#srwrites

Historia doesn’t say the words aloud - she’s not an idiot, after all - but she thinks them as she feels the steely gaze of her Classical Literature Professor practically pinning her to her chair. Her pen scratches away at her notepad, careful to catch every detail of his lecture.

Not that there’s ever any chance of her being punished - she’s the star student of the entire course; she’s never had so much as a stern word from any of her professors. Everyone loves her.

She doesn’t care about everyone. She only cares about him. Confident that she’s got down what she needs to at this point - and she’s read ahead on today’s topic anyway - she allows herself a brief moment to look up at him.

Ugh. He’s so hot. Why can’t her friends see him in the same light she does? Sure, he’s a little short, but ... her eyes linger on his toned forearms, shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows, and she bites her bottom lip. His dark hair falls across his brow as he gestures to the whiteboard. She finds herself chewing absently on her pen lid, mind wandering.

She’s seen him get pissed at some of the less mature guys in class - namely Connie and Eren - and for the first time in her life, Historia has actually wanted to be on the receiving end of someone’s harsh words. The tip of her pen rolls around her mouth as she wonders what she’d have to do to make him angry at her.

Someone kicks her chair leg from behind - Mikasa probably - and she snaps out of her daydream to find Professor Ackerman glaring right at her. He’s no longer pointing at the whiteboard.

Oops.

She offers him a sheepish smile. Maybe she doesn’t want to be punished after all. Well, not here, like this.

————

Levi carries on about the play he named as assigned reading for his Classical Literature course - The Bacchae.

A story of the Greek god Dionysus inducing Greek citizens into lust-driven crazes and episodes of insanity in an effort to seek pleasure. He knows this play well, and he intended to instill his students with the same passion for this particular play that he has for it. It’s an odd play, but unique.

Except that one of his students begins to daydream.

Historia Reiss.

One of his star students - arguably his best student. Top grades, never turns in a late assignment, and is keen to please. And to top it all off, she’s fucking gorgeous. It’s quite unfair, really, for the subject of his many fantasies late at night to be placed in his course, in the second row with her damn pen in her mouth. His grip on a marker tightens as he pauses mid-sentence as he explains the origins of Dionysus and the manner in which the Greeks saw the eccentric deity.

“Miss Reiss,” he growls, and her eyes snap to his.

Those damn bright eyes. Her fucking pen is still between her lips.

“Would you care to explain what it is you’re daydreaming about? I had a waitlist for this course, and I’m sure the students who weren’t able to join would gladly be paying attention instead of lolling off like you are.”