is burning up and you're embarrassed.

"I- no no you've got it wrong. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I was teasing. Its... I have wanted to do this for a while now... but I thought maybe you don't really like me or... God!" He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He turns around to look at you, eyes wide and his hand fidgets in nervousness.

"Y/n I- I like you... I have for a while. I saw you during a freshman-year party as you came to help a very drunk Hyunjin. I thought you were his girlfriend for an entire year because you both were very close so I kept my distance. Last year I got to know that you both were just friends and really wanted to get to know you."

He stops and sighs, he positively looks scared and tired. You feel bad but your own confusion and insecurity clouds your mind.

"Then why didn't you?"

He looks straight into your eye and lets out a scoff.

"Did you even know me until two months back?"

All you can do is stare back because you are guilty. Even you had been asking yourself how you had never noticed Minho in all the times you've hung out with the dance team after performances. You had even known Chan, the team leader back when you were freshmen. But somehow missed the one person you seem to care about right now.

"That's what I thought." He looks dejected. You really want to hug him, which is surprising considering you don't even like hugs usually.

So you walk up to him, closing the gap between the two of you in three steps and wrap your arms around his waist and feel him freeze. Your head reaches near his shoulder, and you lean into it because there is some unbridled courage in you that you are not about to waste. After a beat or two you feel his arms wrap around your waist and you wait for the butterflies and nerves but instead, you feel your heartbeat slow down. It feels... comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the most observant person. Especially around the dance team because I am way too in awe and kinda scared. I don't think I would've been friends with Yeji and Hyunjin if I had not met them outside of the team. But after the last two months, I don't even understand how I missed you. Especially with how you dance and not to forget that smart brain of yours. But yeah... I'm sorry" The words fall out of your mouth on their own but it feels right.

"Not your fault. I did keep myself very much out of the limelight because I was... I don't know, maybe scared of rejection. But yeah, wish I'd spoken to you earlier." You can feel his words. You also feel his heartbeat slow down.

"I don't regret anything that happened though." His voice sounds a lot lighter this time.

"Neither do I."

You slightly pull back to see his face and try to get out of the embrace but he holds onto you tight. An involuntary smile creeps up your face.

"So... what happens now?"

He thinks for a second and a glint forms in his eyes.

"What do you want to happen?"

You like this.

"Three things. I want you to continue tutoring me. I also want to be your girlfriend and... I need you to kiss me now." You see him start to speak and continue before he can. "If you say you won't do that until I pass, I swear to god Lee Minho, I will never let you talk to me or touch me ever again." His whole face goes into a pout and it makes you regret your own condition because it seems impossible to stay away from this guy- in any capacity.

"Then I guess I'll just have to kiss you until you pass and then reward you with more kisses after that."

He is grinning ear to ear, looking all cute and radiant. You're sure your also grinning equally widely. You nod your head fiercly and he chuckles with his head thrown back (Gorgeous, as always). He slowly leans in and your eyes close shut.

This time you feel his lips on you, soft and firm. You had thought about this moment far too much but nothing came close to the real thing. The kiss felt perfect, delicate but assured and blissful. It felt like all of the universe had frozen in place and only the two of you existed in this endless bliss.

That is until you heard hoots from somewhere and reluctantly break the kiss to see all of the dance team and your friends cheering on for both of you.

"Neither of us was subtle huh?" You joke.

"Oh please, I was so subtle I practically melted into the background for a year." You playfully hit his chest as he laughs and waves off the hooligans cheering on.

"Ugh, it's gonna be so much harder to keep my hands off you during tutoring sessions now." He groans and you can't help but blush and let out a content laugh.

Maybe the computer science elective was a good decision after all.