kai

Note: Au where Brennan says yes to Booth in season 5 ep 16.

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Booth and Brennan walked out of Dr. Sweets’ office. They had been there for about five hours discussing how Sweets’ book was factually wrong, that the first case they worked was not the one he had written about. They both left with Sweets’ final thoughts on their minds, he said they were in love with each other, but they brushed it off and never confronted their feelings for each other. Neither of them had the courage to do so. They were the gambler and the scientist.

Booth stopped walking when they reached the bottom of the stairs, making Brennan stop in her tracks as well.

“I’m the gambler,” Booth said. Brennan smiled softly.

“I believe in giving this a chance,” he continued. Brennan’s face faltered.

“Look, I want to give this a shot,” he was facing her, not even two feet apart from her body.

“You mean us?” Brennan questioned. She paused. “No, the FBI won’t let us work together as a couple,” she spoke. He cut her off.

“Don’t do that. That is no reason,” he started before pulling her close to him.

He wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her. This wasn’t like their first kiss and it wasn’t like the kiss a few years before during Christmas time that Caroline had them do. They weren’t drunk and they weren’t kissing for someone else, they were kissing each other, for each other. She rested her hands upon his chest and shoulders, their lips fitting together like a puzzle piece. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like forever. She wanted to continue to kiss him, she really did, but she pulled away.

Brennan pushed him away softly, resting her hands against his chest and said “No.” There were tears in her eyes.

“No,” Brennan said again.

“Why? Why?” Booth questioned.

“Yo-you thought you were protecting me, but you’re the one who needs protecting,” Brennan sounded so distraught.

“Protecting from what?” Booth’s heart was hurting, his eyes started to water.

“From me..” Brennan said. “I don’t have your kind of open heart,” her voice was broken.

“Just give it a chance that’s all I’m asking,” Booth’s voice pleaded.

“No, you said it yourself. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome.” she sighed softly.

“Well then let’s go for a different outcome, here. All right, let’s just, just hear me out here. You know when you talk to other couples, who have been in love for thirty or forty or fifty years, it’s always the guy who says ‘I knew.’” Booth’s eyes watered. They were both silent for a moment.

“I knew. Right from the beginning.” he broke the silence.

“Your evidence is anecdotal,” the words left her lips.

“I’m that guy, Bones. I’m that guy. I know.” he sounded like he was begging her to understand.

“I-I am not a gambler. I’m a scientist. I can’t change. I don’t know how.. I don’t know how.” Brennan’s heart tore a bit more as each word left her lips. Booth’s eyes were filled with tears. He wanted her to understand how he felt, he wanted her to know how much he loved her. He sighed and wiped the tears from his right cheek with the back of his hand.

“Bones, just hear me out, please.” his eyes begged her. She nodded silently, afraid her voice would crack if she spoke.

“I am in love with you. I can’t recall the exact moment I fell in love, but I fell hard. Bones, I’m the gambler, I’m the one who uses my gut. My gut is telling me we need to give this a shot. Bones, I’m that guy. I’m that guy.” he grabbed her hand in his, rubbing her palm with his thumb.

“I’m your guy. I know.” he breathed.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say, well, she did know what she wanted to say but she didn’t know how. Social skills weren’t her strong suit. She looked away from his eyes to his soft lips and then back up to his soft, brown eyes. She knew he was the right guy but she was a scientist, you don’t follow your gut, you use your mind. She wasn’t thinking rationally.

She pulled her hand away from his before bunching his coat in her hands and leaning up to kiss him. Her lips were on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and kissed her softly. He knew it was cliché but he felt the sparks, he felt the time stop and felt everything around them melt away. It was just him and Brennan in that moment, kissing on the steps. He loved the taste of her vanilla chapstick. He loved how warm her body felt pressed up against his. He loved her.

Brennan smiled into the kiss and balled his coat even more into her fist, afraid he wouldn’t actually be there when she opened her eyes. She pulled away when she was out of breath, immediately missing how his lips felt against hers. It was like two perfect puzzle pieces fitting together. She looked at his appearance. She noted his lips looked red from the kiss, his eyes shined bright and he had the biggest smile on his face. She still hadn’t let go of his coat.

“Bones-“ he started to speak but she cut him off.

“I love you, Booth. I do.” Brennan said.

“Science is based upon facts and the fact is that I love you. I’m not thinking rationally but it doesn’t seem rational to not be happy with someone who loves me, who truly loves me.” she spoke softly.

He smiled even bigger, if it was physically possible. His hands rested on the small of her back and he was just smiling. She was so beautiful to him in this moment. Her cheeks pink, a small smile on her lips and her prepossessing eyes staring into his.

“Bones, you don’t need to grip my coat so tightly,” he whispered.

“I-Sorry. I was afraid that once I opened my eyes, you wouldn’t be there anymore.” she said as she let go of his coat.

“I’m never going to leave you. I will always be there when you open your eyes. I promise. I’m that guy.” he reassured her, tightening his grip on her back to let her know he was really there for her. Brennan nodded her head softly to let him know she knew.

blurb: written to the song Ghost of You by 5 Seconds of Summer. Tom struggles with a loss and has to cope with the ghost of you.

word count: 929

dedicated to @tiemeupspidey, the lovely person in my life who inspires me to write imagines and post them

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Tom sat there at the kitchen table silently. He held your coffee cup in his hand, his thumb ghosting your lipstick stain that was starting to fade. He could see the vibrant red faded into a see through red, the tiniest cracks on the outside of the plain, white cup reminding him just how long that cup had belonged to you. He wished more than anything that you'd walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, you'd pour yourself a cup of fresh brewed coffee and grab the creamer from the fridge. You’d pour the creamer into your coffee, he remembered you'd only use French Vanilla creamer. The coffee would always be too hot for you, so you'd let the cup sit and would wrap your arms around him every morning. He’d kiss your hand and you'd kiss the top of his head, the little things to show how much you guys loved each other.

He couldn't bare to play music anymore in the house, he’d want to dance with you like you guys would do all the time. But his feet couldn't dance, not like they had done with you and he couldn't move himself to dance through your guys’ house with the ghost of you. He noticed the picture of you two resting on the coffee table in the living room. It had been taken on your first date. He remembered the day perfectly.

“I’m going to marry you,” Tom smiled at you.

“What?” you giggled. “It’s only our first date, Tom,” you finished.

“I know, but mark my words, one day I’m going to marry you.” He spoke before grabbing your hand in his and looking up at the night sky.

Tom looked down at his hand and at his empty ring finger. His eyes were glossy, he missed you so badly. He missed dancing with you through your home, Tessa following along the best she could. He could hear your precious and soft laugh and could remember how you'd hide your face in your hands from embarrassment even though you two were engaged, though he didn't mind because he got to see the engagement ring on your finger and was reminded for the millionth time that day that you were going to marry him. He entered the bedroom and opened your closet, even after a couple months, everything still smells just like your perfume. His eyes caught your Zeppelin shirt and his heart felt like it could shatter even more than it already was.

It was this shirt that you were wearing the first time Tom had laid his eyes on you. You were sitting in a local tea shop, your jean clad legs crossed, a tattered book in your hand, your hair perched behind your ear and your barely faded Zeppelin shirt on your torso. He can't recall what book you'd been reading, but he can recall that day like it was yesterday. He walked up to you after getting his cup of tea and asked if he could sit at the vacant seat at the table, praying you'd say yes even though many tables were empty. You said yes, and that was the start of you two. You two had become super close friends, you’d crash at his place and steal his clothes and no other female was this close and adored by Tom than you. You had started to grow feelings for him after being so close for a year and remained single, you didn't even go one ONE date that year. Tom had grown feelings for you two and his mother had no idea why you two were so oblivious and didn't see you wanted each other.

He asked you out one night you came over for movie night, he could remember how big your smile had gotten and how you started to blush and said yes. You guys took a drive to a secluded park for dinner and brought a picnic with you, later sitting on the hood of his car to look at the stars and that's when he blurted that he would marry you one day before grabbing your hand. Two years later he popped the question and you guys were set to get married a year later. That didn't happen though.

You passed away four months before the wedding. A car accident while Tom was away for filming. You died in the hospital a week later, he saw you breathe for the last time and felt your grip become so loose. He heard the machine go from continuous beeps to one long, painful beep.

“Come back, come back, please, come back..” he sobbed while refusing to let your hand go.

“Come back, I can’t lose you, please, come back, you’re going to be alright, I promise, baby, please, come back to me, please.” he begged and begged but the doctors told him there was nothing they could do, you had passed away.

He was sobbing now, your shirt balled in his hands as he laid on your side of the bed. Memories kept flooding his mind, memories of your guys’ fights, all the times you kissed, your dates, movie nights, walking Tessa together, going to premieres together, practicing Tom’s lines with him, everything, everything. He weared your ring on his chain and never took it off. He wanted you to be with him whenever and wherever he went, he refused to let you go. The ghost of you echoed in the house wherever he went.

tom hiddleston wearing a flower crown is the softest thing i’ve seen so i decided you all needed to see it too

here’s my second one shot(ps it’s super sad) and i just want to thank you all for all the love and support on Professor Hiddleston and i hope you guys enjoy this one just as much :)

concept: when you get ripped out of tom’s life with no warning, he decides to write you letters.

word count: 1,408

warnings: super sad//talks about death

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Empty, I felt completely empty and alone. It didn’t matter that 6 months had flown by just like that. It didn’t matter the countless letters I have sent her since the moment I got the news. It didn’t matter, none of this did. It didn’t matter to others that 6 months ago the love of my life was ripped out of my fucking arms and killed, leaving me completely alone and empty. But here I am, writing my 25th letter to her, I write to her every week knowing that she won’t actually read it.

Dear my Princess,

It’s Tom again, I don’t even know why I say who I am because deep down I know that you won’t ever see this, you won’t ever open this and you won’t ever read it. I have so much to say and I find myself everyday that passes that I have more and more and more to say. I want to say how angry I am. At myself, at the driver in the other car, at you, at the universe, at every single person. Mad at myself for getting angry at you over a stupid fight about the laundry and how I caused you to want to leave the house so badly that you did. Mad at you for getting in your car and driving away to go to your best friend’s house for the night. Mad at the other driver in their car because they hit you on your side of the car and instantly caused your death. Mad at the universe for deciding it was your time to go when I know it for sure was NOT. Mad at every single person because they didn’t die but you did and they’re still alive and able to go home to the love of their lives and to go see their family and to laugh and smile and to be able to just breathe.

I lay awake most nights waiting for the sound of your keys unlocking the front door and walking in and give me some sort of signal that you just want to be home. I lay awake every night holding your pillow hoping that your scent will stay there forever but knowing that your scent is fading every day. I refuse to wash your clothes, in fact they’re still hanging up in your closet. I refuse to lose the scent of you because walking into our room and being able to have something of yours give me a sign that you’re still here when you aren’t, gives me some sort of motivation to still get out of bed the next day and still go to work even though I don’t want to. I refuse to take your pictures off the wall and refuse to take down all the little things you hung around the house, it gives me the feeling that you’re just gone for the night and that maybe, just maybe you’ll come home in the morning. I refuse to accept the fact that you were ripped from my arms forever and won’t be coming home.

I miss holding you at night, holding your waist in my arms and knowing that you would be there when I woke up. I miss breakfast with you, when I would make us pancakes and you’d make the coffee and tea and cut the fruit. I miss surprising you with your favorite flowers when I know you’ve had a stressful day. I miss watching movies with you at night, when you’d fall asleep on my chest and I would carry you to our room and place you under the covers softly so I wouldn’t wake you up. I miss your voice so much.

I miss the way it would sound raspy in the morning when you giggled and said “good morning”. I miss the way it sounds over the phone. I miss the way it sounds when you told me “I love you” and went to give me a kiss. I miss your kisses, so, so much. I miss the way your soft lips felt against mine. I miss the sweet sugary taste of your lips. I miss your touch, you gave me a sense of safety and love and warmth that nobody had ever given me before. I miss the spark we had, we were electricity and heat, and now that you’re gone it’s all static and cold. I miss the way I’d be able to rub my thumb on your palm in circles when I would hold your hand.

I miss the way you’d sit by the window on rainy days and had a book open, reading while listening to the rain against the window. ‘Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter.’ I hate the rain now, because you’re gone. I miss the playlists you’d make me when you felt inspired. I miss your hair, as weird as that may sound. I miss playing with it, it was so soft. I miss the sweet brown sugar smell of your shampoo. I miss the moments of you lounging around in one of my shirts that fell giant on you and you had your hair up in a messy bun. I miss reading Shakespeare plays out loud with you just to be goofy. I miss seeing Shakespeare productions with you, my god you loved them so much.

I would give anything in this world to have a second chance of that night. To stop you from walking out that door and getting in that car and getting into that accident. To stop you from losing you. When I got the call that you had been in an accident, my world crumbled right there. I rushed as fast as I could and when I got there they told me you were gone and I screamed. I screamed in pain and anger and shock. I walked straight over to that driver and I screamed at him for hitting you, for taking your life away.

Nobody on scene could calm me down, I was a wreck. Your best friend showed up too and she had it more together than i ever did at that place. I watched as they tore open the car and found your body. My heart broke the second I got the call, but watching them show me you were really gone, that shattered my heart into millions of pieces. The day of your funeral came around and that night I got so drunk and I went to bed and I woke up the next morning with a big slap to my face, it was official, you wouldn’t be coming back at all. I wonder all the time what was going on in your head up until the moment you got hit. Did you hate me? Did you want to leave me? Did you still love me? I didn’t even get to say “I love you” before you walked out that door. I wonder if you wanted to turn around and just come home. I wonder so much about what was going on in your head and I wish you could just tell me, to put me out of my misery.

They say that time is supposed to heal you but it hasn’t changed a thing. You’re still my princess, my baby girl, my love of my life, my partner in crime, my baby, mine. I just needed you to know this, need you to see this and to read this. I just needed you to know..

I should have said this when you were still here.

Love you so much,

Your Tom

I place the folded letter into the light blue envelope and close it. On the front I write your name and on the back, on the part where the card gets sealed, I write the last line of the letter. “I should have said this when you were still here.” I get out of my car and walk over to your spot, your burial in the grass and I place that letter on your tombstone with your favorite flowers, daisies, my hands shaking as I place the items down. Tears slid down my cheek and I screamed, no words, just a long, pained sound.

“I love you, baby. I’m so sorry.”

heyo, this is my first one shot in the tumblr community. you can request more for me to write if you’d like :)

concept: tom hiddleston as a shakespeare professor at your college.

word count: 2,726

warnings: none, pure fluff

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“Cuckoo, cuckoo: Oh word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear!” his smooth British voice speaks, finishing the end of the poem “Spring” by William Shakespeare. He places the bookmark back in and closes the book softly, turning his face up to focus on the students in the room. “Now what’s your analysis on the poem? Before I dive in, I’d love to hear your point of views on this piece.” he speaks as he pushes his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, your eyes focusing on him. You raise your hand, noticing nobody else was, then begin to speak. “Well, Professor Hiddleston, I believe the poem is about the wife’s unfaithfulness to her husband, the sound of the cuckoo is supposed to sound like the word ‘cuckold’, a medieval term which is literally meant to describe a husband whose wife has been unfaithful to him, but usually the man is oblivious to the infidelity. This insists on the fact that the wife is seeing other men besides her husband and it’s about her infidelity and the poem shows us how nature’s seasons connects to human emotions and.. well and that. That nature brings upon emotions during the seasons and now that winter is over, well is his fear of domestic dread and so forth.” your jean clad legs sit crossed and you tap your pen against your notes as you speak.

Tom, known as Professor, sits in awe, you had just analyzed the poem as a whole without needing any help whatsoever. Since class had started a couple months ago, you’d always been one of his top students in his Shakespeare 101 class. He always looked forward to seeing you walk through that door for class, noting how much you paid attention and spoke, how much you enjoyed the literature and how you could understand it so quickly. He smiles softly before speaking, “(Y/N), that’s exactly what the poem is about. Are you sure you shouldn’t be teaching the class instead of me?” He chuckles softly and a crimson red beings to spread on your cheeks, you mutter a soft “thank you” before he asks the class if anyone else wanted to share their interpretation, and when nobody does, he speaks again to say to open the class textbooks to page two-hundred and thirty nine so you can move to one of Shakespeare’s plays.

You were so into your notes that you didn’t notice your professor end class and the students walk out. “(Y/N)?” he questions as he places a hand on your book, breaking you from your zone. You look up and see Tom towering over you, his left eyebrow raised and a sly smile gracing his lips. “Into our zone I see,” he says. You move a piece of your hair behind your ear as heat rushes to your cheeks. “Oh god, yeah, I guess so. I’m sorry, you probably want to get out of here and go home for the weekend.” you apologize as you pack up your class materials into your backpack. “No need to be sorry, darling, you were just very into your work and that’s not a crime. But before you leave is it okay we have a quick discussion?” he asks and you nod, studying his face. The way his slightly curly, chestnut colored hair looking so soft and his blue eyes overpowering your own, you notice he hasn’t shaved in a bit since his jaw and chin is covered in stubble, you were having a very hard time thinking, he even called you darling. “Ever since you walked into my class on day one, you’ve always been one of my top students. Your analyzing is brilliant and to be honest, I don’t even think you needed the one oh one class, you could’ve jumped straight into the advanced course,” he takes his glasses off, leaning against his desk which wasn’t too far away from yours because as much as you don’t want to admit, you purposely picked the front of the class to be near him, after all he is definitely a sight you like to see. You look at him with a puzzling look and before you can speak, he continues.

“You always answer my questions as well and I love hearing your input and ideas and point of view, there are others in this class who have a much harder time and I was hoping, maybe– if this wouldn’t be too much to ask, uh, could I have you be my teacher’s assistant for my other class? I’m working on different material with them and I’m rather behind on a lot of grading and I figure since you’re a top student that you could maybe help?” his legs cross at his ankles and his words sound almost nervous? But there is no absolute way that he, Tom, was nervous to ask you to be his assistant. “Now, of course, I would pay you because I understand you have other classes and this would take a lot of your time.” he finishes. You sit there, your heart racing and a smile on your face. “I would be very honored to be your teacher’s assistant, Professor Hiddleston,” you say as you get up out of your seat and sling your bag over your shoulder. His eyes instantly glow and his smile widens, a sigh of relief sounding from his soft looking, pink lips. “Thank you, love, you’re a lifesaver! And please, call me Tom, being called professor makes me few so old. Would you be okay if we go to the diner down the street and get some dinner while we discuss the details? If not, I totally understand and I can just email you,” he grabs his own items and pack them up before slinging his brown leather work bag over his right shoulder, his glasses perching again on his face.

“That sounds great, I’m starving.” you smile and you both head for the diner, a silent but comfortable walk. You simply cannot wrap around your mind that the teacher you have a major crush on picked you to be his assistant and even went as far as saying you could’ve immediately joined the advanced class. Dinner goes amazing, just as you had been hoping for. Tom’s phone vibrates and he looks down at the screen, your heart faltering for a second thinking that maybe his possible girlfriend(he didn’t mention a girlfriend at all but then again, dinner was more about you being his assistant for school and barely getting into your personal lives) and slightly frown. Tom sighs and you look up, cocking an eyebrow to question what was up. “Just a text from my mum, inviting herself over to my loft this weekend which I’m quite knackered about is all,” he smiles politely at you. You nod in understanding. “Well, I have to say I very much enjoyed dinner tonight. And again, thank you so much for the opportunity to be your teacher’s assistant, that means I get to indulge in even more Shakespeare than I already do!” you giggle then take another bite of your fries. He takes a sip of his earl grey tea and then speaks, “So, if you don’t mind, tell me more about yourself. I already know you’re a fantastic student and very much adore Shakespeare. What else is there to you?”

Your belly gets butterflies and you swoon, blushing before humming. “Mm, well. I love all literature. Honestly, I’ve always been obsessed with books and libraries and bookstores, there’s this great book store back in Los Angeles I’ve been to once called The Last Bookstore and oh my god I’ve never been to any other store that’s topped it. I love Netflix but I assume many people my age do haha. I enjoy the rain, it’s very calming and on rainy days I’ll sit by the window and listen to the rain hitting the window, ya know the pitter patter, pitter patter noises and open a book and read. When I was younger my parents used to complain that I never socialized enough because I would much rather enjoy a book at home than go out with friends. I don’t play any music or instruments but I definitely enjoy listening to it, basically any genre except country and that 'screamo’ stuff is enjoyable to me. I’d like to be an author one day if I’m being honest, but it’s very hard to get established and make money, so that’s definitely what I’m striving hard for. But yeah, I’m pretty lame besides that, don’t like partying really and enjoy the movies. If you want to know anything else, you can just ask.” you yourself are taken back at how smooth and easy it is to answer him since you’re horrible at talking to boys, especially boys you have feelings for. Tom sits there with a smile on his face watching you talk about your passions, his blue eyes laced with adoration and his arms, clad in a nice white button up shirt, crossing against his chest.

“You don’t sound lame at all, you sound refreshing. I don’t know many people nowadays who sound like you and speak the passions you just told me,” he laughs, not in a mocking tone, but in an adoration tone. “What about the theater? Or like in general, do you enjoy musicals and ballets? I figure you enjoy plays because you’re so fond of Shakespeare, but correct me if I’m wrong,” he finishes. “I love the theater! I love watching the Nutcracker during the holidays and I absolutely love musicals. My favorite is Chicago and Wicked. Plays are also an enjoyment of mine.” you speak before adding “tell me more about yourself, Tom,” and then continuing to eat your food. “Well, darling, as you can tell, I am obsessed with Shakespeare, in fact it started when I was at Cambridge for my schooling. I was and still am very into literature so I decided to take a Shakespeare class and it changed my life. I got so much more into theater and participated in theater at school and it led me to want to teach Shakespeare, you know to connect with others who appreciate his talent and help them savor it more and understand it more. Othello is my favorite play. Anyways, I love literature like you. Bon Iver is my favorite musician and his music is always nice to listen to. Superman has always been my favorite superhero. And I’m a child at heart, especially when one gets to know me.” there he goes again with that darling, making your stomach flip.

You guys continue to talk, listing your favorite movies and songs and colors and talking more about each other’s personal lives and childhoods. Tom can’t contain his smile when he looks at you, he spends the entire night studying your face and body language and your facial expressions, all that he deems absolutely adorable. Your phone goes off and you check it, a text message from your roommate asking where you were and when you’d be home, after all it was already nine o'clock at night. You text back that you’d be leaving in ten minutes tops and apologize for totally letting it slip by without saying what you were up to. “Hey, Tom, tonight’s been absolutely lovely and I’ve enjoyed every second of it, but it’s already late and I think I should head home, my roommate was a bit worried I’ve been gone all night,” you say softly, your heart not wanting to leave him. He understands completely and pays for the check, even though you protest, and offers to give you a ride home. “Are you sure? You already paid for dinner and I don’t want to be a bother at all,” you bit your lip. “What type of gentleman would I be if I left you alone to fend for a way home this late at night? It’s no problem at all,” he smiles and you walk with him to his car.He opens the door for you and you thank him. He places his bag in the back and gets in the front, turning the key in the ignition and you both buckle up. You give him your address and thank him, again, for giving you a ride even after treating you to dinner. You didn’t even feel yourself falling asleep as the car drove, Bon Iver’s “Re: Stacks” playing softly from the stereo in his car.

Tom takes the time you’re asleep to notice you more, especially in the soft lighting from the street lights. Your hair rests against the window, your mouth is slightly parted, your chest rising and falling at a perfect pace, your hands under your head as a pillow. He also notices how your body twisted just a tad to the side so you could be as comfortable as possible and he can’t help but smile and look back at the road. He pulls up at what he suspects your address is, one of the dorms for sophomores and juniors, he shakes you gently, pulling you from your sleep. “(Y/N), we’re here, I’m pretty sure,” he says softly, perfect music to your ears. Your eyes flutter open and you sit up. “Thank you, Thomas,” you say and rub your eyes. He chuckles softly at your tired state and waves it off. You bid your goodbye and get out of the car, slinging your bag on your shoulder and shivering at the cool night air. You look back and see Tom wave goodbye at you and then his car taking off to his place as you turn around and go up the stairs, turning your key into the door and unlocking it. You walk in and sigh, dropping your bag on the floor, lightly screaming when your roommate taps you from behind. “(Y/N), where have you been all night? With a boy maybe?” she wiggles her eyebrows at you and you giggle. “A man,” you say dramatically then finish with “the man!”

“Nah, I was with Professor Hiddleston, he asked me to be his teacher’s assistant and we worked out the details at dinner and then he drove me home. We must’ve just lost track of time is all,” you smile and see her facial reaction, shocked and happy. “But look, I am absolutely exhausted and we can talk about this tomorrowww, I’m going to bed,” you giggle and salute her goodbye, making your way to your room. You change into a giant shirt and plug your phone in, crawling under the covers and look up at the ceiling. This is wrong, your feelings for Tom is wrong, he’s your teacher and you know nothing good will come from getting involved. But you can’t help it, you can’t help but think about how soft and warm his laugh is, how comforting his smile is, how his black framed glasses make his face look somehow better, the stubble adoring his face and his chestnut, curly hair, his gorgeous eyes that you can swear have at least a dozen different shades of blue and green, even some specks of gold. You shake your head before closing your eyes and drifting to sleep on your silky sheets.

Tom couldn’t help but think about the night as well, he honestly did need a teacher’s assistant but he never imagined that you’d say yes. He lays there on his own bed, rethinking the entire night and smiles. He thinks about how you’d be spending more time together, possibly, and how you’ll be absolutely amazing being his assistant, after all you are his top student. He knows nothing serious will happen, he knows that you’re not his, you’re not his (Y/N). You’ll find someone soon and you’ll be their (Y/N), and he understands that fully. He sighs, looks up at the ceiling and runs his hand over the blanket that rests just up to his waist while his other hand ruffles through his hair. He shuts his eyes in frustration and sighs, shutting his eyes so he can fall asleep.