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acourtofsmut · 2 years

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part 2: when two stars collide

nova & nyx

Pairings: OC!Female Half-human/Half-Illyrian x Adult!Nyx

Rating: 18+ NSWF

Warnings: slight angst, mention of abuse, nova experiences anxiety/self-doubt, lots and lots of teasing foreplay, nipple play, size kink vibes, dom/sub vibes, mating bond vibes, giving/receiving head, first time giving/receiving head for nova, pet names (good girl, sweet girl, little one, little star), soft restriction/bondage, eating ass, ass play,

Summary: Nova wakes up in Nyx’s townhouse alone. Her anxiety making her doubt the mating bond, but mostly herself. Upon return, Nyx consoles her, then proceeds to get head and give head. (lol… I suck at summaries! but this made me giggle!)

A/N: Hello lovelies, whoops… 🤷🏻‍♀️ I lied about the teaser, but don’t fret… here’s part two of when two stars collide (a.k.a., the continuation to the nova & nyx series). Again, I refuse to let this blog prey upon my perfectionism, so this is not heavily edited, but I am satisfied with it. I ate an edible while I wrote this, soooo… sorry if this feels all over the place to you… and I should warn you this is soft, but filthy. If you haven’t noticed already, I love the booty 🍑🍑🍑 not a lot of acotar smut writers feature ass play, so I’ll gladly fill the void lol. Sorry if that’s not your thing 😬 I hope y’all enjoy 😊 Please show your love and reblog!!

Word Count: 3999

part 1: when two stars collide**

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Feeling like I was floating on clouds, I woke to an orange light seeping through my closed eyelids. That familiar sweet and salty smell lingering faintly in the air. A soft smile gracing my face thinking of Nyx. Peaking my eyes open, I realized that I was laying in a bed… Nyx’s bed. Cauldron, his bed is huge. And, so soft. I have never felt sheets this soft. Back at home, the blankets I used were old and worn, but they made do. These make me feel like I’m wrapped in a rich, forest green satin. I wanted to be wrapped in something else, but I was alone. Unfortunately, I could sense that Nyx wasn’t here.

Looking around, I took in the high ceilings and large windows showcasing a gorgeous mountain range. The ceiling seems to be painted to look like the night sky, stars speckled about in a multitude of sizes. Looking down, I notice that I’m wearing nothing but a large white cotton shirt. His shirt. Extracting myself from the plethora of blankets and pillows I cocooned myself within, my senses became assaulted by his scent, again.

I have a mate, gods. I have a mate.

It doesn’t seem real.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a small piece of parchment with a short letter written in the finest cursive handwriting I have seen. Gods, even his handwriting makes my mouth water.

Little star,

If you are reading this, then I apologize for not returning before you wake from your rest. I had some business to attend to with my father and will be home by nightfall. You are welcome anywhere in my home, it’s enchanted to provide you anything you need. All you need to do is ask, and you shall receive.

I peered out the windows. The setting sun indicating that he should be arriving soon.

Try not to think of me too much… or, you can think of the way you fell apart on my thigh earlier this day.

I’ll know if you do.

Till then,

Nyx

I huffed out a breath, shaking my head a bit as I crossed my legs. His naughty comment making the embers in my core light up. Staring at the note, I found myself at a loss of words. How should I respond? What should I say? What if I say the wrong thing?

When I was in his presence, everything felt intoxicatingly new. I drowned in his presence, almost drunk on him. My thoughts had been clouded, foggy almost. Now, contemplating the new information revealed to me today, I have a sober mind.

He’s my mate. He touched me, and I absolutely loved it. He made me feel so comfortable and seen. So safe and secure in his arms.

But, I have never been in a relationship with someone… let alone had anybody touch me like he did earlier today. Ugh. My heartbeat started to pick up, nervously. My thoughts started racing, a million thoughts and questions spilled from my mind… spiraling down down down, until I became a ball of anxiety.

To proactively curb my anxiety, I decided to explore his home. His bedroom was fit for a prince, obviously he came from money. The woodwork was carved from dark cedar embossed with intricate gold designs. A grand bookcase was shoved into a corner of his room. Books. My bookstore. Would he want me to leave that behind?

My bookstore is back in the Illyrian mountains, my whole life. All that I have known. Then again, that same bookstore is where my father kept me hidden. Kept me out of sight because of my white wings. Where he would put his hands on me when I wouldn’t listen. Where I’ve been slapped, starved, and degraded. Where I thought I would be trapped forever. I know my mother would have wanted me to take this opportunity to get out of there. She would have been so happy for me… finding my mate.

My mate… What if I am not what he expected? What if I don’t live up to his expectations?

I sigh dreamily, he has exceeded my expectations. More beautiful than I could ever dream of… ever deserve.

My stomach growls interrupting my thoughts. I follow the scent of baked goods as I wander down the hallway. At the top of a marble staircase, a painting catches my eye. In a golden frame, a white-winged star dances across a night sky. The star is a beautiful opal adorned with a pair of wings. White wings lined with purple and pink veins, spread out wide, claws pointed at the tips. The night sky is black, speckled with stars. The moonlight creating a mixture of purple hues throughout the night sky… violets and lilacs. This is our dream brought to life. This is how he sees me… absolutely stunning.

Awe-struck, I jumped when I felt a hand snake around my waist. Instantly, I recognized the sweet and salty smell, leaning back into his embrace. As much anxiety as this new mating bond brought me, I would be lying if I said his presence did not calm me. Make me feel safe, secure, and seen.

“I’m so sorry for having to leave, little star,” he presses his nose into the crook of my neck inhaling, savoring my scent. His hand lifting fluffy stuffed pastry into my line of sight for me to eat. I took a bite, the sweet berry flavor exploding in my mouth. More ravenous than I felt, the pastry disappeared impressively fast… leaving Nyx sending amusement through our bond and me licking my fingers clean. After filling my belly, I admired the painting once more.

“It’s beautiful, did you paint it?” I ask.

“Yes, my mom taught me how to paint at a young age. Discovered it runs in the family…” he trails off. Dragging his arms down my back in a comforting manner, he admits, “I felt your anxiety through the bond.”

I look away from him. All those feelings starting to flood back, almost overwhelming me. Nyx turns to face me, a hand gripping my chin tilting it upwards to look at him.

“This mating bond is new… extremely new. We barely know each other, but I know how I feel about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time I was away. Your beautiful blue eyes… white wings… lavender and vanilla…,” he purred, inhaling. “But, if you want nothing to do with me,” he cleared his throat, “then, I will accept that. If you want to go back home, just say the word. If you want to stay the night, just let me know. I will meet you wherever you are. Wherever you want. Whenever you want. All you need to do is ask, and you shall receive.”

The same words from his letter earlier.

Speaking from the heart with a shaky breath, I responded, “I thought you might have regretted telling me, or didn’t want me. I don’t know. I-I-I just started thinking about what if I don’t live up to your expectations? Or, what if I’m too inexperienced?” I came to a brief pause. Gazing into his eyes, I felt the pull towards him. I would be a fool to deny it. With a bit more confidence, I looked him in the eye and said, “But, I do want this. I do want you. This bond. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. Your violet eyes… sweet pears and sea salt,” I lean into his chest and inhale.

Like a drug, his scent making my senses heighten… my core begin to ache, “I want you to make me feel good. And, I want to make you feel good,” I mumbled against his chest.

Peering up from beneath my lashes, I take in his stunning features. His chiseled jaw. Perfect lips. Long neck that I felt the need to bite. Violet eyes pinning me in place.

“I just don’t know how… to make you feel good. I’ve only read about in books,” I admitted, kissing his chest lightly. I heard his breath catch, his chest rumbling in response. Eyes taking on a predatory glint, he brings his hands down to the hem of his shirt pulling it off in a swift movement.

My mouth goes dry, as my lips part.

He looks like a god. Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Swirling tattoos. His arms are lean muscle, veins adorning his forearms snaking their way to his hands. Stomach, hard packed muscle. His v-line peaking from beneath his leathers, leading to the patch of black hair above his buldge.

My mouth waters as I soak in all his features, accidentally letting a small whine slip out. He takes my hands and places them on his chest.

“I’m yours to touch… anything you do will make me feel good, I promise,” he encouraged me.

My fingers started tracing patterns across his tattoos. Noting his sensitive spots as the places his breath hitches. His ribs. Above his belly button. My fingers trace over his nipples eliciting a shiver, his wings spreading out behind him. His nipples.

I lean forward to take one into my mouth. He growls, hands gripping my arms pinning them to my sides, keeping me in place. I place a kiss on the other nipple as I trail kisses down his stomach.

Before I make it to his leathers, I’m swung off my feet.

He takes off growling, “bedroom.”

Once in his room, he places me on the bed. Slowly he undoes the laces of his leathers, smirking down at me. Knowing what he is doing to me. The scent of my arousal permeates his bedroom, intertwining with his.

“Look at you, little one. So fucking adorable, waiting for me,” he praises me while he finishes the laces, pushing his leathers down his hips. He hisses as his hard length springs up, finally released. Red and aching. Leaking out the tip.

He grabs my hands, wrapping them around his cock. My fingers cannot even completely close around his girth. He’s huge. I squeeze a little tighter, Nyx groans as his stomach flexes. His arousal drips down the side of his length. I lean in to catch it with my tongue, licking upwards towards the top, closing my lips in a moan and suckling lightly when I reach the tip, savoring his sweet taste. Loosing myself in the feeling of just doing what feel right in the moment. He seems to be loving it.

“Fuck.. Nova, you’re fucking perfect,” he moans deeply. I trace my tongue along the underside of the tip of his cock noting that his breath hitches in his throat. I keep flicking my tongue back and forth as I suck the tip again… this time adding both hands to massage the rest of his cock. I stop sucking with a pop, looking up at him with a smile.

“I guess reading erotica does pay off in real life,” I jest, smirking as I take him further down my throat feeling the burn of his length stretching my mouth wide. His hands fly to the back of my head, pushing lightly. My chest starts tingling with pleasure as his hands pull my hair lightly. Nyx growls, breathing heavily as I breath through my nose taking more of him down my throat. I can’t help but swallow around him. He hisses, “fuck… I’m not going to last long,” looking up at him, I see his eyes roll into the back of his head, mouth hanging open. Furrowing his eyebrows, he pleads, “swallow around me, again!”

Desperate to please, I push a little bit further down until his tip meets the back of my throat. Humming around him in happiness, I hasten the pace of my hands around the base of his cock. His stomach tightens and balls clench. I swallow around his cock, choking a little. That sensation elicits a purely male sound from Nyx… a mixture of a hiss, growl, and moan as he cums in spurts in my mouth. Swallowing his cum… sweet pears with a hint of sea salt. Delicious.

Keeping him in my mouth, I hum savoring the taste with my eyes closed. Soon, Nyx guides himself out of my mouth grinning down at my cock-drunk state, “You are right. I’m glad you read erotica… that was amazing. You are amazing, honestly…” his eyes glaze over with a predatory intent as his nostrils flare taking in the scent of my arousal, “I need to return the favor.”

Laying me back on the bed, Nyx and I finally kiss. Our tongues dancing together, sighing as we relish in the taste of him on my tongue. Lifting his shirt over my head, I am completely naked before his darkening eyes. Savoring me, his hands trace along my form making me shiver, heightening my senses. Along my arms, collar bones, neck, lips… to my sternum, ribs, hip bones… straight to my core. His fingers playing with my tuft of brown hair on my mound, “so perfect, little star.”

Shifting downwards, he settles between my legs kissing my belly button, tongue darting inside for a moment. I gasped, fists clenching at the bedsheets. Next, a kiss on each hip bone leaves my mind hazy and my legs spreading for him. Lean down, I feel him drop a kiss to my inner thigh, then his breath hovering above my core.

My chest starts to tingle as my heart races in anticipation. In desire.

“Can I lick you, little star?” he murmurs against me as I jump in response. The vibrations tickling my core as he drags his lips over me side to side.

Suddenly, his tongue flattened against my core, licking from my entrance to the swollen bud at the top. Once he reached my clit, he swirled his tongue around it once, twice… three times. I mewled, “please,” looking down at him with pleading eyes. With a wink, he kissed my clit… my breathed hitched as he kissed his way to my inner thigh.

“No, no, no!” I whined, my hips bucking up slightly… instinctively as his lips travelled further and further away from where I wanted him. Where my body screamed for that sinful mouth. That warm tongue. Those violet eyes holding me captive, my body submitting to his deliciously frustrating exploration. Reaching to grasp his silken black hair, his brows rose while he gripped my hands in one of his.

Gods, one of his hands completely dwarves both of my wrists, like handcuffs.

Pulling lightly against his restriction, I was met with a nip against my left inner thigh. My breath caught in my throat at the sensation of his teeth dragging against the soft skin. His free hand coming up to tweak my nipple. As I arched my back into his hand, he squeezed my whole breast.

The scent of his arousal blindsided me, I could only breath him in. He was mouth-watering. Sweet pears and sea salt, that scent heady. My nostrils flared as I greedily inhaled it like my life depended on it, a hum falling from my lips.

He was utterly salivating. Drunk on his scent, the edges of my mind began to turn a little hazy.

Closing my eyes, I bit my lip to keep another sound from escaping, Nyx surprised me with another kiss to my swollen bud, my body tensed lightly as my pinned wings twitched behind me. As he watched my reactions like a hawk my between my legs, a predatory groan rumbled from his chest. I felt it throughout my entire body, my core clenched in response.

“I fucking love watching your wings twitch for me, little one,” he said smiling softly, as he gathered my legs, folding them at the knees and pushing them up to my chest. I was completely bearing all of myself to him in this position. Humming in appreciation, a hand came to stroke along the back of my thigh all the to the curve of my bottom. “Hold your legs like this for me… yes, exactly like that,” he praised me as both of my arms wrapped around, settling against the back of my knees.

“So fucking pretty… you smell so fucking good,” he growled smacking kisses down my thighs and bottom. At his praise, my core went molten… soaking. My cheeks flushed as I felt my wetness drip down to my puckered hole and even further down the crack of my bottom. No doubt collecting on a pool on the satin sheets beneath me.

Not being able to see Nyx completely from the angle, my eyes rolled to the back of my head when I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along my core. His large thumbs came to part my lips even further… each hand grasped a different cheek and pulled taught, exposing everything to his ravenous eyes. Pure male arousal flooded the bond with another sensation that felt like adoration. Like, he was taking a picture of me like this and tucking it away in a corner of his mind. He tugged on our bond, my chest throbbed with a sense of wonder.

Spreading my legs slightly, I caught a glimpse of those violet, star-dusted eyes… I knew from one look that he wanted to say something. And, that whatever he said was going to be absolutely filthy.

Looking into my eyes, his churned with pure male mischief, he asked, “little star, how would you feel about me licking your sweet ass?” as a finger swipes from my entrance down to my puckered hole dipping into the evidence of my arousal. As soon as his finger met my hole, my core clenches in pleasure creaming a bit.

“Mhmm, Nova… naughty girl, you’re absolutely soaked,” he hums circling your puckered hole.

“Ah-all for y-you,” I manage to speak during small gasps, eyes going hazy as the edges of my mind go completely fuzzy. My mental shields completely falling apart under his ministrations.

“Yes, all for me. Creaming for your mate,” he growled, “sweet girl, you never answered my question…can I lick your perfect ass?”

My mind took a while to process his words, intoxicated by him and reeling at his filthy words. Totally unprepared for his bold question.

I opened my mouth to respond, but quickly shut my lips, words dying when a sense of embarrassment made my cheeks flush a deep red. Breaking eye contact, I cast my downwards becoming slightly self-conscious. He caught on immediately, stopping his movement on my puckered hole.

Shutting down his mental shields, he bared himself to me. Mind to mind. I knew he was making us equals. I could feel him. Exactly what he was feeling. He was drowning in me, feeling a primal need to claim his mate in this intimate way. His mouth watering at the chance to taste me between my cheeks. I felt my own primal instinct intertwine with his along our bond. Braiding us together. Violet and opal melding into a stunning lilac. A primal need to give yourself to him clawed its way out of my chest.

“Wa-want it, pleaaaase,” my head falling back against the pillows in a whining demand, parting my bent legs until I spread myself wide enough to try and watch him devour me.

His head leans down painstakingly slow, my breath becoming labored. Inhaling my scent along the way, he lets out a sigh. I let out a soft cry, eyes of the verge of watering with how slow Nyx is moving.

Taking mercy on me, Nyx places a lingering kiss between my core and my puckered hole, my ass clenching tighter as a rush of pleasure shot to my core. My wings shivered in delight.

“So sensitive…” he murmurs as his tongue circles my rim. I clench again, my eyes roll back in my head as more wetness seeps from my core. His tongue landing directly on the opening, pushing its way inside slowly. The unfamiliar, but delicious stretch igniting a burn along my walls. I sighed in satisfaction at the sensation of being filled, even slightly. He grinned starting to push his tongue in further in and out, stopping to kiss, suck, and rub my ass until there were tears streaming down my face in pleasure. It was so fucking good, but I need more more more.

“Need my finger?” Nyx groaned out huskily. Glancing down, I notice his dick standing erect once more, red and leaking.

Nodding my head frantically, I incoherently mumble an affirmation.

His finger pushed in stretching my hole wider than ever. A delicious burn of pleasure makes my swollen bud start throbbing with need. As I feel his finger curl upwards to find that toe-curling pressure in my ass, his other hand starts drawing circles on my swollen bud. Toes curling, the fire quickly builds on my swollen bud. Pressing harder and moving faster, he expertly plays my body like an instrument, bringing me to a crescendo once he starts moving his hand so preternaturally fast that it feels like it’s vibrating. My core beginning to pulse, empty, but still creaming down to my ass, my eyes crunch close as I only feel white-hot pleasure coursing through my body. No longer in control of my body, Nyx follows my movements as my legs flex out straight. My wings spasm, as I try to catch my breath. His hands finally coming to a stop, I take a few deep breaths. His lips ghost a trail upwards. Hips, tummy, ribs, sternum, nipples, hollow of the throat, chin, lips. My body feeling hypersensitive, I couldn’t help the small gasps as they fell out my mouth every time his lips touched my skin. Smiling against my lips, he leans back against the pillows pulling me up beside him, my head resting on his chest.

“You did so well for me, Nova,” he whispers as I feel his fingers soothingly tickle my back, lulling me to into relaxation. His heartbeat sounding like music to my ears as we beat together. As one. Once my breathing stabilizes and my mind clears up a bit, my stomach growls lowly. I burrow myself further into his chest, dead set on ignoring my pangs of hunger. On the other hand, Nyx… Nyx seems to enjoy taking care of me. His lips brush against my ear, as he whispers, “I’ll be right back, little one… I promise, going to clean you up and then I’ll cook some dinner for us. Just close your eyes, I’ll come get you when everything is ready.”

Suddenly feeling the sticky sensation between my legs, I realize that cleaning ourselves up in important. And, upon another, more aggressive, growl… I decide I do want food. Nyx quickly extracts himself from me, too weak to protest. I let my eyes droop shut, resting until he wakes me, dreaming of my night sky.

I was flying, again. As I danced through the sky, starlight seeped out from my fingers twirling up my arms and around my wings, leaving a trail of stardust in my wake. Peering over my shoulder, a winged figure trailed behind. Blending in with the stars. Those beautiful, violet eyes sparkled with chaos. Grinning widely, his teeth white bright in the moonlight. Returning his grin with a teasing glint in my eyes, I flapped my wings faster to propel myself forward. We raced, dancing from star to star heading towards the moon. Up and up. Higher and higher. Lighter and lighter. Shooting a glance back, he was nowhere in sight. Feeling that teasing tug in my ribs, I knew he was near.

“Come find me, little star… let’s play,” his chuckle tumbled through my mind, goosebumps radiating down my spine straight to my core like lightning.

With a smile, I raced towards that smell of sweet pears and sea salt that wafted along in the wind. Straight towards the warm, bright glow of the moon.

(thanks for reading this far!! <3)

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rebrandedstoryline · 1 year

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Overlapped Timelines - 2

Next part of the weird au of an au that features @zenkaiankoku’s noodle bois.

When the woman woke, she woke with a start. Then with a groan. Her body ached all over. Mostly her chest and her right arm, which had suffered the most beneath the insane grip of the daytime attendant. To make matters a bit more of a hazard, she was in a high up area with no plausible means of safely getting down on her own. Not to mention the fact that when she awoke, she awoke to find the animatronic looming over her. If not for the fact that she was in a fair amount of pain, she might have tried to drag herself away from him.

“Hello---o friend~! Did you enjoy your nap~? Golly, you were out for a while. Have you been getting enough sleep at night? Oh! Should I go find some blankets?! We can have a sleep over!” Sun spoke, blurting out a whole series of questions in an excited manner. All the while moving closer. He leaned down, practically pressing his face against the woman as his hands tightly gripped the floor beside her. Though he was seemingly unaware of his own strength, he appeared to be putting a conscious effort into not manhandling her further.

That idea did not put the woman any more at ease. Knowing that she could be unexpectedly grabbed and smothered at any moment was rightly concerning. Slowly, so as to not somehow alarm the animatronic with an abrupt movement, she began to back herself out from under him. At first, he seemed oblivious to her actions. However, he was not so easily tricked into allowing her to get away. She only need to move a short distance, before whatever hesitation he had in grabbing her was gone.

One long, rope like arm snaked down to grasp her by the leg, at which point he nonchalantly yanked her back to him. There came a very quiet pop in response, followed by a twinge of pain. That had been her hip popping out of socket for a moment. Only a moment. The bone only came partway out, resulting in it immediately being sucked back into place. She was going to be very, very sore following today’s events. If she actually managed to survive. At this rate, she may actually get violently snuggled to death.

“Now, don’t wander off, friend~! You need to keep close. Stay where I can see you~ It’s no time to play hide and seek.” Sun excitedly uttered, now moving to stand. Ayala was then dragged a short distance from where she had been napping, over to a little area that had been set up for arts and crafts. Being dragged across the floor was unpleasant in its own right. Especially after nearly having her hip dislocated. “Its time to color~!” He added, lifting the woman up by her leg, before using his other hand to grab her by an arm. He then let go of her leg, sort of allowing gravity to flip her upright. At which point he just sort of dropped her back onto the floor. Her bum hit the hard surface with an audible thud. Once she was sat down, a messy stack of crumpled coloring books were pushed in her directly. Along with a relatively mangled box of crayons. “I don’t have a lot of colors left, but that’s okay! We can use our imaginations!” He added, happily ripping open one of the remaining coloring books to look for a page which hadn’t been scribbled on yet. For a moment, the woman was left staring at him in a state of confusion. She was weighing her options. With how casually this animatronic manhandled her, she realistically needed to find some way out of his possession as soon as possible. With her so high up and pretty seriously hurt, she also needed some means of him getting her down without her body winding up in a worse state.

She shifted rather uncomfortably, already feeling her hip beginning to throb in protest of her recent robot-manhandling. The throbbing pain emanating through her body admittedly dampened her ability to think coherently. The best idea that she could come up with was bluntly telling him that she needed to go home soon and needed to be able to see Moon before she left. Given that she couldn’t think of anything else, that would have to do it.

“Sunny, sweetness. I don’t have time to color today. I need to home soon, and I still need to speak with Moon.” Ayala uttered, snapping the daytime attendant out of his happy little daze. She audibly heard the crayon he had been coloring with get crushed in his grip. Oh. Oh that probably wasn’t a good sign. His smile had wavered. He seemed to be pouting a bit.

“But why---y?! Why talk to that meanie at all! He’s bad! You can just forget about him and color with me until its time to go home!” Sun responded, pouting rather obviously as he spoke. He unintentionally crumpled his coloring book into a ball in the midst of his protest. That response only made her nervous. There was a genuine fear that she might wind up being the next thing to be crumpled into a ball, given the recent string of events. Okay. She had to try and rein him in. She had to try and get him to give her a bit of control over the situation.

“Sun. I’d love to stay and color, but I still have work to do. I have to meet with Moon, and when I get home I have to get started on things for the books.” Ayala responded, only to be rewarded by an irritated noise from the animatronic. Alright. Try again. Rein him in. “Sunny, we’re friends, right?” She inquired, giving the animatronic a sort of pleading look as she offered a soft, sort of hesitant smile. The daytime attendant offered a violent nod in response to this.

“Yes! Yes! We’re best friends!” Sun replied, sounding both excited and worried. Like he was afraid that he was about to be told that she didn’t want to be friends with him.

“Well. Friends try to help each other. They make compromises with each other. I still have to get my work done. I’ll be gone for a few days. If you do me this little favor, and let me talk to Moon, then I’ll do you a favor when I come back. Anything you want.” Ayala offered, attempting to reason with the animatronic. In response to this, the daytime attendant grumpily crossed his arms and pouted. For a moment, it looked as if he wasn’t going to cooperate at all. Then he cast her a sort of pleading look of his own.

“Anything? You promise? You promise?” Sun responded, almost sounding desperate. The woman mentally kicked himself for unwittingly signing a verbal contract she might regret having to comply with.

“Anything you want.” Ayala replied. As much as she might regret these choices, she needed him to cooperate. Given she would be working in close proximity with him for a while, she just had to hope it would be a promise that she was physically able to keep.

“... Then you have to come back play games with me. All day! Until the Pizza Plex closes.” Sun responded. The woman mentally let out a sigh of relief in response to this. The poor guy must have been pretty lonely, all locked away in the daycare all the time.

“Of course~” Ayala replied, offering a more genuine smile. “I can even bring some new crayons and some coloring books, if you want. These ones seem a bit... Old.” She added. This wasn’t some coy tactic at manipulation. The coloring books were all very clearly old and had already been scribbled in and manhandled multiple times, from the look of them. It only seemed fair to try and bring along some extra supplies to make it easier for them to play. There were only so many ways to re-color a picture book with three different broken crayons.

“Really~?!” Sun blurted out, sounding genuinely excited by that suggestion. In fact, he seemed so excited that he was very clearly about to grab her again. Call it some quick thinking. Call it fight or flight mode switched on to the max after having already been manhandled a few times already. Ayala somehow, by means of a miracle, managed to out maneuver the robotic limbs of the animatronic as they reached to ensnare her again. It was if she’d reacted to a life and death situation.

Everything had suddenly slowed down for a moment, allowing her to sort of grab Sun’s arms well enough to sort of push herself towards his body and away from his arms. Something which seemed to not only catch her off guard, but catch him off guard. He offered a short but excited cackle in response.

“Golly! That was a good trick! Are you an acrobat~?!” Sun chimed, seemingly so distracted enough by what she had just done that he didn’t immediately try to grab at her again. Which was good. She most definitely couldn’t pull off that stunt a second time. The awkward part about this was that she was once again trapped under him, having only been prevented from sliding down further by bumping into his knees.

“Er... No, not really. I uh...” Ayala awkwardly stammered, genuinely baffled by what she had just pulled off. She hadn’t performed a stunt like that since trying to evade the black mass of goo and wires that Afton had become. And when she had done that, her body was in pretty good condition. Right now, her body was absolutely livid with her for having done what she just did. She awkwardly cleared her throat, trying to think of a way to change the subject while heavily distracted by the pain. “I-I just realize how close it is to being time for me to leave! Yeah. So we really need to bring Moon out so I can introduce myself.” She responded, sort of awkwardly going with what first came to mind. This, in turn, coaxed another groan out of the animatronic. He was still being grumpy. Still wanting to resist the fact that Moon needed to come out.

“Humph. Fine. But there are rules! Rules that you have to follow! No buts! Mr. Moony Meanie Pants is very dangerous and could hurt you! So you have to stand in the light outside the daycare. Don’t leave the light. I won’t be able to help you while the lights are out.” Sun responded bitterly, giving the woman some very, very stern instructions. She sighed in response. Alright, fair enough. Her Moon had technically been dangerous, so it made sense that this one was a bit of a threat. Probably more of a threat. If this Sun was so unintentionally rough, there was no telling what this Moon was capable of.

“Alright, Sunny. I promise.” Ayala responded, making a sort of ‘cross my heart’ motion as she did so. Not that it really seemed to satisfy the animatronic all that much.

#Zen #Zen's noodles #Noodle!Sun #Overlapped timelines #fanart

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fasa-umich · 2 months

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₊✧‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✧‧My FASA Experiences as Boba🧋₊✧‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✧‧ || Zainab Ahmad, FASA's 2023-2024 Professional Development Chair

Introduction

Hi. My name is Zainab Ahmad (zay-nub eh-med), and I am a fiend for boba. That’s what everyone says, though, right? Yes, but dare I even call myself a connoisseur, I have the credentials to prove it:

I worked at CoCo in my junior and senior years of high school (yes, the one on north campus)

I worked at Sharetea my freshman year of college

I had 200 boba drinks in 2021 (I counted)

I won free boba for a year from Palgong

I have a private story (called bobruh 🧋) where I rate boba every time I get it

I absolutely demolished PASS in the boba drinking competition at Rice Bowl ‘23 (we still lost overall ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ )

POV: you’re beating PASS @ the boba drinking section of the eating comp @ Rice Bowl ‘23

Thus, you can clearly see I have a(n) mild obsession. Thank God I don’t have diabetes!

Wait, what does any of this have to with FASA? Actually, for my testimonial, I will be comparing my experiences regarding FASA to boba drinks. Let’s get into it.

Taro milk tea ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Respectfully, taro milk tea is the most basic boba drink. It’s by no means bad if taro is your favorite, but it does mean your taste is basic (and that it completely ok ദ്ദിʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ). We all start somewhere on our boba journey, and more often than not it’s with taro (myself included)! How could this possibly intertwine with my FASA origin story?? You guessed it– like so many other FASA members, I went to one FASA event in freshman year and dipped until sophomore year.

Let’s run it back to winter 2021 of my freshman year– technically the first FASA event I went to was mass meeting. But guess what! I attended on Zoom and did not really engage with anything!

So, the first FASA event I truly attended was FAM/lin reveal. I honestly don’t know what compelled me to fill out the form to join a FAM, but I do recall going to Rackham, sitting at a table watching the lin reveals (at this point I did not know what a lineage was so I did not opt to be in one), then the FAM reveals began and I was on the edge of my seat. It was down to me either being placed in H.A.M. or $WAG and truthfully I was hoping for $WAG just because the possibility of the Muslim girl being in H.A.M. would be… interesting (for context, Muslims do not eat pork). Then lo and behold I was placed in $WAG ฅʕ⭑ﻌ⭑ʔฅ I thought it was cute how my new FAM members and I all sat together in a circle & introduced ourselves, and I left that event feeling a little bit closer to FASA.

Taken after my first real FASA event! Idk why I called it a meeting tho!

Then I fell off the face of the Earth in regards to FASA events & didn’t go to anything until the fall mass meeting of my sophomore year (lol but nobody’s laughing) ₊ ⊹ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

Thai milk tea ʕづ๑•ᴥ•๑ʔづ♡

By thai milk I specifically mean Ding Tea’s thai milk tea – my favorite milk tea! But only the version prior to Winter ‘24 (because they changed the recipe this semester ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ). Anyways, as I became more active in FASA as a general member in my sophomore year, I had so much fun! I finally got sorted into a lineage in Fall ‘22 (darago!) & enjoyed debriefing with people that I probably would have never spoken to if it weren’t for FASA.

Darago @ PCN Centennial ୧ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔ୨

I never considered myself a dancer (& still don’t tbh) but I learned tinikling for the first time, sucked at it, but eventually danced to Industry Baby at PCN

+ learned to dance like an elegant lady through performing pag-apir at both PCN & Battle

Chins up for pag-apir!

+ danced like a duck by doing itik-itik for Kalayaan.

I wanted to dip my toes into being more integrated with FASA than just being a general member & a performer, so I joined the yearbook committee! I always thought graphic design was fun, & I enjoyed the creative liberties the yearbook gals & I took to make last year’s yearbook <3

I designed the fit check page (right) ᵔᴥᵔ

I enjoyed the FASA community so much that I wanted to contribute to it more as a board member. Thus, I ended up running for both S’Advocacy & PD because I thought my prior experiences/skills aligned well with both roles (fun fact: I was the only applicant who ran for two positions last year). As you can see, I became the 2023 - 2024 Professional Development Chair, & I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

PD lin!

Wintermelon milk tea ⍝ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ⍝

I feel like not many people have gotten into wintermelon milk tea, but it’s really good and underrated. I would down it so fast when I worked at Sharetea. So good. But, as we all know, too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. Woah, this seems like it’s about to go downhill. Let me explain.

Transitioning into when I became a full-fledged boardie & started being one of the people behind the scenes of the ever-loved FASA events, I learned a lot about myself as a leader & about my personal characteristics. A lot of time goes into being a boardie, & being on board made me get my planning skills down to a T– despite me thinking they were already good. I experienced a lot of ups & downs as a boardie, & I utilized my experiences as learning opportunities. I currently am on two other boards (shoutout NOiR & IMSA lol), but I have never seen on organization value community as much as FASA does, & I think that’s something to be treasured.

Board @ senior farewell fresh outta the womb for one of our first events together

As I write this in my final month as your Professional Development chair, I feel ready to pass the baton off to the next. Being a FASA boardie has definitely been a good thing, but I have reached a point where I believe our organization could benefit from someone with a fresh perspective. Time for something new. I have had the great pleasure of being PD chair, & I hope that our members only continue professionally developing!

Hands up, time’s over!

Kita kits,

Zainab Ahmad - ̗̀꒰ঌʕ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ໒꒱ ̖́-

#2023-2024 #fasaprofessionaldevelopment #fasapd

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ritzg914 · 2 years

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Easy & Exciting Ways to Meet Singles “Near Me”

Aren’t you tired of wondering ‘how to meet singles near me?’ Or by wasting your precious time, oh-so-little energy, and money on dating apps that don’t fulfill their promise?

If you are and nodding yes! Then this post will turn that frown upside down.

Meeting a new person looks super easy in our favorite rom-com movie or that blockbuster film. One day, your clumsy and sad self is living a monotonous life, and the next a god-like hero comes out of the blue, and changes your life. Well, the stars don’t align and circumstances don’t bring the two people together in real life, which sucks, by the way. Sadly, our life cannot be as epic as a Marvel movie. Fret not! A little effort and stepping out of your cute and cozy bubble can help you move the plot.

Fortunately, thanks to cutting-edge technology, dating websites hosting events, colleagues or friends, or that café on the block can help find singles ‘near me. Listed below are some suggestions that will help you find Chandler to your Monica.

Online dating may not be working out for you but is an effective way to fill the dates on your calendar and meet potential people within a certain radius. You could be looking for some casual fun, a fling, or a serious commitment, online dating sites and apps can be the perfect place for you to connect with like-minded people. There’s no prior experience required to sign up for dating sites or apps. All you need is a broken heart and a free weekend, just kidding! You can check out the popular and high-rated dating apps to get into the action and meet the best people in your vicinity.

Via Family & Friends

This should work well for those who are struggling to find the one through dating sites/apps. We all have that one friend with a massive circle, there’s no harm in tapping on the built-in dating network. Ask your friends, family members (cousins), or colleagues, there’s no shame in using your social circle to pursue a potential love interest. Many enjoy playing the matchmaker for their friend or co-worker and feel no hesitation recommending dates or bringing two people together who share similar interests, goals, and lifestyles. Ask your friend or colleague to introduce you to someone great.

Go to Clubs/Bars

I can think of hundreds of pick-up lines to break the ice at a bar or club. While this may seem cliché and creepy, about 53% of the population meet their ‘one’ at the bar or club. Yes, this is an old-fashioned way of dating, but there’s no harm in flirting with the person you like at a club. Those singles are there for a reason and feel more secure in a time-tested dating environment than finding new ways of meeting people.

Attend Singles meet Events

As mentioned earlier, hanging out at a club or bar sure seems like a fun way to meet new people but you cannot be sure that the person you connect with is single or looking forward to the same thing as you. However, at a singles event, you can rest assured that you will find someone who shares the same interests, likes, food, and lifestyle. Buckle up, fuel up on confidence, and attend the next singles event in your city to meet new people, interact and enjoy. You can attend events and singles meet up near me. The primary goal of the singles event is to build friendships and relationships, so even if you come back home alone, you will definitely have a new friend to hang out with.

There are thousands of singles in your city and millions in the world- just need to learn where to look.

Routines are comfortable and smooth, and if you are single, you don’t want to go far. However, aforesaid are easy and exciting ways to shake things up and meet that ‘One’ in the crowd.

Get started and good luck!

#Singles near me #Singles meet up near me

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phoenixrising0308 · 2 years

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The Offer: Minefields

Books: The Royal Romance 1-3 to Royal Heir and crossover characters from other choices universes.

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: Infidelity

Pairing: M!OC x F!OC * these are both original characters

Disclaimer

A/N - Throwing my hat in the ring for the choices prompts #3. challenge. The prompt appears in bold Italics.

Series premise: This is a canon divergent series set after TRR 3 Tariq has not been found. Liam’s duty to his country forces him into marriage. Jessica and Liam enter a Cordonian arrangement, but in Cordonian society, where house prestige is everything. An offer gives her a chance to restore her reputation and have what she wants the most.

Story inspiration: “I choose to love you in silence because in silence I find no rejection, and in silence, no one owns you but me.” - Rumi

Song inspiration song: Faouzia & John Legend - Minefields

Reading time: 4 Minutes

Word count: 836 *please excuse typos and grammatical errors*

“This isn’t working for me anymore.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” “This was the agreement. This has always been the agreement. Or have you forgotten?” “I’ve forgotten nothing. But everything is different now.”

Ibrahim closed his eyes, and the tears he held for what seemed like an eternity spilled. Everything indeed was different now. His wife Jadiya was everything a man could want, but she was vain and entitled, and after years of trying desperately to win her favor so that she could fall in love with him, he had enough. Jadiya failed to catch the eye of a newly crowned King during his social season, and as most failed social season suitors did; she attended Social Season Tea, an event for noblemen to find a wife from the pool of women that the King dismissed ‘or did he?’

His ailing father chose Jadiya Al-Abdullah because of her ties to the Moroccan Monarchy, which the Duke thought could help procure the favor of parliament, further securing his house’s station in business and high society. Cordonian nobles seldom marry for love; they marry for connection. Whether the connection is social or financial, love is always second. The marriage would benefit both families. Jadiya would be a Duchess; she would enjoy the Duchy’s riches, prestige, and surname that granted her access to the place she failed to reach during the social season, and the Duke would have the connections he desired.

Ibrahim and Jadiya’s marital bed was cold and unloving; his young bride seemed more interested in the pomp and circumstance of being in court than she ever was in trying to learn to love her husband. Although this was a marriage centered on social connection, Ibrahim remained hopeful that he would find love and acceptance instead of rejection in his wife. Divorce would not be an option in a world where house honor is valued over happiness, and Ibrahim thought it would be better to learn to love each other than be unhappy for the rest of their lives.

The young lord wanted so desperately to be loved and to please his wife he was devastated that no matter the effort, she never showed any genuine affection. He did all he could for her and spared no expense in getting her all that she wanted in hopes that he could warm her heart, but it seemed Jadiya took more than she gave in the marriage.

One day while entering his office in his father’s law firm, he was taken aback by a recent transfer from his father’s firm in Marrakesh to a young legal secretary named Farrah; she had big brown eyes that to Ibrahim resembled two La Vian chocolate diamonds that sparkled in the light. Farrah was intelligent and humble. She made him laugh. He found himself staying in the office to be around her all too soon, and Farrah always returned his advances with tenderness. Ibrahim found love in the arms of another, and so Farrah became his mistress.

Jadiya sucked her teeth and said, “Get rid of it.”

“Jadiya, I can’t do that.” Ibrahim openly sobbed

“What will the people say, Ibrahim? We are nobility. We must keep our station in life. I will not share my wealth with your bastard.” Jadiya stood up from the table and smoothed her dress.

“Jadiya, let me out of this marriage, return to Morrocco. I will pay you handsomely.”

“We must come to a resolution that I can accept,” Jadiya responded.

“Jadiya, I know. I have always known you had your arrangements.”

Jadiya snikered “Prove it… I am not carrying the child of my lover.”

"Can you carry a child at all?" The Duke snickered, "You have been married for five years, and yet there is no heir. But your connections matter more than your womb at this moment." The Duke leaned back in his chair, the wheels in is head-turning going unnoticed as the couple argued the fate of a child.

“Jadiya, you are beautiful. You can have any man you want. You will recover nicely from this separation. Please set me free.” Ibrahim pleaded to no avail.

The Duke slammed his cane on the floor and yelled, “There will be no divorce. This house’s prestige means more to me than your happiness, and the stigma will follow us into ruin. People will assume that we neglect our commitments. Jadiya, I am sure that I can leak to the news who your lover is, and I will end your reputation in this society, affairs are acceptable for men, but women are expected to be faithful. If it is discovered you are barren, no nobleman worth his weight in salt will touch you. Jadiya, you will fake a pregnancy and raise the child as your own when the time comes. Farrah will need to be relocated I will not risk the chance of the child's resemblance to her becoming court gossip. I will discuss her future with a family representative of hers.” The Duke tapped his cane on the ground, which meant the negotiations were over. This was the directive, and they both had much to lose in life or limb should they rebel against him. The Duke would see to it.

Ibrahim knew his father to be ruthless and cold. He wouldn't risk the life of his love or their child by defying him. Jadiya was ever the social climber, and there was truth to Duke's speculation about her fertility and her lover indeed was not one she could run to... he was a King after all. A spoiled reputation would mean she would be a laughing stock in both the courts of Cordonia and Morocco. Her station would be reduced to nothing, but if she played the part, she would have wealth and a title at least.

Fez, Morocco

… Months later

Ibrahim held his child in his arms and rocked the newborn.

“What shall we call him.” Farrah quietly smiled as she looked at them.”

The new father proudly said,“رشاد (Rashad).”

#playchoices fanfic #choices trr #choices fanfiction #king liam #rashad #rashad x mc

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abingtoncenter22 · 2 years

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A Pennsylvania Womans Root Canal Went Awry, And Her Lawsuit Did Too As A Result Of She Litigated With Out Authorized Representation

After each feeding, wipe the baby’s gums and tooth with a damp washcloth or gauze pad to remove plaque. The easiest method to do this is to sit down, place the child’s head in your lap or lay the child on a dressing desk or the ground. Whatever position you use, be sure root canal scranton pa you probably can see into the child’s mouth simply. They can affect the enamel primarily the identical way as sucking fingers and thumbs. However, use of the pacifier may be controlled and modified extra simply than the thumb or finger habit.

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This reduces stress on a weakened tooth, and protects it towards trauma and chewing forces. Dr. Zefran graduated from Forest City Regional High School in 2012. Following highschool, she continued her family legacy by attending the University of Scranton, graduating with a BS in Biochemistry and a minor in History in 2016. Having a passion for inhabitants well being, she enrolled in Thomas Jefferson University’s accelerated Masters in Public Health program, finishing course work in 2017 and graduating in 2018. After dwelling in Portland, Maine, Dr. Zefran graduated from the University of New England College of Dental Medicine in 2021 and returned home to practice.

You must have a root canal.” No patient wants to listen to these words. They give rise to many questions, and no small measure of apprehension. Ask your pediatric dentist about custom and store-bought mouth protectors. Don't share utensils, cups or food which root canal scranton pa may cause the transmission of cavity-causing bacteria to your children. The pulp of a tooth is the internal, central core of the tooth. The pulp incorporates nerves, blood vessels, connective tissue and reparative cells.

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They even have workplaces in Hawley, Honesdale, and Stroudsburg PA. The Department of Human Services is dedicated to offering recipients with entry to quality dental providers. This dental part is designed to offer recipients helpful information about getting dental providers within the Medical Assistance program, which can also be known as Medicaid. Listed beneath are answers to frequent questions on eligibility, enrollment, MA dental providers, appointments, dental care and emergency providers. An endodontist is a dentist who specializes within the prevention, analysis and therapy of diseases and circumstances of the dental pulp, tooth root, and surrounding tissues. The dental pulp is the delicate connective tissue inside a tooth that incorporates blood vessels and nerves.

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Sinner [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: The Mandalorian has been attending confession for weeks now, with the sole intensive purpose to see you.

Rating: 18+ smut

Warnings: Dark!Din, implied age difference, religion kink (don’t come for me...), sex in a place of worship, smut: loss of virginity, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, unprotected p in v, cunningless, death mention, alcohol mention, brothel mention.

Word Count: 4000+

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

He’d been coming to confess for about a year now. He’d gone off the rails when he lost the kid. You’d heard rumours about the Mandalorian — strong, fierce, brave... a warrior. You certainly wouldn’t have pinned him for a man of faith. You’d seen him a few times when you were shadowing your father in church. He was tall, broad shouldered, and only came during the dead of night, when the abbey was completely isolated.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your soft voice echoing throughout the chambers. Your crimson red heels clicked against the marble floor beneath you as you approached the masked figure. Curtseying politely and removing your hood, you couldn’t help but bat your eyelashes in the direction the Mandalorian. “It’s quite late. I was just closing for the night.” you admitted, biting down on your lower lip in hope that he’d understand.

“I thought places of worship aren’t supposed to close?” He countered quizzically, an air of amusement in his voice.

“You’re right, technically,” you hummed, picking at your nails as a wash of nerves flooded over you. “But my father is out of town and... I need to sleep.”

That’s where he recognised you from— you were the daughter of the Grand Bishop. He’d seen you before, doting around the abbey in your signature black gown and red robes. You were hard to miss, your beauty being beyond standards of measure. Yes, he knew you. He had noticed you watching him from the pillars above, when you thought nobody was looking. He noticed the way you’d deliberately brush past his body... desperate for just the slightest touch. He recognised your scent too; it was sweet like honey. And your ruby coloured lips. He’d dreamt of them plenty of times. It was really you.

“Where is he?” The Mandalorian asked after a beat of prolonged silence.

“He was requested by Senator Berenko to present evening mass on Naboo, for the Festival of Lights.” you explained, probably offering a little too much information.

“When will he be back?”

“Next week.”

“Well, I’ll be back then.”

No, you couldn’t just let him leave. You couldn’t just let him walk away from you. This was your chance. In a fluster, you extended your arm and pawed at his bicep. He froze under your touch, and you hoped that you hadn’t overstepped.

“Are— you’re here to confess. Aren’t you?” you asked him with a nervous gulp. Maker, why were you so nervous? The Mandalorian didn’t say anything, so you heeded to continue. “I’ve seen you come by before. I know you speak to my father usually but— I can do it. The confession, I mean. I’ve been shadowing my father for the past few months— training with him. I can do it. If... if you’d like me to.”

The Mandalorian took a moment to process your words. Maker; you were a sight to behold. Your eyes were starry and reflective of the galaxy he’d spent so long venturing. Your skin was soft and delicate. You were pure— untouched— holy. He was afraid the discussion of his sins might be a bit too much for you to handle.

Or maybe there was something more.

Maybe he was afraid that once he’d start opening up to you, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t be able to resist you.

“Aren’t you a little young?” The Mandalorian scoffed incredulously, bringing his leather gloved hand to his helmet, his thumb grazing the cloth between his chin and his neck. His rude manner didn’t surprise you at all, but yet, you kept a strong posture and held your head high.

“I’m old enough.” you declared, not ripping your gaze from him once. Even through the dark tinted visor of his helmet, it felt like you were looking into his eyes, staring deep into his soul.

So, he agreed. You told him to wait in the confession box by the altar. “I won’t be long, I just have to lock up and turn out the lights.”

As you walked down the aisle, you lit a match and ignited some candles. They were tall and made from beeswax, and the flicking amber flames provided barely enough light. But it had to be enough. It had to do. The wax dripped down the sculptures and chambersticks, pooling into swirls of hardening ivory.

The Mandalorian waited for you in the confession box, having already discarded the plates of his beskar armour. It was hard to wear, and heavy on his back, but he felt safe… here, with you. He had no reason to be still wearing it. No more fighting tonight, he hoped.

The image of you couldn’t escape his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Dirty thoughts — it was wrong of him. You were the Grand Bishop’s daughter for Heaven’s sake.

When you entered your side of the confession box, your full intention was to follow the ordinary strict protocol. There was no reason for distraction.

“State your name for the records,” you requested, shuffling around as you worked on getting comfortable in your chair.

“Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin. It was a beautiful name. Your mind immediately went to pairing his last name with your first name, and then you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thought.

“Din,” his name left your lips like the sweetest tasting honey. “Why are you here today? What would you like to confess?”

“I went to Corellia over the weekend,” he announced, his voice cold through the modulator. “The bad part— well, it’s all bad over there,” he corrected himself before continuing. “Got into some trouble gambling at Lady Proxima’s casino and a bunch of white worms surrounded me. So I killed them, all of them. I didn’t have to. But I did. I murdered them in cold blood.”

It was in that moment you learned how dangerous of a man The Mandalorian was. His beskar armour was just as cold as his heart.

“Wh— why did you kill them?” you asked timidly, almost afraid to know the answer.

“For the release. The adrenaline. The feeling of power. I can’t escape it. Have you ever killed?”

“N—no.”

Din scoffed incredulously. “Of course you haven’t.”

“What do you do after you kill?” you inquired, hoping to change the subject.

“Corellia has the best brothels… cheap too. I sought them out and look for a quick fuck.”

“Out of wedlock?” you pondered with a queasy frown.

Din laughed. “You’re asking if I’m married?”

He was right, it was a foolish question.

“Do you enjoy your time at the brothel? Or do you regret it soon after?” you wondered.

Another laugh— and Maker, he made you feel terrible. Were you really that bad at this?

“Yes, I enjoy myself. The girls there are pretty little things. Needy. Desperate. But— it’s not special, you know? It’s not… not exactly what I crave.”

“What do you crave?”

“To touch someone untouched. Pure. Holy…” the Mandalorian trailed off. “So, when I fuck the girls at the brothel, I tend to think of the Grand Bishop’s daughter.” He revealed, feeling his cock harden in the confines of his pants at the memory. You swallowed, a wave of heat immediately washing over you. You. He was thinking about you.

This was ridiculous. Was he messing with you? He had to have been messing with you. Sure, he’d seen you around before but neither of you had even held a conversation, prior to today. And he’d been thinking about you while he was sleeping with other women? You had to suck it up and remain professional, no matter how much it irked you. He was here to confess and you couldn’t let this become personal.

But it was so hard. Maker, why was it this hard? Was it because you’d thought about him too? Because you’d imagined his cock in place of your fingers, at night when everyone else is sleeping? You yearned to know more. You ached to know the details. Surely that was fair. He was speaking about you, after all.

You could already feel your panties begin to dampen with arousal. How could one man have such an effect on you? In your place of worship too. You wanted to punch him, kick him, take out all your anger on him. But most importantly, you wanted him. His touch. His hands on your body and his cock splitting you open. That’s what you wanted the most.

“What did— what did you think of?” You swallowed, anticipating the details. You were glad he couldn’t see how flustered and hot you were right now. It certainly wasn’t in the code for you to ask about details such as this but… surely one question would do no harm.

You could just about hear Din chuckle, from the other side of the wall, and it made your slick wet cunt clench around absolutely nothing. He was driving you feral. “I’d think about her ruby red lips and how they’d look wrapped around my cock. I’d imagine fucking her mouth, making her gag— wanting her to cry. I’d want to see the tears stream down her cheeks as I give her my all. And finally, I’d imagine her letting me cum down her throat.”

There was something about him talking about you, to you, in third person. Like you weren’t supposed to be there, listening. Like this information was not made for your ears.

Your panties were soaked at the thought. You couldn’t believe it. All this time, all these sessions of confession with your father, and it had only stirred him on more. He’d been going to confess, only to see you.

“Tell me, princess. How does that make you feel?”

Shit. He could not be serious right now. You placed your palm flat against the wall and took a deep breath. “Mando, you’re here to confess. Not me.”

You tried to shut out his words, but your body ached for him. Ached to feel him… touch him. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you — but it would be wrong. It would be so wrong.

Another chuckle. You hated when he did that. As if all of this was some kind of joke to him. Did he even know what he was doing to you? It was like torture.

“See, the Grand Bishop’s daughter… oh wow. She’s a vision. She dotes crimson red lips and she walks around as if she owns the place, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. She’s bad, like the devil in disguise, and yet, I know her. She’s young and untouched. Her father will probably marry her off to some other minister in the outer-rim, ship her away for good. And she’ll be forced to deal with very mediocre sex for the rest of her life. Which is a shame, really, because she deserves better. You deserve better.”

“You have no idea who I am.” you spat out, feeling your cheeks burn with rage. How dare he make these assumptions about you and your family. This crude, older man with a tongue that could kill. How dare he.

You wanted to be mad at him so bad. He couldn’t possibly get away with this. But he was going to. Because what exactly could you do?

“She’ll never know how it feels to be stretched open by a real cock,” Din gritted out, dismissing your comment completely. “F—fuck.”

Din was palming himself through his pants, desperate for some kind of release. His sleuth, dirty words set a fire blazing in your core. You wanted it too. You wanted it so bad. You contemplated all the things you could do, all the actions and their consequences. You and the Mandalorian, both in the confession box. You couldn’t even see one another… the prolonged silence on your end prompted Din to get up and leave when he heard your honey velvet voice speak once more.

You had to say something.

“When the lights are out and everyone is asleep, I think about you,” you confessed, hating the way the croaky admission left your lips. You’d done it now. Din’s head snapped upwards to face the wall and oh how he wished he could see you right now. You were squirming around in your chair and when you heard the zipper of his pants become undone, you knew it was your queue to continue. “I touch myself. It’s hard to keep quiet… thinking about you. I imagine you touching me… running your gloved hands all over my body,” you bring your hand to your breast and give it a little squeeze. “I figure.. maybe you don’t take the gloves off. You praise me when you feel how wet I am, and I tell you that it’s all for you. I’m all yours. To use however you like. I want you to ruin me. Spoil me for any other man. Fuck me until I cant walk. Bite me, give me marks I have to hide during tomorrow’s mass.”

Din made a fist around his cock and began to pump as he listened to the dirty words that left your holy lips. His grunts and groans echoed throughout the box and went straight to your core. Oh how you wished you could see him right now. Peeling up the hem of your robe, you slid your fingers under the waistband of your panties and began to rub tight circles into your clit.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, although it came out more so like a statement. Like he already knew the answer.

“Ye-yeah,” you whimpered, quickening your pace.

He was achingly stiff now, beads of milky white precum already dripping down his shaft.

“You want this?” He quizzed. “You want my cock right now? Think you deserve it?”

And in that moment, you made your decision.

Maybe this life that your father had given you, just wasn’t for you.

“Y-yes, oh God yes. I deserve it.”

A low and dark chuckle left Din’s lips. “You’ve been a child of God your whole life. But you want this, yes? You’ve been waiting for this?”

He was right. You had been waiting for this.

“P-please Din, please. Wreck me. Ruin me.”

“In the chapel too?” he laughed, rising to his feet. “You really are desperate. C’mon then.”

In a fluster, you practically fell out of your side of the confession box.

The Mandalorian stalked towards you with his cock in his hand, jerking himself off as he got nearer and nearer. His eyes didn’t leave you once and although you couldn’t see his face, you could only imagine the predatory glint in his eye. Maker he was huge, and thick, and you wondered how you’d ever be able to take him.

You weren’t used to this— Maker, you’d never done anything like this before. There was no way your fingers would ever be able to compare to the size of the Mandalorian.

“Are you sure you want this?” he grunted, releasing his cock and grabbing your throat, giving it an experimental squeeze. You nodded your head desperately and subconsciously licked your lower lip. “I must know. If I start, I won’t be able to stop. Do you want me to claim you?”

Just like Hades claimed Persephone? You shut the absent thought out of your mind and agreed to his proposition.

“I do.”

If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? You had dreamt of this moment. How could you ever deny him?

He pinned you against the altar and tapped at your thigh, gesturing for you to open your legs up. His eyes dropped straight to your dripping core and he had to hold back a guttural moan.

Din wasted no time and rubbed his cock along your slick wet folds. For a second you were afraid he’d knock over the many burning candles that you had lit earlier in the evening, before your little confession session had begun. But, to no surprise of your own, the Mandalorian had extremely good coordination.

“Oh f-fuck, such a pretty little thing. So warm, bet— bet you feel so fucking good.” Din mumbled utterances of praise, his grip tightening around your wrists as he propped you up.

Every now and again the bulbous tip of his cock rubbed over your clit and the sensation practically sent you into orbit. You were touch starved, having never experienced intimacy like this with anyone before. “Do you want me to fuck you now, huh? Want me to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours?”

You whimpered a small ‘yes’ and Din chuckled darkly, tapping his cock against your cunt before sliding into you with one swift movement.

You let out a squeal, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back as he seated deep inside you. Underneath his helmet, his perfect lips were parted into an ‘O’ shape as your fluttering walls clenched around him and made him feel like he was home.

“Fuck— so tight, so fucking tight. Just like I’d imagined.” He murmured, feeling like he was already seeing stars.

Din thrust upwards into you, the curve of his cock stretching you open and pulsating inside of you. His movements were rough and bruising, as his fingers dug into the soft flesh at your hips as he held onto you for support. Just like you’d requested, he was completely and utterly using you.

“How’s that?” his gasp rolled into an achingly long groan as his balls slapped against your cunt, creating the most obscene wet sounds.

It was uncomfortable at first. He wasn’t soft or gentle by any means, but you’d anticipated that. After just a few thrusts, the intrusive pain turned into bolts of pleasure that coursed through your veins. It clouded your vision like white noise— like what the red berry wine you’d drink during Sunday mass would do to your mind. Din grabbed at the thin cloth that covered your chest, and ripped it off, exposing your bare breasts to him. A sheen of glistening sweat glazed your skin like the most beautiful honey dew. The Mandalorian was tall and broad, and as he towered over you, he coated you in his dark shadow.

His large hands palmed at your breasts and you moaned at the sudden, unexpected contact. He continued thrusting, fucking you mercilessly. With every movement, he hit that sweet spot inside of you, and you knew he’d been doing this for a long time. He was definitely experienced.

He dropped his hand for your chest and lowered it to your clit, expertly moving his two fingers across your bundle of nerves. That feeling, combined with his thick cock, was enough to send you over the edge.

“Oh yes, yes, yes,” you chanted his name like it was a prayer— and he felt powerful.

The Mandalorian grinned wolfishly under his helmet as he increased his speed. You were seeing stars and it felt like your whole body was trapped under a spell. His spell.

“I ca- oh I can’t, I’m close, I’m close,” you cried as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

You hugged his body into yours, wishing the pleasure would never end. With every twitch of his cock he watched you intently. He watched the way your body reacted to him, revelling in the way your face screwed up in heated pleasure. Din adored the way your brow knitted together and your mouth parted as the most angelic noises omitted from your plush lips.

“Have you ever felt so alive than you do right now, with me inside of you?” Din queried with a grunt.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head profusely. “Please don’t stop.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like a tornado and without warning, The Mandalorian split his seed deep inside of you, his salty cum roping your perfect walls as they gripped down around his cock. Now he had marked you for life.

Din returned to confession a week later when your father had returned from the Festival of Lights. There was no reason for you to see The Mandalorian anymore.

“Forgive me, Grand Bishop, for I have sinned yet again.” Din announced, his voice clear as daylight after discarding his beskar helmet. He ran a gloved hand over his face.

“Another kill?” your father inquired, but from the other side of the wall, Din could only smirk.

“I’ve met a woman. A holy woman. And she has consumed my every thought. When I think about her I feel more inclined to sin, over and over again.”

It was true. Your ruby red lips, high heels, thin robes… Din had become completely enraptured with you.

Your father spent a moment contemplating the Mandalorian’s words, finding that he was speaking a lot differently than ever before. Not as ruthless or dangerous— but almost genuine.

“Would you give your body to this holy woman, if she requested you do so?” The Grand Bishop asked, not realising he was speaking about you, his own daughter.

“I already have,” Din confessed, subconsciously licking a stripe over his lower lip, at the memory of your taste. “And I would do it again.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley @freddie-weaselbee @freds-slut @missmulti @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @valwritesx @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @lostaurorax

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls.

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.”

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.”

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall.

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye.

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.”

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm.

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks.

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.”

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news.

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.”

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same.

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats.

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins.

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest.

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile.

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk.

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into.

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class.

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer.

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it.

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk.

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him.

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize.

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage.

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...”

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes.

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm.

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs.

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting.

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents.

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand.

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?”

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say.

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet.

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling.

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle.

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.”

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over.

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus.

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey.

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands.

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.”

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?”

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you.

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat.

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now.

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest.

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie.

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful?

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years.

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace.

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.”

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible.

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory.

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students.

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one.

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles.

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod.

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles.

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded.

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”

1K notes · View notes

cartierbin · 3 years

Note

hey! if you aren’t too busy with school and stuff could you make a d!lf hyunjin or felix and just make it super rough

yes ofc.

『 pairing — felix x reader

genre — smut + diff!sugar daddy felix fucking his sugar baby in his private jet + three’s a crowd

word count — 1.289k 』

notes — idk if this counts as super rough but i tried lmao

smut under the cut !

you didn’t even mean for all of it to happen like this. you were a broke college student, sick of working those shitty part time jobs and just wanted some quick cash. what started off as an onlyfans account quickly became an encounter with a sugar daddy who was willing to spoil you in every way possible, all while being a father of four children. and with the way your bank account was looking you’d be dumb to turn him down.

you had to say, to be a sugar daddy and a father of four felix was quite handsome for his age. he still looked young and he was also much too nice and sweet to be a sugar daddy. you figured most would be serious and stern with you. but felix was rather playful and very frequently gave you anything you wanted, just as long as you helped him live out his fantasies.

it was the middle of the night when you felt that sharp tinge of pleasure hit your groin. the one that you tried so desperately to ignore but couldn’t because it was making your legs tremble. you flickered your eyes open to feel a soft hand cupping your cheek and felix’s delicate lips tongue kissing the other. you could hear the soft pur of the engine which reminded you that you were on his private jet. the lights inside were glowing a baby blue hue, the color that blurred occasionally due to you scrunching your eyes from the wet sensible feeling beneath you. a feeling that you couldn’t quite understand since Felix’s hands were where you could see them and so was his lips and tongue. you finally gain enough courage to look down to see a curly haired, brown curvy woman on her knees in front of you, flat tonguing your swollen clit. from the looks of her uniform it seemed as though she was the flight attendant. you never saw one this erotic looking before, the buttons on her uniform were undone revealing her large chest, each breast spilling over the cups of her bra. she was hot and the way she was eating you was even hotter. by the time you gazed back up felix was already smirking, still tongue kissing your cheeks while your body shook from the wet consistency of her mouth. felix groomed your hair back, loving the way you were hopelessly glaring up at the ceiling. “just relax and let her devour your pussy baby”. his dark voice made the hairs on the back of your neck raise high.

you had no choice but to let her. she was pinning your legs wide open against the plane seat and eating you as if it would be the last pussy she ate in her life. raunchy breathless moans throttled from your throat at her efforts, you watch her tongue swirl around the whole glistening organ before finally wedging it inside your needy hole. your hips bucked against her mouth and felix felt himself grow quickly at the sight of it all. he began to palm himself. “spit on it”. he ordered, and the girl does as told squeezing out a splotch of saliva from between her lips and letting it land right on your folds. “now eat it like that”. he demands once more, and she did exactly what he said, leaving your mouth hanging wide open in the most euphoric way. everywhere her thick lips went your hips followed. felix moved his lips downward in a trail, tongue kissing a line down your chest until he was finally at your nipples. he took each in his mouth hungrily while massaging your breasts, licking and sucking all over them. you didn’t know which sensation to focus on first, felix sucking your nipples or the sexy woman sucking your pussy. either way it goes your body was overheating from the way both of their mouths made you feel. you stammered out a plethora of curse words with a feeling of relief washing over you, relief that no one else worked in this sector of the jet at this time of night. you gripped the armrest in a daze, and felix was glaring up at you enjoying the look of pure arousal strewn all over your face. this is what he wanted. this is just what he wanted to see.

once your eyes finally landed on his he smirked a little, taking his teeth and grazing them lightly over your nipple just before sucking it teasingly. you gasp at his actions, gazing at him in utter lust while watching your nipple roll back and forth over the length of his tongue. you held your breath with your mind spinning from feeling too much sensations all at once. sweat was starting to cover your body as your heart rate increased. you were throbbing so hard you practically felt it all in your eardrums. fireworks traveled through your body from head to toe, and your pussy started jerking eagerly against the woman’s tongue. the tremoring of your body warned him that you were close, he began drinking in your high pitched moans with his mouth. you were lazily kissing back, breathing heavily through your nose as your orgasm came quick and in a hurry dripping down the curvature of her chin. felix reaches a hand down to unzip his jeans, all while using the other to reach and push the woman’s tongue further into your pussy. “don’t stop”. he demands and you grip the armrest harder as he made you suffer from overstimulation. “please— please”. you pleaded, feeling another wave of cum ooze from your leaking hole. he held her head in place until she made you cum a third time, taking the breath right out of you. when she stood up to smirk at you her mouth was completely drenched as she walked off, going elsewhere.

felix then hovered over your open legs and hoisted them a bit higher around his waist. he smiles a little at how fucked out you looked with messy hair and your face completely flushed. “look at my baby. she ate your pussy good didn’t she?”. you couldn’t even bring yourself to say yes before felix encased you in another hot saliva filled kiss, pushing his cock straight through your cream. you gasp into the cavern of his mouth and he continued kissing your bottom lip until you got used to the sudden feeling. he clutched the underside of your thighs while he rocked into you, intoxicating you with his passionate kisses. a steady stream of moans from you vibrated his lips and he relished every single one of them and hastened his pace until he was brutally fucking you into the seat. your body already felt weak and limp from your last couple of orgasms, so it was no surprise that you felt completely helpless in this moment. he grabbed the top cushion of the plane seat for support while littering your neck with purpling hickies that you knew would be difficult to conceal. he licks his lips at the way your breast jiggled with every movement of his snapping waist. If there was anything you learned from him it was the fact that his oral fixation was prioritized during sexual encounters such as this one, which explained why he couldn’t help himself and began tongue kissing your oversensitive nipples. the seat became sticky with your body sweat. you arched your back off of It, hearing the mechanics of the seat rattle around due to the force of felix’s thrusts. he was fucking you hard and without mercy, especially since this time around your pussy was wetter than he ever felt it. you grasped the fabric of his shirt while your eyes drove to the back of your head, drenching his cock with your cum. he proceeded to make the chair squeak until it was his turn, to which he pulled out and spurted everything he had all over your breasts.

before you could lapse he takes your chin and mushes his mouth against yours once again, smirking and breathing heavily against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. I guess you do deserve that shopping spree huh?”

#Felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz imagines

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sepublic · 2 years

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Amphibia’s Intellectual and Logistical Downfall?

So what @emptyspace2001 brought up just made me realize, but Andrias and the Core likely contributed to Amphibia’s Dark Age, even beyond the loss of its power source.

Because if you have the smartest minds of society being stuffed into a mechanical Core who remains hidden and is generally apathetic towards the populace, until the Calamity Box returns and it can resume production of its armies? Then you’ve got no leaders, teachers, innovators, etc. Historians and scientists, doctors? Gone. We don’t know the exact standard for what the Core deems as worthy of its hive mind, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Andrias made Amphibia’s social collapse even worse.

Obviously losing your technology sucks, but the frogs and toads are largely uneducated and scattered, most newts aren’t better off and those who attend college are crippled by debt, and the very capital’s infrastructure lacking until a thirteen-year-old fixed it. Amphibia was a dying civilization, a fallen empire- And contrary to what Andrias believes, he may have done more to cause this than his own friends literally pulling the plug on imperialism. It’s no wonder the quality of life has gone down, paradoxically in Andrias’ attempts to go back to the ‘good old days’. It’s no wonder the death rate is so high, with life so perilous and amputations a necessity!

Which, society suffering as education and knowledge is hoarded to a select few at the top, who seek to bring back the colonizing past? Well, what else is new. Now it’s possible that not a lot of people were assimilated into the Core, and/or that it’s been guiding Andrias’ rule over his kingdom... But with how terrible and chaotic things are, I’m guessing that things would be better if Amphibia’s smartest minds were spread across the country.

Andrias might parallel Marcy in a lot of ways, but if his coloration is any indication, he’s no Wit- Hence why he’s been so terrible as both a ruler AND antagonist to Anne, with Darcy even mocking him over it. Not that the Core has been much better if at all, but maybe we still need to see it in action.

People who would be better rulers than Andrias have instead been stewing at the bottom of his basement for a thousand years, and are only just now getting to exercise their minds- But to waste it for dumb things like conquest, alas. Not improving infrastructure for their own nation, whose environment is being destroyed no less! Resources are being consumed at an unsustainable rate, and conquest that also needs to be successful might not be enough to compensate.

But again, colonizers being short-sighted and illogical in their desire for immediate power and gratification, their desperate clinging to the past and ‘tradition’, all while acting like they’re more objective than the uneducated populace- What else is new? Even without the protagonists, Andrias would probably gonna wear down Amphibia through attrition regardless, overextending into other worlds when his own kingdom is already overextended across just Amphibia!

Maybe THAT’s another reason his friends stopped him- Not only was the conquest morally wrong, but the hoarding of knowledge for the Core, as well as the cost of war, actually atrophied Amphibia in the long run. But it’s easy to not notice the country falling apart when you live from the cushy capital who is the only place to benefit from this way of life... Whose infrastructure you take for granted until it collapses when it’s up to you to run things.

TL;DR I have to wonder if the show will reveal that Andrias is doomed to fail, but his attempted conquests WILL take down Amphibia with him in the process, and thus is still a threat of his own regardless- As a direct result of being a fool who doesn’t know what he’s doing but has the power to do actual damage, an incredibly dangerous combination reminiscent of real life leaders. A critique and discussion of the fall of empires... Topical. The Romans would be proud. War and mindless colonization really IS unsustainable, and will only worsen the situation, not add to it- And just harm both the invaders and natives.

#amphibia #amphibia andrias #king andrias #andrias leviathan #amphibia marcy #Marcy wu #amphibia darcy #the Core #speculation #theory

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

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A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it’s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 10)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: the angst continues, but this time there are glimmers of progress

Word Count: 7,221

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

For the first time all year, Jimin didn’t show up at class the next day.

You’d been dreading seeing him, unable to sleep all night as the kiss replayed itself in your mind. You’d told Jimin you needed to think and now, one day later, you still had no idea what to say.

You’d fucked up – big time.

Cheater had never been a label you would’ve applied to yourself; but here you were, scarlet letter on your chest. Yesterday seemed fuzzy whenever you remembered it, as though it had happened to you, as opposed to being something you’d done. Each time you recalled the moment, the kiss, your heart threatened to burst in your chest. You weren’t sure if this was because of Jimin or Finn.

Finn still hadn’t texted or called you since the fight. Maybe fight wasn’t the right word to describe the knock-down, blowout match you’d had in the library. You and Finn had never fought like that before. You’d had disagreements of course but had always managed to work things out. This was the first time you’d left an argument and found yourself at a loss.

Finn wanted a more available girlfriend and you wanted to dance.

Deep down, you knew this was an unsolvable problem, but the idea just seemed so unfathomable. The idea that this would be the thing to break you up. It hadn’t been a problem back in high school. Maybe Finn hadn’t always come to your dance competitions, but he’d attended recitals and brought you flowers at nearby performances. He’d always seemed to enjoy your dancing, even if he hadn’t fully understood it.

It made your heart ache to imagine that deep down, Finn thought your decisions were foolish. When you awoke Thursday morning, you saw Finn hadn’t called and nearly dialed his number, but then you looked at the clock and swore. Ballet began in an hour.

This conversation wasn’t one to do over the phone. Talking to Finn would have to wait, so you scrambled out of bed and threw on your clothes. Noelle had comforted you the best she could the night prior, but she still didn’t know the extent of what’d happened. All you’d said was you had a fight with Finn.

Saying it out loud felt like admitting defeat. Admitting what you’d done meant you’d have to see Noelle’s expression when you explained – when you told her you’d kissed Jimin while still dating Finn. You didn’t want to see her face when she learned the truth; you were having enough difficulty confronting it yourself.

Pushing this from mind, you focused on today as you entered the classroom. You would be forced to see Jimin this morning. You’d been so worried about talking to Finn, you’d nearly forgotten about the other piece of the equation.

You had kissed Jimin, and then you’d run away.

As you entered, you scanned the room and frowned when you didn’t immediately see him. Jimin usually arrived before you and Noelle. Setting your bag down, you began to warm up and continued to glance at the clock. At one minute until the hour, you began to grow nervous. If Jimin didn’t arrive in the next thirty seconds, the door to the room would shut and that would be that.

Watching the second hand tick, your stomach twisted as the unthinkable happened. Jimin didn’t show up. Ballet on Thursdays was taught by Mr. Vlad, who was notoriously punctual and at exactly 9:00 AM, he shut the door.

You had the sudden urge to check your phone for missed texts, but there was no time. Instead, you were forced to stand at the barre as you began pliés. You knew the second you started today would be a lost cause but could do nothing about it. Your relationship with Finn was in shambles, Jimin was clearly avoiding you but still, you needed to dance.

After class, you called Finn and went again to voicemail. Standing alone in your dorm room, you swallowed and tossed your phone on the bed. Fine – if he wouldn’t answer, you’d go and see him.

Stripping out of your leotard, you tossed this in the laundry to pull on new clothes. Jeans, sweater, coat – slamming a hat on your head, you shoved both hands in mittens and threw your bag over your shoulder. You were halfway out the door when you came to a stop.

You had no idea what to say to Finn.

Shutting your eyes, you slowly exhaled. You were angry, that much was true. Furious, even – his words had been biting, you were still hurting but you also still loved him, as insane as that sounded. Opening your eyes, you glanced at your trembling hands.

You hated feeling this way – weak, irrational. You hated wanting Finn, loving him and being so hurt all at the same time. Worse still, you hated the guilt clouding your judgement and lessening some of your anger. Finn had been wrong to say what he’d said, but you’d also been wrong to kiss Jimin.

For weeks now, you’d felt something for Jimin. Maybe months if you were being totally honest with yourself. Jimin had always consumed a larger amount of your waking hours than could be considered entirely normal for a supposed enemy.

Slowly, you turned and set down your keys. Removing your hat from your head, you stared at the door. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sat at your desk and dialed Finn’s number.

It rang several times and then went to voicemail. This time, you didn’t hang up.

“Hey. It’s me.” You paused. “Finn, listen, I… we need to talk. Things have gotten so messed up lately. So… fucked up, right? I’m pissed, Finn. I’m really mad at you, but that’s not the only reason we need to talk. I – just call me back. Okay?”

You hesitated, wanting to tell him I love you, but forced yourself to hang up instead. Lowering your phone to your lap, you released a sigh. You supposed for all your avoidance of Finn, you deserved to give him a little more time to think.

Even though sitting here not doing anything was killing you.

As stupid as it sounded, you couldn’t bring yourself to break up over the phone. That would be considered the lowest of low. If you even wanted to break up, that is. It had been less than a week since you’d first had the thought in the cab – maybe you and Finn didn’t belong together. It seemed like a foreign concept still, as nonsense to you as chopping off your own hand.

But you couldn’t ignore things any longer. Something was obviously wrong between you. You needed to talk, you needed to lay all cards on the table and decide where you’d go next.

Closing your eyes, you leaned back in the chair. Without quite meaning to, your thoughts wandered to Jimin.

This seemed to happen more and more lately. You weren’t sure when he started vying for Finn’s place in your mind. The shift had been subtle, a change you’d barely noticed at first. But no – that wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t as though Jimin had taken Finn’s place, but rather forged an entirely new one.

What you felt for Jimin was different from how you felt for Finn. With Finn, things between you were comfortable, things – had – felt supportive and strong. Now, Finn was none of those things to you, but he still didn’t compare to how you felt for Jimin.

Jimin was like a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long. He was something you hadn’t even realized you missed until you went out. You wouldn’t feel like this for Jimin unless something were wrong with the room you were currently in.

Suddenly, you felt very tired.

You’d always prided yourself on your ability to persevere, on your talent for overcoming by simply pushing on. This though wasn’t something you could solve through sheer force of will. The mess you’d created was only made worse by your infernal stubbornness.

Opening your phone, you flipped to the thread between you and Jimin. The last text he’d sent you had been a TikTok before the night of the kiss. True to his word, Jimin had pretended to forget all about the club and instead, simply returned to being your friend. Rereading your texts, you felt your chest tighten.

It wasn’t as though Jimin had been entirely innocent.

He’d known you had a boyfriend, but you’d never done anything to push him away. You’d been the one to move closer in the club. You had been the one to kiss him first. Jimin didn’t deserve to be treated this way and slowly, you lowered your head to your hands.

It was too much. By all rights, several people should hate you right now and you had no idea how to fix any of it.

Looking up, you set your jaw and sent Jimin a text.

Y/N: you weren’t in ballet class today. Is everything okay? [3:14 PM]

It took Jimin a while to respond. While you waited, you stared at the ceiling, then the floor until you saw ellipses typing. Jimin paused, then stopped and started again. After several long minutes, you got a new text.

Jimin: was sick, sorry [3:22 PM]

Y/N: that sucks :/ [3:22 PM]

Jimin: Y/N. What do you want? [3:23 PM]

Swallowing hard, you sat back. You had no idea what you wanted, and therein lay the problem. Belatedly, you realized you couldn’t have this conversation before you talked to Finn. You couldn’t know what you were apologizing for until you knew where you stood with your current relationship.

You needed more time, which was what you had told Jimin yesterday – and then proceeded to ignore, texting him now.

Y/N: nothing. I’m sorry. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay [3:25 PM]

He started typing again, then stopped. This happened a few more times and you imagined Jimin rewriting whatever it was he wanted to tell you. Finally, he sent his text and you felt your heart sink.

Jimin: yeah. I’m fine. [3:27 PM]

Y/N: okay [3:28 PM]

Placing your phone to the side, you fought back the tears which now threatened to fall.

You’d never imagined yourself an emotional person, so you couldn’t imagine where all this was coming from. Some long-lost, pent-up part of yourself which throbbed and whispered how stupid you were. Stupid to have fought with Finn, stupid to have pushed Jimin away, stupid to have kissed him and hurt everyone in the process.

Climbing into your bed, you curled into a ball and let the tears fall until you had nothing left.

The next morning, you walked into ballet class with red-rimmed eyes. Noelle had returned yesterday afternoon, taken one look at your face and transitioned to mom mode. She thought your breakdown was all about Finn and you hadn’t bothered to correct her. In a way, it all was.

He still hadn’t called. When you woke, you battled again whether to go to Redfield and confront him in person. That hadn’t worked out so well the last time, but it was driving you crazy to exist in this state of not knowing.

When you entered class Friday morning, you saw an unfamiliar woman at the front and felt your heart sink. In the chaos of this past week, you’d nearly forgotten about today’s master class.

Maisie Vern was a renowned choreographer of classical ballet. She’d choreographed for some of the most well-known ballets all over the world, with her pas de deux choreography receiving comparisons to Balanchine originals.

You’d completely forgotten she was teaching today. Starting to panic, you forced yourself to stay calm. Just because your private life was falling to pieces didn’t mean this needed to manifest in your dancing. You could do this.

And then Jimin walked into the room and you realized you couldn’t.

He looked as tired as you felt, dark circles shadowed beneath his eyes. He hardly glanced your way as he entered, crossing to the other side to set down his things. Following him with your gaze, you watched Jimin begin to stretch at the barre. Dark hair fell over his forehead, hiding his face from view.

Forcing yourself not to look, you noticed Seokjin standing at the front. Seeing him beside Miss Vern made your stomach sink. Seokjin was in high demand as a teacher’s assistant; the only reason he’d be here was if he were assisting Miss Vern. And if he were assisting Miss Vern, this meant today’s combination must be a pas de deux.

Confirming your growing dread, Miss Vern clapped both her hands. She was dressed in a slouchy sweater, wispy bun and flat canvas ballet shoes. Effortlessly standing in first position, she glanced around the room.

“Hello,” she said. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Maisie Vern. We have a long class today, so make sure your water bottles are full. For the first hour we’ll warm up at the barre, then we’ll move to center and learn some choreography. I will warn you,” she said, raising her brow. “This pas de deux is from a ballet I’m choreographing for the San Francisco ballet, so it has never been performed live before. Therefore! A certain amount of professionalism and confidentiality is expected.”

Whispers swept the room, everyone eager for the opportunity to prove their worth. Even you found yourself awed by the moment – it was a privilege to dance in the same room as Maisie Vern, let alone learn choreography she’d yet to reveal to the public.

“Now.” Miss Vern gestured to Seokjin. “Some of you might know Kim Seokjin, my assistant for the day. He comes to me highly recommended and will help demonstrate some of the more complicated lifts. Today’s pas de deux is less about the choreography though, and more about the emotion.”

Hearing this, you froze at the barre.

“The ballet is a modern-day retelling of the Odyssey epic. Our hero, Odysseus, has just returned home and is reunited with his love, Penelope. He suspects her of cheating in his absence, so he disguises himself as someone else to test her. Penelope realizes who he is and is furious at her husband for his lack of faith.”

Your gaze darted to Jimin. He stared ahead at Miss Vern, but you could see his jaw tense from all the way across the room.

“This pas de deux is all about tension! Two people in love but pushed beyond their limits. Time and distrust have come between them. This,” Miss Vern announced, “will be the goal of you ballerinas and danseurs to convey.”

All around, a few people nodded, but most of the class seemed unnerved by the prospect. Thus far, your classes at Russet had mainly focused on technique. Even in weekly variations class, the emphasis had been on learning the choreography, rather than on how to tell a story.

This was the hallmark of a great dancer, though. Being able to act as you moved, telling a story which the audience could understand.

“It will be a challenge,” Miss Vern said. “However, I think you will find it to be enjoyable. With that said, let’s start at the barre. Pliés!”

Everyone scrambled to stand, including you and Noelle. Pressing play on the music, Miss Vern demonstrated the combination before you began. Barre passed quickly, possibly because you were dreading center so much. All too soon, the hour was up, and Miss Vern instructed the class to find their partners.

Warily, you crossed the room and came to a stop beside Jimin. He looked up as you approached but kept his face carefully neutral. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking and for a moment, felt a glimmer of resentment.

It had taken two people to kiss in that practice room.

Jimin had known you were taken, just as much as you’d known you were dating Finn. Even if you’d started the kiss, Jimin hadn’t stopped it – if anything, he’d kissed you back.

The moment you thought this, some of your anger drained away. Jimin had wanted to talk, but you hadn’t let him. Maybe you’d realized you felt something for him since then, but Jimin had never said anything similar to you.

For all you knew, he’d simply been caught in the moment. It wasn’t as though Jimin had ever said anything about wanting to be more than friends.

“Alright!” Miss Vern clapped her hands. “Ballerinas, you’ll start offstage. We begin at the end of the male solo. By this point in the choreography, Penelope and Odysseus have reunited. In her solo, we realize she knows who he is. In his solo, he’s angry to hear she’s entertained other suitors. They reunite for the coda!”

Glancing again at Jimin, he immediately looked down. The kernel of anger returned and this time, it grew larger. Although yes, you’d initially run away, you had at least tried to reach out to him yesterday. Jimin had been the one to skip class and shut you down.

It wasn’t fair for him to expect you to have all the answers. You had a boyfriend and you’d kissed. Clearly, you had a few things to work through.

Jaw tense, you separated from Jimin and went to stand on the sidelines. Miss Vern began teaching the danseurs the end of their solo, instructing the men to spread out on the floor. Unscrewing the cap of your water bottle, you took a large, angry sip.

As the music began, the male dancers followed suit while you watched from the side.

“Y/N?”

Turning your head, you found Sabrina before you.

She was dressed in her usual ballet clothes, but there was something about her which seemed different today. Maybe it was the hesitancy in her expression.

Looking at her in surprise, you wondered what she had to say. The fight you’d had on Halloween night seemed so far away but had barely been a week ago.

“Yeah?” you said as you set down your water.

Sabrina hesitated, seeming at war with herself. “Hey. So, I was wondering…”

Miss Vern yelled a correction at the group. Gaze darting sideways, you attempted to see who it had been directed to. After a moment, you returned to Sabrina.

“Wondering what?” you said, arching a brow.

“I was just… wondering if we could talk,” Sabrina finished lamely.

You blinked and stared at her in surprise. Out of everything, this was quite possibly the last thing you’d suspected would happen today. Before you could respond though, Miss Vern called for ballerinas to enter.

“Ballerinas!” She motioned you forward. “Your entrance will come from the top right wing. Run through the center and find your partner.”

“I – okay,” you said, realizing Sabrina waited for an answer. “Later.”

Sabrina frowned, about to respond but Miss Vern clapped her hands again, forcing you to move. Hurrying past, you hastily positioned yourself in the back of the room. With everything else that was happening, you didn’t really have time to worry about another enemy.

Speaking of whom – Jimin’s gaze hardened when you approached and in response to this, anger flared in your belly.

You’d asked him to give you time and he had agreed. It seemed this was no longer the case.

Woodenly, Jimin held out his hand. Staying carefully neutral, you took this as Miss Vern began to teach you the steps. She hadn’t been lying when she’d called the pas de deux difficult. By necessity, some of your anger disappeared as you focused on learning.

Jimin seemed equally concentrated, barely looking your way while he practiced. It took nearly forty-five minutes to learn the entire coda, with Miss Vern stopping partway for a water break. By the time you knew the choreography, both of you were sweating.

Miss Vern had also been right to call the pas de deux one about tension. At the start, Jimin’s character was testing Penelope. This involved him pulling you towards him, turning you and making you chase him – until halfway through the coda, when Penelope snapped. Choreography shifting, you began to chase him, revealing you knew who he was.

The choreography was intricate, necessitating trust between partners. Despite everything, you were relieved to find this still existed between you. When you jumped, you knew Jimin would catch you. When you fell, you knew his hands would find your waist.

Still, this didn’t mean things had returned normal. As you practiced a fouetté, turning quickly to face him, Jimin gripped your wrist harder than usual. Wincing, you pushed on towards the next jump.

The combination involved several lifts, one of which was the most psychologically taxing. It involved Jimin lifting you overhead with your front leg extended, holding only your waist. While not the most difficult move technically, it required a certain fortitude of mind to dangle, upside-down from his arms.

This certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that Jimin kept grunting.

“Will you stop doing that?” you hissed as he set you back down.

A muscle in Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Stop doing what?”

“Grunting. I keep thinking you’re about to drop me.”

Jimin gave you a look, chest heaving for breath. “Well, it’s hard.”

“Our job is to make it look easy.”

“Yeah, look easy,” he argued. “That doesn’t mean it actually is.”

“Well –”

“Let’s just try it again,” Jimin said, cutting you off.

After a moment, you nodded and returned to your position. As you began to practice with music, you felt a familiar sinking feeling in your stomach. It seemed you’d taken several steps backwards since the start of the year. Instead of continuing to grow as partners, you and Jimin had returned to the start.

As you repeated the steps, you felt his grip on you tighten, but Jimin lifted you overhead with nary a grunt. He set you back down, your leg extended in arabesque.

“Good!” said Miss Vern as she walked past. “Try to support her lower back more, though, Jimin. She shouldn’t be falling that far behind.”

As she walked away, Jimin nodded and exhaled a breath. Once she was gone, he turned sideways to face you. Again, his gaze was unfamiliar and cold.

“Alright,” Jimin said. “Again?”

“From where?”

“Middle of the partner section?”

You nodded, taking a step backwards to catch your breath. The break in the partner section began with you running towards him, Jimin catching you around the waist to sweep you into a fish lift.

As you ran through the steps, you tried to concentrate on the choreography. Not on your partner, nor on the uncertainties which roared through your mind. Jimin certainly didn’t seem to have the same qualms you did. By all accounts, Jimin was a sharp, perfunctory, and timely dance partner.

You found this to be maddening.

Just when you’d forgotten how strained things had become, he’d grip your hand a little too tightly, or turn you a little too sharply and your eyes would narrow. After another ten minutes of practice, Miss Vern called your attention by the stereo.

“Let’s try it full out,” she suggested. “I won’t hold the first time against you, but please do your best to execute every lift.”

The class grunted in agreement; wiping sweat from their brows, they retreated to their starting positions.

Glancing at Jimin, you said, “Full out?”

He nodded. “If you want.”

Turning on his heel, he walked across the room. You watched him go, your blood beginning to reach a boiling point. Jimin was acting like a petulant child. This was how he used to be in high school, back when he was your enemy and everything had been simpler, but you didn’t want that anymore.

Now that you knew who Jimin was, you couldn’t possibly go back to hating him. The very idea made your heart hurt.

Possibly you were being unfair, or naïve. Clearly, you’d hurt Jimin, but there wasn’t time to fix things between you before the end of class. You needed to be professional, you needed to pull your shit together and you needed Jimin to do the same. Turning around, you crossed the room and reached your starting spot.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for your cue.

When Miss Vern signaled the ballerinas to enter, you ran – and felt Jimin catch you by the wrist. He wasn’t gentle, pivoting you to a penché and waiting for you to rise. When you did, he crushed you to his chest and caught your knee in posse.

Teeth gritted, you kept your gaze on him while extending á la second. Hand finding your calf, Jimin raised your leg higher. His grip was rougher than usual, making you shiver as his hand slid to your ankle.

Gaze lidded, Jimin bent you in cambré. When he pulled you upwards to face him, your noses practically touched. Your frustration, previously under control, began to unwind.

“Why weren’t you in class yesterday?” you whispered.

Jimin’s eyes flashed, as though in warning. When you turned around, he caught you deftly around the waist. Pulling you to him, Jimin’s breath ghosted your neck.

“I told you,” he murmured. “I was sick.”

“Bullshit,” you said, breaking free of his hold.

Jimin followed close behind, his feet skimming the floor. As you piqued to arabesque, he caught up and pulled you against him.

“You’re avoiding me,” you accused.

“I’m not. And it’s not bullshit,” he added. Turning you around, Jimin dipped you, only to catch you before you hit the floor. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The next part required more footwork, both of you circling the other. Your breathing was heavier the next time you were close enough to speak.

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” you hissed.

A mirthless laugh left his lips. Spinning you sideways, Jimin caught you against his chest, your bodies pressed together in heated silence.

“I thought you told me not to say anything?” he said sweetly.

The next move tore you apart, your feet skimming the floor before Jimin caught up and lifted you high overhead. You saw the ground for a moment, heartbeat hammering your ribs before he set you back down. Chasséing forward, you battemented and were again caught by Jimin at the ankle.

Dragging you closer, his hand found your waist.

Stubbornly, you met his gaze. “I needed time to think.”

“Oh, did you?”

Releasing your leg, he lowered you to a penché. As you rose, you managed to say, “I did. And now, I think we should talk.”

Jimin snorted. “What’s there to talk about?”

Your next battement nearly hit him in the head. Jimin’s eyes widened, but it was all part of the choreography. Timed to a change in tempo, the choreography shifted to you as the pursuer.

On pointe, you ran forward, leaping into his arms at the last second. Fish dives were difficult, since they required complete trust of your partner, but Jimin caught you easily, cradling you close to his chest.

Lips brushing your ear, he set you back down. “Are you still with him?” he asked, chest heaving behind you. “Your boyfriend?”

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, you hesitated. “Yes.”

His gaze hardened. “Then, there’s nothing to talk about.”

There was no time to respond since the next sequence involved Jimin chasséing away into a tour jeté. You followed with chainés, head whipping around to spot him every time. As soon as you were within speaking distance, you caught him by the arm again.

“I say there is,” you insisted. “Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Me?” Jimin barked a laugh as he turned. “You’re the one driving me crazy. Like you always do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you said to him, baffled.

Jimin’s gaze cut to yours.

For the briefest of moments, you saw his façade break. All of his pain, all of his hurt and frustration shone through and you felt yourself falter. Staring at him, you couldn’t form a response.

Not that there was time. The dance hadn’t ended and class hadn’t stopped. Taking a slow step towards you, Jimin tenderly caught your attitude effacé and extended your leg. Dragging you forward, he pulled you across the floor.

As he came to a stop, Jimin swept your body to his as your fingers curled in his hair. In the choreography, the moment was one of near reconciliation between Penelope and Odysseus, a breather before their intense ending sequence. Jimin’s chest was concave with your breath, his gaze dark and lidded when he pulled back to see you.

You swallowed, disentangling yourself as you bourreéd away.

Heart pounding, you skimmed the floor with glissades, crossing the room with Jimin close behind. The final sequence was the grand reveal, with Penelope exposing Odysseus for who he is and forgiving his mistrust.

You could relate to the sequence.

Not all of it – had you been Penelope, you might have cheated while Odysseus had been away. You might have fallen for someone else; one of the suitors, perhaps. When you looked at Jimin now, you saw that clearly. There were feelings here which extended beyond a normal crush.

Still, you could relate to the dance. You could relate to Penelope’s frustration at Odysseus for being gone for so long. For leaving in the first place, for forcing her to withstand all her burdens alone. She’d been faithful to him and all he’d done was accuse her of cheating. You remembered Finn’s words to you in the library and felt your heart sink, since you’d ended up proving him right after all.

You’d also hurt Jimin though, which you hadn’t intended. Of course, he was angry – you’d repeatedly led him on, not pushing him away when you should have. And when things between you had finally snapped, you hadn’t let him speak. You’d run away.

Executing a double pirouette, you extended in attitude for a quick promenade. Shutting down your mind, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music. Swept away by the characters, the dance and its emotions. The choreography became less important as the story came alive. Jimin’s hands were as familiar to you as your own, lifting you easily and setting you back on the ground.

Your heart ached with each step, wanting to be closer, wanting to be nearer to him than you were. As the steps slowed, you found yourself softening. Jimin’s hand slid to your thigh, settling you against his chest in a move reminiscent of the first time you’d felt a spark. Locking gazes with him, you inhaled and lifted your hand to rest on his cheek.

Time seemed to slow; you both felt and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. Jimin roughly exhaled, his chest pressed to yours as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Bravo! Brava!”

Startled, both of you looked up.

Dazedly, you remembered you weren’t alone. You were in Miss Vern’s ballet class, most of whom had stopped dancing midway to watch. Placing you down on the ground, Jimin took a step backwards. Lacing both hands before him, he refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to focus on Miss Vern.

“Beautifully done!” Crossing the floor, Miss Vern stopped before you. “The passion you showed! Such emotion, such artistry. My own principals couldn’t have done any better.”

Eyes widening, your lips parted. A flutter of incredulity went through you. It was unthinkable to receive such a high compliment from a teacher at Russet, let alone a choreographer as famed as Maisie Vern.

If you’d been looking for a sign to continue, this had to be it. One of the top choreographers in the world, commending your talent and somehow, her words didn’t feel nearly as good as when Jimin had said them.

Glancing at him, you found Jimin looking as stunned as you felt. The ache within you sharpened to a point, realizing how much he meant to you. How much you wanted his success, regardless of your own.

In that moment, you knew it had never been about anyone else’s perception of you as a dancer.

You knew you could do this. You knew you could make it at Russet, could make it as a dancer. Deep down, you’d always known this, despite your moments of doubt. Jimin had been right. You wanted to dance, you loved to dance and you would continue down this path regardless of what anyone else said.

That hadn’t been what crushed you about Finn’s words.

It had crushed you that after all this time, he still didn’t seem to know who you were. The fact that he could throw out those words so casually, as though you might simply stop dancing meant he didn’t see you. He might as well have asked you to stop breathing.

Jimin, though – Jimin understood. Jimin knew who you were. He’d been a part of your life for so long, he got what made you tick. He’d seen you at your worst, as your most bitter enemy and then again, as your most trusted partner.

It was part of why he meant so much to you.

You understood all this in the blink of an eye, then realized you hadn’t responded to Miss Vern’s praise.

“Oh,” you said, fighting to catch your breath. “I – thank you so much, Miss Vern. I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Miss Vern nodded, as though she were used to such a response. Beside you, Jimin was still breathing hard, but he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

She nodded, not choosing to linger as she faced the room. “Use them as an example!” she said, striding towards the stereo. “Seokjin and I will demonstrate, but that is the level of performance you should aim for. Again!”

The rest of the class passed in a blur, some of the fight dissipated between you and Jimin. He was still quiet, but you didn’t push him again to speak. You’d done enough for now.

As the class came to an end, Miss Vern gathered you round to give a short speech. She thanked everyone for the pleasure of teaching and, once you were dismissed, turned towards the barre.

Jimin left before you could, throwing his things in his bag as he rushed from the room. You followed him with your eyes, knowing he was avoiding you, but not blaming him in the slightest.

Sabrina wasn’t far behind and your gaze lingered on her, remembering the attempted conversation during class. You still had no idea what she’d wanted to say but honestly, Sabrina was the least of your problems right now.

Exhaling, you stood from the ground and checked your phone. Still no word from Finn.

You were trying desperately to understand, trying to give him time to think, but after your fight on Wednesday, you honestly weren’t sure if you still had a boyfriend. Finn’s radio silence didn’t seem to indicate anything positive, but you refused to let this be the way things ended between you. He owed you that much, at least.

Returning to your dorm, the knot tightened further as you imagined what he might say. Both of you had said hurtful things and now, you needed to tell him something which would change your relationship forever.

You needed advice. You needed to talk to Fin. You needed to apologize, you needed–

Plopping down on your bed, you dialed the only number you could think of to call. Noelle had graciously left to stay at Irene’s, giving you the room to yourself.

Your mom answered on the first ring.

“Y/N? Hello?”

“Mom?” you said, your voice suddenly tight.

“Oh, honey” she said, hearing your shift. You heard a soft click, as though she’d entered the next room. “What’s going on?”

“I – nothing.”

Closing your eyes, you fought to control your breathing.

“Nothing, hm?” Your mom made a gentle noise. “You’re still coming home for the holidays, aren’t you? That’s not what this is about? Your dad won’t stop talking about plans for when you get here. He just goes on and on! You’d think he didn’t have a wife.”

“No, no,” you said, opening your eyes. “I just… missed you. That’s all.”

“Well, then call more!”

When you tried to laugh, the sound came out weaker than usual.

Your mom fell quiet for a moment. “That’s not all, is it?”

“… No.”

“Tell me,” she prodded.

So, you did.

Once you started talking, you found you couldn’t stop. Everything came pouring out. The difficulties you’d had at Russet, the need for private lessons, the injury to your ankle and everything going on with Finn. The time he missed brunch, the gradual growing apart, the night he left you at the club – your mom had some choice words at this point – and your growing feelings for Jimin.

Everything had changed when you’d gone to Russet, and you’d always assumed Finn would stay the same but now, even he was crumbling into pieces.

When you were done, your mom was silent a moment, then sighed. You could picture her so clearly in your mind’s eye, seated in your dad’s office chair. This was likely where she’d gone when you heard the door click. The image made you so homesick, it physically pained you.

“Life isn’t ever as neat as we wish it would be,” your mom said at last. “People make mistakes, Y/N. People change. Sometimes the things we thought were permanent turn out not to be.”

“I know. And I know Finn and I are young, but –”

“It’s not that,” your mom said, cutting you off. “Some people meet the person they want to be with early on. That happens. Some people know who they are from the minute they’re born, but other people change and want different things.”

“I – I know. Objectively, I know but… it’s so hard to do something I don’t want to do. And I… I don’t want to break up with Finn.”

“Why not?” your mom said gently.

Biting down on your lower lip, you felt tears fill your eyes. Your answer was stupid – you knew it was. Partly, this was why you kept running away. You knew the answer wasn’t enough, which was why you didn’t want to say it.

“We’ve just been together so long,” you said, closing your eyes. “We’ve gone through rough patches before. Why is now any different?”

“I don’t know. Why is it?”

Swallowing hard, you whispered, “Because this time, I have no idea how to fix things. I think we’ve hurt each other too much, mom. I don’t know… I don’t see a way back to how we were.”

Hearing the words said out loud, you opened your eyes.

There it was. The thing you’d known for weeks but had been unwilling to say. So long as you kept it bottled in, pushed down, you didn’t have to acknowledge its presence or pain.

In truth, your fights with Finn had become so commonplace, you could no longer point to ‘the big one.’ The fight about spending time together had mutated, becoming a multi-headed dragon of differing life goals, de-prioritization and feelings for others.

Whenever you and Finn were happy these days, you found yourself holding your breath. You were waiting for said happiness to dissolve into pain. You had no clue when a relationship was supposed to end but had to imagine this wasn’t a good sign.

“I don’t think there are any easy answers, Y/N,” said your mom. “This is something you need to decide for yourself.”

“Shouldn’t it be easy, though?” you demanded, grip tightening on your phone. “When I list out everything that’s happened, I know things are bad. I haven’t been telling you things because deep down, I don’t want you saying what I already know.”

“Which is?”

“We… that we should break up.”

Your mom was quiet a moment. “It’s never easy to give up something you love.”

You wanted to respond but found you couldn’t, simply nodding even though she couldn’t see. On some level, she was your mom and she understood.

“What about the other boy you mentioned?” she said, sounding curious. “The one you’re having feelings for. Is this the same Jimin as high school?”

“Yes,” you whispered, the white-hot shame of your kiss burning you from the inside.

That was something you couldn’t tell your mom. Not now, at least. Maybe sometime in the future but for now, you couldn’t bear the shame of admitting what you’d done. You never should have let things get to this point.

“Hm.” She made a thoughtful sound. “You know, I’m not surprised to hear you’re getting along. He always seemed like a nice boy, despite how you treated him.”

“Mom!” you blurted. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, honey.”

“Jimin used to bet I’d lose against him in competitions.”

“Mhm. And who started those bets?”

Although you huffed, you didn’t respond because your mom was right. Your bet senior year had been Jimin’s idea, but you’d been the one to start them before.

“It’s not even about Jimin,” you said, quieting somewhat. “It’s more… nothing in my life is solid anymore. I had a plan, mom. I knew exactly what I wanted and now that I’m here, nothing’s how I imagined.”

Softly, your mom chuckled. “Welcome to your twenties.”

“Mom!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Welcome to adulthood.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Her voice grew softer. “I wish I was there, so I could give you a hug. You’ve always been the type of person who needed a plan. But there’s more than one way to be happy, Y/N. What is it you really want?”

Her words were so reminiscent of Jimin that for a moment, you could only pause. What you wanted was dance, but you knew acknowledging this meant giving up Finn.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Well, then. That’s probably the first thing you should figure out.”

Closing your eyes, you nodded. You stayed on the phone with her a while longer, talking about nothing and slowly calming down. When you finally hung up, you promised to call more and confirmed your plans to come home for the holidays.

Lowering your phone to the bed, heavy realization settled over you. You’d reached your lowest moment. If you sunk any further, there’d be no salvaging anything.

What else could happen? You barely had a relationship with Finn to speak of, had hurt Jimin’s friendship in the process and were so distracted, so tired, you were in danger of jeopardizing your future at Russet.

Somewhere along the line, everything had become twisted. You had too many problems to ignore any longer. Sitting up straighter in bed, you wiped tears away with your palm. All you could do was move forward – starting with Finn.

Satisfied by this, you rolled over in bed and closed your eyes. It had been a long time since you’d slept; you figured you could try and nap before you called. Finn wouldn’t be out of his classes for a few hours yet.

For the first time in a week, you managed to fall asleep before your mind could talk yourself out of rest.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! (and then the epilogue, but you know) New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

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