#i hope this helps! and best of luck w college!!

[apollos-boyfriend]

i’m sorry this is probably SUCH a weird question to receive as an mcyt blog but . would you consider college to be easier or harder than high school??? im going to college soon and it’s scared me shitless because everyone says it’s 90x harder than high school but high school kind of kicked my ass. so

okay so. as a quick disclaimer. i AM in a semi unconventional college, being an art student, so i cannot speak for the usual experience of going into like, math or science or anything. but from my experience? it’s infinitely easier. as someone who also had his ass kicked for like, at least the last half of high school.

the general education classes i’ve had to take (math, english, etc) have largely covered things i already learned in high school. general education took up most of my first year, which acted as a really nice transitional to get used to college regulations with subjects i was semi-familiar with already. even now that i’m past those, things have still been so much easier. while i may spend longer on projects than i did in high school, i wouldn’t call them much harder, just more time-consuming.

outside of the actual schoolwork amount, it is so much easier. high school fucking drains you. the atmosphere is hell, you’re stuck in a stuffy building with multiple people you absolutely despise, you’re stuck in that frustrating spot between kid and adult, etc etc. college is so much more freeing. no one cares about stupid interpersonal drama. you can more openly exist as yourself. it’s so much easier to find others like you. that alone makes the actual schoolwork feel so much lighter, because you’re not as stressed about all that other shit on top of your homework and grades

#muse talk #anon #i hope this helps! and best of luck w college!! #it is. very daunting at first. esp because high school teachers have this complex of making it seem like literal hell #but honestly. it’s so much better than high school. unless you go to like an ivy league i do not think it is as bad as they make it seem

[yakeisoda]

Hello, just wanna start this off by saying that I love your art. I've decided to ask my favourite artists for art tips as I wanna get into it, but no matter what I do it never looks right. So, any tips?

HELLO TYSM!!! ngl i dont think im the best 4 this question im also kinda in a rut rn where im not really satisfied w my art n craving more progress and improvement but im getting there somewhat but very slowly! (ive been this way for a rly long time naow) this might be long but im gna try n throw in the things ik, sorry if my thoughts r messy im not the best in articulating stuff :')

i think a good way to start off is to find out what skill you lack the most or what you want to improve the most on, say for ex: u wna focus on getting better at composition for illustrations, then a good way to improve them is to learn about the composition rules (ex: rule of 3rds, etc), look for any scenes in films/animation or photographies and storybooks , study them and recreate it! go crazy !! ive done a study on a friend's picture before, and have asked my friends if i can use their photographies as practice!

looking for inspiration will also improve ur visual library, they can help u find what u wna put in ur art ! like perhaps certain color palettes or styles, it's best to look at different mediums of art instead of focusing only on one, sometimes u can find techniques meant 4 u! (ex: of this is my friend who used to be a watercolor artist, ive observed them using watercolor techniques when they were still new to digital art! basically mix n match whatever feels good/convenient 4 u :] )

disciplining urself is also good to have more improvement! i have trouble w this the most ever since bc its hard 2 focus if no one is like there to monitor u (in my experience), if u rly wna make progress u have to squeeze in some art practice time in ur schedule, it can be around 15-30 mins or even 3 hrs, completely up to you! (rmb to take breaks!). you can give urself deadlines if that will help n maybe timers too!

my prof always said "Proper practice makes perfect", so it's also best to practice with a clear goal in mind, take notes on the things u lack and if ur watching any art tutorials/speedpaints, take notes of those too! it's good to have something specific in mind so u wont get lost n u wud know what u wna do! it helps u retain info as well so u can look back on stuff, to avoid overwhelming urself u can just focus on small bits first, ex: in anatomy, u can focus on the head area first, break it down to drawing eyes and noses, etc! then u can move onto the torso area!

USE REFS!!!! make use of pinterest or any other refs u can find, cannot stress this enuf go crazyyy w references, make a moodboard full of referencess n go crazzyy w them!! i used to not like doing this bc i just head straight in to drawing bc thats what i was used to but art college trained me 2 use refs bc they help so very much, theyre like ur guideline for what u wna make so u have a clear goal in mind, also photobashing seems like a great practice too never tried it but yes it can help when ur planning an illustration/concept art!

^above also applies to art styles! go crazy n experiment w them!! i think its so very fun to explore diff art styles n not stick to 1, again this depends on u but having a different range of artworks is rly fun, u can go from very pastel soft colors n style, to smth very vibrant n sharp, to smth like dark n chalky-sketchy kind of vibe if im making sense T__T, basically go wild!! go crazy!! dont let urself sit in 1 box! hop into other boxes !! or wear all of them!! or poke holes in the box n add stuff to the box or wear a circle!! trust me it looks so fun if u put different artworks uve made side by side n go wow i did that!!

also create small thumbnails 4 illustration! its really best to plan ahead art too, as i said i used to just head straight in n not plan but ive learned to absolutely enjoy planning making art! collecting refs n seeing what kind of composition goes n what colors wud work is so very fun actually! it rly helps a lot

theres also this one post i lost the link, but basically it shows how much progress u can make if u make loose sketches vs full on rendered illustrations vs a mix of both, again this depends entirely on u bc things r different for everyone! i think that post is really good for teaching abt art progress (if any1 knows where it is pls do link!), i think focusing on sketches n practice is better tho bc it helps u draw more freely n loosely! i think that speeds up ur process more as well n doesnt make u lose interest immediately compared 2 focusing on finishing 1 big rendered illust (talking from experience) but then again its different for every1 so honestly just experiment n see what feels right for u!

i wna say tho that although it is good to make sure ur drawing looks right its also good to just let yourself draw freely, i think what matters is that u understood the structures of something and as long as ur able to apply that in ur own way i think thats gud! i think drawing freely helps u draw more fluidly? like having more expression is what i mean. ive gotten into the "i have 2 make this look right" hole before n i noticed it made my art look stiff, so highlyy recommend doing gesture drawing n life studies! rmb to have fun when practicing n learning,

dont pressure urself too much! enjoy the experience :] ! messy sketches r good!! not everything has to look good or perfect! my sketchbooks from way back were just doodles, pencil sketches no color mostly, theres an occasional lined one w markers , ballpen, n some highlighters, n my drawings were either smth funny that happened w me n frens with our personas or making ocs for my faves or ocs for me in general!

ur sketchbook doesnt have to look pretty its like ur diary but its art ykno! ur thoughts in visual form for the day! (again all up to u as long as u have fun! its all different 4 everyone!)

anw tysm again!! sorry if this was all over the place HAHSAW i tried my best but these r the tips i keep in mind most of the time or the ones i hold closest to me n that i try to apply as much as i cud! if u need anything else clarified just lmk! not the best w words but hopefully it helps :'')! most of the stuff i mentioned here i also need to take into practice HAHWHAW so mb its gud 4 me to write this down so i can finally push myself to do stuff,

#but yeah as ive mentioned go crazy!! #have fun with ur art! thats what matters the most #the bond ull have w ur art will b so precious! pls take care of it! #makes me think of my relationship w my art rahh being in art college kinda ruined it bc of the pressure im trying to rebuild it as much #as i can bc art means sm 2 me!! #i wish u luck on ur art journey anon may we have fun learning art n achieve our goals! #ask tag #anon #this is making me reminisce old times #hope this helps!! i was jumping each part so yea sry again if its messy #art advice #? HAHSHAW i am not the best w this tho im still learning !! always learning anything specific like anatomy help i cannot #but things like these i think i can?? HAHSHDA #also sry if this is like the same things every1 has said before but its true!!!! they r right! #nowadays ppl have a lot of access to knowledge compared 2 before so make use of em!! lots of art tutorials around

[purinfelix]

by midnight ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⊹₊ ⋆

pairing: carlos sainz x reader summary: you find yourself at one of the hottest parties on campus, eager to land a kiss before New Year strikes to avoid bad luck warnings: none w/c: 2.3k

a/n: i can't believe this is my first proper carlos fic even tho he's my fav driver - also is this a uni au ?? college au ?? sort of idk ... anw hope you all enjoy this and i wish you all a happy new year !! <333

As you stood in the corner of the dimly lit room, with no company other than the half-empty glass of red wine you’d been cradling for the past hour, you were beginning to question what you were doing at this New Year’s Eve party in the first place.

Of course, your mind was quick to point to the obvious reason - you had come because your friend asked you to. Because she had burst into your dorm room about a week ago with a sparkle in her eye and an invite to a party hosted by what she referred to as ‘high profile university elites’, which you understood as ‘popular kids who were yet to realise they’d already peaked in high school’. Nonetheless, her eagerness and incessant begging had somehow convinced you to trail along with her to the party and the numerous shopping trips preceding it.

You had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was excited about it. You enjoyed going out and the occasional dance session but after an extremely stressful university semester you weren’t sure you could handle any more chaos or drama. But it was something different, something interesting - something to look forward to in the break routine your life had become. Especially since your friend seemed very insistent on the possibility of you meeting some new “hot singles”, and whilst the dig at your uneventful love life didn’t go unnoticed you let it slip considering it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Maybe it was this possibility that had urged you to tag along with her, despite not knowing any of the hosts or people she had listed out. However, if it weren’t for her constant reassurance that she would be at your side the entire night, you probably wouldn’t be standing at the front door of whatever unlucky house had been chosen to host the event, so dressed up you felt a little silly. Your hands trembled slightly at your sides and you felt stupid at how nervous you were. But, as the door opened for you by a boy who looked like he had already had too much to drink from his crooked tie, you swallowed your nerves and reminded yourself that even if you knew no on else, you had your friend to lean on.

At least, until a mere hour had passed into the party and she was nowhere to be found. She had told you she was going to go introduce herself to some other people and that she’d be back to meet you in the corner where she had left you. And the last you saw of her she had been standing a little too close to a guy you vaguely recognised from one of your marketing lectures, and hand ultimately decided best to leave her to enjoy herself - even if that meant awkwardly taking up space, biding your time, and avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Your friend had discussed at length, and much to your dismay, about how this wasn’t just any old New Year’s Eve party like one thrown at a frat house. Rather this was one organised by your university’s wealthiest, most popular, most talented students - which had been one of your biggest turn-offs from it initially. And as you leant against the corner of some vintage-looking wallpaper, you couldn’t help but observe the atmosphere that reeked of elitism, snobbery and daughter laughter. People around you chattered away without cares in the world, donning clothes that surely came from stores you weren’t wealthy enough to know of. Others danced in the centre of the dimly lit room, some moving with elegance and others waved their arms around, drunk on a mixture of whatever expensive bottles their peers had brought.

But, to your surprise, there was something - or rather someone - that managed to catch your eyes from the other side of the room. It was what seemed like the only other person not involved in some sort of conversation, dance circle, or the lips of whatever partner they had brought. And it seemed he had noticed you too by the way his deep brown eyes had locked onto yours, even in the shadowy lighting from where he sat on the cough. He was handsome, there was certainly no denying it, especially not when the eye contact and the slight quirk of his lips alone were enough to make your heart rate quicken. You took a shaky sip from your glass, watching as he ran a large hand through his dark hair that was styled in a way you could only describe as ‘princely’, the gold cufflinks on his shirt sleeve flashing as he did.

He’s way out of your league and your tax bracket, you remind yourself. But there’s something about the way this handsome stranger is looking at you that makes you feel compelled to him. Almost like he’s cast an invisible string around your waist and is slowly pulling you towards him. A grandfather clock in the corner tells you there’s less than half an hour until midnight and the strike of New Year’s, and until you can get out of here without missing too much. Half an hour to work up the courage to go up to him, talk to him, to do anything other than stand her paralysed under his intense, yet insanely attractive, gaze.

Your feet unstick themselves and go to take a step in his direction, until your friend appears suddenly around the corner, her hand already on your wrist. She’s talking to you about some people you “just have to meet”, half dragging you with her to the kitchen. But your eyes are still stuck on him, and he watches you go with an expression that’s equal parts amused and disappointed that your charged staring competition didn’t last longer.

You find yourself in a circle with three other people, forcing a smile on your face and trying your best to act as if you care while your friend introduces you to them. One’s an engineering major, the other in medicine, and the last you can’t even bother to remember, your brain busied with plans on how to get back to the lounge, and the handsome stranger. You nod incessantly as your new company drones on about final exams and papers, eager to have the conversation done with you.

“Well, seems like there’s not much time left until midnight,” one of them says, which catches your attention, and your friend laughs along.

“And you know what they say about a New Year’s kiss, hm?” she chimes in, “that failing to lock lips with anyone after the countdown will bring in a whole new year of loneliness!” She nudges your arm and you swallow the urge to make some excuse, settling on rolling your eyes with a resigned smile.

“You found the lucky guy yet?” the engineering major says, looking directly at you with a suggestive sort of look.

As if summoned by the question, you spot something out of the corner of your eye. A familiar tuft of dark hair snakes its way around the kitchen hallway - it’s him. Now that the two of you are standing you truly get a sense of how tall he is, and you can definitely see that the dark suit he’s wearing is doing his figure justice. He moves quickly, purposefully, as he pours himself another drink and is already making his way out of the kitchen. Though, not before looking back and shooting you a quick smile. The sight renders you incapable of speech and basic function, as you go to take a sip of your own drink and instead spill your glass’ remains onto your dress.

Your little circle erupts into groans and worried cries, your friend trying her best to laugh off the total fool you’ve made of yourself in front of them. Luckily though, it seems the handsome stranger didn’t stay long enough to witness your little accident, so you don’t mind too much as your friend ushers you off to one of the bathrooms, pushing past bodies that move along to the pulsing music. Your head throbs as your friend shoves you in and shuts the door behind her.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs, grabbing handfuls of toilet paper and throwing them at you as you sit on the closed toilet seat, “that was so embarrassing, and you’ve completely ruined the dress we spent ages picking at.”

You clearly couldn’t care less as you dab at the large stain on your dress with indifference, as she paces back and forth and waves her hands around to express her frustration.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, they all seemed like assholes anyways,” you mutter. Your quip seems to calm her down as she takes a seat on the bathtub rim. She takes a moment to glance at her phone in her hand before letting out a tired sigh.

“And now there’s less than three minutes until midnight and neither of us is getting a New Year’s kiss.”

“There’s nothing keeping you in here with me, you know,” you say, a smile in your voice as you watch her expression turn hopeful.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to spend New Year’s Eve alone but I don’t want you to as well, I think I’ll manage.”

She lets out a squeal, pulling you in for a quick hug whilst being careful not to get any of the red wine you’ve spilled on your dress onto hers.

“I’ll meet you outside in half an hour,” is the last thing she says to you before turning and leaving the bathroom to rejoin the crowd that’s formed to count down the seconds until midnight. It’s almost funny that you’re alone once more, only now with a gigantic red stain and under the harsh white light of this lavishly decorated bathroom. Sitting back against the toilet, you close your eyes and try your best to enjoy this moment of peace, and ignore the fact that this may just signal another year of loneliness - as your friend mentioned. You can hear the partygoers outside getting ready, pulling out tiny confetti canons and ushering others into the lounge.

“10!”

“9!”

Suddenly, the door opens and you jerk up to scold your unwelcome intruder. That is until you notice it’s him, the handsome stranger. He looks equally surprised to see you until you realise he probably wasn’t expecting anyone to be sitting alone in the bathroom during the countdown to New Year’s. Your throat is dry but you still manage to croak out some form of a response.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, and you notice he’s almost panting. You gesture to the stain on your dress with an expression that says “duh”.

“Oh, right, well I just wanted to get away from all the chaos and loudness, you know.”

“8!” The crowd outside keeps going, and they seem to be getting louder.

“You didn’t find any lucky girl to kiss when midnight struck?” you say, trying your best to make light of how insanely awkward this interaction is. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his feet shyly.

“Well I did, she was standing in the corner of the room all alone,” he takes a couple of steps towards you and his voice is sheepishly quiet.

“7!”

“She sounds like a loner,” you retort and he lets out a dry laugh. You’re trying to play it cool and act as if you’re not dying to just kiss him already, because you know that’d be too forward, especially for someone like you at a party like this.

“Well, I thought she was beautiful, at least until she got dragged away by her friend.”

“6!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but then I saw her later in the kitchen talking to some guys and figured she’d be more interested in them.”

“5!”

“I’m sure they were boring,” you decide to play along with his game.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure she would’ve much rather been talking to you instead of them, and hearing her friend talk about how if she didn’t kiss someone by midnight she’d have to deal with another year of being single,” this catches his attention, his eyebrow quirking up alongside a smirk spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“4!”

“Yep, until she spilled a bunch of wine on this dress she bought and ended up in the bathroom trying to clean it off.”

“3!”

”Sounds unfortunate.” He’s towering over you now, looking down at you with a softness in his eyes and a playfulness in his tone.

“Extremely.”

“2!”

You finally find the strength to stand up too, and almost immediately his hand finds its way around a strand of your hair, twirling it absent-mindedly. It moves to your cheek, then your chin, which he cups softly so that he can look into your eyes properly. You feel on fire underneath his touch. At this distance, he’s breathtaking. His eyes are almost enchanting and you feel tiny underneath their gaze, swallowing a lump nervously. He watches you intently, eyes flickering between his own and your lips - it’s clear what he’s thinking.

“1!”

The crowd outside erupts into cheers and the popping of confetti canons, but you’ve forgotten about them immediately as his lips crash into yours with a passion you realise haven’t experienced in a while. It’s not forceful though, it’s too perfect to be anything else. His hands snake around your body and support you - almost lifting you up into him, and you let him, your body turned to jelly under his touch. All the night’s eye contact, the silent messaging, the tension, has been squeezed into this single kiss and it just about knocks you off of your feet. Finally though, your lips separate, and you feel so dazed you can hardly form words.

“Carlos,” he says heavily.

“Huh?” you mumble, mind still processing.

“My name, my name is Carlos.”

“Oh, right, Happy New Year Carlos.”

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #ferrari #formula one #carlos sainz fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 #purinfelix #jet writes ★

[lavendarlily]

3 pitch pearl

cw: panic attack

3. cold hands in warm hands | pitch pearl

The Honors English 3 class shuffled into their first period, the students bundled up from the chilled December air. Wet shoes squeaked against the linoleum after braving snow and ice outside. The air was thick with tension and exhaustion as the junior class was just barely surviving their final exams before their holiday break. 

Danny found his way to his seat, hoping, praying for the best. This was an important semester after all - college applications were just around the corner. He had to do well or risk his chances at getting into a decent university. Sure, he’d gotten by decently with his higher-than-average intelligence (it was a Fenton thing), but this year’s courses had been rough. If he didn’t pull out of this class with at least a B…

He took a deep breath, and tried to calm the butterflies in his stomach, ignore the ache in his head, and steady his shaking hands. The first part of the English exam was multiple choice - he was confident enough in that. The second part scared him slightly - writing essays wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d seared the entirety of Catcher in the Rye into his mind. He could do this. He had to. 

“Alright students, phones off, clear your desks,” Mr. Lancer announced with a stack of papers in hand. “I want to get these passed out to you as soon as possible so you have the full amount of time to complete it. A reminder that there are two parts - don’t forget to do both of them.” 

The teacher looked around the room. “Best of luck to all of you, and enjoy your break.” His smile did little to ease Danny’s nerves. He grabbed his lucky pencil (it was hardly more than a nub at this point) and placed it on his desk, then dragged his sweaty palms against his thighs. 

Mr. Lancer reached his desk, gently setting down the exam, and gave Danny an encouraging smile, which he tried his darndest to return, but probably gave more of a grimace. 

Danny took a final breath, then dove in. 

The first section did some good for Danny’s confidence - he only had trouble with a small handful of the questions, but at least he could take an educated guess. Now onto the essay section.

Three prompts were provided. He only had to answer one.

As he scanned through the list, his heart gave a drop. No, he shook his head. Just gotta read them again. Carefully. I can do at least one of these.

Yet as he read through them again, then again, and a third time, Danny couldn’t help but feel absolutely screwed.

His breathing picked up, hands shaking once more. His thoughts began spiraling until he couldn’t finish one before picking up the next. Danny was panicking.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Lancer looked down at him with a concerned expression. His teacher made a nod to the door, and guided Danny out into the hallway.

“Take a minute, Daniel. Come back inside when you’re ready,” he said with a smile. 

Danny leaned against the hallway and slunk down against the wall. How humiliating. He crossed his arms and leaned his head forward. Now I’m gonna fail the test and everyone saw me freaking out about it. Fuck fuck fuck.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before a soft “Danny?” interrupted his mental spiral. He didn’t move though. He couldn’t.

“Danny, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” the familiar voice said.

Danny still didn’t answer. 

The air around him became colder as the presence approached him. Icy hands grasped his arms and unfolded Danny from his cocoon. Now he was looking into the burning green eyes of Amity Park’s own ghostly hero.

Phantom kneeled in front of him, grabbing Danny’s hands in his. 

“I don’t know what happened. But I know you’re upset. I know you’ve been stressed, and working so hard the last few weeks.” As he spoke, Phantom gave Danny’s hands a comforting squeeze.

“I’m gonna fail,” Danny croaked.

Phantom’s face hardened. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that. As long as you get back in there and finish what you started, you cannot fail. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, Danny. I’m so proud of you. And whatever happens, you should be proud too. Now can you just take some deep breaths for me?”

The two sat in silence, hands still intertwined, as Phantom watched Danny steady himself. It wasn’t a cure-all, but Phantom’s presence was doing something to bring Danny back to earth. 

“Okay,” he said, a little shakily. “I’m gonna go finish my exam.”

Phantom leaned his forehead forward so that it was touching Danny’s. “You got this babe,” he whispered, then planted a kiss on Danny’s cheek before swiftly disappearing.

Danny swallowed, stood up, and went back inside.

#cw: panic attack #ask #pitch pearl #danny phantom #lavswordvomit

[that-wizard-oki]

How did you start doing jobs for kingsisle?? I'm trying to break into the industry as an artist, and I have no clue how to approach potential employers, even just for commissions 😭😭

Hey! So I actually work full time with KingsIsle as a character animator- my job year round is to make pets, mounts, mobs, npc's move :D

How I got started here is kind of a wild story. I had been wanting to reach out to KI about possibly interning with them post-graduation- I had a few people I semi knew at the company, and knew I'd have a good portfolio piece to show them from my senior thesis project. However, three days before graduation, a friend from KI msg'ed me that KI was doing summer internships, and asked if I was interested. I spent the next 3 days building my portfolio website/resume & sent it to my friend. A month and two interviews later, they accepted me! Once my internship was drawing to and end, they were able to offer me a full time position.

My #1 piece of advice for folks trying to break into the industry: MAKE CONNECTIONS. NETWORK. Obviously having dedication and building your artistic skills (whether that's character design, animation, story boarding, etc) is a huge part of it- like you can make as many connections as you want, but if you don't have a decent set of skills/a portfolio to back you up, then you might be out of luck there. But I cannot understate the importance of networking.

So, how do you make connections/network? My advice:

-I know everyone can't afford it, but going to an art school/college is a decent way to make connections- not just with teacher's who have worked in the industry themselves, but also with your future artists. Heck, I've been seeing younger artists like myself start their own studios. You can defo still make connections w/o college, but I just wanted to note that.

-Interact with artists/folks in the industry online. comment on their posts, ask them genuine questions. Most folks are happy to answer questions or give portfolio advice.

-Mentorships are a great thing- also something i see offered on twitter a lot. Some studio's like dreamworks have "internship" like programs where people who have recently graduation or are looking for a career change can apply to and learn from. I'd follow companies you're interested in via linkedin, or visit their websites to see if they offer things like this

-Also!! Participate in anijams, gamejams, art swaps, zines- these are all great ways to connect with fellow artists online. My college has an animation club that does anijams twice a year- which is a GREAT thing to put on your resume- it shows collaboration, dedication- things you need to be open to when working in the industry.

-I'd also say that trying to narrow down what you're really passionate about doing (for me, 3d animation just fit my heart the best) and learn more about it. Watch youtube videos, follow tutorials. Practice your anatomy, do gesture drawings from life, draw as many hands and feet as you can, lol. All things to help strengthen your skills! Consistency is key!!

I know that's a lot of info, so I just want to reiterate something: I've been at KI for about a year and a half now, and I am still just as passionate about this game as I was beforehand. That passion is one of my greatest assets. WANTING to do what I do for work makes working a lot easier, and produces a better product. If you have a passion, a drive to do something, you can do the damn thing. Making connections/being consistent as an artists can feel wildly overwhelming. But it doesn't have to be. You're worthy of sharing your art and ideas with the world, and people want to hear them. Baby steps! Start small. Heck talking to me already gets your started with networking :D

Hope that wasn't too rambly/answered some of your questions anon. Feel free to inbox or dm me if you wanna chat more- goes for anyone reading this :)

#oki answers a thing #anon

[ppnuggie]

Hey, I saw that your request are open and would like to make one.

I thought about some headcanons with an college student and the Prime Deceptions Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave and Knockout, all platonic.

The student is an decepticon alley, studies engineering and can easily combine cybertronian and human technology to build weapons, earth bridges, flying skateboards and other stuff.

What do you think the Decepticons would think of them and having them on their side?

　　　　　　CONS x gn human reader

　　　　『　megatron ,, soundwave ,, shockwave ,, knockout ,, gender neutral human reader 』

　　-> cons w/ gn human who engineers stuff

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,,

　　— the decepticons would probably not like having a human on their side but they’d grown used to it 💀💀 and the stuff they create tbh ,, earth bridges would be ground bridges tho 😭

megatron ::

• hes quite confused at the stuff you think off ,, usually not bothering to question and just roll his optics

• sometimes he really even wonders why he keeps you around ,, but then he gets reminded of the little moments between you two

• he would definitely pair you up with shockwave n stuff ,, hoping his scientist could help you improve

• he does appreciate when you think of things you believe would help to cause ,, giving a small smile and patting your head w/ a digit

soundwave ::

• he’s quite observant with your creations ,, examining them thoroughly and quickly

• he handles them with care ,, and is quite proud of you ,, even if he doesnt seem to show it ,, but he is :>

• he likes to watch you invent and engineer your things ,, sometimes handing you a tool you need with one of his appendages

• whenever you show him something you make ,, he flashes a smiley face on his visor before returning to what he was doing before

shockwave ::

• it takes a lot to get his attention focused on something other then his work ,, so good luck with that 😭

• he does find some interest in your wish to engineer things ,, maybe giving a small tip on what you could do better

• if you need constructive but harsh criticism ,, he can definitely offer some ,, but he may insult your species 💀

• overall ,, not the best to show your things to ,, as he’d just diss them and wave you off as unintelligent or smt ,, saying smt abt how these aren’t beneficial to the cause and going back to work

knockout ::

• knockout is probably the most expressive and happy when you show him your creations ,, always ready for you to give a full on presentation about it

• he claps and praises you for what you make ,, giving a small wink about how he could use a super ultra buffer ,, of course not that hes signifying that you should make one for him 🥴 but just maybe 👉👈

• he is always so proud of you for whatever you create <33 always adding tips on how to improve or what to fix

• 100/10 best to show your stuff to ,, though he’ll keep talking about that super ultra buffer he’d like 🥴

#transformers x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #tfp x reader #🌌.tfp #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #knockout x reader #tfp shockwave #tfp megatron #tfp soundwave #tfp knockout #🌌.megatron #🌌.soundwave #🌌.shockwave #🌌.knockout

[spideystevie]

i love ur dedication and love for prompt lists. i enjoy it sm ty

my wildest dreams consist of “signing off a written correspondence with a kiss or "love"” and “nicknames” w/ steve 🫠

omg thank you!! prompt lists are my fave they're so fun. hope you like this one <3 (0.7k)

signing off a written correspondence with a kiss or “love” + nicknames  [request a what are we prompt]

Mondays were arguably the worst day of the week to anybody. Steve wasn’t sure he could agree. Because Mondays meant mail. Mondays meant you. 

Without fail, there’s a slap against wood flooring when the mail gets delivered right before Steve’s shift at Family Video. Envelopes and bills lay in a scattered pile in the entryway near the front door. He spots it almost immediately.

An off white envelope with his name in swooping, sloping letters etched across the back in black ink sits towards the top of the pile he picks up off the ground. His letter from you. 

Being away at college made whatever weird relationship limbo you were in with Steve stretch out into something close to purgatory. It was hard being away from home, even harder being away from Steve, though the two were synonymous in your head. And while you’d promised to call as often as you could before you left, it was Steve who suggested writing. 

At this point, your frequent letters back and forth were thinly camouflaged love letters. Little ways to push and prod that line between you even though most times you were both too oblivious to realize it.

Letters from you felt like a private pinky promise, a secret kept just between the two of you. Besides, no one else was receiving written correspondence from you. In fact, most of their correspondence with you was through Steve. 

When he sees it, Steve stoops down to grab your envelope and leaves everything else on the ground. Like most days, he opts to tear into the letter right then and there in the middle of the entryway.

He always tries to take his time, savor each detail in each scratch of ink on paper. He’s already subconsciously memorized the way you cross your t’s and dot your i’s. He can feel his cheeks warm just from reading the heading on this one.

Dear Stevie,

I’m writing this on my break between classes to make sure I can get it mailed off in time. There’s so much I want to tell you but I’ll have to save most of it for over the phone since I have to keep this letter short. 

I always love getting to read your stories of Robin and the kids. You always were the best storyteller in Hawkins. Tell Max I look forward to seeing her newest skating tricks and Lucas that I listened to, and liked, that tape he recommended! I miss everyone there all the time, not quite as much as I miss you though. 

We went into the city this weekend, something about Sara wanting to check out a new mall that opened nearby. She’s quite the shopaholic but I think I’ve already mentioned that. We passed an ice cream shop while we were there and it reminded me of those god awful uniforms we had to wear at Scoops. At least you’ve lucked out with something better at the video store. 

Classes are getting harder the closer we get to the end of the semester but I guess I should have expected that. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to call but trust that I’ll make time to write. Only another month until I get to be back home and see you, I’m basically counting down the days. Miss you every day, Steve, I can’t wait to see you soon. Write fast!

Love, Y/N

Steve can’t help but dwell on the way you signed off. LoveLoveLoveLoveLove. You’d always kept it friendly, never signing off with anything that didn’t scream platonic. This was new. 

His eyes scan over it again and again and again as if he’s trying to commit it to memory or trying to convince himself that it’s real. The nickname at the top, one he’d only allow you to voice, mixed with the swirly lettering of Love at the bottom is an almost deadly combination. 

He’s not sure why it sends his heart into overdrive, why it makes his skin feel warm and his stomach feel giddy. All Steve knows is he might maybe actually be in love with his best friend and fuck is he in trouble. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #📝: a writes!

[hoshibait]

(I’m the blog that had the build a bear question ^w^)

okay this might sound dumb but I was lucky enough to get a pumpkin kitty yesterday, right after my first day at college and I did the proper heart ceremony and made a wish that my course would go well and everything buuuut because I’m an indecisive people pleaser when the assistant asked if the stuffing was ok I said it was fine even though it was way too firm. I mentioned it to my mum while we were still in the store and she said I should tell them her since pumpkin kitties are pretty hard to come by atm. So I (very apologetically) told the assistant and she was really nice about it and said it was fine (it was a quiet day so it wasn’t too much bother), then she did a little surgery on the kitty and removed some of the stuffing by hand. Then the kitty was mysteriously taken out back to be resealed. This process involved taking the heart out and reinserting it, though, and I wondered whether that would be considered bad luck? Does it kinda… curse the wish or something? Does it mean my kitty won’t like me?

…yes that is the dumbest question I’ve ever asked I’m not even superstitious I just……. hrrrnggghh. Apologies if you literally have no idea what to say to this and feel free to ignore :3

it’s not a dumb question at all!!!

i’m happy you got surgery for your kitty. i’m sure your cat’s actually grateful that they’re a lot more squishy now! i’m sure they would know you just want the best for them.

i’m unsure why they’d be cursed now if it’s required for us to restuff bears sometimes. a wish is a wish, as long as you put enough love into it im sure they’ll be fine. and with you worrying about it im sure you love them a lot.

so to reassure you, your wish is not cursed, the heart is still in the kitty and your kitty is filled with love and they love you. like i said im sure they’re grateful that they got the surgery, im sure they understand.

hope that helps! sorry im not the best at reassuring people. the spirit of build a bear is friendship and unconditional love, at least that’s how i see it, and i want to comfort people as much as i can.

have a pic of my pumpkin kitty as a send off, she wishes you guys the best too!

#💌 #ask #build a bear #plushrot #job #cheers and best of luck for you and your kitty!

[lovedazai]

mai mai can i ask for some life advice if you can answer? if you don’t feel comfortable feel free to delete and ask too.

im someone who’s an adult (18) and in college, ive never ever dated before or anything and my family extended and all is alwyas asking when im going to get a bf (bc my cousins and everyone else as had a bf from like 14+) how do you meet people? i don’t know how and im a anxious person and insecure sometimes. id also want someone who has the same beliefs as me (religious wise) but i just don’t know how to meet people :<

meeting new ppl is scary nonnie :< but ur lucky bc college is a rlly good place to do it !! theres so many ppl who are in a new place for the first time all by themselves, so ur def not alone in feeling this way, i promise <33

i think the first thing u need to do is build up ur confidence (even if ur faking it). ofc that means something different for everyone but for me, i always feel the best when i look good. confidence is just naturally attractive !! u might not even realize it but when ur feeling comfortable w how u present urself, u’ll feel soo much better ab everything else

don’t put too much pressure on urself. thinking back to how i met some of the ppl closest to me, it just kinda happened which i know is super unhelpful T^T but honestly, as long as ur kind to everyone & put urself out there, u’ll naturally come across ppl & develop relationships w them

speaking of !! u’ll have to put urself out there, as scary as that might sound. dont be afraid to talk to ppl first !! but before u go into it w the expectation of finding a boyfriend, maybe start by trying to make friends first. it’ll help u grow out of ur anxiety & build ur confidence w new social situations i think !! i know its scary talking to ppl for the first time esp if ur anxious, but almost nobody is ever as mean as u think they might be. whatever ur mind tells u they’ll do, they probably wont. also dont be too discouraged if some relationships fizzle out or dont go anywhere !! not everyone is a match & thats okay !!

theres literally clubs for everything so def look into them to see if any match ur interests & u’ll find ppl similar to u. im not religious but the first thing that came to mind is maybe u can find a place of worship near u or an organization thru ur college where u can meet someone w the same beliefs as u !! i hope at least a little bit of this helped <33 good luck nonnie, u got this !! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )⟡

#valentines #irl!convo

[lesbianlenas]

starting college in a week; any tips babe?

i am not great w advice bc i have terrible habits but here r a couple:

1. do NOT take an 8am class u may think u can handle it but trust me u can’t. took one my first semester freshman yr and never did again. exception being if u regularly get up b4 8am obvs but otherwise don’t lol

2. do not b afraid to go to office hrs w ur professors i found the idea v intimidating but i always had a great experience whenever i went ESP if u have questions but also if u just want to chat abt the topics in the class or anything. but it’s great to have connections w a few professors if u need rec letters for internships or grad school later on

3. do ur readings for ur classes idk ur work ethic but i never did any readings in high school but u have to do them in college. depends on the class but if ur professor doesn’t say that exams r only on lectures then u should 100% do readings

4. take advantage of how many classes r available & take ones that r interesting to u. i had a lot of times where i held off getting a certain credit done just bc i wanted to be able to take a specific course and it was always worth it. taking classes that u actually enjoy always made it way easier 4 me personally

5. if u know my personal history w roommates u will probably laugh at this advice but. if u r having any issues w ur roommate (if u even have one) u should try talking to them bc having to live in a space where there r issues is just not good for ur mental health/education trust me 😩 but it can be easy to let small issues w a roommate build up just from living together in a small space so if u actually try and communicate w each other it goes a long way

6. i said this in answer to an ask yesterday but fr dont b afraid to talk to ppl. as freshmen u r all in a brand new place and likely alone for the first time so everyone is trying to make friends. if u get to know enough ppl u will hit it off w someone eventually lol 🙏

that is all i can think of off the top of my head & hopefully it is at least somewhat helpful but let me know if u have more specific things u want tips on & i will try my best. wishing u luck tho hope u have a great first semester ❤️

#this is mostly based off the things that i should have done that i didn’t. bc i have bad habits. lol #anonymous #ask //

[avery-j-smith]

My bestie and I had a falling out in college a few years ago. It was really bad and it kinda ended with us hating each other and we haven’t talked since. Overtime though, I kinda decided to put it behind me. We were best friends since we met in 6th grade and I was like “im sure we’ve both grown and i still have love for her” so if i ever run into her when we’re home for the holidays i would love to be able to smile at each other, wave, say how are you and there be no bad blood yk? So my attempt to make things civil was following her on instagram. She accepted my follow but didn’t follow me back. I took that as like she’s not interested or doesn’t care to be nice. So my first instinct was to just unfollow and leave her alone. Would you take that as a sign to leave her alone? It’s hard to ask other friends because their opinion will be biased. So idk if i should unfollow her or not. Any advice would help, ty 💕

thats such a tough situation but i think since ur making an effort to make things civil u should not unfollow her. standing firm in ur decision to follow her despite the lack of a follow back shows ur commitment and sincerity to forging a cordial relationship w her. unfollowing her will seem like a step back as if ur giving up. however if continuing to follow her brings u more stress then for the sake of ur peace of mind unfollow her. prioritize urself first! but i think this was a step in the right direction and shows that u are being a bigger person in trying to create a better atmosphere between u two. and who knows maybe with time she’ll follow u back after taking some time to think about it. i hope this helps and good luck with everything <3

[woodlandhillsca-near]

Moving to Woodland Hills, CA

I am a 30-year-old resident of Woodland Hills, where I have lived since 2016. Although originally from middle Tennessee, I have also resided in Santa Monica, Malibu, West Hollywood, Playa Del Rey, and Studio City. Of all the places I have lived in California, Woodland Hills ranks second to Malibu as my favorite. There are many attractions in the area, including a great greenway for walking, a large mall, colleges, excellent dive bars, karaoke venues, gastropub restaurants, bowling alleys, parks, car shows at the mall every Sunday, free concerts, and family movie nights in the park during the summer. I could go on, but you get the idea. Traffic can be challenging if you commute far or drive down Victory Blvd. during peak hours, but it is manageable. I genuinely love everything about living in Woodland Hills and am thrilled that I made the move here. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I do. Best of luck to you!

Swimming pool repair service

Are you in search of reliable swimming pool repair services in Woodland Hills, California? Look no further than Superhero Pools Corp. They have been providing exceptional pool leak detection, repair, remodeling, and maintenance services to both residential and commercial properties in the area since 2012. Right now, they are offering a limited-time promotion where you can save $100 on pool leak detection services if you schedule your appointment before 9/30/2023. Superhero Pools Corp. boasts a 5-star rating from many satisfied customers who commended their professionalism and were impressed with the repair of their pool leak. In fact, he was so pleased that he now trusts them to service his pool on a weekly basis. For any inquiries, please contact [phone].

Bowlero Woodland Hills

Bowlero Woodland Hills is a popular destination for bowlers, offering 64 well-maintained lanes and clean balls. The arcade features over 100 games for all ages, including classic and newer video games. The full-service restaurant and bar offer various food options, including pizzas, burgers, salads, and a wide selection of beers, wines, and cocktails. The atmosphere is modern and inviting, decorated with neon lights and old-school bowling memorabilia. Bowlero Woodland Hills hosts various events throughout the year, such as cosmic bowling, karaoke nights, and private parties. To enjoy the experience, book your lane in advance, bring your shoes, as bowling shoes are charged, and take advantage of the weekly specials. Bowlero Woodland Hills is a great place to relax, enjoy, and make memories. As a whole, Bowlero Woodland Hills is an excellent place for a fun night out.

An off-leash dog attacked two men

A pit bull mix not on a leash mauled two men at a Woodland Hills park, and the animal's owner then left the scene. The Chatsworth man, Emeterio Marroquin, said the dog was off-leash and not wearing a collar. Patricio Fuentes, another man, heard the dog's owner screaming for help and ran over to help. The dog realized Marroquin was trying to distract it and jumped at him, lunging in the chest and arm. The dog eventually ended its attack, returning to its owner. Both men were rushed to the hospital with dozens of bite wounds. Marroquin rated his pain at the top of the scale, stating it could be ten. Fuentes and Marroquin hope cellphone video of the attack will help identify the owner, who left as soon as she got the dog on a leash. The dog is described as a white pit bull mix with black spots, weighing about 60 pounds. Both men urge the owner to get the dog off the streets and out of parks. Read more. 

Link to maps

Bowlero Woodland Hills 23130 Ventura Blvd, Woodland Hills, CA 91364, United States Continue to Ventura Blvd 15 sec (177 ft) Take Fallbrook Ave to W Oxnard St 3 min (1.3 mi) Turn right onto W Oxnard St Pass by Wells Fargo Bank (on the left in 1 mi) 4 min (1.5 mi) Turn left onto Canoga Ave 1 min (0.4 mi) Drive to W Trillium Dr 1 min (0.1 mi) Superhero Pools Corp. 6320 Canoga Ave 15th Floor, Woodland Hills, CA 91367, United States

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 29)

(Sneak Peak)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Jimin has three secrets, the first is that he’s a psychopath and the second is... 

Tags: unreliable narrators, controversial characterization, psychopath Jimin, obsessive behaviors, yandere! jimin, morally questionable characters, guns, violence, gore, blood, murder, a brief drug reference or two, crime, first time smoking, referenced past depression, medication for said depression, morally grey characters, Epilepsy, flashback chapter, 4th wall breaks, vminkook focused, 

W/c: 10.5k

A/n: Several people guessed Jimin’s second secret in my ask box! but no one has guessed the third yet! i hope you enjoy it, i’m posting this immediately after getting my wisdom teeth removed~ so wish me luck! 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Chapter 29: Jimin’s Second Secret 

Jimin didn’t think much of it the first time he beat up a client's ex-packmate because he’d slept with another omega. Free of guilt because he'd seen the alpha harassing other omegas multiple times. Was it really so bad to give the man what was coming to him? Was it really against the law to take from people who had so much?

It was easy to take on a little more work, intimidation, a little bit of thievery here and there. The small things, and it only escalated from there.  

Jimin gained a reputation in no time, a pretty face and an even prettier pair of hands that you’d just love to see around someone’s throat. Not murder- not quite yet but the world of the elite will always go soft and fond for a pretty alpha and throw scraps his way.  

“Jimin, i have a favor to ask of you. Of course, i can trust you to be discrete, your recommendation said that you’d be...amenable to requests of certain standards as long as you’re properly compensated.”

“I seem to have lost my limited edition berkin at the my ex’s house, could you fetch it for me Mr. Park?”

“It’s rather unfortunate that an alpha like that gets such a nice car, can you make it disappear for me Jimin?” 

“He looked at my omega a little too long, I want you to hurt his pretty face.”

“Of course Mr. Delabruyere,” Jimin flashes a sympathetic smile, “whatever your heart wishes Mrs. Schiffe,” a deep bow and his hand over his heart, “right away Xiansheng.”

At first- when he and Tae were just barely scraping by crime was a necessary evil.  Jimin used every extra penny to help pay Tae’s college tuition. after the first time he’d gone to visit his soulmate after the second semester semester started all but cemented his decision to partake in a life of crime. He’d never seen bruises like that under Tae’s eyes before, never felt such shame when he learned that tae had to take on 3 jobs just to pay what his scholarship didn't cover.

Jimin caught him waking up early one morning, dabbing a bit of concealer under his before he started to work on one of his assignments. Had searched and found the tiny hidden in an empty bottle of shampoo. makeup to hide his tiredness, to make Jimin less concerned about his wellbeing 

(at least, thats what Jimin thought- you and i know better)

Jimin hadn't been able to say anything to him about it, the apology for not being a better alpha lodged in his throat like a too big bite of happiness. Jimin has been so obsessed with the idea of moving to Tae and curing his loneliness that he hasn’t really been worrying about easing Tae’s other discomforts. He’d apologized in the best way he knew how, by fucking the other alpha quietly to sleep, not stopping until Tae was so fucked out he slept for hours without even stirring. the insomnia warn out of him by a few blessed orgasms. 

Growing up poor won’t ever quite leave them, the frantic nature to their love or their wanting. Jimin wants it all for Tae, every single minuscule bit of happiness, Jimin daydreams of a world where Tae gets everything he wants, gets it and knows nothing of hard work. 

But Tae’s lack of sleep also took away points and points off of his exams, so many little notes of “come and see me” “your ideas are a little too fanciful, focus them a little more and you might be able to get an A” countless other little harsh notes that weren’t meant to hurt Tae- but undoubtedly had. 

After Jimin had seen how close Tae was to losing the little scholarship money he got, paying for Tae's college became the sole focus of Jimin's life. Tae loved learning, genuinely never missed a single lecture, and tore through the assigned reading material to ask his professors for more words to consume. Tae has always been a flagrant erudite- Jimin can't see his dreams crushed, wouldn't be able to bear it.

Taehyung just believed he’d been selected as the recipient of a very generous scholarship after his first year. 60,000 dollars a semester for tuition, 2,000 for books, and 5,000 for other living expenses which was more than enough to live on. 

Or in Jimin’s language, about three or four favors for his clients and maybe a stolen car here and there every 6 months. Jimin wasn’t picky about what crime he committed as long as it was going to help pay to keep Taehyung happy.

Jimin will do anything for the people he loves, and that’s part of the problem.

The first time he’d killed someone it hadn’t been on purpose.

Coming Saturday April 16th @ 5pm EST (Time zone Adjustments below) 

#bts omegaverse au #bts a/b/o #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts gang au #bts mafia au #bts polyamory au #bts au #bts fluff #bts hurt/comfort #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #min yoongi fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #knj #kth #ksj #jhs #jung hoseok fic #min yoongi x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader

[weelittleweasley]

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.”

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley au #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader au #professor fred weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

maybe Y/N Stark is a new avenger, Peter see her before in a college party where they had very great sex. When she is introduced to everone. Wanda reading her thoughts finds out what happened between them. and CAOS. I love you xx

Okay see I love this because it plays into my favorite headcannon that (y/n) Stark is just a big party girl. My favorite trope is just like mean x soft, love someone who is just soft for their baby and that is so my favorite way to potray (y/n) Stark, like she’s just kind of brat expect for with Peter. Anyway I’m saying a big fat yes, and here she is. Hope you like it babe! Love you xx

Guys I am still doing requests and promts so please feel free to send some in, or even just hit me up, would love to be your bestie 💖

Awkward

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: The first post hookup meetup is always a little awkward 

Prompts

Masterlist

//

(y/n)’s pov

New York city has to be the most magical place in the world, the lights are brighter, the buildings are taller, and the parties are way more awesome than the little boarding school dorm parties I’m used to. As a Stark it’s really just my social obligation to throw the best parties in the city though, and that’s a lot of pressure. I knew my New York debut would have to be awesome, so I rented out the 404 NYC and filled it to the brim with the best food and liquor money could buy, the most killer DJ I could find, and sent out an invitation to every socialite in the city. 

Then I invited Peter Parker, a boy I’ve only ever met in passing really, but he was important to my dad. Dad always used to tell me he thought we’d really get along, but we never really got the chance to know each other before dad passed away. Now that I’m in New York I want to try to be friends, he’s also the only avenger my age so if I want to carry on my dad’s legacy I think he’ll be a good teammate to have. From what I remember he was just a dorky, quiet kid, he’d hardly said two words to me the handful of times we had met. So you can only imagine my surprise when he walked in and the dorky little boy next door had become possibly the hottest boy in all of NYC. 

“Hey Peter,” I giggled as I waved to him, “I’m so glad you came.”

“Yeah, of course, I was a little surprised you invited me though…” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile.

“Oh yeah, I just figured a friend of daddy’s is a friend of mine,” I stopped one of the waiters walking by and passed Peter a drink, “Here, have this, it’s crazy good.”

He takes a little sip and nods, “Good. I’m glad you did, I was wondering if you were still gonna go to college out here after everything that happened.”

“Of course! I love New York,” I wink before taking a big swig of my own drink, “Plus I kind of wanted to give the whole Avengers thing a shot.”

“I heard, Fury said you’ve been talking about helping out.”

I nod, “Yeah, I don’t know if I really want to be a superhero per say, but it’s my dad’s legacy and I want to help out in some way.”

“Cool,” he blushed as he glanced down at his drink, “Sorry, parties aren’t really my thing still, I actually kind of just came to see how you were.”

“Aw,” I coo, “That’s so cute, I thought you would be, you seem more confident, you actually look me in the eyes now, mostly.”

He looked back up at me with a smile, “More confident sure, but I still don’t really go to parties.”

“Well you’re like an honorary Stark aren’t you?”

His whole face flushed red at that, “I don’t know about that.”

“Nah, you totally are, which means you’ve got to party like one,” I push the drink to his lips, “Chug that and we’ll get you another, then I’ll teach you how to dance,” I wink, downing my own drink to demonstrate.

He takes a deep breath and down the whole cup in one drink.

/

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how unusually warm it is, then it’s the arm around my waist. I roll over groggily and rub my eyes, giving myself just a few moments to take everything in. The first thing I spot is Peter, laying in bed besides me, naked. After checking him out for a second, what happened last night comes crashing back to my mind.  I feel my face start to burn, don’t get me wrong, he was great in bed, but I just know I totally corrupted him. Oops. 

It’s a little hard to feel bad when the sex was that good.

Peter’s eyes flutter open, looking over me sleepily before going wide eyed, “H-Hi,” he stutters.

“Hey,” I smile back, “You’re like a little space heater you know?”

“Uh, thanks,” he sits up very suddenly, looking a little frantic as he grabs his phone, “I-I’m sorry I really have to go, I h-have plans.”

I frown, watching him scramble back into his clothes, “No problem, I’m sure I’ll see you around?”

He nods, not meeting my eyes as he pulls his shirt on, “Y-Yeah, see you!” he’s out the door fast enough to give me whiplash.

Did I just get smashed and dashed by Peter Parker?

/

I feel awkward about what happened with Peter, I mean I had a good time but the more I think about it it just seemed like something was off that morning. I want to apologize or something, but I don’t have his number or anything. I was hoping he’d be at the Avengers tower while I’m in today, but no such luck. I feel really bad, I had a lot of fun with him, I really did want to be friends. He just really doesn’t seem like the type to hit it and quit it so I really feel like I did something wrong…

“Oh hey kid,” Bucky breaks my train of thought and draws my attention away from the papers I was looking over, “What are you up to?” “Looking over some of my dad's old suit plans,” I hum, “What about you?”

“After mission snack,” he smiles as he opens the fridge, “Peter and Wanda were right behind me.”

My eyes widen and I look right to the door, waiting for them to enter and debating what I should do. I guess just ask him to talk?

He meets my eyes as soon as he enters the room, his cheeks flush instantly and he clears his throat, “Oh, hey (y/n).”

“Hey,” I smile back.

Screw that fucking Spiderman suit, he should go to jail for looking like that.

“Hi (y/n)” Wanda smiles as she walks in behind him, “How are you?”

“Good, you?”

“Starving,” she rubs her stomach with a smile, “I need a snack,” she heads right for the kitchen while Peter just stands a few feet away from me. “How was your mission?” I ask.

“Good, nothing special really,” he crosses his arms over his chest, “How have you been?”

“Good.”

How do I bring this up? I mean normally if I hook up with someone I don’t care that much about talking to them after, but I really liked hanging out with Peter at the actual party too. He’s awesome in bed, let’s not pretend he isn’t, but he’s funny too, and wicked smart. Plus he’s a lot nicer than most guys, I don’t know, I just really got along with him. I really hope I didn’t ruin things between us.

“Well I’m just gonna grab a snack too,” Peter pushes his hand through his hair, a light pink color dusting his cheeks and nose, “I’m pretty tired…”

“I bet, you should get some rest,” I cross my legs and turn back to the notes, only to spot Wanda staring at us, “What?”

She smirks, “Nothing, nothing.”

I frown, “Okay, not nothing, what is it?” “You two are just having some interesting thoughts,” she snickers.

Both Peter and I flush red while Bucky cocks his head in confusion, “What are they thinking about?”

She gets ready to speak but I’m quick to interject, “Nothing.”

“The kids were just having a little fun,” she smirks, “Come on Bucky, I think they need a little alone time.”

He went wide eyed, “You two better not try anything in here.”

“Jesus Christ we won’t!” I snap, “You two are gross!”

“Oh I’m gross?” Wanda raises a brow, “I know exactly what’s going on in that little head of yours,” she glances towards Peter, “She’s into the suit Peter.”

“Hey!” I glare at her while he blushes, “Don’t kink shame me.”

“I’m gonna go throw up,” Bucky snatches up his food on his way out. “You better leave to,” I threaten Wanda, pointing my pen at her as threateningly as I can.

She starts laughing, “Yeah I’m getting out of here before you two start getting heated,” she winks to me as she saunters out of the room, “Wrap it up this time!”

“Hey!” I snap, my cheeks flushing once more, “I have an IUD,” I try to assure Peter, who seems to be malfunctioning, “Uh, you good?”

His mouth hangs open for a minute before he speaks, “I’m really sorry about them.”

I shrug, “It’s fine. I really did want to talk to you alone though, I’m really sorry about the party.”

He knits his brow, “Why are you sorry? I had fun at the party.”

“It seemed like you regretted it,” I bite the inside of my cheek nervously.

He purses his lips and shakes his head, “I don’t regret it. I shouldn’t have left like I did though, I promise I’m not normally like that.”

“Oh,” I don’t really know what to say, “So you really just had to go?”

He averts his eyes before shaking his head, “I kinda panicked?”

“Panicked?” I chuckle, some of my nerves starting to ease out, “Why?”

“I just haven’t really done that before…” he blushed.

My jaw falls open, “Oh my God Peter I am so sorry, I had no idea. I should have asked if I was your first th-”

“No, no! Not like that, I’ve slept with people before,” he shakes his head, “It’s just always been with long term girlfriends. I just didn’t really know what to do when we got up and I panicked.”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes from my lips, “That’s really cute Peter, and I mean what you did was fine, I was just a little disappointed I guess. I mean I had a lot of fun just hanging out too so I was kind of hoping we could have kept hanging out, but if you just wanted a one night stand that’s fine too.”

“W-Well I wanted to keep hanging out too, I guess I should have just asked,” he laughs lightly at himself, “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by taking me on a date sometime,” I shrug, “You know, just if you still wanted to hang out sometime.”

He goes wide eyed before clearing his throat, “Oh, um, yeah, I should do that. Do you, uh, have plans tonight?”

I shake my head, “Nope.”

“Cool, uh, would you want to go to the movies then?”

I nod eagerly, “I would love to.”

“O-Okay!” he grins ear to ear, “I’m gonna go shower though, and change! I’ll be back in ten?”

“I’ll be right here,” I smile back, “Can’t wait.”

“Me either,” he begins walking away but spins suddenly loudly declaring, “Oh!” before he spins back around. He presses a quick peck to my lips and bites his lips, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

I blush, my stomach filling with anxious butterflies, “I’ll be waiting.”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader angst #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x stark!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #tom holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #peter parker blurb #spiderman fluff #tom holland fluff #peter x reader #peter x you #Peter x Y/N #MCU fanfiction #MCU Spiderman

[leah-bobeea]

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve smut #steve rogers smut #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #marvel #avengers fanfic #captain america #ceo!au #chris evans #leah-bobeea