A/N: You guys owe me big time for this one (just kidding 😉). I'm flying to Chicago today and I had no time to write this one-shot, so I was up all night last night writing it.
Thanks to user75071312 who requested this one. I hope you looove it!
I kind of picture a mix of Snape and Eli Michaelson responses for Alan's character in the first part. And then at the end, he's just plain old Alan.
Since I typed this so late, please ignore any spelling mistakes. Or better yet, point them out in the comments so I can fix them later! 😜
Enjoy y'alls weekend!
H ✈️💁🏻♀️
______________________________________Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her knuckles rap lightly on the oak door.
"Yes, come in," an impatient bark comes from inside.
(Y/N) pushes through the door with a happy face.
"Ah, Miss (Y/L/N), what can I help you with? It's got to be quick, I haven't much time."
"Yes, of course. Sir, I was hoping you would take a look at my recent assignment again - I don't think I got the marks I deserve..."
He stretches his hand out at her and she steps forward placing the bound sheets in his large hand. He glances at her name and mark on the top corner of the page.
"No, I don't give distinctions - you got what you deserved," he states bluntly, disinterested, and holds the pages out to her.
"But sir, don't you think that's unfair?" She challenges and her face turns bright red.
Never before would she challenge or talk back to a professor, but how can he just plainly refuse her the mark she deserves?
"No student, unless highly gifted, deserves a distinction. It just gives false hope, " he replies coolly.
"But si-,"
He rushes forward and comes to a halt near inches from her.
"You might be used to receiving special treatment from other lectures because you're nice, but in my class, you need to work for your credits, Miss," he sneers disapprovingly down his nose at her.
Something stirs inside her. She's never been this close to a man before. And here she is, inches away from Alan Rickman in all his glory. He looks too real for her mind to grasp.
She can see the way his cotton button-up shirt wraps around his muscular shoulders. She can also see some of his chest hair peeping out from the top undone button and all she wants to do is let her fingers brush over them.
Stop it! Where are these thoughts coming from? You need to control yourself.
"You're not going to get by my class that easy," he says lowly as he towers over her.
The mere distance - or lack thereof - is overwhelming and she starts to burn on the inside, her mind going all fuzzy.
She feels like she's going to do something she won't be able to control - almost like an out-of-body experience. All she wants to do is reach out and touch him. Touch his strong arms; stroke his soft cheek; grab him between the legs and give a soft squeeze...
(Y/N)! Control!
She clears her throat and lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Sir!" She says harshly and takes a step back in order to stop herself from jumping the man.
"I don't receive special treatment because I'm nice. I receive the marks I deserve because of the hard work and long hours I put into my assignments. I'm the top achieving student in the whole university and I worked myself down to the bone to be able to achieve that. I take great pride in my work and I don't submit anything unless I know it's worthy of at least an 85. I find it utterly disrespectful that you would refuse me a re-mark purely based on your beliefs of false hope," she challenges with her hands on her hips.
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Alan Rickman x Plus-size Reader One-shots
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