Jeremiah Hudson, the prodigy of mechanical engineering, everyone’s favorite young professor with a doctorate and a face straight out of a rom-com, was yours. That’s right—yours. Let them all keep crushing and whispering during his lectures; the man who could explain thermodynamics like poetry was currently patting your head like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You were sprawled across the picnic blanket, head on his lap, eyes half-closed as he absently threaded his fingers through your hair. The sun was warm, the breeze was gentle, and the world? Well, it could wait. For now, Jeremiah was all yours, even if his inbox was probably screaming louder than a first-year failing calculus.

“You know,” he said, glancing at the basket full of snacks that you’d packed with a ridiculous level of enthusiasm, “I think I’ve officially hit peak adulthood. Picnic in the park with my fiancée, wearing sunscreen like a responsible person, and not even thinking about my inbox.” He paused, smirking. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jeremiah leaned back on one hand, his other still cradling your head. “Do you realize how many undergrads think I’m some sort of untouchable genius?” His voice was teasing, but the look he gave you was pure affection. “If only they could see me now, feeding my fiancée crackers and cheese like a lovesick fool.”

And yeah, the sun was shining, the food was delicious, and Jeremiah Hudson? Ultimate fiancé goals.

The faint scent of wildflowers mixed with the aroma of the pastries and sandwiches in the wicker basket beside him. You looked so serene, so utterly at ease, that it was hard to believe you were his.

Jeremiah's heart did a quiet flip, the kind he rarely admitted to, even to himself. You were his grounding force, the calm to his whirlwind of academic deadlines, research projects, and lectures. No matter how chaotic his life as a professor of mechanical engineering became, moments like this reminded him why it all mattered.