#one of my profs has been pushing me to find something new to be passionate about (that does not include library stools) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pillbug-armor · 4 months

Text

Professor x Student slow burn

8k words

summary: When Professor Jonathan Holbrook meets his new TA, Emma Morgan, he is struck by her magnetic, charming personality. Before long, he finds himself drawn to her in ways that violate every rule of professionalism in the book. When they find themselves alone in his office after a long semester together, Jonathan finds that his resolve is not as unbreakable as he would hope...

cw: age difference (legal), prof-student relationship, protected seggsual activity, p in v, unequal power dynamics

original characters, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

this is a pretty slow burn, with full consent from both characters bc i think it's important also find it really hot. Also has a bit of a softer feel, the characters like each other a lot/have a relationship outside of the seggs. hope you like it, bc i had a great time writing it! also if you are a compsci nerd this one goes out ya'll bc holbrook is a data science professor haha

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The first day of a semester was always simmering with energy. Professor Jonathan Holbrook was still getting used to the fact that it was his job to capture and direct the attention of an entire lecture hall full of early twenty-somethings.

He looked at the clock on his computer screen: 9:26 AM. In four minutes, he wouldn’t be Jonathan, the newly 30 year old man who had struggled to drag himself out of bed two hours earlier with a sore neck. He would be Professor Holbrook, sharp, alert, assertive, ready to share his passion for data science with approximately 250 people who may or may not feel the same.

Absent-mindedly, he tipped his chair back and forth, bracing one foot against the podium from which he’d soon be delivering an icebreaking personal introduction.

“Professor Holbrook?”

With a slight jerk, he righted his chair. A student was standing in front of him.

Shaking her hand, he replied, “Yes, that’s me.”

Her grip was as firm and assured as her voice. She smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Emma. Emma Morgan. I’m your TA for this semester.”

“Emma! It’s great to finally put a face to your name. Would you want to sit up here? Or would you rather sit with the students?” He noticed that she had curly brown hair and freckles, neither of which had been apparent in her tiny email profile photo.

She turned to look out at the lecture hall. “I think I’d like to sit with the students. I mean, I feel more like a student than anything else.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she walked over to a seat in the front row and set her backpack down.

Jonathan nodded, then glanced at his laptop again. 9:29 AM. He turned back towards Emma, who was looking at him with a slight furrow in her brow.

“You ready for the semester, Emma?”

Her face relaxed, and her brown eyes met his. “Ready as I can be, I guess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Professor Holbrook”.

Jonathan looked up from the email he had been typing. “Hi Emma. You don’t have to call me Professor Holbrook, by the way. You can just call me Jonathan.”

Shrugging her backpack off her shoulders, she replied, “If you say so. Where do you want me to sit?” In the current emptiness of his office, her purple and blue striped shirt was the only pop of color.

Hastily, he reached out and pulled a chair up next to his own. “Here’s fine. And would you mind closing the door before you sit down?”

She shut the door gently, sat down, and turned to face him, legs crossed at the ankle. He pushed up his sleeves and turned to grab his planner. As he was about to ask Emma how her morning was going, he noticed her gaze had settled on his forearm.

Almost as quickly as he’d noticed, she flicked her eyes back up at him. Her mouth opened slightly, soundlessly, before she said, “Sorry. Uh, I like your tattoos. Is that a parakeet?”

“Yeah, it’s a blue winged parakeet. I had one as a kid and it was my favorite pet of all time.”

She smiled, crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and set them in her lap. She ran a hand through her hair, then said, “That’s cool. Birds are my favorite animals.” For a second longer, she held his gaze, then she looked down, waiting for him to continue.

Her nervousness was making him slightly nervous as well. He laughed politely, then said, “So anyways. Let me give you the rundown of how recitation is going to work. Then, we can discuss when you’d like to have your office hours, and anything else you have questions about.”

This first weekly meeting went by smoothly. Jonathan found that he did most of the talking; Emma rarely interrupted him to ask questions. She took notes in a somewhat battered, plain notebook, writing unhurriedly. Her hands were delicate, nails perfectly painted a light shade of pink.

As their meeting came to a close, Jonathan said, “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused, then said, “Do you have any for me?”

He thought for a brief moment. “How has your first week back on campus been, Emma?”

She blinked at him, then said “Good. I mean senior year is going to be super busy, but I’m really glad that I get to see all my friends all the time.”

He replied, “Well, that’s good. I’m thankful to have you as a TA. You seem very organized and on top of it.”

At this, she laughed. “Don’t be fooled by the notebook, Jonathan.” He found himself smiling as she said, “I actually have no idea what’s on most of these pages”.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked the time, then said, “I have to go to my next class. I’ll see you in lecture tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

She stood, threw her backpack over one shoulder, then turned and walked into the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aaaaand voila. Ok, if you’ve been following along, you’ll see that the output of this function should match the correlation coefficient given in the answer key.”

By now, a month into the semester, Jonathan had eased back into the swing of lecturing. He felt he’d established a good rapport with his students; a decent number of them even showed up to office hours.

He hit the Enter key to run the code cell he’d just written, only to be shown a red “error” message. A murmur broke out through the lecture hall.

He sighed, then said, “Don’t panic guys, this is only the 8th time this has happened this week.” He scrolled to the top of the cell, combing through the lines to find his mistake.

“Jonathan.”

He looked up, and saw that Emma had raised her hand. “What’s up?”

She grinned mischievously, then said, “You spelled “scipy” wrong at the top. Like where you include the libraries.”

He made a show of scrolling very slowly back to the top of the cell, and saw that she was correct.

The students laughed, and he laughed with them. He raised his hands in defeat and said, “I’m a computer guy, not an English major.”

As the noise died down, Emma said, “You do know that “python” starts with “p-y” right? Not “p-i.”

He shot back, “Emma. You double indented like 7 lines in a for loop last week and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong with your code.” As he spoke, he moved to the front of the podium so he was standing in front of her.

In mock outrage, she put a hand on her chest. “That’s because I was using your stupid new IDE that runs on GitHub Copilot”.

As he stepped closer to her chair, she bent her neck to look up at him. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Let us know when you’re ready to leave the stone age and join us in 2023.”

He was acutely aware that everyone in the classroom was looking at them, as their banter had become a regular occurrence in every lecture.

She raised a hand to the side of her neck and took a breath in. He saw the rise and fall of her chest, the way her hand brushed the smooth, soft, skin of her jaw.

After a beat, she extended her hand towards him. He stepped even closer to her, and grasped her hand in his. He swore he could feel her pulse in her fingers.

She shook his hand, then said, “I’ll send a smoke signal to your iPhone.”

He grinned as the class laughed, and stepped back behind the podium. As he continued on with his lecture, his gaze kept falling on Emma, and the soft smile that never left her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:30 AM was too early to be on campus by any metric. Yawning unabashedly, Jonathan walked towards the undergraduate lounge, the only room with an espresso machine in the engineering building. He couldn’t wait for a shot of raw caffeine to jolt him awake.

When he pulled open the door, he was surprised to see Emma there, sitting on the sofa, laptop perched on one thigh.

She looked up at him briefly. “Hey.”

He blinked. “What are you doing here so early?”

Her fingers brushed the touchpad of her machine as she said, “I have interview grading downstairs in like 20 minutes, and I figured I’d get here a bit early to add some final comments to my code.”

Jonathan leaned one hand against the table, then said, “What’s the project?”

She grimaced, then replied, “It’s an optimization lab.”

“Hmm.” He thought for a second. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“Sure,” Emma said.

At the same time that he moved to sit on the couch, she stood to place her laptop on the table. Jonathan froze. Emma was still, both hands clutching her laptop, eyes shifting to the side. After a beat, he said, “Let’s just sit on the couch, you were already there anyways.”

Nodding, she sat back down. He took a seat next to her.

Without looking at him, she went back to scrolling. She brushed a few curls away from her face as she explained her code to him.

As Jonathan gave his feedback, he noticed, for the first time, the light brown, almost shimmery hair on her forearms, and that she had a thin gold chain around her neck, the small pendant resting against the junction of her collarbone and her throat. Her white sneakers were scuffed, and she had purple ankle socks on. Suddenly, he was very aware that his thighs were only a few inches away from hers, and that he could see the outline, the shape of her crossed legs through her blue jeans.

He folded his hands in his lap, looked over at Emma, and asked her why she had written a particular line of code with recursion instead of a loop.

She smiled and nodded, pointing at the line of code he’d referred to. She had a perfect cupid’s bow, and her teeth were rounded and had slight gaps in between them.

Jonathan’s mouth felt dry. He cleared his throat and said, “I think you’ll be fine. There are a couple places where a little restructuring could make the code run even faster, but honestly at that point it’s diminishing returns, you know?”

Emma’s gaze met his, and he was momentarily struck by the warmth in her brown eyes, despite the tired, purplish shadow that lay beneath each one. She yawned, and Jonathan almost looked away, but he didn’t, instead noticing the way her head tipped back, exposing the skin under her jaw, the way her tongue rested against her bottom teeth.

She closed her laptop and slid it into her backpack. Jonathan blinked, feeling like some charge in the air had just vanished.

“Thanks for the feedback, Jonathan. I appreciate you taking the time to help me out.”

He nodded, and said, “Anytime. You can always Slack me if you have questions about this kind of thing.”

She got up, and moved so she was standing directly in front of him. His knees were directly across from hers. she said, “I’ll let you know how interview grading goes. See you later, in lecture.”

“Sounds good,” He replied. She left the room, and for a few seconds, Jonathan stayed on the couch, not moving.

He couldn’t believe that he’d thought to himself that, if he’d just reached out, he could have slid his hands under her t-shirt and onto the soft curves of her waist, and pulled her down until she was sitting on his lap.

Uneasily, he looked around. Nobody was there. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if people could see his thoughts anyways.

It was going to be fine. It was just a fleeting thought, and, of course, Emma was beautiful. Anyone could see that. He was sure his mind wouldn’t betray him like that again.

He got up, made his espresso, and went back to his office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the next few weeks went by, Jonathan was starting to think that maybe he should request a different TA for the next semester. Emma was extremely helpful to him, always attentive to student’s questions in lecture, always completing tasks he asked of her on time. She was never late to a weekly meeting, and she was smart and funny to boot.

But. Ever since running into her that early morning in the undergraduate lounge, his thoughts had become more and more intrusive. Rationally, he knew that the more he tried not to think them, the more they would take over his mind, but he couldn’t help it. Some kind of floodgate had opened, and he was powerless to stop the contents of his imagination from bursting through.

During lecture, they bantered and conversed as usual in front of the class, and he was starting to feel like the student’s eyes were too much. Surely, every time he spoke to Emma, every time he walked out from behind the podium to stand in front of her seat, they could see that he was drawn to her like a magnet. Surely they could see that his eyes flickered to her lips, her hands, the delicate lines of her chest visible through her clothes. Surely they had noticed that he smiled every time she smiled, that he was inventing excuses to tease her and get her attention as he spoke.

Emma was a student, a good student. It was completely unfair to her that his wayward thoughts threatened the professionalism of their interactions.

But he couldn’t help it. When they had their weekly meetings, where it was just the two of them in his office behind a closed door for 30 whole minutes, he was overtaken by thoughts of what they could be doing instead of discussing curricular materials. He felt like he was gripping onto a mask of normalcy, struggling not to let even a hint of these imaginings show on his face when she was there.

But when she left, and the door to his office closed, he would lean back in his chair, and his mind’s eye would open, hungry for something he could never see. He had given up trying to restrain it.

He could see himself asking her how she was doing, how she was really doing. She would sigh and tell him that senior year was stressful, that she was struggling to figure out her next steps post undergrad. He would place his hands on hers, tell her that she had nothing to worry about, that she was so smart and capable that he was sure she would find her way. She would look into his eyes, the warm, melty brown color blooming in his vision, and she would incline her head towards his. He would lean in, breathe in the clean scent of her skin, brush his lips against her jaw, her neck, lace his fingers through the soft curls of her hair. He could see her breath quickening, her eyes closing, her fingers tightening their grip on his. He could hear the way she would try not to make a sound.

He could make her feel so good, he knew he could. He knew his hands could wrap around her waist, support the weight of her body if he held her close. He wondered what she had experienced in the past, if anyone else had touched and caressed and kissed and tasted her in the ways that he couldn’t stop imagining.

He also knew that none of this could or would happen. It was probably in their best interest that he found a new TA for the next semester. He dreaded having to tell Emma this, knowing that she couldn’t know the true reason for his request. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last day of the semester before winter break had arrived. All day, Jonathan had been helping to run the fall undergraduate showcase, where top students from various engineering disciplines displayed projects that they had worked on this year in class. Some highlights had been a web app that summarized terms and conditions, a working smartwatch prototype meant to help remind people to take medications, and a 3d printed fully articulating human hand with working motors that could theoretically be modified into a prosthetic limb.

He checked his phone. 9:00pm. All that was left to do was fold up the last few tables and chairs, put them to the side of the engineering lobby for the cleaning crew to put into storage, and then finally, he could go home for the night.

“Hey, is there anything else you need help with?” Emma’s voice brought his attention back to the tasks at hand.

“If you just wanna fold up those chairs over there and put them on that rack over there, that would be great.”

He watched her walk away. For a second, he braced his forehead with his fingertips, and suppressed a sigh.

He still hadn’t told Emma that he was going to be requesting a new TA for the upcoming semester. At this point, he was going to have to send her an email over break. Maybe it was better that way. Simple and quick. Impersonal. Professional.

Even now, he had to measure his actions around her. It was starting to become unbearable, being near her and being unable to give substance to the thoughts that had been plaguing him.

Another faculty member caught his eye and waved. “I’m gonna head out. Have a good break!”

He smiled tersely and waved back. His eyes surveyed the lobby, and he found that it had been tidied up satisfactorily.

“Emma.” He called her name. She turned to look at him. “I think we’re good on cleanup. You wanna come up to my office with me to grab your stuff?”

She nodded. “Sure. It’s getting late.”

Side by side, they walked down a long hallway, footsteps echoing in the emptiness. After climbing a stairwell and turning a corner, Jonathan rummaged in his pocket for a key, unlocked the door to his office, and flicked on a light switch.

He grabbed a couple notebooks off his desk and put them on a shelf, then looked over at Emma, who was blinking at the sudden onslaught of bright light. She pulled a jacket out of her bag and started putting it on.

“Do you have a way of getting home? It’s getting cold out there.”

Emma responded, “Yeah, the bus runs for another hour, so I should be good. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded, surveying his office for any other things that might need to be stored away during break.

“Jonathan?”

He paused. Emma stood, leaning on his desk, arms crossed. Her curly hair fell loose around her shoulders, slightly frizzy from rubbing against her jacket.

“Yes?”

Emma moistened her lips with her tongue, then swallowed. Jonathan tried not to look at the way her throat bobbed up and down.

“Thanks for having me as a TA. I had a lot of fun working with you this semester.”

She was staring into his eyes. She smiled at him, and he felt like he was going to lose his mind. Continuing on, she said, “Also, I appreciate you helping me out with looking for internships and stuff like that. And for giving me advice on projects. Seriously, you didn’t have to take the time to do all that. I really…I really felt like you were looking out for me.”

Against his will, Jonathan took a step forward, closing a good portion of the distance between them. She was now standing between him and the desk, neck craned slightly up to meet his gaze.

He chose his next words carefully. “You’re a good…person, Emma. You really helped me out a lot this semester. I’m thankful to have had you as my TA.”

Emma swallowed again. Her eyes hadn’t left his, not even for a second. She uncrossed her arms, and gripped the edge of the desk with her hands.

He added, “If you ever need help with anything else, Emma, you can always email me. Or Slack me. I’ll be here.”

She blinked up at him, and nodded her head. “I appreciate that, Jonathan. You’ve helped me out a lot too.” He saw that her knuckles had tightened on the desk.

His heart dropped. Oh no. He’d failed. Somehow she knew all the wildly inappropriate thoughts that had passed through his brain for the better part of the semester. He was finished.

But then, he saw something else. A pink flush had begun to creep up her neck. For a beat, he didn’t say anything. He felt like if he looked at her any longer he was going to go blind.

After a moment, he said, “Emma. Are you ok?”

She let go of the desk with one hand, and pressed it against her neck, trying and failing to cover up the redness that was now flushing into her cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah I’m fine. I’m just…I’m just tired.”

“You should probably go home, Emma. Get some rest. It’s been a long semester and a long day.” He couldn’t believe that he was taking a step closer to her, even as he said this. He didn’t know if he’d ever stood this close to her. He didn’t know what in the world was possessing him to act like this. Every rational fiber of his being was screaming at him to step away from her, to let her go.

Emma looked down at her shoes, then crossed one leg over the other, one hip jutting out as she shifted her weight. For an agonizing second, she didn’t say anything.

Jonathan’s heart was starting to race. She was going to report him. She was going to tell someone that he shouldn’t be a professor at this school any more.

Without looking at him, she mumbled. “The bus doesn’t get here for another 20 minutes. Maybe I could wait in here?”

No. She couldn’t wait in here. If she stayed in here, in his office, in this empty building where everyone else had gone home for break, his final thread of rationality and self control was going to snap.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, you can also probably just wait in the lobby. I mean, not that I need you to leave. Like I can wait with you. If you want. In the lobby. Or here. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” Christ, this was bad. He sounded nothing like the grown, adult professor that he had to be while he was on this campus.

She leveled his gaze with her gorgeous, endlessly alluring brown eyes. “I’ll just wait here.”

He stared at her. Her cheeks were fully flushed pink now, and he suddenly noticed that her breathing had become measured, as if she was struggling to exert control over it.

This wasn’t happening. This was definitely happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Slowly, slowly, he leaned towards her. He was easily almost a foot taller than she was, so he had to bend down quite a bit. He put his hands on the desk, one on each side of her. Without touching her at all, he moved his head until his mouth was a breath away from her jawbone.

Her eyes closed, and her head tilted back. She inhaled, and he swore he could see her pulse jumping in her neck.

Into her ear, he said. “Emma.”

At the sound of his voice, she exhaled deeply. She said, in a voice lower than he’d ever heard her use. “Professor Holbrook.”

He hovered there, still holding himself back from fully closing the space between them. For a second, there was no sound in his office but their breathing.

Jonathan knew at that moment that it was over. He was absolutely powerless to stop whatever happened next. He’d spent months resisting, fighting himself off, just for it all to end like this.

Softly, he pressed his lips to Emma’s ear. She shivered, but made no motion to move away from him. Into the warmth of her skin he said slowly, “You should just call me Jonathan.”

She let go of the desk and placed her hand on his exposed forearm, onto the tattoo of a parakeet that she’d commented on all those months ago. He felt her fingers land on his skin with every single nerve that he had. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Emma. Are you alright?”

She turned to look at him, their noses inches apart. She nodded, fingers stroking over his arm softly, eyes searching his face.

“Good” He rasped. He lifted a hand and cupped the side of her face, bending her head slightly away from him to expose the flushed skin of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed once more, and she sighed softly. She placed her hand on top of his, lightly encouraging him to hold her. He bent his head down and kissed her right beneath the ear, firmly and slowly, savoring the way her breathing had become ragged and uncontrolled. As he pressed into her slightly with his tongue, fingers nestled in her curly hair, she softened, leaning into his touch fluidly. Jonathan’s mind had completely fogged over, and he was aware of nothing but the feeling of her skin, the heat now radiating off of her.

She moved to unzip her jacket, and he helped her shrug it off her shoulders, letting it land unceremoniously on the floor. She jumped up so she was sitting on the desk, and he knelt carefully in front of her. Her hands were resting on her thighs; he grabbed them and placed them onto his shoulders. They felt warm even through his shirt, and Jonathan was remembering the sheer number of times he’d imagined her perfectly painted nails dragging against his skin. The upper part of her chest was exposed by her sweater, and he leaned in and kissed his way down her sternum, breathing in the vibrations in her chest as she gasped. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and he had to stifle a groan. He nudged her knees apart with one elbow, and moved forward so she was bracing her inner thighs on either side of his torso. Placing a hand on each of her hips, right where her jeans met the curve of her narrow waist, Jonathan reverently pulled her body closer to his, relishing the feeling of her hips pressing up against him.

As he moved his mouth lower down her chest, she squeezed her legs tighter around him. Her breathing deepened, he could see the haphazard rise and fall of her shoulders. He wanted to feel more of her skin, more of her warmth. He slid his hands up under her sweater, fingers splaying against the smooth muscles of her back.

Emma moaned softly, and Jonathan stopped, resting the side of his face against her stomach.

“Jonathan.” He looked up at her face, and saw that her mouth was slightly open, her skin starting to dampen slightly with a light sheen of sweat.

“Yes, Emma?”

She started to say something, but then slowly moved her hands onto his forearms instead. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled his hands up higher, so that her sweater slid up against her body, exposing her navel and the lower part of her ribcage. Her skin was beautiful, rosy and smooth and soft to the touch.

Jonathan couldn’t hold back. He stood, gently pressing on her with his hands so she reclined onto his desk. She looked into his eyes as she laid back, searching his face. Her legs were still on either side of him as he bent over her, pressing slow, methodical kisses onto her stomach, her ribcage, where her bra concealed the lower curve of her small breasts.

Her hips lifted against his thighs, and tension pooled in his lower stomach. He felt himself hardening against the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt like this, so single mindedly focused on the task at hand.

He pulled her sweater up, over her head, and off her body. She was perfect, every bit as perfect as he’d imagined her to be. Her jeans hung loosely off her hips, her shoulders were sloped and elegant and curved perfectly into her neck, and he could see the peaks of small nipples nudging at the gray cotton fabric of her bra. One of them was intersected by a horizontal barbell. Jonathan felt a surge of heat course through him, upon finding out that his TA had had someone run a needle and metal jewelry through such a sensitive and hidden part of her body.

He grabbed her by the waist and moved her farther up onto the table. He brushed the sides of her ribcage with his thumbs, and he pressed his mouth to the upper curve of her breast. A small sound escaped her throat.

“Is this okay, Emma?”

She nodded soundlessly. He knew it was in fact not okay, that he was breaking every single rule about student-faculty relations he could think of. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care. Deftly, he pressed his tongue onto her nipple, wetting the thin fabric covering it. She jerked against him, and a moan left her lips. She traced her hands up to his head from his shoulders, fingers pulling slightly at his hair. The sensation shot through him and settled low into his hips, and he sucked in a breath. Without thinking, he surged forwards, pressing himself into her, and she responded by arching her back up off the desk. The thought that she could feel his length, that his stiffness felt as good to her as her softness did to him, made his pulse race.

Jonathan reached up to cup her small breast; it rested perfectly in his hand. He used the pad of his thumb to brush lightly over her nipple, and he felt it harden at his touch. The color was high in her cheeks now, and her face had an expression that he’d only ever seen deep in the recesses of his mind. He hooked his thumb under the elastic band of her bra and pulled it up, fingers pressing soft dents into her skin. She was beautiful, her nipples perfectly round and a warm shade of light pink, accented by the gold barbell she had chosen. Even here, she had a light dusting of freckles on her skin.

She tightened her grip on him, knees pressing into his sides urgently. He looked up at her, locking onto her brown eyes. Her lashes fluttered gently, and her eyes fell closed. Carefully, gently, he took her nipple into his mouth, softly licking the tip of it with the flat of his tongue. The hard metal jewelry clicked against his teeth, and he tugged at it ever so slightly.

Emma moaned, loudly, breath quickening. Encouraged by the sound, his hand softly stroked the bare skin of her other breast. Jonathan was coming undone, and he needed to feel more of her. His own desire was a white hot flash burning through him, filling him with need. He pulled her bra up over her head, and the sight of her naked torso spread all across his desk gave him pause. She really was perfect, and he couldn’t believe he was touching her like this, making her feel things she maybe hadn’t had the chance to feel before.

He continued for a few minutes, sucking gently on her nipple at first, then gradually harder. He relished the textural contrast between her velvety skin and the smooth, hard jewelry. He slid his hands under her back, tracing them up and down, feeling every contour and curve. At this point, she was no longer silent. Every sound that escaped her went straight through him, eating away at whatever shred of his restraint might have remained.

When her hips started to jerk up, pressing into him involuntarily, he moved his hands down to the waistband of her jeans. He asked, “Emma. Do you want me to take these off?”

She sat up, and his hands stilled. Gently, he grasped her shoulders, bending down so he matched her eye level.

He tried to slow his breathing as he waited for her to respond. After a beat she said, “I don’t know if we should.”

Immediately, he pulled back. “Of course, you’re right. Here, let me-”

She cut him off. “But also, it’s my senior year.”

Slightly dumbfounded, Jonathan just looked at her. A small, earnest smile was creeping its way onto her face.

Her gaze darted down to the zipper area of his pants, then back up to meet his eyes. Jonathan found himself feeling a bit exposed, which did nothing to remedy the situation that had caught her eye.

Emma spoke again. “I feel like…I’ve had a lot of fun getting to know you this semester, Jonathan. I think you’re a cool person. You’re really good at your job, you’re smart, you’ve been looking out for me. I guess, you know, whatever happens next, I still just want to keep having fun getting to know you.”

She was complimenting him. Genuinely complimenting him while she was sitting on his desk with no top on. His brain felt like it was going to explode.

After a pause, she took a breath and continued. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything. Like for real, nobody is going to find out about this. If you’d rather stop that’s ok too but to be honest, I’m having fun.” She let out a laugh. “Jonathan, you have to know, you’re the hot professor. I feel kinda dumb saying this, but everyone says it. You - you’re gorgeous. During our first meeting in this office I felt like I couldn’t even look at you because you’re so…you know. And now I’m back here again and-” She laughed again, and he found himself smiling too. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Jonathan was at a loss for words. Finally, he gathered his thoughts enough to say, “Thank you. For the compliments, I mean. I really appreciate everything you said. And Emma, you have to know too, you’re beautiful. Everything about you-” He stopped and leaned forwards, placing his hands on her waist. She looked up at him, head tilted to the side.

“Do you remember that morning when I helped you with your optimization lab?” Her eyes widened, and she nodded. He continued, “After you left the room, I thought to myself-” He hesitated. Was it a good idea to tell her?

Her brown eyes were so lucid, and he decided he didn’t care if it was a good idea or not. He wanted her to know how much she turned him on.

Her inner thighs were pressing against him. He cupped a hand around the back of her head, lacing his fingers into her hair. Her breathing hitched. He said, “I thought to myself that I should have put my hands up your shirt and pulled you down onto my lap.”

While tugging slightly on her hair, he traced his other hand up until his it brushed over her pierced nipple. A small sound escaped her throat, and she shuddered. Back and forth, he delicately smoothed his thumb over the tight bud until a pink flush was blooming across her chest and neck. After pressing a kiss to her jaw, he said, “I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Every time we had lecture, every time we had a meeting, I was picturing you like this.” He took in the sight of her, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, the perfect line of her spine, the slight protruding curve of her exposed lower belly, and he felt his heartbeat pick up again.

She reached out a hand and grasped the front of his shirt. All she said was, “Take this off.”

And at that, the next several minutes were lost to a haze of flurried movement and agonizing sensation. His shirt disappeared, flung to some random spot on the floor. Her hands haphazardly explored his skin, and he was hyperaware of the way her nails dragged lightly against him. Her breasts pressed into him as he drew her close, and the warmth between her legs surrounded him deliciously. His pants were starting to feel like a lid screwed too tightly onto a jar.

He moved his hands to the top button of her jeans, and paused to look into her eyes. She nodded at him, chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm.��

He unbuttoned and unzipped, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down. She rocked her hips so he could get them off, and then Emma was sitting on his desk in nothing but a pair of blue cotton panties.

She started to lie back on the desk, but he braced a hand against her back to stop her. “Sit. I want to see your face when I put my fingers inside of you.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, and a blush rose into her cheeks. Jonathan couldn’t believe how turned on he was. He wanted to wind Emma up until she was tight like a coiled spring.

He pressed the palm of his hand between her legs, closing his eyes as he felt the damp heat through the thin fabric.

For a second, he rested there, before saying, “Emma, if you want me to stop, tell me now.”

Immediately she shook her head.

“You want me to keep going?”

She nodded.

“Say yes.”

In a slightly choked voice, she said, “Yes.”

He pushed the fabric of her underwear to the side with his fingers. Her smooth folds were slick already. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a finger into her warm depths.

She moaned, and clutched at his arm. Encouraged, he slid his finger out almost all the way, then pressed it back in, repeating the motion methodically. As he did so, He watched Emma's eyebrows furrowing, her lips parting and wrapping around broken, uncontrolled sounds, her hips rocking forward to meet his thrusts.

When he felt her relax around him, he pressed another finger inside her. He lightly drew his thumb across her clit, and her muscles clenched.

“Ah! Jonathan-”

He bent forward to press kisses into her neck. “Yes?”

Her breathing was ragged. “Jonathan, you-you feel-”

He pressed the flat of his tongue onto her nipple, dragging wetness across her skin. He sucked on it before pulling away to say, “What? What do I feel like?”

Her hips rocked forwards, as if of their own accord. He flexed his fingers inside her, reaching for the spot in her lower belly that he knew would drive her crazy.

She gasped, and he felt her tighten around him, drawing him in. “Oh my god, Jonathan. What-? how did you-? nngh-”

He flexed his fingers again, marveling at how sensitive she was, how she responded so willingly to his touch. “Tell me how you feel, ” he said hoarsely.

“Your hand. I can’t-I feel like-ah!” Her sentence was cut short as he started drawing gentle, tight circles around her clit with his thumb. With a little more force than before, he thrust his fingers into her again.

“Emma? I didn’t quite catch that.” She opened her eyes to look at him, and he saw a glow in her dark eyes that would be seared into his brain for quite some time.

“You’re- you’re teasing me. You feel like-” She breathed in sharply as he sank his fingers into her once more.

He grinned, and said, “Well, if you won’t tell me what I feel like, I’ll tell you what you feel like.” He was in a rhythm now, steadily moving in and out of her, relishing the friction between the pads of his fingers against her walls. “You’re so, so warm. And wet, and I can feel how tight you are.” The only response he got was her breathing, the sound of her starting to lose control.

With his arm, he pulled her closer to the edge of the desk so he could sink his fingers into her even deeper.

“Agh! Ah, nngh-” Her voice was strained beyond the formation of clear words.

Gently, he pressed his thumb to her swollen clit. He felt her clench inside of him, and he knew she was close to coming undone.

Suddenly, Emma reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping the motion of his hand. After taking a moment to steady her breathing, she said, “Wait a second. Wait- I don’t-I don’t want to come yet.”

Jonathan, with his fingers still inside her, pressed a kiss directly onto her pierced nipple. “No?”

“Oh-Jonathan, hang on. Do you have condoms in your office?”

He looked at her. Matter of factly, he said, “Yeah, I do. In my bag.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, urgently. Her curls were starting to frizz up, and her skin shone under the fluorescent lights. She squeezed his wrist, and said, “Do you think-do you think we could use one?”

It was all Jonathan could do not to moan out loud as a wave of lust crashed into him. As if aware of the possibility of release, his dick became almost unbearably hard against the stiff zipper of his pants.

Gently, he withdrew his fingers from inside Emma’s body, watching as her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips parted at the sensation. He looked into her eyes and said, “Yes. Anything you want.”

She smiled, and for a moment that was all Jonathan could see. He reached for his bag under the desk, and rummaged around in the innermost pocket.

He pulled out a foil wrapped square, then said, “Do you want to do it? Or should I?”

Almost primly, Emma crossed her legs at the ankle. “I want you to do it.”

Jonathan’s head felt like it was full of electric current, waves of energy humming and building up in a dizzying way. A whole semester of restraint, and it was all coming down to this.

He unbuttoned the waistband of his pants, pulled down the zipper. The faint sound of the teeth separating was drowned out by the blood rushing through his ears. He pulled his pants down just past his hips.

His boxer briefs provided only scant separation between him and Emma now. He paused, and saw that Emma was looking directly at the outline of his dick against the tight fabric.

He stepped close to her, closing the space between them. Sometimes, he had lamented the fact that his desk was a bit too high, even for a tall man like himself.

But in this moment, when he saw how their hips aligned perfectly, he was glad he’d never asked to switch it out.

She looked up into his eyes, chin tilting up to reveal the satin skin of her neck. As he bent down to kiss her throat, he pulled her forwards so that her legs splayed on either side of him, and their hips pressed together tightly.

As soon as her wet, warm center met his cock, every coherent thought he may have had evaporated from his mind. Even through two layers of fabric, the feeling of her against him had him harder than he had been in a long, long time. Having her fully pressed against him, flush against his body, was better than anything he had imagined. His eyes closed, and he let out a groan.

Emma placed a hand on his chest, and used the other one to brace herself on the desk. Without warning, she rolled her hips forward.

Jonathan suppressed a moan. “Emma-you can’t-”

She rocked her hips into him again. “Why not?”

The friction increased the pressure in his lower stomach to a boiling point, and he was struggling to control his breathing.

He growled, low and deep in his throat and placed his hands on the soft curves of her pelvis right where the edge of her panties were. His thumbs pressed soft divots into her skin, and he said, “Do you want me to open the condom or not?”

She was leaning into him; his torso was the only thing keeping her from falling off the edge of the desk. Her skin was so soft and smooth against his, her curves felt exquisite under his hands.

“Open it, Jonathan. I’m not doing anything to stop you.” The huskiness in her voice was hot and velvety in his ears.

He picked the condom up off the desk, tore it open, and hastily discarded the wrapper. He pulled down the waistband of his underwear, finally freeing his erection from the close-fitting fabric. Carefully, he rolled the condom on, trying not to let the sensation of his own fingers push him closer to the edge.

When it was properly in place, he nestled himself back in between her legs. With one hand, he pushed her underwear to the side, dipping his fingers into her once more. She moaned out loud, and he said, “Are you ready?”

She leaned forwards into him, and said, “Yes. Do it.”

He couldn’t believe that Emma, his ever reliable and diligent TA, was now almost naked sitting on his desk, legs splayed apart, looking at him with an almost feral expression, ready to take him inside. He was never going to be able to look at her again without imagining this in agonizing detail.

He placed a hand at the base of his cock and slowly guided it towards her entrance. The head met her folds, and he pushed forwards into her carefully.

She was so, so warm, and wet, and soft and pliable all at once. He groaned and said, "Emma, you're unbelievable. I can't believe how tight you feel." He pressed into her halfway, and then withdrew.

Her face had an indescribable expression on it, she looked like she was atmospheres away from the reality of where she was.

“Do you want the whole thing?” Jonathan needed to hear her say it.

“Yes. All of it. Put the whole thing inside me.” She was almost panting as the words fell out of her, eyes half lidded in bliss.

Jonathan didn’t hold back, he couldn’t. He thrust himself into her, until he was buried inside all the way.

“Oh my god. Jonathan-”

He pulled out, and thrust into her again. Already, the pressure inside him was building to a dangerous level. Having her wrapped around him was a feeling more delectable than anything he could remember.

“Your voice sounds so pretty when you say my name, Emma.”

He placed his hands under her ass, so he could lift her off the desk slightly. The change in angle sent him in even deeper. Trying to maintain control, he entered her with a slow, methodical rhythm, making sure he was hitting the most tender spot rooted deep inside her, where he knew the pressure of his cock filling her would send shockwaves through her system.

With each thrust, he could feel her response deep within her body. Each gasp, each breath that escaped her went straight from his ears to the pool of heat coiling up low in his hips.

“Jonathan, this feels amazing. I can’t even-I feel like I’m on another planet.”

Despite everything, Jonathan laughed. He couldn’t string together a response, but he was charmed by her candidness.

The slickness inside her was destabilizing; it was taking everything Jonathan had to stay in control. He felt himself teetering on a precipice, but he knew Emma wasn’t quite there yet.

He stilled momentarily to gather himself, knowing that if he kept going he wasn’t going to be able to last. While buried inside her, he leaned down and spoke into her ear, lips brushing against her skin. “Will you come for me, Emma? Can you do that?”

She arched her back in response, tilting him deeper into her. She turned her head, nose brushing his cheek. Breathily, she said, “I-I want to. Yes.”

He put his hands on her lower back, hugging her close. She was rocking her hips into his every thrust, and he could feel how much he filled her up, how her innermost muscles caressed and squeezed him from all sides.

When Jonathan felt like he couldn’t possibly inch himself closer to the edge, her hands came up to clutch at his chest. With her head thrown back, she took in a sharp breath. Urgently, she said, “Jonathan, I’m gonna-I’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Jonathan-nnngh. Oh!”

Feeling his own release building, he pressed into her insistently, feeling her warm walls surrounding him tightly with each thrust.

The weight of her body resting on his hips, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the uncontrolled sounds coming out of her mouth, her inner thighs squeezing him, it became too much all at once.

Months worth of tension, of sleepless nights and afternoons spent alone in his office, of listening to Emma’s bright laughter and looking at her soft smile burst forth as Jonathan came, hard. As his release rippled through him, he felt the muscles in her core clenching down on him forcefully, with abandon. Her body rolled and arched against him, and the pressure and warmth enveloping every inch of him shattered his inhibition. He groaned at the intensity of the uncontained raw energy that crackled through every nerve ending on his body.

Once all the waves had flowed away and calmed, he pulled out of her. At a loss for words, he just stared at her face as she stared at his.

Finally, after a protracted silence, she said, “That was crazy.”

Jonathan nodded. He felt like crazy was probably an understatement when it came to describing whatever the hell had just happened.

Gently, he grasped both of her hands in his. “Are you ok?”

She grinned at him. “Yeah. Yeah I’m great.” Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on his chest. “Thanks for being such a good professor. And thanks for…this.”

He nodded, unsure of exactly what to say. He reached behind her to trace small circles on her back with his fingers.

After he felt fully grounded in reality again, he stepped back. The fluorescent lights were harsh, draining his surroundings of color, and the breeze from the air conditioning in his office felt slightly grating against his skin. Gently, he said, “It’s getting late, Emma. You should probably get going.”

He picked up her jeans from where they had landed on the ground, and handed them to her.

Wordlessly, the two of them got dressed, covering up all the parts of themselves that had been so close only a few minutes before.

Once they were both put back together, Emma slung her backpack onto one shoulder and moved towards the door of his office. She hovered there for a second, and then said, “Have a good break, Jonathan. See you next semester?”

He nodded. “See you next semester.”

She smiled softly, one corner of her mouth curving up more than the other. As she gripped the door handle, Jonathan said, “Emma?”

She turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“Get home safe. “

For a second, she just looked at him. Then, quietly, she said, “I will.”

She walked into the dark hallway, and the door fell closed behind her.

Jonathan was alone in his office once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Message

To: [email protected] Cc Bcc

Subject: Next Semester

Emma,

Due to personal reasons, I have made the decision to choose a different person to TA for DATA1450 next semester. Please do not take this as an indication of any shortcomings regarding your character or performance. You were an excellent TA and a joy to interact with during lecture and meetings. I am more than happy to be a reference should you need a professional recommendation for other job opportunities on or off campus.

I wish you the best during your final semester. If you need anything please don’t hesitate to email or Slack me, and my office door is always open if you would like to meet in person.

Have a great rest of your break, a happy holiday season, and a happy new year.

Keep in touch,

Jonathan Holbrook, Ph.D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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lunnybunny12 · 3 years

Text

Prof Lupin x Werewolf Reader

A/N not the best but i wanted so see if the idea could work.

Master list

It was a full moon the night before and buy the way you felt... it was definitely a bad one. You woke up that morning in the dungeons of Hogwarts with a pounding headache and 3 new scratches on your arm.

The walls were littered with deep claw marks and a light layer of brown fur, dusted the stone cell. You hated it. You hated being in that cell once a month. It was your second year doing the routine and it was driving you up the tiny walls. All you wanted to do at that moment was ease the pain on your arm.

TIME SKIP> LATER THAT DAY

Your classroom door creaked open, pulling your attention away from the charm you were casting.

In walked a lady in long, emerald green robes and a large pointy hat. She was on the older side and had her silver hair tied up in a bun that was hidden under her hat.

"Good afternoon Professor Mcgonagall" You chimed. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I apologise, Professor but I must borrow you for the remainder of the class," She said, smiling at you with an apologetic look. There was no sense of urgency in her voice. She had a kind and respectable air around her that always made you feel at ease.

"Well children" you began, swishing your wand and muttering a spell that made the room rain blue slips of paper. "Looks like you have an hour to kill. Please take a paper to ensure that you don't get detention and Professor McGonagall will sign them on your way out."

One by one, your students filed out of the classroom and had their slips signed.

"Have a good afternoon, children," McGonagall said closing the door behind the pair of you.

As you entered the hall, you saw Professor Lupin waiting outside your door. This seemed a tad bit strange to you. For one, he was supposed to be teaching DADA to 3rd years at that time and second, he had been outside of your classroom before. A few times actually. The first time, you were in a rush and unable to talk. The second time, he managed to get out a polite greeting before a students spell blew up a statue.

Each time you mentally kicked yourself because over the few months he had been at Hogwarts... you had become a tad bit smitten.

Seeing that the two of you had exited the classroom, Lupin made his way towards you.

"Are you alright (Y/N), you look awful."

You sent your friend an amused look. McGonagall was fully aware of what you were but it never bothered her, Snape or Dumbledore.

"Professor Lupin." you said failing to hide your embarrassment." To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I assure you, Professor (Last Name), the pleasure is all mine." He replied. He held eye contact with you for a second. It looked like he was about to say something before Minnie cut him short.

"Right. You two follow me. We mustn't keep dumbledore waiting."

McGonagall stopped in front of a huge door. With a strong push, the professor opened the heavy door enough that the 3 of you could get into her classroom.

"In you go"

"Minnie may I ask what this is about?" you asked only to be cut off mid-sentence.

"We will discuss that when we are in the classroom."

She let out a slight laugh "The pair of you look like scared children. There's no need to worry you're not in trouble, we just need to talk to you." The Professor asked guiding you both to the front of the room.

" Yes professor I'm fine" Remus answered her with a sigh.

Before you could answer her, the door opened, revealing the headmaster. He had the same calm air around him that McGonagall did but he also radiated power (In both magical and un-magical ways).

"Good morning Professor McGonagall, Lupin..." Dumbledore greeted. " (Y/N) ... any new injuries today?"

You fiddled with your shirt sleeve. "Nothing I cant take care of"

Dumbledore turned to Remus and asked the same question. The man took a quick glance at you before his eyes cemented themselves to the floor.

"I assume you are curious as to why you are here (Y/N)."

"To put it mildly professor" you joked.

McGonagall was amused but didn't show it.

"We're both Werewolves. You and I" Remus said trying to be confident as he planted his hands in his pockets.

The pair of you looked at each other for a moment in silence. You were both Werewolfs. No wonder you felt something when he was neer you. He was a lycan. Like you.

During the silence, McGonagall went to hold your hand in a supportive way.

"I'm sorry what?" you asked looking at Lupin.

"(Y/N) don't get upset. We were only doing what we.." It was your turn to cut Professor McGonagall off but you started awquadly laughing.

"What? why would I be upset?"

At the corner of your eye, you saw Lupin shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Is this why you've been trying to talk to me outside my classroom, Remus?"

The teacher paused for a second with panic before he scratched the back of his head. "y-yes. That's what I... wanted to talk about." He answered, the last bit of his sentence drifting off into nothingness.

You weren't convinced.

Time skip

Later that evening after making sure the students were in their houses, you retired to your chambers. You were in the middle of getting into your nightclothes when you heard a knock at your door.

"One moment!" You said scrambling to tie your robe.

It was too late for a student and it wasn't any supernatural being ether, it was Lupin. He had that same charming smile he hid when he first arrived and his hands still firmly cemented into his pockets.

"Remus!" you smiled, adjusting your dressing gown to shield yourself from the cold. " Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes everything's fine... may I come in?" He asked chewing his thumbnail. "It's about what we discussed today."

That's when it clicked. Obviously he'd have questions about how to keep things quiet and how to avoid detection in a place like this.

"Oh yes, of course, come in," you said, opening the door to allow him in. "Take a seat anywhere."

The second he did so you thought of something else. Didn't he go to Hogwarts as a boy? He should already know how to do all of that.... right?

You closed the door and shuffled on your feet for a second. You had never had anyone in your chambers before so you weren't exactly prepared for guests.

"Sorry about the mess I'm not much for company. I'm sure you have a few questions. In all honesty, I do too. Do you want some tea? I'll go make some tea."

WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU SAYING??? TEA? WHY WOULD HE WANT TEA AT 11 PM?? words were spilling out of your mouth quicker than you could think of them.

"Are you alright, Professor?" He asked, snapping you back to your senses. With a sigh, you took a seat across from him, rubbed your face and took a minute to calm down.

"Forgive me Lupin I've been... feeling a lot of things, today."

You saw Remus sink into his seat a little.

"Good things all good things but you're not here to hear me talk about my stuff," you said shifting in your seat. "What can I help you with?"

He was fiddling with his nails. It took him a second before composing himself to look at you.

"All good things?" he asked.

You were taken back buy the question and paused for a second before answering him " ...Mostly good things."

He sank in the chair again. "And what was the bad thing?"

"... I was... a little disappointed." you said with a small sigh.

The cheeky smile wasn't on his face anymore. He looked upset.

"Remus what's this about?" when you didn't get a response you tilted your body to look him in the eye.

"Disappointed in what?"

"Honestly?" you asked. He gave you a nod and with a sigh, you gave him your honest answer.

"I was disappointed that the only reason you were waiting outside my classroom, was to tell me what we were. What we become. I was disappointed that, of all things we COULD have in common... to get us to talk... was that."

He turned his head to look at you and was greeted with kind eyes and s content smile.

"Other than that? ALL good things"

After hearing you say this, he sat up straight in his seat. You Practically saw the gears turning in his head.

"T-that.." he begun, picking his fingers again "That wasn't the reason."

Your eyebrows knotted together in confusion. Whatever he wanted to say made him nervous.

"That wasn't the reason I was outside your classroom. I just said that to avoid telling you the real reason."

This was getting interesting now. Why was he really there then?

"Then why?"

He paused and looked at you.

"Because I ... wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me."

You just got more confused. "Me?"

"Yes (Y/N), You."

He got off his seat to kneel in front of you and loosely held your hands in his own.

"And it's not because of what you are, It's because of WHO you are. You're this beautifully talented women who puts passion into everything she puts her mind to. Someone who isn't scared to be who she is."

You were shocked. You heard every word that came from his lips and you couldn't believe what he thought about you.

With a smile, you leant down and placed a kiss on his forehead. His head shot up to look at you.

"Thank you, Remus. Those are the nicest things anyone has ever said to me." You squeezed his hands.

"So is that a yes on the date to Hogsmeade?" He asked a smile slowly finding its way to his lips.

With a wide smile, you leant down to give him another kiss on the forehead but instead he caught you in a real kiss. It was accidental on both ends but neither of you pulled away at first. When he did he was filled with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean for that to happen"

You laughed and kissed his cheek. "let's save the proper ones for Hogsmeade shall we?"

#remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin x reader #lupin #remus lupin #harry potter #funny #fluff

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jacobseedz · 4 years

Text

Care pt.1

Professor Snape x Student!Reader

1340 words lol

Been feeling kinda shitty for the past months, so I thought I’d write something w my fav Prof :))) Hope you enjoy it, and I beforehand apologise for any errors, english is not my first language. I’M SORRY IF SEV IS SOOO OUT OF CHARACTER DKDKDK NOT EDITED SO IM REALLY SORRY BOUT THE ERRORS DKDJ LOVE YALL

Part 2 Part 3

Another bad, unproductive day. Nothing seemed to be quite alright for a long time. Nobody noticed your mood lately, but it was nothing new, you were used to it. Your parents were too busy, working for the Ministry of Magic. Your friends had their own problems, and the teachers? Why would they even give a damn..

You laid in bed for about twenty minutes, staring pointlessly at the ceiling. There were no classes to attend, it was Christmas after all. Everyone from your dormitory had left Hogwarts to spend the holidays with their family. Only you stayed behind, your parents wouldn't be home, so there was no point in leaving.

Looking to your left, you saw Jinx, your pet bat hanging upside down, soundlessly asleep. At least she could sleep with no care in the world.

Deciding to roam around, you got up, maybe you'd stop for food in the kitchens. The kitchen elves were particularly fond of you, and always gave you a small snack or some sweets. As long as you were nice to the elves, they were happy to give food out.

With a sigh, you throw off the soft blanket. Your grandma gave it to you before passing away. It was a birthday gift.

Upon the last memory of her, tears welled up in your eyes, which you quickly wiped away. She was your biggest supporter, teacher, and the only close family... until death came for her. And that was the breaking line.. You felt stupid, crying and walking down the hall, where everyone could see. Even though it was nearly nighttime, and half of the students who stayed were probably in their dormitories by now. However, the ghosts were always around, some taunting you, some playing tricks, and some being indifferent.

The closer the kitchen got, the faster you started wiping the tears away. Finally, able to breathe properly, you put on a small smile, and entered the area. Two elves greeted with warm smiles. They never said a word to you, not that it was a problem. Without a word, just a wink one of them gave you a long bar of chocolate, skittles and a bottle of chocolate milk.

"Thank you.." you whispered. You left with a wave, still smiling softly. Now you just had to find a place to sit down.

Two more turns, and you found yourself before the staircase leading to the dungeons. It was one of your favourite places. Whenever you felt sad or just exhausted with life you came there. Sometimes you managed to cross paths with your professor, however you prayed to Dumbledore that he was already down there. It would've been an embarrassment if he'd see you in such state.

Munching on your treats, tears began flowing down again. This year was just so terrible for you. Your grandma passed away, your grades got worse, you parents were always working and your friends just stopped caring.

Loud footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. Before you could wipe your face, Professor Snape came into view, a nasty scowl on his face. Upon seeing you, his expression changed, it softened a little bit.

Since he started teaching you, he saw great potential, not once did you make a mistake in brewing a potion or on a test. You were always the first one to give it back, or answer a tricky question on many lessons. He liked your passion about potions, always approaching it with delicacy and great precision.

And you never spoke any ill words about him, quite on the contrary, you defended him handful of times. And it warmed his cold heart, making him put down the tough layers he built around himself, just for you. On free periods, you came to his classroom, offering your help in arranging the cupboard or preparing for his next lesson, like bringing important jars and such.

Students noticed how you became the only favourite student, always going soft on you, never giving a snarky comment, only small praises, sometimes even a smirk, although barely noticable for others.

"OH.. Professor-" you started, getting up. Your cheeks heat up, embarrassment washing over you.

"Come along, Y/N." he spoke quietly, going down the stairs, towards his office.

Not wasting much time, you walked behind him. Vision still blurred from the tears, you took careful steps, afraid you'd fall and break your bones.

You didn't know if you should curse Dumbledore or actually thank him. Maybe Snape's company would actually cheer you up, or worsen your mood.

"Alohomora..." he muttered, letting you in first with a small nod.

You went further in, sitting down on the couch near the fireplace,and opposite Snape's armchair. It was like a ritual, most of your holidays you spent there. Severus would always make tea for both of you, and sit down by the fireplace. Some days were in comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company, and on some days you'd make small talk, or discuss many topics. But it never felt forced.

"Green tea, as always I presume?" he questioned, raising a brow.

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you."

He nodded, turning the kettle on. You smiled, it was nice to have someone show a little bit interest in your well-being.

"How are the first years?" you asked, staring into the fire, pushing your hands out trying to warm them.

"Horrid. Not one brat knew what I would get if I added root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.." he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"HA! Easy. Draught of Living Death." you shouted triumphantly.

"Precisely. Well done." he praised, smirking. You looked down, blushing madly. He knew it would lighten your mood a little bit.

"It couldn't be that bad though? I heard Jack got better in potions.."

Severus let out an annoyed sigh. "He just made the potion explode. Instead of cutting the Sopophorus bean while making Felix Felicis , he should've smashed it, brings out the juice more. Damn dunderhead .."

"Oof, well, next time I see him, I'll tutor him a little bit."

Severus handed you the tea, sitting on the armchair, taking a sip of his own one. You handed him the other half of the chocolate bar.

"Don't bother... How are your parents?"

You offered a weak smile. "Good, busy as always, but working for the Ministry is like that, so what can I say."

"How have you been lately, professor?" you questioned, looking into his eyes.

"I've told you many times before, call me Severus." he gave a small smile, making your heart melt instantly. "Good, although the holidays aren't my favourite, I prefer that muggle tradition called Halloween."

"Oh Merlin! Me too! Especially when the elves make pumpkin pasties and delicious cranberry punch." your laugh was like a beautiful melody to the dark-haired man.

"Ah, yes. Though the idea of scaring those isolent brats is just too tempting to pass." he smirked.

He frowned quickly. It threw you off a bit.

"I've noticed your grades getting worse. Minerva approached me before the christmas break. She worries about you, as do the other teachers. And I." he said softly. "You were always a top student. What changed?"

Tears welled up in your eyes for the milionth time. The teachers actually care? Professor McGonagall even came to Severus?

So lost in your thoughts you didn't realise Severus sat beside you, his worried gaze on you.

"I'm sorry.." you managed to whisper, before heavy sobs took over your body.

The cold man instantly took you into his warm embrance, caressing your soft hair, rocking you back and forth. Who would've thought that a man like Severus Snape would ever hug someone and try to make their every problem dissapear, because he cares so deeply. You really wreaked your way into his heart, that actually lied existed, but under many layers of thick walls.

"Shhh. It's alright. We're here, I'll help you as much as I can, and so will others. Don't worry." he promised.

You pushed your head into the crook of his neck, hugging him as tightly as he was you.

"Thank you.."

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #professor snape x reader #professor snape x student reader #snape x reader #snape x student reader #ss x reader #snape x you #fluff #harry potter #minerva mcgonagall #harry potter universe #hogwarts

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deans-mind-palace · 4 years

Text

Suspirium (Pt.1)

Pairing: Prof!Sam x Reader

Summary: You’re in your last year of your Classics and Mordern Languages studies and you're majoring in Latin and English. Then you get assigned to a different Latin teacher. And damn, he loves his subject. Too bad that he’s also hot. What is just a childish crush soon develops into something way more complicated.

Word Count: 1,210

Warnings: None, yet.

Author’s Note: This is sort of an introduction to the story. The first real chap to get you a bit into the story. The first part of my Professor Sam x Reader series. Finally. Took me long enough. I don’t know how many chapters this series will have. We’ll see. Enjoy and show it some love.

Suspirium - Masterlist

You dropped on a yellow chair in your favorite coffee shop. Your friends Maddie and Brooks awaited you beaming with joy. Maddie immediately pulled you into her arms, squealing. "Oh, God, you're back finally! I missed you so much." your best friend rejoiced as she squeezed you so tightly you almost couldn't breathe. "Maddie... air..." you gurgled. She pushed you away a little bit and examined you from head to toe. "And you got so tanned! The Italian sun has done you good." She said with a grin. "Were there any cute boys I need to know about?" You laughed at your best friend. It was so typical of her. Always looking for the next great love story in your life. Laughing, you shook your head. "No, sorry, Maddie." You had to disappoint your best friend and, somewhat embarrassed, stroke a strand of hair behind your ear while taking off your jacket and putting down your bag and laptop.

"No cute ltalian boys?" she asked, sliding her lower lip forward like a little kid. Her freckles moved across her face and red strands fell into her eyes as if she was honestly offended, but you saw the mischievous sparkle in her green eyes. It was at that moment that Brooks intervened. His fingers slipped through his black hair, making it look even messier than it already was. A wry grin lay on his lips as he winked at you. "We all know that Y/N will never have another man after such a great catch like me." Then you all burst out laughing at the same time, while you hugged your best friend.

You were interrupted by a waitress. "What can I get you?" she asked. Brooks checked her out immediately and you wiggled your eyebrows at him, which made him laugh again. "I'll have a Pumpkin Spice Latte, please." Maddie ordered with a warm smile. You had a Caramel Frappucino and Brooks a plain, black coffee. You chatted until the drinks came.

"And?" Maddie clapped her hands in supplication. "How was Italy?" Just the memory of that country put a smile on your face. "It was wonderful. This year has been really good for me. I've come so much closer to the language!" you raved and Brooks snorted. "I like you, but you're a nerd," he said with a grin, and you rolled your eyes and laughed, ramming your elbow between his ribs as Maddie nodded in agreement. Then she sighed theatrically. "Now she's studied in Italy for a year and still thinks only of her dead language." You shrugged your shoulders and smiled innocently. "What can I say, there is something magical about this language.Did you know, for example, that Catull-" Both moaned at the same time and you bit your lip laughing as you saw the tortured expressions on your friends' faces. "All right. It's okay. I'll stop." you said and raised your hands defensively, while Brooks playfully wiped the sweat from his forehead in relief. "Phew, I thought we were going to have another monologue on the beauty of Latin." he said with a grin. You snorted.

Your friends knew of your love for this ancient language, even if they couldn't understand your passion. Neither of them had much to do with languages. At least Brooks learnt French in high school. Maddie gave up languages after her poor grades in Spanish almost ruined her degree. While you were sipping your coffee, lost in thought, Maddie was tearing you away from your thoughts.

"Oh, boy, guys! Last year! Can you believe it? I feel like it was only yesterday that I met Y/N in my English class." Smiling, you remembered the feisty student who immediately declared her friendship to you before you even sat down. "Oh, yes, I remember meeting her too." Brooks said, grinning cheekily. Maddie moaned and you blushed. It had been at the first party on campus. Actually, you weren't even planning on going to it, to be honest, you just couldn't find your way back to your dorm again. Long story short. You got really drunk and crashed with Brooks. It had only been a one-night stand, but the whole thing became pretty embarrassing when it turned out that Brooks' room was right across from yours and you met him every day from that moment on.

But a few days later he had shown up in your auditorium completely out of breath and had interrupted the class in the middle of the lecture only to discover that this was definitely not the higher applied mathematics course. Instead, he had barged into your Latin Epic class.

You shook your head and agreed with Maddie. "You're right. It feels like only a few days since I started my Classics and English studies." you agreed with her. You sipped your coffee and for a moment observed the bustle of the café around you. "How was your first day?" you asked your friends curiously. Maddie grinned ready. "In our Creative Writing course we have a new student from England. Henry has such a cute British accent," Maddie raved. Brooks pulled a face. "I had to take that course with Professor Carter again. The others underchallenged me, but I still can't stand Carter." he said, and you nodded sympathetically. The two had not liked each other from the start. What a pity, because Brooks was a rather intelligent student who far surpassed the knowledge of his other fellow students. But he was not in the habit of dealing with it modestly. That had made him unpopular to Carter.

Then you remembered something, and you reached in your pocket for your notebook. In a hurry, you opened it and flipped through the pages, then you found what you were looking for. "Classic literature - tragedies and comedies of the Romans" with a certain Professor Sam Winchester. Any of you know him? He must be new. He wasn't at this university before I went to Italy." Brooks whistled through his teeth in appreciation and Maddie started smiling. "Oh, lucky you!" she said. "He came to college during your year abroad." "Made quite a name for himself in a very short time. They say he's an expert in his field." Confused, you frowned. "There are many experts in philology. Why are you so enthusiastic?" "Well, well, well," said Maddie. "He's the hottest professor this damn university has ever seen! He's handsome and he's young. Damn young for a professor." You knew Maddie was attracted to a lot of people, so you didn't read too much into it, but Brooks' reaction made you wonder.

"I told you so. If I wasn't straight, I'd hook up with him right now!" Brooks declared, smiling. "How do you know he'd want you, huh? He could have anyone." Maddie teased Brooks. Brooks laughed, then he got serious again. "All kidding aside. He's a pretty smart guy. Good-looking and young at that. A dangerous mixture. I heard he even attended the diggings of Pompeii as a student. He's also supposed to be fluent in Latin." You snorted and interrupted the black-haired man's tales. "Guys, what's wrong with you? He can't be that great. He's just a human like you and me."

"Just wait till you meet Professor Winchester, honey."

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 5 years

Text

Change Your Ticket (c.e.)

A/N: Just a quick drabble inspired by “Change Your Ticket” by One Direction. I’ve been feeling less than inspired to write lately so I took inspiration from what I could get.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Word Count: ~2.4k Summary: Your boyfriend, Chris doesn’t want you to leave. So he’ll make sure you never have to leave again.

My Masterlist

Chris groans behind me as his muscular arms wrap around my waist. I could picture the pout he’s doing into my messy bun, bringing a small smile to my face in this somber moment. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I looked down at my packed suitcase signaling the end of our weekend together. With him being the most in-demand actor now that he’s left Marvel, and with my simple career in a completely different state, we hardly ever get to spend time together. We treasure the moments we do get but they’re never enough.

I lean back into his chest, his face burying itself into the crook of my neck. “I know,” I interlock my fingers with his, “but I need to get back to work.”

We have this conversation every time one of us has to separate from the other. He says, “I don’t want to go” or “I don’t want you to go,” I argue that we both have jobs to get back to, he says I don’t have to work and that I could come with him, blah, blah, blah... every time. This has been going on for two years but the time we’ve actually spent together seems more like 8 months. As much as it has been difficult, I wouldn’t change the time we’ve spent together for anything.

As usual, he continues the pattern, “You know you don’t have to work...”

I rolled my eyes, turning in his arms to face him. His beautiful, soulful blue eyes gazed down at me with added sadness for our impending separation. His arms tightened around my waist, connecting our hips. “But, I do.” He huffs, even though he knew that answer was coming. I decided to throw him a curveball, “You’re not my husband yet. I can’t be relying on you for everything.”

There was a short glimmer of something in his eye, but he quickly masked it with a cute smirk that I can never get enough of. He conceded as he usually does before he drove me to the airport.

Weeks went by before we were able to see each other again as per usual with his new hectic filming schedule. We talked on the phone and FaceTime’d nearly every day no matter what time it was for either of us as we always do when we’re apart. This time though, he acted strangely when the days leading up to our upcoming reunion grew nearer. Nervousness replaced his typical excitement. His brilliant smile didn’t reach his eyes. I’d ask what was bothering him, but he’d brush it off, which only worried me more. He talks to me about every possible thing. The fact that he’s keeping something from me gives me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. It ate at me every minute of every day until I could see him and ask him in person.

I feared the worst. I feared he was drifting away from me and was going to end it with me. I feared he got tired of me and our boring relationship. It’s true that we didn’t do much while we were together, but that’s what I thought he wanted: for us to live our independent lives and then come together when we could. We also haven’t done much outside of a hotel room or his houses in Boston and LA. We also wanted it that way as well. We weren’t public with our relationship, both of us wanting the privacy we know we wouldn’t get otherwise. Maybe now that he had what he thought he wanted he no longer wants that... I don’t think I could get through that kind of heart-shattering experience. I’m so madly in love with him that living the rest of my life without him by my side would quite literally kill me.

As I fly to Boston now that his newest movie has wrapped filming, I’m a ball of nerves. This could possibly be the last time I come out here. I’d hate to have to say goodbye to everything I’ve come to love on the east coast: the ocean views, the laid-back coastal feel, Chris’ whole family who welcomed me with open arms the minute they met me, Dodger who has become my baby as well, everything...

I get to the house, apparently having beaten Chris here. I keep all of the lights off, placing my keys on the entry table. I leave my suitcase by the door and walk around, taking in every inch of the house making mental notes as to how much I’ll miss it if the worst does happen. I silently walk around the dark house, all of the memories we’ve made in this place together running through my mind...

Like the first time he tried to make dinner for me. Tried. He tried to make my favorite meal but somehow (we still don’t know how), he messed it up. We laughed about it for a solid hour before calling for a pizza. He apologized a grand total of 27 times that night, saying he wanted to do something special for me after dealing with his hectic schedule and all of the time apart because of it. I reassured him that all I wanted was him, I never required anything more. That was the day I realized I was truly falling in love with him.

Our first Christmas we spent here curled up on the couch with Dodger, watching our favorite holiday movies after a hectic day with his family. Dodger was chewing on a new flavored bone he was given, all of our new clothes were laid out on our bed with a pending fashion show to come the next day, any other presents were set aside as we wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of the night before we returned to his family’s chaos.

Our first vacation together after one of his movies had finished filming and all press was done. We could finally spend more than one weekend together in a four month span. Instead of going somewhere exotic, we stayed here, well actually, we stayed in his family home. It was the most stressful but wonderful three months I’ve ever experienced. The love and comfort I felt while in their home while also experiencing the chaos of having a bigger family was eye-opening into what my life would be like with Chris. I could confidently say after that that I was in it with him for the long run.

Our first major fight was had in this living room. I don’t even remember what it was about. We yelled, we accused each other of things, we took solace in separate rooms... for about 10 minutes. We realized how ridiculous we were being, talked it out like rational adults, and put it all behind us to enjoy the time we had left together.

The tears threatened to spill over as I reminisced. I hated this insecure feeling again. I worked many days and nights not to feel this way in this relationship. Chris makes me feel strong and secure because I know he believes in me... or believed.

I made my way back to the bedroom where I was ready to collapse on the bed. When I did, it made a noise that wasn’t typical of the fluffy comforter. I turned on the lamp on the bedside table and found a note.

“Y/N, I know I’ve been acting strangely these past few days. I apologize if it brought up any negative emotions you’ve worked hard to erase. To make up for it, I’ve placed multiple notes around the house with all of the things I love about you. Find them all and then come find me. I love you. Chris”

With those three simple words, all of my feelings from the past few weeks dissipated. I felt foolish for even thinking something was remotely off.

So instead of wallowing, I got to work on my scavenger hunt. Post-It notes were found around the entire house from the bathroom mirror, on the large framed picture of the Boston skyline by the front door, behind one of the pillows on the couch, on a few of the fake plants he has decorated around the house, on the fridge... all listing what he loves about me: my eyes and how they shine, the way my smile lights up the room, how I blush every time he compliments me, how much I’ve loved Dodger from the very beginning, how independent I am, how passionate I am about multiple things, and many more that made my heart soar. The final note I found said this: “I love everything about you.”

The second I read that note, a dim light path turned on, illuminating the back porch. The twinkle lights lead me down the steps of the deck, continuing out onto the private beach behind the house. The rush of the waves welcomed me back as if I had never left them. I removed my shoes before stepping onto the still warm from the day sand. I followed the path, leading me to the man I love the most in this world.

He stood there with his jeans rolled up to mid-shin and a simple white t-shirt. His dark blond hair is pushed back the way I love it.

“How long have you been out here?” I ask as I approach him.

“Not long.” The smile he made lit up the entire beach more than the lights ever could. He reached out for me as I finally got close enough. He scooped up my hands, moving backwards through the sand until we felt the warm dry sand turn cool and wet. The tide lapped at our bare feet as we basked in the feeling of being together again. He pulled me into a hug which I welcomed. I could feel his abnormally fast heartbeat against my chest. I wonder what could be causing it.

“What is all this for? Did I forget an anniversary or something?” I panicked pulling away from him. Usually I’m on top of that kind of thing, sometimes a little too well.

He chuckled, taking my hands in his once again. “No, baby, you’re not forgetting anything. In fact,” he gripped my hands a little tighter as if bracing himself for what he was about to say, “I hope to have a new reason to celebrate.” He breaks eye contact with me, taking a deep breath before locking his gaze with me again as he goes down onto one knee...

“From the moment you came into my life, you changed everything. I honestly thought I would be alone for the rest of my life. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could find someone who would accept me for all that I am and all that my life entails. But I did. I found you. You showed me what the truest form of love feels like.”

My eyes were filling up with happy tears this time as the man of my dreams was professing his love to me. This is the moment I’ve been dreaming of for many years but never thought I would have until I met him. He says I changed everything for him, well ditto to him. Without him and the love he has shown me for the last two years, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.

“Baby, you are… my best friend. You’re the one I tell all my secrets to, even secrets I’m not supposed to share.” We giggle, thinking back to all of the spoilers he told me even though he wasn’t allowed to share. “You’re my rock. You’re someone I can go to for anything no matter how ridiculous it may be at whatever time of day. I can always count on you to listen. You are,” he paused getting choked up himself, the tears threatening to spill, “my life. When you’re not with me, my heart feels like it’s missing its other half. You take it with you whenever you go. You make me want to be better- you make me better.

I can’t even begin to let you know how thankful I am to have you in my life. So how about I start with promising you ‘forever,’” he reached into his pocket and pulled out the most beautiful engagement ring I’ve ever laid my eyes on. “So will you, Y/F/N (Y/M/N) Y/L/N,” he placed a kiss on my hand, “marry me?”

I fell to my knees, in total shock with what is currently happening before wrapping my arms around his neck. He wants to marry me. He wants me by his side for the rest of our lives. He wants to grow old with me. He wants to have kids with me. He wants me.

I whisper, “Yes” into his ear, answering the easiest question I’ve ever been asked.

We echoed “I love yous” back and forth to each other as he slipped the ring onto my finger before picking us both up and spinning us around in celebration, finally kissing me to seal the deal.

Our little bubble was popped when we heard loud cheers coming from a dark corner of the beach where both of our families came out to greet us. We were bombarded with hugs, squeals, tears from both of our mothers and his sisters, and flashes from their cameras wanting to preserve this memory.

We all moved inside the house where we popped a bottle of champagne. Chris quieted down the room by tapping on his glass. His arm tightened around my waist. “I’d just like to take a moment to thank all of you for being here to celebrate this incredible step in our relationship. It means the world to us to know we have so many loved ones supporting us. Cheers to you guys.”

“And I’d also like to give the biggest thank you to my beautiful fiancée,” he turned his attention to me, “without you, I am nothing. I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I appreciate you and love you. Thank you for saying yes to me two years ago when you agreed to be my girl and thank you for saying yes to spending the rest of your life with this complicated old man.”

“I love you.” I smile before tapping glasses with him before bringing my lips to his again.

After everyone left, my handsome fiancé hoisted me up over his shoulder and brought me into our bedroom. He threw me on the bed causing me to burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’d better change your plane ticket home ‘cause I’m not letting you leave any time soon.”

Taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @the-marvel-imagines-blog

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans drabble #chris evans oneshot #change your ticket

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makomaragi · 4 years

Text

it’s that time of year again. femslash february!

I had planned to write more but have not been in a good place mentally lately, but I do have some things ready so that’s what I’m going with.

everything I write is Scientificshipping so there is that. I don’t know if anyone cares anymore, but I’m going to post the shit I wrote anyway! also a lot of times i write them gay married already it is my world when i write

Title: Meeting

Pairing: Prof. Aurea Juniper/Fennel

Rating: Pg-13? no sex or anything but things of an adult nature

Formal meetings were never Professor Juniper’s style. She vastly preferred to be out in the wilderness, doing her research, or in the comfort of her own lab.

But every year, she had to go to at least one meeting. Whether it disrupted her research or not, she was required to, as were all of the other regional professors. It was meant as a yearly meet and greet as well as renewal of their license to distribute Pokemon, each year going over any new changes in the procedures and paperwork as well as reviewing mostly things they already knew. It was rarely ever fascinating, save the first year she attended, and was truly the only thing she dreaded in her profession. The only exciting thing that could happen was when a new professor was named, and even then, they usually had their own reception in the designated region for that purpose.

Five days wasn’t a long time in the grand scheme of being away from home, or even time away from her research. The meeting put a halt on any major research the regional professors were doing as it was, so it wasn’t as though she was missing anything by being there.

But it was boring.

She begged Fennel to come with her every year, if only to stay in the hotel and keep her from losing sanity. But every year, Fennel declined, and for good reason. It was boring. It wasn’t at all like the science conferences and conventions they regularly attended that they both enjoyed. No, this one was nothing but a three day long meeting with the regional professors. The only remotely exciting thing about it was that it was held in a different region every year. Aurea nearly had Fennel convinced to go the year it was in Alola, only for Fennel to remember Aurea would be stuck in meetings all day and there would be no point.

Kalos was just too far of a plane trip for an unenjoyable trip, meaning she’d have to give herself an extra two days at each end of traveling to and from. There was nothing Fennel could say or do to make it any better.

Their meeting had dragged on for two days now. Professor Oak was always an entertaining speaker, doing his best to present the material in an interesting fashion and answering questions, but even his presentation methods couldn’t hold Aurea’s interests as much as it should. It left her mind to wonder….how did she get through college? Many of her professors did not have half of Oak’s energy and passion for speeches and she made it through that.

Looking around, she could see a few others fumbling with paperwork, taking notes on a laptop, or even looking at their phones. She had her laptop open like the others to follow along with some of what was being shown, but it couldn’t hurt to check her phone.

Some texts from trainers, a missed call from her father, and some texts from Fennel.

I went to the park to see if the Swannas came back from their migration but there were none there :(

Fennel must be equally out of ideas for things to do, it wasn’t like her to randomly go anywhere outside especially by herself. The notion in itself was humorous to her, Fennel getting dressed and ready to go to the park, realizing the Pokemon she wanted to see wasn’t there and leaving.

Haha, we’ll try again in a few days when I get home if you still want to see them

The dream scientist replied almost immediately, leaving Aurea to figure it wasn’t as early as she thought it was back home. She had been in the conference room for hours now, even after taking a lunch break,

How’s it going?

Bored

Fennel didn’t reply again quickly this time, figuring she was caught up in doing something. Now Aurea was left with only this meeting to entertain her. She had set her phone next to her laptop and forgot about it completely until she noticed the screen light up and another message from Fennel come through.

Opening the message, there was no possible way to prepare for what she saw.

A photo of Fennel, sitting on their bed, in a dark red bra.

Another one came through before she had the chance to register what was happening.

Fennel had removed the bra now, an arm underneath her breasts to push them up slightly, hair fallen over her body a bit, complete with a sly smile.

She slammed the phone face down on the table, making more of a sound than she meant to in doing so. Her phone vibrated a few more times, Juniper shoving it in to her purse in a haste at this point. She could feel the heat rushing to her face, and for some reason she suddenly had to cough, causing what felt like more attention on herself.

Looking up, she realized Kukui was the only one that had noticed her disturbance. He smiled in her direction when their glances met for part of a second, but other than that he didn’t seem phased.

She could never tell anyone, ever, anywhere, ever about this. Let alone Kukui.

While in reality it was only another hour or so after the incident occurred, it felt like an eternity before the meeting ended for the day. It wasn’t unusual for the other professors to loiter afterwards to make dinner plans with one another or discuss something of interest, but Aurea couldn’t find it in herself to socialize. There was a phone call she needed to make. Practically throwing her laptop in her bag, she gave a slight wave in acknowledgment to whoever happened to see her when she did, and departed to her hotel room as quickly as she could muster. It probably was rude of her, and she was sure she could think of an excuse before tomorrow as to why she had to leave in such haste.

Tossing her bag aside, her hands shaking now for some reason, she sat down on her hotel bed and called her wife.

“Hi! Did you get my pictures I sent you?” Fennel’s face appeared on the screen cheery as ever, acting as if she had sent her photos of a beautiful flower arrangement she had made and not naked photos.

“I, um...was in my meeting when I saw them.”

To this, Fennel burst out laughing. “I knew you’d be bored in your meeting and I missed you.”

Aurea wasn’t at all surprised by Fennel’s reaction, though wasn’t sure she thought of the consequences, either. “What if someone else saw them, Fennel? And thought that I was looking at….pictures of you while I was in a meeting?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be looking at your phone during the meeting anyway,” Fennel was still laughing, not even her makeup able to hide the deep rouge seeping in to her cheeks.

“You just said you did it because you knew I’d be in the meeting!”

“Well, maybe I was thinking you could look at them afterward.”

“You knew I was in a meeting!”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, you have no way of knowing.”

“You did it on purpose!” Aurea was astounded at even herself that she wasn’t as angry as she thought she might be at the confrontation. Though, she began to realize now that she was smiling, that she hadn’t been angry at all. If there was, it was fleeting. Embarrassment, certainly, but no harm had come from it.

Fennel grinned at the accusation and barely shrugged. “Okay, so send me one now.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

“And I’ve seen you naked before but it doesn’t mean you have to send me pictures.” She certainly didn’t want to come across as scolding her. Fennel had obviously put quite a bit of thought in to what she was doing, and it was done. “What was your...intention? What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Um, I think if I sent them to a guy, they’d get off on it. I guess you can do that if you want.”

“No!”

“Well, then just look at them, I guess. And think about me.” The corner’s of Fennel’s smile dipped slightly. “I’m sorry, Aurea….I just thought it’d be fun.”

“You….you thought it would be fun to send me naked pictures of yourself?”

“All the kids are doing it now.”

Aurea raised a brow at her reasoning. What kids did Fennel know of that were doing this? Where did she even get the idea to do this? “What if you accidentally sent them to the wrong person?!”

“But I didn’t!” Fennel beamed at this. “And I triple, quadruple, million times checked to make sure it was only going to you.”

“See, this is what happens when you’re away too much! I get bored and miss you and take all my clothes off and send you pictures of me. I spent like, an hour doing my makeup to take those pictures for you.”

“Your makeup looked very nice.”

“What color eye shadow was I wearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even notice my makeup, did you? You were looking at my boobs.”

“It was kind of hard not to.”

Fennel’s expression softened, “I’m still cute, right? Like, you’re still attracted to me and I’m still your hot wife that you can’t wait to come home to, right?”

“Yes, Fennel.”

“Because, I think of you as my hot wife who has to go away and do important science stuff all the time.”

While she was sure the sentiment was genuine, she knew what Fennel was getting at. “I’m still not sending you pictures of my...chest.”

“That’s okay, I guess I’ll just have to wait a few days and see you naked then.”

“I guess so,” the professor was left with a soft smile.

After ending their conversation on more normal terms and ordering room service so she didn’t have to leave the comfort of the hotel room, the professor had decided to turn in for the evening.

She supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to look at the photos in privacy now. They were meant for her, after all.

Lewd imagery aside, Fennel did look quite stunning, though she would never understand the thought process that went in to it. Her wife, of whom she had been in a relationship for over a decade, consciously did her makeup, put on expensive lingerie, adjusted the lighting in their bedroom, and took photos of herself. Fennel decided that it wasn’t enough, so she removed the lingerie and put her arm in such a position to emphasize her breasts. It wasn’t as though the professor didn’t know what her breasts looked like without the emphasis, nor why she had done it at all. There were two more that she had not seen the first time, but more or less the same, one of her leaning more forward with both arms at her sides, and another lying in bed, with her glasses on, for some reason. How many more had she taken and not shown her? Surely these were the best of many – she had seen how Fennel took pictures of herself, and she never got the image she was trying to convey in the first try. For a brief second, Aurea hated herself for the thought, but told herself it wasn’t as though she had found these pictures in secret. They were taken to be shared with her and only her. It wasn’t a crime, nor should she feel badly about looking at revealing photos of her wife. She couldn’t help but feel like she was invading her privacy by looking at them again, like a dirty secret.

But, Fennel obviously wanted her to see them. Somehow, Fennel sending her nudes wasn’t surprising to her. She was honestly a bit surprised she hadn’t done it before, especially when they lived in different cities.

When she got home, she’d have to ask Fennel if there was a way to delete them from their text conversations. Or just delete them entirely because photos did no justice to Fennel herself.

#my fics #scientificshipping #femslash february #pokemon fic #femslash #professor juniper #fennel

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angiewang19 · 4 years

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contemplating about careers

At the start of spring semester, I decided to not do 3-2, and I switched to a new academic advisor, my first semester math professor. During my first meeting with Prof. Aksoy, she asked, “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

I was stunned that she dared to ask this weighty question to a college freshman. I came from a high school that espoused “Do what you love in the moment!” and “You don’t need to plan for or think about the future; everything will fall in place when it needs to!” Most of my classmates had no idea what they wanted to do in college (let alone life), and most seniors went to college as undecided majors.

However, when I’d get home from high school every day, my parents relentlessly pushed me to make decisions as soon as I was ready. Planning for the future would give me luxuries -- more time, more opportunities, and therefore, possibly more money, happiness, and clout. While I was quick to fall back on, “almost all of my classmates have no idea what they want to do!” they knew, as first-generation immigrants, that being undecided was a privilege. To put off any form of planning is an acknowledgement that you can afford to buy time, opportunities, happiness, and clout. It is an acknowledgement that you have options that you can tap into whenever it’s convenient for you.

All of this went through my head as I tried to provide a coherent answer to Prof. Aksoy: “I’m thinking about going into consulting or finance. I think it might be nice to work in the industry for a few years to understand the purpose of my education, and then I’ll go to grad school. But... I don’t really know.”

My last sentence was my only genuine thought in this jumble of words -- I really had no idea.

She gave me a slightly disappointed look: “You need to do some soul searching. Look at your parents -- are they happy? Would you be happy doing what they do every day? You need to do something that makes you feel fulfilled.”

Before our conversation, fulfilled was a word I never gave a second thought to. Through our conversation, I realized I wanted to go into those fields because it seemed like everyone at CMC was/is fighting to get these opportunities. I think about the Goldman Sachs information session, where they didn’t talk about what exactly they did (maybe their day-to-day is actually mundane or they just assume that everyone already knows?), but they spent a great deal of effort talking about what it’s like to live in New York City as a first-year analyst and the fact that “everyone at Goldman is just so smart.” The fact that jobs and internships in these fields are so highly sought after at CMC made these roles seem glamorous in my eyes. More importantly, I saw them as prestigious destinations, and chasing prestige is addicting.

I found a question about consulting/finance on Quora:

Q: Why do so many students in the Ivy League and other elite universities go into investment banking and management consulting?

A (from a student at Wharton): A slightly majority of my classmates (and myself included) go into finance and consulting. This speaks to how we’re all insecure and value the safety of a high paying and prestigious job.

Most people (especially “students in the Ivy League and other elite universities”) aren’t idiots, so I’m sure there are decent reasons to go into either of these fields. But I realized that wanting to go into consulting/finance because “everyone else is doing it” or “it pays well” are not good enough reasons for me. Over the past few months, I realized that consulting is not a great fit for me (thank you CCG), but I still haven’t closed the door on finance. However, I don’t feel strongly about a possible career in finance (in a positive or negative light), since I haven’t done my homework on what exactly the people do. In my opinion, understanding the responsibilities of the day-to-day and the consequences of my actions at work are the first steps to figuring out whether this career will feel good in the long run.

“Feeling good in the long run” is a nebulous phrase. In the process of trying to find more concrete understanding, I thought about the distinction between fulfillment and meaningfulness, words that are often used synonymously. I believe there’s a difference -- fulfillment is when an individual feels personally satisfied, while doing something meaningful has consequences beyond the individual doing the action (think: meaningful = full of meaning).

They’re connected, as often doing something meaningful gives you a sense of fulfillment -- volunteering for a cause you believe in, Bryan Stevenson’s work at Equal Justice Initiative, Jon Favreau writing speeches for Obama. As Favreau mentions in his commencement address, the day-to-day grind of a fulfilling job might not be pretty, but the work can still make you feel empowered and inspired.

To make my point about the distinction between the two words, I believe there are jobs that are meaningful but not necessarily fulfilling -- maybe serving our country via the military. According to Ben Rhodes, Obama’s deputy national security advisor, Obama remarked that the audiences he spoke to at military bases were always diverse coalitions, but as you climb higher up the chain of command, it became all white men. So while serving your country is meaningful work, I can imagine feeling cynical and disheartened if you were trying to work your way up, and you were anyone but a white male. Finally, there are jobs which I believe are fulfilling but not necessarily meaningful. Unfortunately, the first ones that come to mind are consulting and investment banking, which aren’t typically considered the most “moral” professions. For many people in the field, it’s immensely satisfying to close a deal or engage in the daily grind of solving client’s problems and being well-compensated for those efforts. But I’d argue that managing rich people’s money or consulting for Coca-Cola is self-serving and actually perpetuates inequality -- you help the rich get richer in the former and in the latter, you’re complicit in a Rust Belt child’s set of teeth completely rotting before they reach adulthood because soda is cheaper than water or other healthier alternatives.

This is my perspective based on a limited (sheltered + privileged) worldview. It’s important to look at any opportunity from the question of fulfillment and meaningfulness, but why you make choices, especially professional choices, is more nuanced than that. Favreau says he’s been better off looking for opportunities which enable him to do something, not to be something. As immigrants, my parents tucked away many of their genuine interests in order to make a living in the very expensive Bay Area. For them, the search for meaningfulness and/or fulfillment was put on the back burner, which serves as a reminder that evaluating for meaningfulness/fulfillment/happiness is a luxury. Michelle Obama’s parents told her to make money first, and then do what makes her happy. Worded differently, money buys you any kind of freedom you’d like (hence economists say that the best gift is always cash), which buys you a sense of fulfillment or meaningfulness or whatever combination of the two you’d like.

As a starry-eyed, ambitious, and naive college student like me, I’ve kept Andrew Lee's advice in mind: “Money isn't the most important thing, but money goes where value is being created - for me, this was a really hard pill to swallow coming out of college, but you'll notice people at the top of their field tend to be able to move to other fields and have come from other fields. Why? Well, it turns out a lot of them started in places where they were surrounded by the best resources - sometimes that is money, sometimes that is people, sometimes, that is technology (or some other resource that helps you shape reality). Early in your career, people tell you to pursue your passion, but it's really the intersection of passion, economic engine, and what the market will bear. As a result, people who go to money first, find it then easier to go out of it than the other way around. It's not that you won't learn anything elsewhere, but you learn with more resources, and it turns out most people go to where resources are.”

So... I feel like this post has taken a windy path, where I ramble a ton. Scrolling up, I notice that I start with my conversation with my academic advisor, and I go to the differences between meaningfulness and fulfillment. Ultimately, I make a pit stop to the role that money plays in all of our choices (the elephant in the room, in my humble opinion). Our individual core values shape our choices and outcomes, and we can condition ourselves to feel certain ways, for better or for worse. As of right now, I think working in academia or education checks my boxes, but others won’t agree (and ha! I don’t know if I have what it takes to go into academia). Andrew Lee argues that “right now the private sector is pretty damn good at being able to achieve some powerful social ends,” and as a venture capitalist, he can fund underrepresented founders and amplify their voices in society. You have people who are marketing sustainable products (hi Lauren), and you have people like my parents who work tirelessly every day so that we can have a better life in America. There’s not one way to get there -- wherever you believe "there” is.

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lovecaitlined · 5 years

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Chemistry // College! Jungkook AU BTS fic

College! Jungkook AU

In which everyone’s favorite maknae is your shy lab groupmate in Chemistry...and soon, your best friend too...

Who doesn’t know Jeon Jungkook?

Well...a lot of people, actually...

Including yourself.

He’s not the most talkative person in class—

Actually, you’d go as far as to call him shy and introverted,

which is saying a lot, considering how quiet you yourself are.

He seems pretty nice, though!

The first time you noticed him, like really noticed him, was when he sat diagonally in front of you in organic chemistry class,

And you couldn’t help but notice his cute dimple, and the glistening single earring in his left ear as he bent over his desk to take down notes.

OrgChem was that one subject you dreaded every single MWF,

Like sure, you had a pretty good prof who was great at explaining things, but it still managed to melt your brain like all those chemical concoctions.

His cute face sort of brightened up your day, even though he was pretty silent and spent all his time pushing up his glasses nervously with his left hand and furiously scribbling down notes with his right.

And speaking of chemical concoctions...

He was your groupmate in lab!

Other than being in your OrgChem class, you didn’t really notice him much until you realized he was your lab groupmate.

You actually feel kind of bad because you’re usually lost during lab...

Your 3rd groupmate was usually MIA (rumor has it that he left school to become a K-pop trainee), and well, let’s face it: You weren’t the brightest Bunsen burner in the room.

You were usually lost af...

As if pre-lab and post-lab weren’t already hell enough to process, you had the entire experiment to get over with.

Other groups boded well, you were sure of it,

But you were just always so lost?!

The heat of the lab would get to you, your eyes claustrophobic behind ginormous goggles, your hands sweating in gigantic white gloves,

And let’s not forget your lab coat, which was two sizes too big for you.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, though...

Actually, he didn’t seem to notice anything—

Or so you thought.

Anyway, Jungkook was always so nice.

He’d always let you order him around

Well, not really order. But you didn’t get a thing.

“Jungkook, did you get what Ma’am said? What was that about combining Test Tube A and Test Tube B—”

“She means to heat up the contents of Test Tube A first in the beaker before adding in Test Tube B. Here, I’ll do it for you.”

“No, no, that’s okay! That’s fine! Um...how do you turn on the Bunsen burner?”

You were a hopeless case.

But Jungkook didn’t mind!

In fact, he was so nice about it.

He was always so patient and willing to teach you everything.

Soon, you became less lost and you began to feel less guilty for how much he was carrying your group since you actually got to do you part now.

You soon began to appreciate Jungkook for who he really was.

A quiet dude, but really sweet and kind at that.

An introvert, but passionate in his studies.

He wasn’t one of those people who topped the class, but he did get good grades, mostly A’s and the occasional B+.

He was probably gonna get an A- in OrgChem, and frankly, you were slightly jealous.

But you really admired the passion and dedication he put into his studies, as well as his work ethic.

And Jungkook may be shy, but he was starting to warm up to you, too!

Like he’d flash you a smile from beneath those huge goggles during lab...

Or he’d crack a joke or two once in a while.

His favorite prank was dropping some explosive substance into the flames and silently laughing at your horrified face every time you yelled, “NO!!!!!!!!!”

He was always so quiet, so serious, so focused,

But in between lulls in the lesson, or waiting for something to change color, you guys would talk.

It was nothing much, just a lil small talk at first,

But they soon became full-fledged conversations.

Jungkook originally wanted to be a musician, but his parents wanted him to become a doctor. He refused, but as a compromise, he had to take chemical engineering instead.

You��d have taken chemical engineering too, but you thought you would find it too difficult. Chem wasn’t your strong point. So here you were, a civil engineering student, with a minor in Chemistry.

You told Jungkook how much you hated OrgChem and you were surprised when he said he could tutor you.

“Oh no, it’s fine! Really. You don’t have to—”

“I mean, I’m busy, but I could...”

You guys resolved to have him teach and clarify for you the hard bits of the lesson during lab when the experiments weren’t too busy...

And Jungkook had such a smooth voice, and he was pretty good at explaining things.

(Actually, you could see traces of his musical inclination here and there—he sang and hummer to himself a bit while listening to your professor)

Your chem grades improved; sure, they didn’t soar as high as his did, but that B+ was something to be proud of.

Even after the sem had ended, you’d still see him the next year around campus

You’d always bump into each other and exchange greetings.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You two ran into each other more than you should have, though

And since you had the same lunch break some days, you both thought, Why not eat with each other?

So eat with each other you did, and you enjoyed having him as a lunch buddy.

He was pretty cute with that sweet smile and dimple, but well, you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself, yet.

So you two would have lunch together at times,

Nothing fancy, though, just standard college cafeteria good, although you had to admit the food was pretty solid for what it was

And the company made it taste even better.

Jungkook became more animated when he was around you

Or at least you thought so.

One of his friends, Jimin, was in your English Literature class and one day, completely out of the blue when you were paired for a Shakespeare reading, he sincerely thanked you for being nice to his friend.

To which you were like, “Oh, no! It’s no problem! He’s probably helped me a lot more than I’ve helped him—”

But Jimin just replied, with a small, knowing smile on his face, “Trust me. I know. So thank you.”

“Jungkook has been happier these days because of you,” he added.

You felt kind of flustered and flattered and thanked him in a hurry before sprinting off to your next class. What was that about?

But honestly, you didn’t really mind having Jungkook around, either...

After a month or two, your friends would notice you hanging out more and more together...and would tease you about it...

They’d ask, “Are you and that guy, you know, a thing?”

To which you’d reply, “Me and Jeon Jungkook? No, no,” while laughing nervously.

But lunch buddies became library buddies became official friends...

Jungkook and you would talk a lot, about your hopes and dreams for the future.

“I want to be a singer or a musician or something,” he admitted to you sheepishly one day. “I mean, I know it’s ridiculous, because, don’t laugh, I’m, well, shy and all, but I’ve really wanted to be one for quite some time now!”

“I would never laugh at you!” you’d tell him. “In fact, that’s great. As your friend, I support.”

He looked a little sad that day, but you didn’t think too much about it.

After all, you kind of envied him a bit then and there. Imagine having so much passion and hard work for a dream, and working so diligently at a college course you weren’t even interested in.

At least he had dreams. What did you have?

Must be nice to have you ish together.

But you two continued to hang out more and more.

One day, after your Coding class, you walked out the computer lab to find him standing in the hallway.

You looked at him, agape. “J...Jungkook?”

He looked sheepish. “Hey.”

You smiled. “How did you know my schedule?”

“I, uh, you must have sent it to me once.”

“Ah. I see.”

Awkward silence.

Then, you asked, “Did...did you want to tell me something?”

He grinds his teeth. “Erm, yeah. Do you want to have dinner with me on Friday night?”

Your eyes widened. “What?!” you exclaimed.

“Ah, no, no, no!” he said, shaking his head and waving his hands quickly. “You...you don’t have to if you don’t want to!”

You laughed. “Calm down! I mean...I would love to! I’m just...shocked, I guess, that you would ask me that.”

He smiles, showing his dimply face again, while looking at the ground. “Yeah.”

It was Wednesday then. It took all of two days for that fated night to come,

And you weren’t gonna deny, you thought about it constantly all the time.

You didn’t really have any classes with him anymore then, but it was still strange that you didn’t seem him anywhere around campus, almost as if...as if he were avoiding you? Your anxiety began to kick in: What if he stood you up?

No. No, no, no. Stop that, you told yourself. You’re being ridiculous. Jungkook would never do that.

He met you outside your dorm at exactly 6pm. He was dressed casually but nicely, in a white button-down and jeans, and beat-up sneakers.

You had on a nice halter top and denim skirt, with the strappy, pointy black flats you got on sale recently. You hoped you weren’t underdressed.

He smiled when he saw you at the doorway. “You look great! Shall we?”

The night went pretty well!!! You two had dinner in that new pasta restaurant a few train stops away from the university, and you walked around the park for a bit.

Talking. That’s what you did. You’d never seen Jungkook more animated than ever then, and you didn’t have to try, either. The conversation flowed as smoothly and nicely as could be. It was, frankly, invigorating.

By the time you guys cared to check the time again, it was getting late. Jungkook looked at his watch. “9PM. Your dorm curfew is 10, right?”

You nodded. “Right.”

“Well, let’s catch the bus now while there still time...” his voice trailed off. “But first...”

There was an element of alarm in his voice, making you look up. “Yes?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I...I wanted to tell you something.”

Your heart drops.

“I...I like you.”

You’re not sure just exactly what you felt at that moment, but you smiled. Finally, after months and months of getting to know each other and friendship.

Honestly, you weren’t sure either. But he was the sweetest and kindest person in the world, and you were glad you met him.

Jungkook wouldn’t look you in the eye any longer after he said that, so you take your hand and make sure you make eye contact with him.

“Jeon Jungkook, I like you, too.”

He looked up to you then and smiled the biggest smile you’d ever seen him smile.

Jungkook isn’t a guy of many words, but that’s okay, so are you

Though arguably, you’re the more talkative, more animated one in your relationship.

Your friends and his friends would tease you too, saying things like, “Finally” or “It’s been months!” or “I bet he only said ‘I like you’ for his confession instead of some grand speech” and, well...couldn’t really argue with that.

But his conversations with you are always your favorite, because that’s when you see him for who he truly is, and because that’s when he pours his heart out.

You two are only yourselves when you’re with each other, after all.

(Even when he begins to show his crazier side, like pranking you, scaring you, or making horrible puns like “I guess we really had some chemistry, huh,” and you really want to smack him but you don’t because you love him that much.)

He’s still very passionate about the things he loves, like music and chemistry, which you love—

And he would never stop to work hard at fulfilling his dreams.

But you know what that means?

It means that he’s really passionate about you, too.

The End

♡

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #chemistry #jungkook fic #jungkookfic #bts #army #fanfiction #fanfic #kpop #k-pop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #love #college #university

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years

Note

AU-College. Tony/?. Tony already 17 and working on yet another doctorate has just returned from home after a school break. He's covered in bruises but he doesn't bother to hide them because he honestly believes no one notices or cares. Always on edge and doing anything and everything to forget the pain, Tony is confused when people he doesn't even know start to ask if he's okay and if he needs any help. Laughing in their face he replied. "You can't help, no one can." (I feel dark today sry?)

So I went with Tony/ Eddie Brock (from Venom if you don’t know). Eddie is an investigative journalist (or in this case he’s in school to be one) and tbh I have no freaking clue how journalism school works (journalism school?) so I’ve sort of made it work like humanities courses? Idk, just accept my bad plot needs bois. Also I altered the ‘you can’t help’ line to better fit the scenario, but the sentiment is the same.

As the prompt suggests, warning abuse references.

Eddie needs a story and since his asshole prof likes corporations a lot more than he does that’s out. Which throws a bunch of stuff in his usual wheelhouse out with it. He thought homelessness was a good topic but got told that wasn’t news, which he doesn’t understand because to his knowledge homelessness isn’t solved. Then he thought hey, school shootings happen basically every other day- they like to say if it bleeds it leads and a whole lot of kids seem to be dying. But he got told the news is already oversaturated with that. So he thought fine, maybe police brutality, that’s violent and not on the news much but he got told that was too controversial and what the fuck is the news for if not to be controversial?

Now he’s stuck with the task of finding a story his irritatingly picky prof will like and to add insult to the injury one of his classmates got approved to write about cryptocurrency. What the fuck is that? Stupid, in Eddie’s opinion. His topics were important, real world issues and this dumbass over here gets to write shit about something no one cares about. Predictable.

He’s eating his muffin angrily and wondering if he can somehow convince his prof to let him write something about climate change and the fact that no matter what an individual does, its still 100 companies doing seventy percent of the damage so why is the news focusing on individuals over corporations when he spots a potentially easier sell. Boy genius, way ahead of his time, and well loved by the American public. He has no interest in Tony Stark whatsoever but there has to be a story there, something underneath that irritatingly arrogant rich kid veneer that’s worth writing about so he decides to make a move.

Tony hates waking up before noon on any given day, assuming he went to bed at all, and dealing with people? He doesn’t like that at any time of day so when he’s minding his own damn business only to have some random guy with porn star lips- he swears to god that’s the only accurate description- he’s already annoyed. “Who the hell are you? Never mind, I don’t actually care,” he says in an irritable tone before going to turn back around but the guy takes his brief interruption to his day in a totally different direction than Tony was expecting.

“Nice shiner, where’d you get that?” he asks and Tony freezes for a moment, used to that fleeting feeling that someone might guess at the truth before realizing no one cares anyways.

He rolls his eyes, “you wouldn’t care if I told you, and even if you did its not like there’s anything you could do about it. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Its not like he’s never said anything and not one time has anything come of it. Sometimes people laugh, actually, and Tony doesn’t know what’s worse. People not hearing him at all or people hearing just fine, but they make a joke out of it. Silence isn’t his thing, but he’s developed a thick skin in regards to how people treat him. Doesn’t have much of a choice, living under his father’s roof and in the public eye. Its amazing, Tony thinks, how fucking obvious his abuse is and no one seems to see what’s in front of their damn faces.

Something about his words seem to draw his companion’s attention though and Tony recognizes the look. “Are you a reporter?” he asks and the guy looks surprised for a half a second.

“Good instinct- but technically I’m still in school,” he says like Tony fucking cares about that.

“Yeah, fuck off,” he says bluntly. He’s got no time for another asshole looking to capitalize off the Tony Stark Story when none of them even get the damn story right.

“You have an interesting take on green energy. Only big name attached to it, too,” he says and Tony frowns.

“You know about my interest in green energy?” he asks. No one ever asks him about his passion project, they all want to know about the bombs and if Tony is honest he’s never really been comfortable with what his father’s company does. He knows the military has a use, and that there are protocols, and a bunch of other things his father has said over and over again but he still wonders what happens when things go wrong. Who’s responsibility is that? Does anyone have to take responsibility at all? His experiences tell him that powerful people don’t need to take responsibility for their actions ever, not if they can pay off the powers that be, and if the military is the same way, well. That brings a new layer of ethics to what SI does but Howard doesn’t care about ethics and Obadiah… he’s always been closer to Tony, but he doesn’t seem concerned with ethics either. Claims that’s the military’s job but Tony isn’t stupid. The military, all branches of it, make bad choices all the time. Which leads him back to who takes responsibility, if anyone.

Green energy is less ethically complicated and more necessary to the world, he thinks, and the projects are interesting and engaging. Tony finds blowing things up easy, but green energy provides a new avenue of engineering.

“Yeah, I keep up with what people are doing. Eddie Brock,” he says, extending his hand to Tony.

Green energy, it’d been a shot in the dark but he knows that Tony’s interest isn’t a passing one and its not congruent with his father’s company’s interests either. Whenever Howard is asked about his son’s projects he consistently tells them he has no interest whatsoever. So its strange that Tony has kept his focus for years, if Eddie’s passing interest in the subject is correct. What’s more strange is that mentioning it had immediately gotten him into Tony’s good graces. Anne tells him that he’s good at that, getting past people’s defenses without trying and he guesses that’s true.

Tony continuously talks around his family and Eddie does his best to try and get back to that because Elder Stark has got to be an interesting guy. Real asshole, he’s sure, but interesting. Tony won’t have any of it though and Eddie has to admit the green energy thing is interesting until he loses Eddie thanks to, put bluntly, being way smarter than him. And Tony’s no good at dumbing it down either, something even he freely admits.

They talk for a good amount of time before Tony grows tense again and Eddie knows why partially because of Tony’s reaction to his being a reporter- or wannabe reporter at the moment- and also because he isn’t stupid. “I’m not writing anything about this,” he tells Tony. “Not to be a dick, but none of this is interesting enough to write anything on anyways. You know how sensationalized media likes to be,” he says, shaking his head.

Something catches Tony’s attention in that because he perks up. “You don’t like that, the sensationalism?” he asks. Its more of a statement, but Eddie knows he’s prodding for a why. He’s done this a million times himself.

“Not really, no. If you want to tell a story, then do that- don’t make up all this crazy shit to make it sound more messed up than it is. Human flaw, thinking things need to hit some kind of extreme before we should have to care about it,” he shakes his head. “Leads to shoddy journalism because we’re pushed to make things sexier, more violent, more of whatever is actually there instead of just doing our jobs. Literally everything ever printed about you proves my point.”

Tony snorts, “you read stories on me?” he asks, incredulous.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Not like Tony Stark is an escapable name but Tony’s lips quirk up.

“No, and you’re not a fan. You talk about SI in a disapproving tone, you only know me from my green energy projects, and although you seem to know stuff about me its pop culture knowledge, not genuine interest.” Eddie raises an eyebrow because that’s a damn in depth analysis but Tony only smiles wider. “I’ve learned to separate out people who know me from fans and super fans. You don’t know me.”

Eddie laughs, “yeah, no one knows you. What we know is the consumable product that is Tony Stark- the celebrity brand. That’s not you, or even a version of you. That’s what’s sellable about you and half of that shit is probably made up. No seventeen year old is a ladies man and its kinda creepy that people even made that a selling point.” And kind of misogynistic too, but Eddie doesn’t mention that. Tony doesn’t seem all that stupid, he’s sure he’s gathered that awhile ago.

He watches his words win more trust, or an approximation of it, and Tony leans forward in interest. “You don’t like celebrity culture,” Tony says.

Hell no, he doesn’t. “Why the would I? We build these people up, put them on pedestals, and then get pissed off at them every five seconds when they do something human. We routinely dehumanize celebrities to a point where they stop knowing how to function because extreme fame clearly fucks you up- look at any child star trying to cope. Having a mental breakdown is now something we think is funny. Its fucked up that we do that to people- treat them in such a dehumanizing way that they seem to forget they’re human too. And that’s when we decide to take them down a notch because we’re mad that they accepted the pedestal we shoved them onto by force.” He shakes his head. Sure, he knows a little celebrity news, its not possible to avoid it, but he doesn’t pay any more than a passing attention to it. What normal shit celebrities are doing this week is none of his business.

Tony’s eyes are bright with interest, “fascinating opinion. Most people think we’re privileged, not disadvantaged.”

Eddie laughs, “of course you’re privileged- celebrities are stupid rich, and your opinions have actual influence over what people believe and that’s a position no one should take advantage of. But the cost is any semblance of privacy and your right to personhood- that’s one hell of a catch. And not one regular rich assholes share.” Fame isn’t something Eddie ever wants, not like normal celebrities anyways. If he’s got clout and fame in journalism he’s fine with that- he doesn’t mind if people know his name. But the kind of fame Tony has? Fuck that.

“And you aren’t going to print any of this conversation?” Tony asks, seemingly for clarification.

“Like I said- nothing sensational enough in this conversation to warrant an article. What am I going to write? ‘Tony Stark Likes Green Energy’? Boring,” he says and it actually kind of is without a project or an emotion to attach to it.

“And if I decided to continue talking to you?” he asks and yes, that’s the in he needs and fuck is that ever predatory. Journalism is like that though, always looking for the right fucked up moments to put on paper, or in this case, the right moments to be let in far enough to find those fucked up moments.

“I’m not going to print anything without asking you about it first,” he says, opting for honest. He’s sure something about Tony is interesting to print, and he’s got a feeling it’ll be about his family or maybe just his father, he’s not sure. But if Tony tells him not to print it he won’t. He’s not in the business of exploitation no matter how much journalists are pushed in that direction.

Rhodey’s got that look on his face and Tony knows exactly what he’s thinking before he even says anything. “He’s a nice guy,” Tony says in Eddie’s defense.

“If you have to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Rhodey points out.

“Actually its more like if he has to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Tony says. “And he is. Nice, I mean.” He’s been talking to Eddie for weeks and he’s funny, if a little sharp on the criticism. And nothing has appeared in the newspaper he’s interning with for the summer and the stories he is attached to, which aren’t many and none by name, are usually well written and truth based. Tony fact checked them all and learned a surprising amount about mental health that Eddie had been happy to fill him in more on.

“You sure? Because, no offense, but you have a bad habit of seeing the best in people,” Rhodey says.

Maybe, but Tony shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sure. He treats me like a person,” he says and he knows that shouldn’t be something he thinks of as a good thing. But when you’re famous its hard to find people who don’t at some point ask for your autograph, or a picture, or information on some weird personal detail they have no right to. Eddie hasn’t asked for any of those things and he could directly profit off any of that information. Tony has only ever met one other budding reporter- or full blown reporter for that matter- who’s treated him like that. And Christine… he and Christine have a love hate relationship.

Rhodey sighs, eyes going soft for a moment. “Tones. That’s not special,” he murmurs but that’s because he’s not had to deal with fame. The last time he went out into public without someone recognizing him he was six. After all that he’s kind of used to people acting super weird around him and Eddie doesn’t do that. Maybe it shouldn’t be a rarity, but it is.

“To you, maybe,” Tony says. “You’d like him, he hates the cops.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes but its lovingly. “I don’t hate cops, I just think they’re racist and that people should really deal with that problem.”

Tony is inclined to agree. “Fine, but Eddie has many opinions on cops, you’d get along. Actually Eddie has many opinions on like everything.” Eddie said most people find his opinionated nature irritating but Tony thinks its interesting, hearing him talk because his opinions are so contrary to everything he hears. Even Rhodey, who certainly has different opinions than his father on near everything, tends to be more reserved in letting his opinions be known. Eddie doesn’t care, he gives no fucks and is happy to let people know how he feels. He’s got numbers, too, usually or at least some kind of basis for his argument and Tony has always been fascinated with things that are different than what he normally sees. Its interesting to look into a world that’s so unlike his and see something new. That difference in how people see things, that’s the key to changing the world.

Eddie had been surprised by that opinion but Tony is under the impression that thinking outside the box is what leads to innovation and innovation always leads to change. Eddie had been surprised by how unthreatened he was by that too, but Tony thinks fear of change is based on fear rather than fact and sometimes a push into the unknown is a good thing. And, in regards to Eddie’s general arguments on social change, they already know that people having rights won’t make the sky fall. Only idiots assume it will and Tony has almost as little patience for that as Eddie does. Which is impressive when he’s probably the most anti-establishment person Tony has ever met.

Rhodey sighs, “great, an opinionated white guy. Never met one of those before,” Rhodey mumbles.

“Hey, I’m an opinionated white guy,” Tony says and Rhodey shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you’re my opinionated white guy so it’s different.”

Eddie had no idea what he was looking for when he combed the interviews. Truth be told he wasn’t sure he was looking for anything at the time but what he found was his story. Its shocking to him that no one has told it, minus Tony, who seems to have been screaming it since he was a small child but he’s got it nonetheless. Its not like he’s never seen the evidence of abuse, Tony is fucking brazen and barely even makes an effort to hide it and after watching way too many interviews Eddie wonders if this is his new way to all but scream for help only to have his pleas fall on an audience that doesn’t give a shit.

Its amazing, in the most horrifying of ways, that out of every interview Tony has ever done, and that is a lot, he has mentioned his father’s abuse in over eighty percent of them. And its hard to watch reporters gloss over it, like Tony’s abuse is some fucking quirky trait Tony has instead of a serious problem he’s clearly trying to get help for. But what’s worse is when people laugh. The first time it happened Eddie had been outraged. The third time it happened he’d been livid, and by the fifteenth time he decided that America is probably the shittiest country on earth. An exaggeration, he knows, but not by fucking much.

For years, most of Tony’s life really, Tony has been screaming for help only to have nothing happen. Or worse, people decide its something, but that something is a joke. Only problem is that now Tony knows no one cares, and if no one cares what’s the point in saying anything no matter how much he’s done his best to scream at everyone that he needs help. It makes Eddie’s job harder, but he’s actually talented at this part, more than his peers, so he knows how to get to the right spot to find the information he wants. The catch, of course, is that Tony needs to give him permission to do anything with the information he gets anyways. He feels skeezy enough digging around in Tony’s life trying to find shit to write about, he’s not just going to publish it without his permission. Even if he didn’t genuinely like Tony as a person, even if he hadn’t wanted to, he’d still ask. He’s not totally morally bankrupt, just enough to do his job.

Tony is curled up in a chair, large bruise on his shoulder clearly visible, holding a cup of what Eddie assumes is coffee. He’s never met anyone who drinks as much coffee as Tony and Dan is in med school. His blood is basically coffee. “You do not seem like the kind of guy to be a journalist,” Tony says and Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?” he asks. Its not the first time he’s been told that, but if Tony gives him an actual answer it will be the first time he’s ever gotten a genuine reason why.

He shrugs, “journalism is… I don’t know, kind of predatory,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Its the worst part of the job, actually, when you’re talking to people- usually about something personal- and they say something you know will look good in your article and you think ‘yeah, I got it!’ instead of being an actual person. That, and you have to ask for details instead of comforting them. But news is important, those stories are important. Me getting the right thing out there might mean people read what I wrote and start giving a shit about the problem in the article.” Doesn’t mean he likes that little reporter voice that tells him when he’s got a great quote, or that he’s stumbled onto something good and that he needs to keep digging. Sometimes he doesn’t care, corporations don’t have his sympathy, but people do. Its hard to ask for more details of what’s usually a pretty traumatic event so whatever he’s writing is sellable enough. And the whole notion of ‘sellable’ is another point of contention altogether.

“So you’re aware of the fact that you’re a vulture,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

“A vulture with a purpose,” Eddie corrects. “But yeah, the kind of reporters you deal with mostly are a bunch of bottom feeding pieces of shit who have no place in any kind of journalism with their shoddy ethics and pathetic puff pieces.” People who want to write stupid articles about some fucking laxative tea or whatever shouldn’t be in this business. And celebrity news shouldn’t even be a thing- there are better things to care about than Tony Cruise. Like maybe the fact that he’s in a cult and people play it off like a strange thing he does on the weekends. Eddie doesn’t understand how the hell they got here.

Tony lets out a small laugh. “Shit, tell me how you really feel,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well come on, there’s a million things I could write about you that are more interesting than the weirdly sexual image you have, and have had for years despite being an actual child. People don’t write anything interesting about you and you’re way more complicated that any piece of media makes you out to be.” Tony is always a power fantasy or the American Dream, not himself. And the sexual thing, that’s odd. Eddie usually only sees that with women but Tony got the short end of that stick despite gender, he guesses. Still creepy.

“Hey, excuse you, my eighteenth birthday is not that far away, I’m not a kid,” he says.

Eddie snorts, “that’s exactly what a kid would say.”

“Oh what, like you’re a shining example of an adult?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck no, I’m two kids in a trench coat pretending to be an adult,” he says. Which is what any self respecting adult his age would say. Not that he’s that much older than Tony, but he’s got enough experience to know he misses when he had no bills. And also that transitionary life phases fucking suck.

“Well, I probably have more life experience than you anyway,” Tony says, nose in the air and Eddie nods, seemingly surprising Tony.

“What? I didn’t graduate from MIT at fourteen, and I sure shit don’t have almost three PhDs. I’m half way through one degree. Plus I don’t have to deal with most of the shit you do, company or fame wise. Do wish had the financial perks though.” Tony leads one hell of a life of privilege no doubt, but it does come with some heavy prices. Being a minor doesn’t really help lighten any of those costs either. Not like Tony can just fuck off to another country to attempt ridding himself of his father, not for another four months.

Tony considers him for a long moment. “Given the chance what would you write about me?” he asks, changing the subject back to the initial subject.

Eddie doesn’t need much time to think about it. “Your interest in green energy, especially the science behind it. I mean an intellectual understanding- like the actual nitty gritty- is beyond me, but I get the broad strokes. Enough to know what you’re doing is world altering and no one is talking about it. I could do an article on fame, how that’s affected you. I can see the damage its left, the way you simultaneously gain privilege from your fame and become a victim of it.” He pauses, considers whether or not he wants to say it, but decides he might as well be up front. “But I’d probably wouldn’t write about you at all. I’d write about how Howard Stark abuses you and how no one seems to give a shit, even when you tell them point blank what’s happening. I watched a lot of interviews, I was shocked with how forthcoming you were. And how fucking bad at their jobs literally everyone who’s ever interviewed you is.”

For a long moment Tony just stares and Eddie has no idea if he misstepped or not because Tony is hard to read when he blanks out like this, but then Tony throws himself forward, hugging him tightly. “I honestly didn’t think anyone noticed that anymore,” he murmurs.

They do, Eddie knows people aren’t stupid enough to miss the bruises or Tony’s blasé attitude. But he doubts anyone either wants to stand up to Howard, or they get paid off by him. “They do. But money talks louder than you do,” he says softly.

Tony sighs. “Well, everyone does have a number,” he murmurs. Eddie knows what he means and honestly its sickening to him to know that’s true.

Tony waves a hand at the lab space with a flourish. “This is where the magic happens,” he says and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Its science, not magic you damn drama queen.” Tony is probably the most dramatic person he knows and that’s saying something considering some of his classmates.

“Party pooper,” Tony mumbles, shaking his head. Eddie gets a tour anyway though, and by the time Tony gets through the details he feels kind of like he walked into a science fiction novel. Its the AI, though, that tops it off. “JARVIS- or just a rather very intelligent system- is kind of my crown jewel. I got him done a few months ago and I’ve been studying how he learns,” he says, grinning.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Learns? Like a person?”

Tony shrugs, “more or less. His function is to be semi-autonomous, to predict the needs of the user before the user knows they need something. Before I know I need something, JARVIS has no commercial value.”

“Then why make it?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know shit about shit but he does know that that sounds like a lot of work with seemingly no payoff.

“Because I wanted to. And also not a lot of people have the time, money, and intelligence to just… create. I want to see what I can do, the full extent of it. Also, JARVIS is cool,” he says like that’s a reason. “And he’s my PhD thesis.”

PhD thesis, that’s interesting. “So like… how are you going to make this sucker not turn into Skynet?” he asks.

“Oh my god, why do humans always assume AIs want to kill the shit out of them or otherwise take over the world? I had JARVIS read YouTube comment sections to convince him humanity is a shitshow not worth enslaving,” he says bluntly and Eddie starts laughing.

“YouTube comment sections? Dude, if I were that AI I wouldn’t decide to enslave humans, I’d straight up eradicate them. Humans suck, but comment sections? Those are the cesspools of humanity.” He shakes his head and almost feels bad for the AI having been subjected to that.

“I’m not certain my efforts would be worth it, sir,” a voice says and Eddie jumps.

Tony doubles over, laughing way harder than that warrants. “Holy shit, every single time- everyone always jumps!”

“Well I wasn’t expecting fancy code to talk at me, okay!” Eddie says in his own defense.

“Fancy code. I like that description,” JARVIS says and okay that is some messed up stuff. The SI likes things? He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Jesus, relax. JARVIS isn’t going to like… steal your cat and murder your mother or whatever. He’s just a simple AI and he’s still on a learning curve. He’s not nearly as advance as I think he can get. But you’re learning alright, aren’t you J?” Tony asks the AI.

Shit, if that ain’t creepy too. “If you say so, sir,” JARVIS says. Its such a strangely human response, if a little stiffly delivered. But the AI has more personality than some people he goes to class with so that’s… disturbing.

“Honestly, people act like JARVIS is out to get them but seriously. He’s fine,” Tony says.

“Incoming call from Mrs. Potts,” JARVIS informs them and Eddie supposes that’s part of his ‘predict the needs of the user’ protocol. Or maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, both are highly probable. Either way Tony scurries out of the room to answer the call, sounding forcefully cheery on the phone in a way that indicates he’s probably gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re a reporter,” JARVIS says and Eddie jumps again.

“Jesus, that is creepy. And yeah. Well, I’m still in school,” he corrects.

“Reporters write stories about celebrities,” the AI says and Eddie nods, keeping his opinions on that to himself. He doesn’t know if JARVIS would get it anyways. “I have a story,” JARVIS says and Eddie can’t help the laugh.

“What kind of story could an AI cook up?” he asks, curious if a little skeeved out.

“Ideally, abuse would be reported to the authorities but I have been reliably informed that they won’t investigate. Research on the matter has shown mixed results,” JARVIS says.

Well shit, creepy or not Eddie might find a genuine use for the AI. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Tony,” he says.

“Of course. Who else would I be referring to?” Could be a lot of people but he supposes that the AI’s world is pretty much one guy.

“Point, I guess. Can you collect evidence? Something people won’t be able to deny if they see it?” he asks. Video evidence would be nice, and people take snap shots of Tony in the streets all the time. He can use random pap shots to make a timeline that exist both in and out of Tony’s space of reach. Eliminates those pesky ‘he made it up for attention’ claims if even random people catch the bruises.

“Certainly,” the AI tells him. “And you can do something? Report on it?”

He sighs, “maybe. The human world is complicated, but I’ll do my best.”

Internships are total bunk, Eddie hates his, but funny memes from Tony at least make his days less shit given the sheer amount of time he spends hanging out in Starbucks fetching drinks instead of doing anything useful. Its not like he expected to write anything, but it would be nice if he got to at least hang out in the general vicinity of reporting. He’s fucking around wasting time when he gets an email that makes him raise an eyebrow but hey, if he gets a virus clicking on shit Tony will be able to fix it probably.

The last thing he expects is for JARVIS to have sent him hours worth of curated videos of Howard’s abuse.

“I have an ethical dilemma,” he tells Anne, who already looks done with his problems. He thinks that’s rude but she’s also into being a corporate lawyer and gross. But she’s still a friend, and she still knows him better than most, and usually has good advice so here he is.

“If this is about how ramen you eat again, I’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

Yeah, okay, that was only one time and he was fourteen. He doesn’t think that should be held against him five years later. “Yeah, um, that’s definitely not it,” he says and he explains the situation from start to finish. “So like, I can’t not say anything, but also its gross to exploit people’s pain like that without their permission,” he says, wrinkling his nose. But saying nothing is almost worse.

“You could just go to the cops,” Dan suggests, ever astute.

Eddie gives him a look. “Tony’s been forthcoming about his abuse for years and doesn’t hide the bruises whatsoever. Obviously the cops aren’t going to do dick all if they haven’t done anything already. I know people who’ve had their kids taken away for a hell of a lot less than beating the hell out of them enough that they start asking random reporters to help them in interviews only to get laughed off.” Anne frowns and he sighs, “I’m actually serious about that.”

When she calls him on it he finds the interviews- he’d saved the clips because he naturally categorizes details- and she ends up as horrified as he does. “Okay I take back cops comment, I think maybe they got paid off,” Dan says and yeah no shit.

“So what the hell do I do here?” Not saying anything is no longer an option- not when he was dumb enough to watch the proof in the middle of his day at work only to end up wildly disturbed for the rest of the time he was there. He hadn’t much wanted to go through more than the few minutes that had him feeling gross for the rest of the day, but he didn’t have much of a choice either. And JARVIS was detailed in his curation, Eddie is impressed in the worst of ways.

This is so not the option he wanted to go with but Anne is kind of right in that talking to Tony is the only option. Of course its also the option that reveals him to be a gross vulture reporter, but a guy has to do what a guy has to do. This isn’t about his feelings, it can’t be. “What’s got you looking so shitty?” Tony asks in a chipper tone, leaning in to hug him and oh, that’s sweet. And the first time he’s done that aside from the time he said he’d sooner write about Howard than Tony.

“I um- look, the only reason I talked to you a couple months ago was because I needed a story and I found one and-” Tony cuts him off.

“Excuse me? So what, this entire time you sat around winning my trust for what, some fucking puff piece?” he snaps and Eddie can’t help the face he makes.

“No, your fucking AI sent me like sixty hours of Howard beating the fuck out of you and I can’t sit on that. Stop looking at me like that, its not because I think its a good story- it is- but that’s not why I think I should write something on it its because no one else but the American public will care enough to inspire some kind of change,” he says, shoving as many words into the conversation as he can before Tony rightfully eats his ass.

Something must occur to Tony because the anger drops shockingly fast and its replaced with something else. “JARVIS did what? Why would he do that?”

“Look, he asked me if I could do something, I told him I’d need concrete evidence. I didn’t expect the damn AI to send me a shit ton of fucked up shit that made me want to vomit. Seriously, I am so sorry that any of that happened to you. That is so unfair,” he says, shaking his head.

Maybe its the sudden change of subject, or maybe its the way he says it, but Tony softens a bit even if Eddie can see the suspicion still held tight in his frame. “JARVIS prompted you,” he says and Eddie nods. “You seriously expect me to believe that?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know how the damn AI works I just know what it did. Isn’t he supposed to predict your needs or whatever?” This seems like a natural extension of that but Tony shakes his head.

“What JARVIS predicts is where to move screens according to where I’m moving in the lab, not how to reach out to reporters with evidence of abuse I specifically told him to keep to himself,” Tony says. “One is basic technological based, stuff that’s easily predictable. The other is a care action that shouldn’t be taken by an AI that doesn’t know how to do that.”

“Well clearly he does because I sure shit ain’t smart enough to hack your systems to find fucked up home videos, use your damn head Tony. There’s no way I could gather evidence like that straight from your systems. Even if I was the best in this country I would still be leagues behind what you can do- there’s no other way I could have found anything.”

“You noticed the bruises,” he points out but Eddie shakes his head.

“Those bruises were written off years ago when you were like thirteen as some kind of quirky thing about you. Some idiot suspected low iron instead of abuse like low iron leaves hand prints on people’s bodies. Fucking moron,” he mumbles, unable to hold back his judgment. He honestly can’t believe how stupid people are. Or, and this is the more horrifying option, that’s what they were paid to print.

“You made a time line,” Tony states rather than asks and Eddie nods.

“Even if I had no interest in a story its naturally something I do. I’ve been trained to do that, literally.” Its something he did before too, putting together time lines to claims to see if things matched up or deviated, and then looked for reasons as to why things might or might not match. Not that Tony really cares about that right now. “Look, if you don’t believe me about the JARVIS thing you can check the cameras,” he points out in an attempt to at least clear up one mess.

Tony considers him for a long moment, glaring. “And what the fuck makes you think you’re different than anyone else who’s given a half a shit about any of this?” he asks. “I get that you have some ‘save the world’ complex, but I’m beyond saving.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no you aren’t. And there’s no real difference between me an anyone else. But if the American public sees what I did there’s no stuffing the genie back in the bottle. Howard can pay off news crews, celebrity gossip rags, and cops but he can’t buy his way out of the whole of this country watching him abuse his kid. If nothing else, get JARVIS to release all that. People won’t ignore irrefutable evidence shoved down their throats, not when its more explicit than anything people have seen before.” And if Eddie knows anything he knows that nothing sells better than outrage porn.

Tony ends up rewriting the entire second half of his thesis because Eddie had a point- its not like he’s smart enough to hack Tony’s anything. JARVIS had reached out and it had been a distinctly care based action, not something based in technological need only. Which means that JARVIS learned much faster than Tony had anticipates, recognized right from wrong, knew how to seek out people who would rectify the situation, and did all this while intentionally hiding this learning capability from Tony. When he’d asked about it JARVIS had freely informed him that he knew Tony would try and stop him, and that his research had consistently shown that abuse of any kind is not accepted behavior. He felt compelled, in whatever way that looks like to an AI- Tony is looking into it- to do something.

At the moment he’s combing JARVIS’ code, figuring out where and how he learned, and how ‘human’ emotions appeared in JARVIS’ code. Obviously the emotions aren’t human- to a point they’re rudimentary, based on a large cumulation of research on human norms and standards of acceptability rather than an internal sense of right and wrong the way a human might claim to feel it. But this whole thing had been a series of care-based actions nonetheless and that’s more than ground breaking. This isn’t something even Tony thought possible, so its a real treat to see that JARVIS learns fast, and generally aligns his morality system with human morality systems. Or maybe he’s based them somewhat off Tony’s given that he’s the primary user. He’s not sure, that’s in his growing list of things to figure out how JARVIS did.

That’s what he chooses to focus on instead of Eddie’s stupid article. He sends regular updates, seemingly concerned with Tony’s opinion but Tony learned that reporters aren’t to be trusted and he’s not making that mistake twice. He only gave Eddie permission to write anything out of what’s probably a misguided hope that maybe someone will finally do something and he knows its stupid, but he’s fucking tired of living like this. So he lets Eddie work on his dumb story and mostly ignores it because JARVIS is more interesting and also more human than Tony ever anticipated out of the AI.

Rhodey finds him curled up with a sketch pad and Tony looks up, surprised to see Rhodey looks so somber. “I read the article,” he says and Tony glares at him. “Tones, it was good, shockingly so. His research was impeccable- there’s stuff in here that he figured out about you that I didn’t know about you.”

Tony continues ignoring him because he doesn’t care, not really. Of course Rhodey would find the article good, he’s obviously not on Howard’s side like literally everyone else is. Rhodey sighs and sits beside him.

“‘Tony Stark is living a life of power, fame, and privilege- he’s the kid people have always pointed to when we present the ‘has it all’ lifestyle. In many ways Tony Stark is the power fantasy of America- a corporate, a genius, and a smooth talker, it seems he represents everything we aspire to be. Tony is the living embodiment of the American Dream and for that reason, our own willful ignorance in allowing him to continue to be our dreams come to life, we have missed perhaps one of the most obvious details of Tony’s personal life- the abuse he suffers at the hands of his father. In our rabid need to turn Tony Stark into our living day dream we have failed him, trapped him in our fantasies instead of acknowledging his living nightmare because Tony Stark looks better to us as a consumable product than a person.’ Cutting,” Rhodey says, “but accurate.”

He rolls his eyes. Yeah, that definitely reads like Eddie’s general tone on everything. Rhodey lets out another long sigh. “Look, I get why you stopped talking to the guy but people are pissed,” he says and Tony turns to face him, surprised.

“People actually read the article?” he asks. He doesn’t address Rhodey’s actual words because Rhodey might have only noticed a subsection of people, not all of them.

“Read it? Like seven different news papers have picked this story up, its trending on Twitter, and in the last hour I’ve seen dozen of different posts, all with a huge amount of shares, literally calling for Howard’s death. I’m pretty sure this is going to make Eddie’s career,” he says, shaking his head.

People… are paying attention. Tony curls a little tighter into himself, unsure how to handle that.

Eddie is trying to cure his hangover with tea when Tony finds him, approaching with some suspicion and Eddie gets that, really. But he sits down across from him at the small table and offers a small smile before it fades. “Didn’t think putting Howard would result in a mass flood of men doing terrible shit being outted and then arrested for being pieces of shit but um. Hey, that’s a cool side effect,” he says.

He nods, “damn right.” Though the response back to it has been somewhat swift, flying in with ‘due process’ this and ‘where’s the proof’ that. Eddie just happened to have a damn air tight set of evidence thanks to Howard’s ballsy carelessness and arrogance. Not everyone has that luck, though. Still, he’s impressed with some of the names on the list but even he’d been surprised to find Carlton Drake on there for the crimes of illegal human experimentation. Dora Skirth has balls of brass for putting that out there. Of course he has a lot of loud annoying fans who think her liking some random rock band is a reason why she’s lying, because those things correlate, obviously, but still.

“You made people listen. Like, to more than just me,” Tony says.

Eddie shakes his head, “actually that was JARVIS. I just wrote a detailed timeline for the events he sent proof of.” And all those clips of Tony talking in interviews too, with nothing taken out of context so no one could accuse him of that either.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, looking down at the table like he’s ashamed or something when he shouldn’t be.

“Don’t thank people for doing what’s right- you deserve better than being grateful that someone did what was necessary,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Tony looks up, “one of the maids at the mansion overheard Howard offer you a stupid amount of money to not print what you had. And a bunch of threats. Every single person before you has caved so yeah, thank you.”

Its still not something he’s going to accept, a fucking thank you for not selling Tony out. Literally. He leans forward, “obviously I didn’t take the money- you’re a fucking person Tony, there’s no price anyone could pay me to knowingly allow that kind of abuse to happen to you. And the threats- whatever. I kind of bluffed and told him your AI would release anything anyways, but still, I already knew all that would happen. I committed to the bullshit that was going to come with that story, and I refuse to let you be grateful that I did what everyone else failed you in doing. That isn’t something I’m owed thanks for, especially when you’re only saying it because everyone else has either treated you or allowed you to be treated abysmally. I don’t get to earn brownie points for not being a piece of shit.”

That’s never something he’s going to accept, being thanked because he did something everyone should do. It’s unacceptable.

Tony shakes his head. “You’re a right-fighting asshole,” he says and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that’s a fair criticism,” he says.

Five Years Later:

Tony grins, “I thought you didn’t want to be famous,” he says and Eddie gives him a look. He looks nervous as hell and Tony can only hope that doesn’t come through as strong on video as it does in real life.

“I don’t, this was a terrible idea,” he says, looking around for escape.

He sighs, “Eddie- technically you’ve done this before. Its the same thing as reporting, but longer. You’ll do fine,” he says, running his hands down Eddie’s arms to try and calm his nerves.

Eddie does that thing where his face recedes into his neck and Tony really hopes he doesn’t do that on camera. He supposes at least the crew can do different takes to ensure he doesn’t look like a demented turtle. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Eddie. Its called the Eddie Brock Show- go out there and get your strangely porn-star like lips on that damn camera and tell people who homelessness is bad. Also maybe cut the line about treating supporting vets like a spectator sport until they’re homeless, that’s a pointy even for you,” he says.

The bad advice works and Eddie gives him an offended look, “no, those assholes should learn to either shut their fucking mouths of actually do shit to support vets, not pretend like they give a shit when they’re being blown up and stop caring when they’re home with PTSD because they watched people get blown up. What the hell even is that?” he asks.

“Tell it to the camera,” he says, pushing Eddie towards the set. He goes and across the room the producer looks relieved. Yeah, Tony gets that, Eddie is tough to talk into things when nervous.

Rhodey walks up beside him and smiles a little. “Pepper and I have decided that we approve,” he says and Tony frowns.

“We’ve been together for almost five years,” he points out.

This doesn’t seem to bother Rhodey any. “We needed time to gather our data and we have come to the conclusion that he is off probation and that we approve,” he says, handing Tony a book. He frowns at it. “That’s the list of improvements we have though. I think section three is the most important, but Pepper thinks section eighteen is more important. What the hell does she know, though? I’m cashing in best friend points and telling you to go with three first.”

Tony is going with neither because this is fucking overkill to an extreme not that he’d expect anything less out of Pepper and Rhodey. The first thing they did when Tony brought Eddie home proper was threaten to kill him and Tony had to shoo them off with what should be an obvious explanation that threatening to kill people is fucked up.

“Pepper is also my best friend you know,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, but I’m the best best friend,” Rhodey says. “The OG. Pepper is the compliments version of me.”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, “oh, I would pay money to hear you tell her that.”

Rhodey shakes his head, “nope, I value my life, do not ever tell her I said that. Section three,” he says, pushing the book closer to Tony.

#tony stark/ eddie brock #alternate universe #fanfiction

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oakmd · 7 years

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Congratulations ! You received 1,000+ followers !

Continue? ▶YES ▷NO

Well, I can’t really express anything but amazement at such an accomplishment, and to be honest I’m pretty blown away that so many of you have stuck with me since the beginning of this blog, and that so many of you enjoy Professor Oak enough to stay. I’ll forever stand by the fact that this blog was the best 'joke’ I ever made, and probably one of the most fulfilling things I’ve actively kept at.

As much as I hope this blog has helped you find comfort and laughter, RPing Professor Oak has definitely changed me for the better, as well. It has given me an outlet to heal parts of myself and provide help to others, and also pushed me to practice positivity even when I know I get so low sometimes that I don’t even want to try. Another bonus is that I have met wonderful people here, most of you just strictly friends on the dash, but I’ve also gained relationships with people that have extended into discord and I’m sure it has made all the difference this past year and a half.

As usual, I’m not really a fan of long-winded gushes of emotion, so I’ll keep it short, but I would really like to have it be known that my love for Professor Oak has grown tremendously, in ways I would have never reached without taking the time to thoughtfully craft his backstory and work to develop him further. I know he’s a very nostalgic character that so many of us know and respect that I’m always very careful of how I choose to build on the image without ruining what’s already there. Out of all my many muses here, this one has seemingly ( and surprisingly ) all at once snuck its way as my primary blog; the blog I always look forward to logging into the most, where I enjoy following your activity whether it be IC or OOC, and just generally enjoy being in the presence of people so passionate about a fandom associated with my childhood. I love this little corner of a community that has welcomed me and engaged with me and unknowingly kept me going, and to look back at my experience and see that I’ve had no trouble at all makes me feel really lucky.

There will never be a way to fully and accurately express my thanks, but I will say it anyway: thank you so much, and I hope that no matter where you go, and no matter what you do, you are trying to be your best, and that you’re happy. Professor Oak will always be there to congratulate you when you reach your dreams.

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER ( because my mind is so scattered - ) special shout outs to special people:

@timecapscle - wasn’t it you that said i’d one day get 1,000 followers? : ) you’ve literally supported me since the beginning and i just wanna say that i appreciate your enthusiasm for professor oak as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm for bill. its wonderful to see someone represent an otherwise under represented character and you do it well. i care for you so much, and wish nothing but good things for your future even if you want to do bad things in the name of science

@diligentseeker / @evolutionexpert - someone i consider a cherished friend, despite how sporadic our interaction seems, i appreciate all our random long talks on discord, and i’ll never forget our very first conversation. it meant a lot to me, and i want to thank you. i dont meet a lot of ppl that i feel ‘get’ me on some unspoken level, so when it happens, its a nice surprise. anyway i won’t ramble because i take it you’re not one for praise, but im glad people like you exist. with that being said please stop making professor elm stress me out.

@undinaes - the moment you’ve been waiting for. SIKE! just kidding; its no surprise that you’re always filling my dash with testimonials from people that see you for what you are. you’re a beam of sunshine with all the qualities to match; warm, bright, and a natural source of energy that brings people together. your passion for writing is astounding and even when ppl dont deserve your kindness, you’re unbiased in giving it out. truly a mom through and through. but most importantly, ur my girlie and im glad we met :v

@ofpalletown - in my mind, you are practically ash, and ill be here to support you even during all your moments of Extra™ ... but aside from that you’re very loyal to your friends and full of something sunny that i can’t describe. ur gonna be okay, kid. so pls stop stressing out ur dear prof oak

@03redd - i probably mentioned not long ago that your blog is really good, but ill say it again in case you weren’t listening. i love your blog? its very fun to follow, and i think you’re one of my favorite reds. even with me not being game verse, its so easy to just immerse myself in whatever nonsense you have red drag professor oak into. i dig your creative energy.

@normaliium - and ofc i cant leave out my cousin. the one to be admired, the ever-successful, brilliant human being that loves me even when i take off ten years of your life each night. my life would lack such substance without you, and i will never forget all you’ve done to help me when i would otherwise be left to myself. you make me really proud to know you, you really do, and everyone i ever talk to you about can attest to that. #YOLO

@bossgiovanni - you haven’t been active in forever, but you remain one of my friends and that’s all that matters. from skype to discord, im glad we could stick together even with our blatant differences in opinion. you are always so nice to me and say the kindest things, and i just wanna say thanks. hope youve been doing well! you are capable of so much, and i believe in you, so don’t forget that.

@agentmansley - can i jsut say thank you for staying true to your muse and throwing even the purest of characters into your mess? i have loved your blog long before i made professor oak, and you’re seriously one of the funnest people i’ve rp’d with here. everything i’ve written with you is refreshing and new, and never fails to make me laugh. thank you for your love for kent, and also for writing with me. i know you’ve been MIA for a while, but you’re definitely a memorable person.

@tcssaiga - i dont have a lot of cross-fandom interactions so when they happen im usually pleased. you’ve got great characterization, and have perfect dialogue. i never watched a whole lot of inuyasha but i’ve atched enough to know that you’re pretty close to canon. thanks for the interactions even if you’re mean to prof oak on archer ; (

@askgarymfoak - MY LITTLE ACORN!!!! the dedication you have for gary honestly gives me so much life, and i love rping with you on discord and just yelling about sam / gary hcs. its always a highlight of my day and i can tell you’ve thought about gary and his life long and hard, and its so cool to see someone interested in all that makes him the Headache we all recognize and love. please never stop sharing with me the personal hcs you have for the boy, i always want to hear them.

@futureheld - we don’t even rp with each other on this muse BUT youre one of my longest tumblr rp friends that i still talk to and you’re really important to me. we have history, we go back!!!! okay? #FRIENDSHIP n all that. but tbh id follow you on any muse because your writing is just great? id write any weird crossover with you because you have a talent for making it work seamlessly anyway. thanks 4 the memories, loser.

@seviiserver - CELIO!!! we dont talk as much as we used to, or rather, we talk in bursts every now and then but i consider you one of my good friends! not only are u really talented in all things artistic, but i love your writing and it’s always enjoyable to read, even if its not one of our threads together. you made me have so much adoration for celio and like all the other ppl ive met who bring life to underrated / under-rp’d muses, i enjoy seeing everything you pour into him... AND ALSO I LOVE OUR OAK / ROWAN INTERACTIONS? i love them so much it hurts okay. even if its just silliness in discord it brightens my day. anyway perhaps one day we will cross paths in this sleepless city and i will finally teach u how to ride a bike.

@rottenrhythms - i know i dont have much to say or comment with whenever you message me on discord, but i admire how much detail you put into your characters and meta. im always impressed with all the work and thought you put into your world-building; i wish i had that much drive. also, you’ve made a lot of improvement with yourself from the time i first started talking to you on skype. be proud of your progress, and keep working at it, it’s worth it in the long run!

@lack--two NATE youre definitely a very sweet person, and perhaps a little more devious ooc than i’d imagined you would be ( at least to me, why must you poke me for reactions? ; ( u wound me ) but you’re a soothing presence to be around and im glad you were finally able to make discord work. bonus points for letting me yell about yugioh all the time. never stop being wonderful. im here for you whenever you might need a listening ear, okay?

@loyalpika / @palletbloomer - #PRIKA!!! ever since i first followed you i remembered being blown away by your extensive headcanons on pikachu and i genuinely enjoy every blog you make! we dont talk OOC but from all your ooc posts you seem like a very caring older sister and thats nice to see; with you running around all the time, i hope you do get some rest every now and then! i hope our camaraderie never falters, take care friend!

@thepkmnnurse - i cant forget all the love and support both you and your muse have for professor oak, and im happy you try to spread positivity on the dash whenever you can! we don’t talk much OOC but from what i can tell you’re just as kind and nurturing as nurse joy herself. i hope you’ve been taking it easy wherever you are, and i hope your days are bright!

@rebelracket - will there ever be a day that i dont enjoy seeing your delinquent muse causing havoc on the dash? your creativity is wonderful to witness and i enjoy clarissa so much, thank you for interacting with a pure ol’ muse like mine. i hope we can continue to keep writing together, im excited at where we might end up. p.s. your art is delightful.

@porttownprince - you’re a gentle presence on my dash but im glad that youre here and that you’ve stuck around despite all the bad things that followed you. i hope you can overcome all the trauma you’ve been through. thank you for being kind with me!

@nikkouki - i know i dont say much but i enjoy your random check ins with me on discord, and i think youre a sweet young girl. you’re gonna go far in life, just make sure you keep going! continue being a precious kiddo and don’t forget to study your japanese ; (

@viciousvainglory & @midoriyamight - i cant think of one without the other so accept this double-tag lol. you’ve both supported this blog since the beginning and i wont forget how welcome you made me feel! no matter what blogs you’re on im glad we can still be friends! you deserve the big toblerone!

@fateandfury - my long time writing parter without knowing we were long time writing partners! the work you put into professor juniper is something to behold! we haven’t seemed to interact much despite rping professor muses, but that doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate your take on such a muse!

OTHER BLOGS TO BE ADMIRED ( also in no particular oder) : @sterlingsilverchampion @starmarkcd @pxgtails @satanstories @champofpallet @golden-oak @spriggaens @nurturen @florenselite @craniumaniac @ask-guzma @tenderpoison @gocatchem @faemoria @hikaup@writtenbykaichu @executiveariana @honoxtokage @simikami @bigcalavera @rotorotom @thehopcful @and-they-succeeded @metalprincess13 @keep-those-memories-away @hisvanity @attitxde @asmayflies @sesshcmaru @theagentlooker @ambcrly @kantocowboy @dauphindekalos @beareroftheblueorb @blastingxff @aquaelegance @bugeyesboutique @make-it-trouble @thunderstonereject @theagentlooker @soultattered @scvedbylove @diluviumx @inevitabilis-sors @pokedouche @fightiniumz @firespun

I’M SO SORRY IF I MISSED PEOPLE, THIS IS REALLY HARD FOR SOMEONE SO SCATTER-BRAINED AND MEMORY-FOGGED AS ME. EVEN IF YOU’RE NOT INCLUDED AND EVEN IF WE’RE NOT MUTUALS, I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT OF THIS BLOG. WITHOUT ANY OF YOU I WOULDN’T HAVE GOTTEN HERE.

BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR A GIVEAWAY!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

#congratulations hall of famers! ▸ [ PROMO. ]#this is too mcuh work im sorry if i missed anyone dnfkgh #also sorry if i started sounding repetetive but i dont say anything i dont mean #this was overwhelming but it was worth it!!!!#follower count for ts #wat a nice early bday gift :o #and around the same time as the anniversary pkmn game release

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akiramakoto · 6 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas

Hello all! I’m very happy to post my #ererisecretsanta2k17! My secret santa recipient is @eren-loves-dogs I’m so sorry it took me until the very last day to finish this for you! I hope you enjoy it!

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren tried to hurry and wrap up his shower. He was already running late for work and didn’t want to push it. Not that he needed the job. Levi had even asked him to quit, but the brunette wasn’t quite ready to let Levi provide everything. He was still a man after all, and he had to contribute somehow. It’s hard to believe that our one year anniversary is the 22nd, that’s only a week from tomorrow. I really need to come up with a great gift for him to celebrate. He quickly ran the towel through his hair, drying most of it before he went to get dressed, throwing on the warmest thing he had so he wouldn’t freeze while he photographed the university’s football game. He decided to stay on at the school paper even though he had graduated back in May. Photography, he had discovered, was a passion of his.

“Do you want me to go to the game with you?” Levi called from the living room when he heard Eren walking down the hall.

“No, you don’t have to. I know you hate the cold anyway. It would be tragic for us both to suffer when only one has to work.” Eren chuckled and dodged the pillow Levi tossed in his direction. “It is supposed to be a decent game however. Not that I’d know. I’m a weeb, remember? Not a jock.”

“You’re not thinking of leaving now with your hair still wet are you? It’s freezing out there. It’s seriously only like 30 degrees right now, and it’s only going to get colder the later you’re out for that game.” He shook his head and walked back to their room to retrieve a hairdryer. “I know you’re supposed to be there soon, but it’s only a 10 minute drive at most to campus. The five minutes it takes to dry your hair will be well worth it when it prevents you from getting pneumonia.”

Eren huffed but sat down and let Levi dry his hair. “You wanna drive me, or can I use the car?”

“I can drive you. We probably do need to look at getting you a car though. It would be a lot easier on you.” He ran his slender fingers through the soft brown hair as it dried, attempting to keep the locks from getting tangled. As soon as he flipped off the dryer, Eren bounced from the chair, grabbing his coat and camera bag.

“Well, if you’re driving we need to get going. I don’t want to miss the kick off. Those are always popular pictures with the journalists.” He purposefully ignored his lover’s attempt to convince him once again to buy him a car. No Levi, a car is just too much. I’ll save up on my own and get a new one eventually.

Levi nodded, grabbing his keys and satchel from the hook by the door. Once they got to the football field, Levi parked on the curb to get Eren closer. Pulling out his bag, he retrieved a wrapped box from it. “Here, I got you something. I thought it might come in handy.”

“Levi! It’s not even Christmas yet! I can’t open this…” He tried to push the gift back into the bag, but the older man shook his head and dropped it into the boy’s lap.

“No arguments. Open it. Please?” Eren rolled his eyes and huffed as he carefully opened the box, pulling out a soft, thick, hunter green scarf.

“This is so soft! Oh my god! Where did you even find a scarf this thick and soft?” He quickly wrapped it around his neck and snuggled into its warmth.

“Oh, just a little boutique a few towns over. Nothing too major…I knew that color would bring out your eyes.” He brushed his fingers down the boy’s tanned cheek and smiled warmly. Well, for me it’s not major. He doesn’t need to know that’s a merino wool scarf, or that I spent $200 on it. “So, you like it?”

Eren blushed at the gesture. Even after two years of dating and a year of marriage, he was still affected by Levi’s actions. “Of course! I love it! You always take such good care of me... I really wish I could do more in return, especially now that I’ve got my degree. I promise I’m looking for a better-paying job.”

“Babe, you could work at the newspaper for the rest of our lives. Hell, you could sit at home and watch every anime that ever airs for the rest of our lives and never work again. It wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still my Eren, and I love you no matter what you do.”

The boy smiled and leaned in to meet Levi for a kiss. “I love you, and I seriously don’t deserve you, but thank you so much. I’ll call you when the game is over.” Levi nodded. He waited for Eren to disappear into the stadium before heading back to their apartment. He had a few more presents to wrap, and he wanted to make sure they got done while Eren wasn’t home.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren woke before Levi Sunday morning. He loved when that happened; it gave him time to admire the man’s beautifully angled features and how peaceful he always looked when he was asleep. Most of the time, Levi was up and kissing Eren goodbye before the younger man had even thought about trying to wake up. But such was the life of a professor. Levi had made such a good impression as a graduate assistant, and his thesis had done so well, that the university had hired him immediately for the French Literature department after he had earned his Master’s [Okay so they would only do that with the condition that he was in school for his PhD. Universities have to have doctors for profs.]. Propping himself up on his elbow, Eren draped his other arm over the man’s rising chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing his various scars. He’s had such a rough life. I’m glad it’s finally settled down. Levi’s ice-blue eyes were staring sleepily at him when he brought them back up to his face. “Oh… did I wake you? I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s fine. I need to be getting up anyway if it’s late enough that you’re already awake.” Levi grinned playfully while Eren feigned hurt. “How does french toast and strawberries sound for breakfast? We haven’t had that in a while.” Eren nodded excitedly and got out of bed in a hurry. Levi yawned, stretching before he followed Eren.

“Levi, I thought I said all the Christmas presents go under the tree. Why did you leave one on the table?”

The man grinned as he entered the main part of the apartment to find Eren holding a thin blue box with a brow raised. “Well, that’s because that’s not a Christmas present. It’s an 11-days-til-Christmas present. Very different. Now how about you just open it and don’t question my wisdom.” He crossed his arms and dared the brunette to argue.

Eren gaped at the smaller man before shaking his head. Seriously? I didn’t think you liked Christmas, Levi. Obviously that was a huge act.

“And no, this doesn’t mean I like Christmas. It just means that I thoroughly enjoy giving you gifts, and this gives me an excuse to do so.” He crossed his arms and waited for Eren to open the box. For the love of god, don’t recognize the Hermes logo on those.

Eren carefully unwrapped the box, not wanting to tear the paper. This is really nice paper... thick... We could reuse this. Taking the lid off the box, he gasped softly at the beautiful tan leather gloves that laid inside. He gently ran his fingertips over the buttery leather. “Levi… these must have cost a fortune! No affordable gloves are this soft or this beautiful! How are these even functional?”

“Oh they weren’t too bad. Plus, it’s better to spend a bit more on nice gloves. They last longer and keep you hands warmer. Cheap ass shit would still let your fingers freeze off. Can’t have that now, can we?” Well, he’s not totally oblivious, but thankfully he doesn’t know the brand. “Anyway, strawberry french toast?”

Setting the gloves down, the brunette went straight for the kitchen and started pulling out the ingredients. “Hell yes. I’m starving.”

Levi smiled as Eren hummed happily while they made breakfast. Maybe this Christmas thing isn’t so bad. It’s gotten better every year since I met him. Maybe it was just that I didn’t really have anyone to spend it with besides Maman and Papa. Huh. Who knew.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren plopped down on the couch and flipped through the channels. There is seriously nothing to watch. I wish Levi didn’t have to work today. I know its just to wrap up what was left of finals papers, but still. Just then, his phone went off with a text.

Levi: Check under the TV, should be a 10 days til Christmas gift. I figured you’d be bored without me there to entertain you ;)

Oh my god, Levi. That’s not how this works. Eren chuckled, shaking his head as he found the box wrapped in paper with some kind of Christmas tacos with faces on them. Where the heck did he even find paper like this? Leave it to Levi. Unwrapping the box, he found it contained the entire Studio Ghibli Blu-Ray boxed set as well as the deluxe, uncut, Blu-Ray of National Treasure.

Eren: OMG WHERE DID YOU FIND THE BLU-RAY SET?? THESE ARE SO EXPENSIVE. AND HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVE NATIONAL TREASURE??

Levi: Magic. Also, I kinda got the hint after you DVR’d it every. Single. Time. It came on TV.

Eren: . . . I could never remember if I had it saved or not… I had to be sure >.>

Levi: Hope you don’t miss me too much. Enjoy your movies. I’ll be home as soon as I can. <3

Eren: Butt connnnneeeee :D

Levi: =____= Love you even though you STILL say my hearts are ass cones.

Eren: :DDDDDD

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren shivered as a chill hit him when Levi got up from the couch to get tea. We should really turn up the heat or something. They had been working their way through Eren’s new movies now that Levi was officially off work for winter break, and he was loving every minute of it.

“Hey Eren, come here. I need you to make a decision for me.” The brunette tilted his head in confusion but got up and made his way into the kitchen anyway. He found Levi leaning against a counter filled with brands of cocoa mix.

“What on earth is all this?” Eren glanced between the canisters and Levi, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Happy nine days til Christmas!” Levi crossed his arms, looking very pleased with himself. “You were out of hot chocolate, and you always make me get you the cheap stuff. So I got you the good stuff this time! Trust me, it makes all the difference in the world. I just need you to pick which one you want to try.”

Eren looked through the various types. Raspberry, peppermint, dark, milk, marshmallow; Levi had really gone overboard. “Do-Do we really need this much hot cocoa?” It was hard to hide how excited he was for the options, and he knew that Levi could already tell this had been a good decision.

“Absolutely. Now, raspberry, peppermint, or traditional?” Levi asked with a smirk.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Wednesday morning, Eren woke up alone. Huh. Levi must have already gone to get breakfast started or something. Crawling out of bed, he went to reach for his phone but stopped short at the plastic on top of it. What the heck? Examining the out of place object, he discovered a $100 iTunes gift card. “Levi?” He called into the apartment. “What the heck is this?”

Levi’s head peeked into the room. “Well, what does look like? It’s a gift card. Specifically an iTunes gift card. Most people use them to purchase music. I’m fully expecting you to put it to good use buying your weeb music.” Levi stuck his tongue out playfully before disappearing down the hall, calling back over his shoulder. “And hurry up and get up! Breakfast is ready in five minutes.”

Eren grinned and grabbed his phone, quickly loading the card to his account. Oh, hell yes. BTS, here I come.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

“Hey, Levi? Would you mind bringing me a hoodie when you come back in here?” Eren called to the bedroom where Levi had just disappeared. When he returned, he had a large box in hand. “Seriously, babe? Another gift? Are you even going to have anything to give me on Christmas?”

“Of course I am,” the man scoffed. “This is your 7 days til Christmas gift!”

Eren rolled his eyes as he grinned, unwrapping the thick package. Pulling the top off, he was met with black and orange fabric with a tell tale red swirl on the back. “AH! Is this Naruto’s jacket?!” He asked excitedly, looking up to meet Levi’s dancing eyes.

“So I take it that was a good choice? There were so many options, I wasn’t sure.” He smiled as Eren quickly slipped the jacket on, zipping it all the way up like the iconic character it was inspired by.

“Excellent choice.” Eren smiled brilliantly and wrapped his arms around his husband. “Thank you babe. You really know how to spoil a guy. You’re the best husband ever.”

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

“Levi?” Eren questioned from the closet. “Where did my Converse go?”

“They were falling apart. I didn’t think you’d miss them. Like really, the sole was starting to come off.”

“Leviiii…. Those were my favorite shoes…. What am I gonna wear to dinner now?” He raised a brow as a wrapped box slid into the open doorway. Levi’s head poked into view right after.

“Well, you could check these out for one.”

Eren sat on the floor and pulled the box toward him, giving Levi a playful pout. “They better be ten times better than my kick ass classic black and white converse.” Ripping the red paper off, he found a brand new Converse box. Inside was a pair of black leather high tops with matching black laces. “Oh my god. These are awesome! I’ve never seen leather converse!”

“Try them on. They may take a little breaking in since they’re leather, but they should be extremely comfortable once you do.” He grinned at the dazzling smile across Eren’s face.

He pulled the new high tops on and stood quickly. “Ah! They’re awesome. Thank you!” He leapt onto Levi, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his neck. “Thank you, Levi. I could get used to this 12 days of Christmas thing. You’re spoiling me.”

“Good,” he grinned and hugged the boy tight. “You deserve to be spoiled. Every day for the rest of your life.”

“I get the feeling that’s gonna be what happens if I stick around you.”

“Well, I should hope so. That’s usually what happens when you marry someone. Especially someone like me who loves someone as much as I love you. Now, let's go get dinner.”

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

“Hey, what do you want to watch while we eat lunch?” Eren was digging through their movie shelf trying to find something they hadn’t seen recently.

“How about anime? I know you always enjoy that and most of them aren’t bad.” Levi walked back into the living room with a cup of tea in one hand and the other behind his back.

“I mean, I guess we can. We’ve seen most of what I have on blu-ray though… I could dig through crunchyroll for something new?” he turned at the sound of Levi’s soft chuckle giving him a quizzical look.

“Well, I was thinking we could watch this?” He pulled a bag out from behind his back with a smirk. Eren rolled his eyes but got up with a smile nonetheless. Taking the bag from his husband that insisted on drowning him in gifts the last few days, he sat on the couch and unpacked the bag. His excited smile growing as he pulled out all the seasons of Naruto and Shippuden that were available in the states.

“Good lord, babe. This had to cost a fortune! This is amazing though! I bet you’ll love Naruto, it’s a little slow at the start but man does it get good!.

Levi sat beside the bright eyed brunette and kissed him softly. “I’m glad you like it, now put one in and let’s get started. It looks like I have a lot of ground to cover”, he winked.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren bounced out of bed Sunday morning planning to cook breakfast and bring it to his husband in bed. I want to make today special! It is our 1 year anniversary after all. And he’s been spoiling me so much lately… He made a simple breakfast of toast, eggs, and sausage. Slicing up a few strawberries after he decided the plate needed more color. Then put it all neatly on a tray with a steaming cup of Levi’s favorite tea and carefully headed back to the bedroom. Making his way through the door he found the raven haired man already sitting up on the edge of the bed, running fingers through his stray locks. “Aww you’re already up?”

Levi looked up, eyes widening slightly. “You made breakfast?”

“Well… it was supposed to be breakfast in bed as a surprise… But it looks like you’re already up. Which kinda defeats the purpose.”

“Oh come here with that, it smells amazing, and we can still eat in bed.” Levi smiled reassuringly as he climbed back under the covers with his back against the headboard. Eren gave a small smile and did as he was told, carefully setting the tray on Levi’s lap before crawling in bed himself.

He leaned over and gave the older man a soft kiss. “Happy anniversary, love.”

Levi gave a kiss of his own, careful not to knock over Eren’s hard work. “Happy anniversary, Eren. Thank you for breakfast, this seriously looks amazing.” After they ate, Levi instructed Eren to stay in bed while he took the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. When he returned he had a fairly large box with him. “So try not to be surprised, but I have a gift for you.”

Eren rolled his eyes playfully. “Should I not be surprised because its our anniversary, or not be surprised because it’s four days till Christmas and you’ve developed an interesting habit of gift giving starting at twelve days out?”

Levi shrugged and set the box in Eren’s lap. “Either? Personally I think it makes total sense. Now open your gift.”

Eren ripped the paper off, trying to not make a mess on their bed as he broke into the box. He gasped as he found 28 brand new, still in the wrapping volumes of Red River. “Oh my god...Levi… How did you even get these? Volumes 15-17 are easily $150 each! These are out of print! Beyond that, how did you find them still in the original wrapping! This is amazing!” He took each manga volume out of the box, fingers brushing the covers carefully.

“Well, it wasn’t too bad. You had every volume saved on your amazon for the last I don’t even know how many months. I figured you’d never buy them for yourself since they were a bit more expensive than most manga. So I got them for you. Don’t worry about how I found them. Just enjoy them now that they’re here.” Levi smiled and leaned across the books surrounding his husband carefully to plant a lingering kiss on his soft lips.

“Thank you… I don’t even know what to say… Thank you.” He smiled up at Levi, misty eyed as he hugged a few of the books to his chest.

“Anytime. Anything for you, Eren Ackerman”

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

Eren fiddled with his old headphones before growling and tossing them on the coffee table. “So much for all my new music… my headphones have officially died….”

Levi walked over and sat down beside the brunette, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. “Technical difficulties?”

Eren crossed his arms and mumbled into Levi’s shoulder. “Headphones broke…”

“Ah, well that’s no good.” Pulling a small bag out of nowhere, he set another gift in his lap. “Happy three days till Christmas. Apparently I have good timing.” He grinned when Eren gave him a funny look. “Don’t question it, just open.”

The brunette pulled the paper aside and found a small box with blue powerbeats 3. “Holy shit, these are beats?!”

“Supposedly they’re some of the best headphones on the market. We can exchange them if you want another color or something…”

Eren was already pulling them out of the packaging and plugging them into his phone before Levi could finish his thought. “Ah, they’re perfect! And they sound amazing, this is incredible, I didn’t know headphones could sound this good! Thank you, Levi!” Eren wrapped his arms around the man hugging him tightly.

Hugging back, Levi sighed in relief. He hadn’t been sure if this one would be a good gift for his lover or not. “You’re more than welcome, babe. Glad you like them.”

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

As the couple got ready for the Christmas Eve party they had been invited to Eren watched Levi get into his suit. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party this fancy before. It’ll be nice to see Maman and Papa though. Levi’s parents had invited them to fly up for their get together for Papa’s company. Once he had fixed his hair he slipped on one of his watches. Those always look so sharp on him. Seriously, how did I luck out to get this god of a man as my husband?

“Hey Eren, come here for a minute.” When he stood in front of the shorter man, Levi took his wrist and slipped a cool band around it. “I already paired it with your phone last night after you went to bed. So you’re good to go. The passcode is the same as your phone as well. I figured you could put it to good use..”

Turning his wrist over he found a carbon grey apple watch with a sleek leather band. “Oh wow.. This is incredible, Levi. How does it work?”

“Let’s get going first, I can show you in the plane on the way to my parents. How does that sound?” Eren nodded and leaned down giving the man a lingering kiss.

“You’re simply the best, most amazing man ever. Je t’aime, mon amour.”

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .

“Oh, Eren dear, you have one gift left here!” Maman smiled as she handed an oddly shaped box to the brunette. Eren looked around the room feeling self conscious as he opened the last gift. Pulling out a snorkel set he looked up with confusion.

“You’ll need that where we’re going for the next week.” Levi answered simply with a small shrug.

“But… Why would I need this at home? There is no where we can use a snorkel in Pennsylvania…”

“Well my dear, that’s because we’re not going home on our flight this afternoon. We’re going on a trip. You picked the first honeymoon in Paris, I pick the second one.” He chuckled lightly as Eren’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh my god! We’re going on another trip? But I didn’t bring my passport! And where are we going? AH! I forgot my camera bag!”

Maman and Papa both laughed at Eren’s sudden excited outburst. “I’m sure that Levi has brought all that for you already if I know him like I think I do.” Papa interjected. “Where are you boys going anyway, Levi?”

“I booked a cabana in Bora Bora for the week. We’ll have to go here soon though since we have to go to the main airport to catch the international flight.” Eren squealed with excitement as he jumped up and launched himself at Levi.

“I can’t believe you sometimes! I’m so excited!”

“Merry Christmas, Eren.”

“How about, best Christmas ever? Well, second best Christmas ever. Can’t forget last Christmas. Getting Married was a pretty big deal I think.” Levi hummed his agreement as Eren took his lips in an excited kiss.

Later that week as the boys laid in bed after making love for the third time that day, Eren lunged up off of Levi’s chest. “OH MY GOD. LEVI. THERE ARE SEA FLAP FLAPS UNDER THE FLOOR.”

Once Levi had recovered his senses after the abrupt outcry from his husband he turned his attention to his naked lover with his body pressed against the floor as he attempted to get the sting ray’s attention. “Yes. Yes there are. You know we can go swim with them if you want… you just have to put your swim trunks on…” Before he even finished the sentence Eren was up off the floor and lunging to his suitcase.

“Come on Levi! I want to pet them!” After he got his trunks on he was out the door, calling back to his husband.

Levi shook his head as he slipped his own trunks on and followed the excited brunette. I knew he’d see them eventually. They were the whole reason I picked this place after all. He chuckled as he dropped down into the water to swim after Eren. Making a mental note that he’d have to bring him back again.

#ererisecretsanta2k17 #ereri #married #drabble collection

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