#professor!hotchner

Everyone called you naive, but you weren’t. You understood the world around you and its complexities, you were just very picky on what to give your attention. You didn’t concentrate on the gossip about the dean having an affair with a professor and the loud fight that ensued in their offices or the running bets on which of the girls in your classes had slept with more of the football players; those things just went in one ear and out the other. You didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with people’s judgment.

Your schedule was jam packed between your intense course load and the extracurricular activities you keep picking up. Last week, you had to pick between your local volunteer club meeting and Professor Hotchner’s after hours lecture. After the first, you started a routine of sorts where you stayed after all of the other students left and spent half the night talking with him about everything and anything under the sun. Sometimes your conversations stayed close to the subject of his latest lecture or the newest lawsuit scandal and sometimes they strayed as far as the latest book you had read.

The first time he asked you about your current book you had tried to give him a general response but he wouldn’t accept your answer.

“Good?” he asked with a raised brow. You turned away from his gaze and bowed your rapidly heating face. There were some things that were just too embarrassing to discuss.

“Yeah… I couldn’t put it down. The entire time I felt enthralled “ you appeased but when he asked what it was about, you knew you were caught, “it was a love story, obviously. The woman was new to town and ended up falling in love with the big, burly farmer who was the only one that never had any expectations of her but actually listened to her thoughts and dreams and when he found out all she wanted as a little girl was a yellow chicken coop, he built her one.”

When he didn't respond right away you gathered the courage to look up at his expression. He was looking at you, as always, but the small smile pulling at the corner of his eyes was somehow different this time.

“What?” you asked, somewhat embarrassed at having to explain your guilty pleasure to the object of your daydreams.

“You’re very empathetic” he responded after a moment, leaning forward so his chin was cradled between his hands so he could study you further, “it’s apparent in every aspect of your life; from the way that you connect so easily to the characters in your stories to the way you choose to appeal to your peers own experiences when trying to argue in class. You look for an emotional connection in every interaction you have.”

You were caught off guard, you had expected just about anything else to come out of his mouth. He had teased you before about your love of romance novels so you figured he would write this one off just as easily but the way that he listened so intently and responded in a way that made you feel seen had your heart fluttering. You felt heard in a way you never had before, furthering the rapidly developing feelings you had for the man in front of you.

With another blush and a soft smile, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and shrugged as his chuckle chimed in beat with your pulse.

She had come to that assumption just from the looks you two exchanged throughout class and that was nothing. She never saw those moments in his empty classroom when he loosened his tie and sat back in his chair, one leg up as he looked at you with tired eyes. She never saw the way your hands clenched, as he gave you little pieces of himself through stories and memories. If she had seen those moments, she never would have made it into something so taboo and deplorable.

You were in the hallway after class when she fell into step beside you. It was odd, you’d never really spoken before and ran in completely different circles so you were confused as to why she was reaching out to you now.

“The way he looks at you is gross. It’s sooo obvious he’s crushing on you. You should report him. Though I bet he gives you all A’s because he wants you to like him back” she commented with an expecting, disgusted look on her face. Your eyebrows were high and scrunched, looking over at her like you had no idea what she was talking about.

After a moment of silence, she was looking at you with a combination of disbelief and ridicule, “Professor Hotchner obviously has the hots for you. Or have you been feeding into it? Don’t tell me you’ve been dumb enough to be blowing him for grades or something?”

“No, no, no” you spluttered, stopping in the middle of the hallway to look at her with wide eyes, “there’s nothing going on between him and I. He’s just being a good professor”.

“A good professor, sure” she snorted, still eying you with pursed lips.

Another classmate bumping into you broke the moment as she sighed and muttered a quick “whatever” as she walked away. You were still staring after her until the bells rang, signaling the next hour.

It was two weeks before he asked you to stay after class. You had been able to feel his intense gaze on you everyday as you scrambled to leave with your peers so he couldn’t single you out. It was childish, avoiding him, but there was a part of you that felt scolded and embarrassed at thinking this relationship you were developing was appropriate. You shouldn’t be staying after class to see him or alone with him in such a casual setting. Your classmate was right, it wasn’t appropriate and it only fed into your daydreams. The only way you could see to stop things before you got hurt was to remove yourself entirely. You wanted to go to the academic dean to see about changing your classes but you didn’t want that classmate or anyone she might have gossiped with to think there was any validity to her concerns - because there wasn’t. He didn’t feel anything for you.

You kept your eyes down as you approached his desk. His gaze was on you, searching your tilted face as the last students slowly trailed out of the room.

Once you were alone, he slowly let out a breath and spoke to you directly for the first time in what felt like forever, “is something wrong?”

“No, no, of course not Professor Hotchner” you responded immediately, shaking your head frantically as you dared to peek up at him from under your lashes.

“Did I do something that made you feel uncomfortable?” he asked after another moment of silence, a frown deeper than you’d ever seen on his face that made you lift your head and lock eyes with him.

You shook your head again with a grimace and pleaded with your eyes for him to drop it, “no, of course not”.

“Alright then,” he responded slowly, eyes searching yours, “you missed the last study session”.

“I had another class to study for” you lied, eyes down as you shifted your weight back and forth.

“Okay” he said, nodding. After another awkward pause, you lifted your eyes back to him and struggled to fight down the nausea you felt at acting like he was just another professor and this was just another class you had to pass to graduate. You stayed for another moment, both locked in a battle of wills. He was pleading for you to explain what went so wrong and you were pleading for him to let it go, let you go. With one last nod, he looked back down at his paperwork and you got your wish.

He left you alone for the rest of the year. Never calling on you, keeping you after class or staring at you as you walk away.

tags:

There is nothing more stressful than being a freshman. Not knowing the campus or the people and awaiting the horror stories they give about professors, it would give the strongest, most confident of people anxiety. Or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Everyone else is just as lost and confused as you are. Fake it until you make it. Just walk it off, that’s all you had to do.

The first class went fine. You recognized enough of the people from orientation that you felt like you were in the right place and everyone made nervous jokes. The professor was lackluster but bearable. He didn’t seem like he would be a hard ass so you had some hope.

Your second class went about the same. One of the girls from your first class ended up in your second as well so you struck up a conversation on schedules and seemed to hit it off. You had three classes together, your first two of the day and then your fourth. All you had to do was brave your third class and then you would have another friendly face again.

Little did you know just how drastically your life would change in that third class. The moment you stepped into the classroom, you got chills. There was a warm feeling in the room, not from the temperature or an abundance of decorations, but from his presence. He was looking down at papers on his desk when you wandered in, early, and went to find a seat. You chose the third row, close enough to see but not close enough for anyone to think you were a teacher’s pet. Sitting down, the noise must have drawn his attention because you got caught observing him before you averted your stare towards the wall. His molten brown eyes were looking you over, his gaze making you feel suddenly exposed. You tried to peek out of the corner of your eyes to see his reaction without making it obvious. Hoping he would get bored and look away, you continued to study the wall and wait for the rest of the class to wander in.

His eyes didn’t leave you until the next student came in, peeking their head around the corner to make sure they weren’t the first one in. When she saw you, she shot you a small smile and found a seat behind yours. You finally felt like you could breathe, now that his intense stare was elsewhere occupied, back to scribbling on the pages in front of him. The rest of the class eventually ran in right before class started and you found yourself somewhat giddy in anticipation of what his voice would sound like. You hadn’t let yourself admire him for long but that initial look revealed dark, tousled hair that hung low onto his forehead and high cheekbones below dark circles and bushy eyebrows. He was exactly your type.

“Good afternoon, class” he spoke, voice strong and deep in a way that made your thighs clench and eyelids droop. His eyes were sweeping through the 30 or so people in the class but always hesitated momentarily on you.

“My name is Professor Hotchner but you can call me Hotch. I worked as a prosecutor for 13 years before I was asked to teach here at the university. I will grade harder than any of your other professors, but encourage discussion on your scores. You should have received your syllabus from me early last week, for those that read it and ordered the materials already, congratulations. You have a much higher chance of succeeding in this class than those that have not” his voice rang out like thunder against the bare brick walls and silent class, “I won’t waste your time and mine by having you go around and introduce yourselves. The school provides your ID pictures along with your names so I already recognize most of your faces. However, I would recommend that you take the time to introduce yourselves to each other. You will need their help this semester. Here is what you can expect…”

The absolute authority in his voice made your insides clench, both in panic and desire. You had already started reading the required textbook sections to prepare for the intense course load of university so you weren’t too worried about the class. Instead, you were excited to utilize office hours to talk to the dreamy professor about your notes on the required texts so far.

You spent the majority of the class daydreaming, eyes glazed over as you halfheartedly watched him pace the front of the room as he talked about what the upcoming semester would entail. Maybe you should have paid more attention, but between the honey tones in his eyes and the warming quality to his voice, you were fighting the urge to not fall into a complete daze.

When everyone started to get up, you were shaken out of your thoughts and forced back into reality where his hands weren’t wrapped around your neck or pulling your hair. Instead, they were gripping the textbook he had been discussing as his eyes sought out your own. You shot him a quick grin that you feared was more grimace than smile and quickly packed up your things. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him start towards the door but was quickly interrupted by another student who started asking rapid fire questions about the syllabus. The scowl on his face as his gaze burnt into your back would stay with you throughout the rest of the day.

You couldn’t concentrate through your fourth class but thankfully, it went by quickly. After making the trek back to your dorm, you flung yourself face first into your mattress and let the steady smell of home calm your racing heart. Your roommate was gone, thankfully, so you had some time to come to terms with your new reality before you had to push it down.

You spent what felt like hours reliving the same daydream from earlier that day mixed in with the new tones of his voice you heard during his lecture. With one last sigh, you forced yourself up out of bed and to the shower. Your roommate talked about going out that night so you wanted to start getting ready to distract yourself from thoughts of your unattainable professor.

tags:

It had started innocent. Yes, you may have spent most nights dreaming of his hand between your thighs or sneaking under his desk but it was just an easy way to pass the time. None of the students in your class interested you. They were all too worried about the next party, the next time they could get drunk or high. You wanted a man, someone who was more mature than childish shenanigans. A man who knew how to treat a woman and Professor Hotchner was there, ripe for the picking.

You never meant anything by it. You were too shy to even talk to him outside of class, let alone actually try anything. But that didn’t keep you from looking.

You answered every question he asked. If he asked for participation, you gave freely. If he asked for deliberation, you played the devil's advocate. Your eyes never left him but his gaze seemed to linger as well. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, it was just a silly little crush.

It was about a month into the class when you were alone with him again. This time you were still just as shy, getting to your class a good fifteen minutes early and sliding into your seat as quietly as possible. The only difference between the first time is that your seat was as close to his desk as you could get, now front and center so you’re nearby when he lectures and when he’s grading papers during self-study classes. You shot him a quick smile before putting your head back down. His eyes had been on you since you walked through the door, looking up from his paperwork and leaning back against his chair.

You had just sat down and turned to unload your books from your backpack when his warm voice broke the quiet and scared you into dropping your stuff, “I’m glad you’re on time, but there is such a thing as being too early”.

The tenor of his voice was teasing as it vibrated through your body. Your shivers were definitely from the surprise you told yourself.

With a half-hearted laugh, you reached down to pick up the fallen books and hid your face. You were giggling quietly at his comment when you gathered the courage to retort back.

“Well then what do you have to say for yourself?”

His answering huff of laughter made your heart soar. The too serious man had such a beautiful laugh, you wished you would hear it more often.

He didn’t get the chance to answer before other students started to rush into the room. While you were always the first, there were a couple of other freshmen that came early too and cut off your conversation. You hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemed to smolder after you when your attention had been stolen by a peer.

Professor Hotchner announced a month into the semester that he would be holding once a month optional classes - not for extra credit but to cover more material. No one seemed very excited for the opportunity for more lectures and homework, which shouldn’t have made you as excited as it did but you now had two more hours a month that you could sit and stare at him. There was no way you would choose to be anywhere else.

The first optional lecture was scheduled for the same night as the campus bar’s first event of the semester so attendance was lacking. Besides yourself, there were only two other students who attended. They stayed an hour through his lecture but took off as soon as he asked if they wanted more study questions to go over. As soon as they were out of eyesight, you made eye contact and his laugh sounded like music to your ears. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him - partially because the way they ran out was hilarious but also from the nerves of being alone with him so late at night.

After he gathered his things, he dumped them on a desk near you and pulled out the chair to sit facing you. He brought one leg up to cross over the over and his hands went to hold that leg loosely while he leaned back against the chair. He looked so much younger and more relaxed compared to the man who stood before you to teach. After a few moments of admiring him, you realized you had been caught when he cleared his throat with a grin.

“Didn’t want to go to the bar?” He asked, eyes searching yours as you leaned forward in your chair. You cupped your head in your hands and shook it softly, a small half-hearted smile briefly gracing your lips.

“No” you responded quietly, “not my thing. I’ve always preferred to stay in with a book than to go out.”

His smile became less teasing as he regarded you with a tilt of his head.

“I know you pre-read your textbooks for this class, is that what you do for fun?” He mused, eyebrow raising in a little quirk that made him look more your age. The blush on your cheeks at his question only seemed to make him more interested in the answer.

“No, I mean yes, I like to read and I did read the textbooks early to prepare but that’s not my preferred choice of book” you answered, avoiding his actual question.

The waggle of his eyebrows made you giggle again as he joked, “We all have our fixes, reading toe curling ‘romance’ novellas just happens to be yours”.

“No, no, no, no” you repeated, halfway yelling to be heard through his roaring laughter. You buried your face in your hands to hide your warm cheeks and embarrassed smile. After a moment when his laughter seemed to quiet, you peaked through your fingers to see his eyes crinkled from the width of his smile.

“I’m only teasing, sweetheart” he whispered, leaning forwards in his chair to get within your eye level. When you stayed in your hidden position, he slowly raised his hands to pry your fingers from your face. His warm hands engulfed your own, wrapping from your wrists to the middle of your palms in an embrace that felt almost too intimate for such a simple action. The sparks that ran up your spine at his touch caused shivers to break out through your body. Your eyes met his momentarily, both of you locked into some sort of trance, before the room started to get too heated and he pulled away. His hands moved to pull at his collar and quickly undid his tie and the buttons at the top of his shirt.

Clearing your throat, you answered his original question, “not quite. I am just another cliché. The quiet ones are always the hopeless romantics, right? I’ll read anything but my favorites are the ones with the relationship that you dream about - the person you’d give up anything or do anything for.”

“So, anything with a good romance?” His smile was sweet as he sat back in his chair and raised his hands to stretch behind his head.

“I know it sounds naive but I guess it’s an escape. The kind of relationship that makes you feel safe and empowered, like nothing else matters and you can accomplish anything you want to just because you have someone by your side” you muttered, eyes lowering to trace patterns on the desk. You leaned back into your seat, stretching out your arms as you dragged your fingertips in little movements over the table between you. Despite the intensity you could feel in his gaze, you didn’t raise your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s naive,” he confessed, foot nudging yours to get your attention as he sat up to lean his elbows on his crossed leg, “I think that’s the sort of thing people spend their entire lives searching for, that feeling of security and devotion.”

You felt yourself start to lean forward as you bit your lip and searched his face, “have you felt it?”

The room was quiet as you were both locked in the moment. Your poses matched, both leaning forward with your heads in your hands. The hand that held his jaw looked strained as he watched you intently. Your fingers cupping your own jaw involuntarily flexed in a rubbing motion as you pictured what it would be like to hold his face in your hands and how soft his lips would feel against your own.

A shrill ringing noise broke you both out of the stare down and he cleared his throat while rising to grab his phone from the front of his room. You shook your head, gathering your things and trying to brush off the embarrassment of asking your professor something like that. With a small smile thrown his way, you rushed towards the door.

The call of your name had you turning back to face the almost empty classroom as he answered your question before turning back to his still beeping phone, “maybe”.

tags: