Read My Lips (Ozpin/Reader)

Read My Lips

His lips felt warm and soft against your own.

He moved slowly, carefully, as if afraid that anything could frighten you into breaking the kiss. His hands were at your waist, you could feel his hair tickling your face; you could have sworn that the two of you were so close and so quiet that you could even hear his quick, thumping heartbeat (but it may have just been the rush of your own in the moment).

It was a wonderful moment, but one that hardly lasted long enough–

Not when the sound of your alarm woke you abruptly from sleep.

It took a few moments for your bearings to arrange themselves correctly, memories falling back into place of the who, where and how of things. The world had settled back into normalcy by the time you slapped your hand over your scroll to shut off the alarm.

Though groggy, you managed to get out of bed and settle onto your feet. With a lingering thought towards your dream (the warmth against your lips) you began to ready yourself for the day's events.

The weather was cold and a little deary–Fall and Winter weren't playing well with one another, leaving the air chilled, but not nearly enough for snow. The rain came down softly, more like a heavy mist, blanketing the campus and being a nuisance for the students who didn't think to prepare for the weather.

Umbrella in hand, you slowly moved across the campus, the ambling buildings and unmarked crossways. Even now, it seemed a surprise that you knew your way around so well; what had once been little more than a maze was now an extension of home.

Beacon Academy was truly an intriguing place to work; as a teacher's assistant, you were able to see things in a different perspective, having a few years of an active career of hunts beneath your belt. You were able to see where all of the lessons were put to use, how the caffeine-fueled rants of Oobleck or outrageous stories of Port were somewhat useful in your endeavors after graduation.

It was nice to come back to a place you had called home for a few years of your formative years–particularly now that you were an equal and not a student.

Your schedule was regular; you were with Prof. Oobleck in the early morning, Prof. Port late morning, had some time to yourself around lunch. You could spent the few hours doing just about anything–it was one of the things you enjoyed most about your job. The freedom to specialize your already-existing skills, to research just about anything that caught your fancy.

It was...freeing, honestly. Beacon had become more of your home than it had been when you were a student.

One hour gently blurred into the next, and half the day had gone by before you knew it. Though you had been directed every which way to help out your assigned classes of responsibility, there was a lingering feeling of something that simmered within you. Something you couldn't place, but it always slipped back into flickering images from your dream, over and over again.

It was hard to ignore and downright frustrating. The feeling of soft lips, gentle hands and a body against yours, all in the overwhelming moment of what must have been the most romantic kiss you ever felt–

–and it was a dream, dammit.

It wouldn't make it any easier to work with Ozpin. Since Prof. Goodwitch was taking care of personal business, you were filling in for her some of her administrative duties with the headmaster. It wasn't as if the duties were anything difficult–mostly secretarial work, really, filing away paperwork and attending a few faculty meetings to take notes when required.

No, the most difficult thing wasn't the job, but the man himself. Ozpin had long been somewhat of a crush for you–it had started out as something silly in your last year of academics, a little fancy that you were sure would fly away the moment you stepped into a career of your own. But as fate would play with your heart, it pulled you right back to Beacon–