Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)
Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.
About Lydia: A couple of years ago she'd have told you her life was over. Now, at 41, Lydia has realised the future is hers to make - even if that means never opening her heart up again.
She's an art historian and European - though this should not be taken to imply a specific appearance or ethnicity! Her family and other aspects of her background are established.
You'll notice that the physical descriptors for Lydia are deliberately loose, other than: her age, that she's fem/AFAB, her hair is starting to grey, and she's got stretch marks and a whole metric ton of issues with her own body. In other words: she can look whatever way you want her to look in your own imagination, bearing these aspects in mind, and be from wherever you want her to come from.
Rating: Explicit (18+) - individual chapters will have their own ratings (there's a lot of fluff and angst ahead) but smut will be very clearly signalled. Expect bad language throughout. If you read beyond the warnings on each chapter, you are agreeing you're 18 years or older.
Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; explicit smut (eventually); discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues; references to body issues; strong language; alcohol; I'll update if I need to as the fic continues
A/N: My love for Mr Ben is well-known but I couldn't stop thinking about him as a literature professor and, well, here we are. This is my first fic, and it's written as an AU with nary a sprinkling of canon about a character who existed for five minutes in a sketch. Make it make sense, Rose.
This is going to be a multi-chapter series (I have a plan and an outline document and everything). I plan to add some headcanons for Professor Benjamin at some point, and will pop some little drabbles in amongst the full chapters.
There will be smut - but this is a slow-burner. You have been warned.
Main Series:
Chapter 1 - The Visitor
Chapter 2 - Bright in the Sea
Chapter 3 - Ghosts
Chapter 4 - Save Me
Chapter 5 - This Must Be The Place
Chapter 6 - If You'd Accept Surrender
Chapter 7 - Forget Who We Are
Chapter 8 - Sister Winter
Chapter 9 - Open Your Eyes
Chapter 10 - Something About You
Chapter 11 - My Favourite Work of Art
Chapter 12 - If I Must Have A Future
Chapter 13 - Coming Soon!
One-Shots and Drabbles:
An Inspecteur Calls: A Pedrotober One-Shot
Books: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot
Christmas Tree: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot
Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist!
Thanks: to the people who made me feel less bonkers for developing an entire world around Ben and Lydia - @cutesyscreenname, headcanon collaborator, moodboard creator, and Prof Benjamin E. Morales enabler supreme; the incredibly encouraging, kind, and heroic fic writers whose understanding of how to embrace the sensitive and emotional hidden side of 'canonical' characters is an inspiration - @lunapascal, @imaswellkid, @julesonrecord
(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)
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A meet cute with Javi, and we stumble on an unintentional little praise kink.
WC: 1200
It's not a thousand words, but A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words Challenge hosted by the irrepressible @the-blind-assassin-12 ! Thank you Alyssa for hosting such a fun challenge!
The number 3 rattles on its tracks, and as it rounds a curve, the wheels start to squeal.
The P.A. crackles to life, and a staticy voice announces, Clark Street! Next Stop Clark Street!
"Clark Street? Did I miss..."
You open your eyes to the muttered question filled with worry beside you.
Turning your head toward the fellow next to you, his warm brown eyes were perfect circles, his brows disappearing into his honey brown curls. His head swiveling and his neck long to locate a sign. He looks like a meerkat.
"Where are you headed?"
He jumps a little, coming out of his little bubble of concern.
"I, ah, well, I was going to Broadway."
"Times Square Station?"
"Yes, Times Square," though his voice is anxious, it was also warm and accented.
"That's... you've overshot by a bit. Doze off?"
"I, well, no, I was going over this script I'm writing, and I just got lost in it, I guess."
He looks down at his watch, then up at the map, grimacing as he counts the stops.
"Well, it's no big deal, we're crossing into Brooklyn, but you can just jump off and pop back on going the other way."
"I think I am going to miss my appointment." Then he looks down at his feet, his brows tightly knit and the sweetest, saddest pout you've ever seen.
"Eeshh, I'm sorry. Can you text whomever you're meeting?"
He quickly nods as he pulls out his phone.
"If anyone can get this meeting moved to tomorrow, it's Nick." He starts typing away, his phone pings, he reads, snorts in embarrassed amusement at whatever it said, and types some more. Then sighs.
"Sssso, what's your script about?"
This guy. It's as if the clouds parted from the sky, his face radiant. And he launches into a summary, but then starts including asides about influences and particular shots that must reference this or that.
Chuckling, you suggest that he should name the dog after Gene Hackman's character in The French Connection.
His eyes go round again, but this time in surprised delight, and he starts scribbling the note on his script.
"Well, this is me coming up," you sigh, pointing up to nothing in particular. "Nice talking to you."
Then he takes your raised hand in both of his, cradling it and looking into your eyes, the very picture of earnestness.
"Thank you so much for - everything... I just," he sighs, "my friend Nick, he has a tight schedule tonight, so now I am on my own. I guess I can eat dinner at the hotel, but-"
You look at him, for a beat, and surprise yourself-
"Well, if you want, you're getting off here anyway, to turn around- we could have dinner, and then you can head back to Manhattan."
"You wouldn't mind? I would love that!"
"Not at all," you said, and introduced yourself.
"I'm Javi."
The train squeals to a stop, and the conductor announces again that it is the Clark Street Station.
"So where are we going?"
"Well, lots of good places to eat, along the way to my neighborhood- "
"Sounds great. What neighborhood are you in? So many cool Brooklyn neighborhoods from movies! Would I know it?"
Javi chats away about his favorite New York movies, but doesn't forget to ask about you and your interests... and your favorite New York movies, Nick Cage movies, and if you like cheesecake.
This is so unlike you to be so impulsive with a stranger, no less. But the man just seems like a walking, talking green flag, and it was kind of nice not to just go home after work and stare at the TV or scroll on your phone... or, let's be honest, do both, only half-paying attention to the show or movie you put on. Thinking this sort of guiltily, you blurt out-
"Is it true that studios push writers to have characters narrate and repeat plot points because we're all splitting our attention between screens?"
Javi sighs the sigh of the woe-begotten and beleaguered, "It is a problem. And of course there are people who notice and complain about the writing being childish if you do it, AND if you don't do it there's people who complain about plot holes, that they didn't know what was going on!"
Suddenly, Javi looks at you suspiciously and waves a forkful of cheesecake at you. "And which one are you?"
You laugh and grimace. And he looks to the sky like he's looking for strength.
"I am both," you admit. " But, but, I don't complain. When I realize I am getting distracted and don't know what's going on, I put my phone down and rewind. I promise!" You cross your heart. "Honestly, I'm usually good, I futz with my phone mostly when I'm listening to the news or other more listen-not-look type things. But I have caught myself being bad." You look at him with big, sad, guilty eyes. "Sorry."
"Naughty," he jokes, wagging a finger. "You have to be a good girl if you want good stories."
You choke a little on your cheesecake, trying to recover with a sip of your drink. Javi just looks at you with concern.
"Are you okay?"
Relieved, he didn't seem to notice your ridiculous reaction. You try to move on-
"Fine! Anyway, Nick Cage, huh?"
The two of you veer into a small park. You know it's time to part ways, but you're just not sure how to do it. Luckily, Javi is so much more outgoing than you; he takes your hand, just like that, so easily, it doesn't feel weird, forced, or too forward... It's just friendly.
"Can I see you again?"
"Oh yes, please," you blurt out, but you refuse to feel embarrassed by it. "I'd really like that."
"Great!!" Javi is sweetly acting like he's the one who has won the big prize at the carnival. He pulls out his phone and you get yours, he takes a quick selfie with you and sets it up for you to type in your details. He texts you the selfie, and you save it and his number.
"So we just went south, you just head up a few blocks to Clark Street and hop back on the train." You press your lips together in a small smile and go to wave. But he steps into your space, brushing your cheek with his soft lips, with a small kiss. You think, oh, Europeans, and you ready yourself to kiss the other cheek... but he murmurs your name and your knees liquefy.
Then his lips reach your ear-
"Until next time. Be good."
His lips curl into a wicked smile that you are shocked to see on this Labrador of a man, and he heads toward the station, leaving you staring, mouth open just a little.
THANKS FOR READING! π YOU CAN FIND MORE JAVI AND OTHER PPCU FIC ON MY MARSTERLIST!
I havenβt been around here much at all for a long time, or writing, or reading fic forβ¦reasons, but I opened the app and saw this and dived in.
This is *adorable*. The subway meet-cute, the way I could immediately picture Javi with his little mannerisms and expressions, the whispered goodbyeβ¦why donβt I get to sit beside a Javi in public transport?? Whereβs my NYC cheesecake with my fellow neurospicy film nerd??
This yearβs LGBTQIA+ Pride Month roundup from JSTOR Daily brings together stories on queer history, literature, activism, archives, community care, and the people who built spaces where LGBTQ+ communities could thrive.
Youβll also find links to free scholarly research throughout, making it easy to keep exploring.
See the full roundup.
Image: Covers for several alternative gay and lesbian feminist publications viaΒ JSTOR's Reveal Digital Independent Voices Collection.
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^^Grogu = me trying to hug this movie. More below the cut just in case anyone is trying to avoid all commentary:
I had a ball. I know Iβm basically the target audience but I really loved it: it was a real adventure, it let us see the kind of work our boys are doing now while also showing just how far that little pistachio-coloured womp rat has come. The Groguβs World sequence (per the score title) was just gorgeous: it was nice to see a filmmaker making a decision to include a segment that was slower, more intimate, visually beautiful and truly quite emotional in a film with so much action. (And yes, I know the cynical take is that itβs about merch etc etc but multiple things can co-exist!) I truly didnβt understand the criticism that insisted it βlooked like a TV showβ: Iβm sorry butβ¦how? The action, the sets, the POVs were all firmly cinematic.
The supporting characters were, for the most part, great - I never thought Iβd be so charmed by a hench slug creature but thatβs the joy of cinema, baby. I think a lot of the bitchy criticism about Jeremy Allen Whiteβs voice performance as Rotta forgets that a) he just kinda sounds like that and b) THAT IS A BRO. HEβS A BRO. THATβS HOW THEY SOUND. Iβd *gladly* watch a spinoff prequel about Colonel Ward during the rebellion or just after because I really want to know more about her backstory. And then there are the Anzellans. π
It really did feel like watching one of the Indy movies for the first time when I was a kid: thereβs this cool and sexy as shit guy, he is a badass, he has a quest, he fights some bad guys, we all have a great time watching him do this. I said to @harrisonknott that I think part of the problem with the bullshit discourse around this film is that in the last 20 years or so people have become obsessed with βloreβ when it comes to IP movies and shows. People donβt realise that actually, a lot of people just like seeing their favourite character(s) in action. (Itβs like the Knives Out movies too: all standalone stories, all discrete cases, all part of one central guyβs casebook.)
Which brings me to the audience: packed, excited, incredibly diverse age ranges and genders. A woman closer to my motherβs age than mine seeing the film with her partner stopped me to compliment my Mando bag (she had the same one). A little boy of about six rocked up in a Grogu costume and had his parents take pictures of him outside the screening after the movie. People felt genuinely excited and it was a really nice reality check from the negative bullshit Iβve seen online.
Some no-context side notes:
1. If sad wet cat why so unbelievably hot
2. βI found these in your kitchenβ HOW DID YOU FIT IN THERE
3. Thereβs a two word phrase uttered by Din that literally had me asking if we could take a case against Jon and Pedro for an attack on our mental health
4. Clang. Clang-clang-clang. Clang.
5. Quite a few war flashbacks for other P characters in places. If I had a nickel for every time etc etc
6. Youβve met Pink Shirt Javi and Wet Hair Joel, now please welcome Wet Hair Din Djarin to the rotation
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