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[fic] Grading papers

Grading papers

Ikemen Prince | Part of Cybird University 'verse | Chevalier Michel x Reader | T | 905 words ao3 link

Home slippers on, you pad towards the living room to discover Chevalier on the couch, reading glasses on, a paper on his hand and a stack of the same beside him, wearing the most remarkable frown you have ever seen in the entire time you’ve known him. The ends of his brows are so pulled down that you’re afraid that they’ll be stuck there permanently. Not that his scowling face is ugly, of course, but he’s just as beautiful if not more when smiling.

A/N: I mentioned this once before, but I wanted to write a self-indulgent college/university AU for ikeseries. It's just going to be a low-stakes writing exercise, to de-stress from the major fic projects (i.e., novelist AU, ocean water fic, Kanetsugu fic). Reader will always be (unless indicated) of unspecified gender. I will write for other characters too, when the mood strikes.

The first fic for this verse is, of course, about Chevalier 😂 I don't know how to write fluff; this is the extent of fluff I can write lmao. Also, sorry for the corniest ending – I didn't know how to end the fic lol

The apartment is quiet when you open the front door, dim but with enough light at the end of the hallway for you to see a pair of oxfords arranged neatly on the top of the shoe rack. A smile creeps onto your lips without your bidding, soft warmth spreading from your chest, which tempts you to just shake off your own shoes. You refrain from the urge, knowing that he wouldn’t be amused about it.

Home slippers on, you pad towards the living room to discover Chevalier on the couch, reading glasses on, a paper on his hand and a stack of the same beside him, wearing the most remarkable frown you have ever seen in the entire time you’ve known him. The ends of his brows are so pulled down that you’re afraid that they’ll be stuck there permanently. Not that his scowling face is ugly, of course, but he’s just as beautiful if not more when smiling.

You place your bag on the adjacent couch, your eyes never leaving him. “Is it their arguments this time?”

Chevalier doesn’t spare you a glance; he encircles something in the paper with the fountain pen you’d gifted him five years ago. You’d agonized over what to give him for his birthday at the time. Chevalier’s the sort of person who has everything, and you were desperate to make a good impression that you resorted to consulting Clavis of all people.

In the end, you decided on something elegant but useful.

“It’s obvious that this one didn’t read the assigned cases,” Chevalier says after a few moments. Then he immediately clicks his tongue and underlines a whole paragraph.

You peek into the paper, and have to suppress a wince. The margins are filled with comments, the body peppered with copyediting symbols – it’s a bloodbath. Silently you send a thought for the poor student who’ll receive that paper next week.

“Could’ve been worse,” you say, circling around the couch to approach him from behind. “They could’ve inserted another Please marry me after I graduate Professor in the essay. I still remember the exact moment Dean Sariel’s blood pressure rose.”

That had been an interesting week. Everyone in Chevalier’s department knows that despite his cold and ruthless personality, he’s still a popular professor in the university. Students have to fight each other to get a slot in his courses. His ice-prince reputation doesn’t deter them in the slightest. You suspect that some students fail his course on purpose to retake it next year. When asked about it, Chevalier would just glare, frown, and roll his eyes.

One had been bold enough to insert such sentence in their essay. You were there the moment Chevalier read the words. It was like watching a critical scene in slow motion: his eyebrows shooting up, eyes blinking twice before widening, glasses sliding down his nose, expression slack; then, as if flipping a switch, his face rippled into an offended scowl, storming out of the apartment and marching straight to the dean’s office. You’d been worrying over what he’d do, so you scrambled after him.

(The day Chevalier returned the papers, he made the class go through the most excruciating recitation known to man. Some didn’t survive, some returned a changed person; even today alumni and seniors still talk about That Incident in whispers, as if Chevalier has eyes and ears everywhere [which: possible].)

Chevalier ignores you and continues to grade the paper. In the years you’ve been together, you’re already used to his cold tendencies. Although he’s not an affectionate person, you can feel his love in other ways.

You press your hands on the backrest, flanking Chevalier’s head. “Why didn’t you ask your TAs to help you with grading?”

“There was no need. I can finish this tonight.”

Very efficient, very competent. Very grumpy. You grin at the crown of his head.

“If you need moral support –”

“I don’t.”

“– then I’m just here, at your beck and call.”

There’s a minuscule pause, fleeting, and if it wasn’t for your proximity you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, and that reassures you to proceed with your plan.

Your hands slide down to his shoulders, encircling him. Chevalier gives no indication of resistance or anything at all, so you press further, bending down to bring your face near his. Playfully, you say, “How about I give you a kiss on the cheek, for motivation?”

You tilt your head to do so, but in a surprise twist, Chevalier turns his head so your lips smack against his. You blink, caught off-guard. His eyes are bluer through the lens of his glasses, his forehead smooth and absent of creases.

He moves slightly for a better angle then closes his eyes, nibbles on your lower lip. When he retreats, Chevalier wears a look so smug you can’t do anything except to laugh helplessly and fondly.

“Did that motivate you?”

“Hardly. You just have to stay and keep trying.”

You grin at that, your heart brimming with such affection for this man. “Guess I should,” you say, unable to keep the softness and warmth in your voice.

Chevalier transfers the stack of papers to the coffee table as you settle beside him, leaning on his shoulder while he goes back to the essay. He snakes his free arm around you, pulling you firmly against him, and then it’s back to being quiet again.

Quiet, but warm.

⇼

Endnotes:

1. I wasn't able to include it in the fic, but you (reader-chan) work at the ministry of foreign affairs. You met some years ago because the ministry consulted Chevalier about something related to his expertise (he's a professor of International Relations, with specialization in int'l law). You worked directly with Chevalier, and the sincerity and diligence with which you conduct your work had made an impression on him.

2. Chevalier currently supervises three graduate students, one of whom Clavis annoys regularly.

3. Once, Chevalier crossed swords with Professor Kenshin from the history department (they're both kendo/fencing enthusiasts). It was the talk of the campus for a whole month. It even made the front page of the student newspaper.

4. After reading that please marry me professor essay, Chevalier stormed into Sariel's office and announced that he was going to fail a student for not taking his course seriously. Sariel had to convince Chevalier that there's a better way to handle the matter; thus, The Recitation Incident came to be.

5. You and Chevalier have been living together for three years now.

I was not made for….*gestures broadly at the world*

🫶🫶🫶

yes yes you’re very beautiful. Bewitching, even. AWFUL parking job, by the way

stellaron hunter concept

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