#so when my lecturer asked connecting questions down the class register��

[deus-ex-mona]

me when the bacteria c o l o n i s e s

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card  - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!!  Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary: 

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen? 

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here. 

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Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

[jasontoddiefor]

nobody's keeping score

Ship: HideKane

Summary: In a world where ink stains the white papers of constitutions, damning the lives of ghouls, their existence is no secret or rumor, but a topic of heated debate, protests, and anonymous organ donations in shady alleys. No matter how bright the CCG appears in their white coats, their light cannot reach the dark tunnels where ghouls and sympathizers alike are plotting. And when Hide, after hours of sitting at his best friend’s hospital bed, sees him wake with one eye black and red, the difficult question is not how to get him help, but how to avoid him becoming the figurehead of a conflict threatening to turn into a bloody revolution.

AN: Notes: You ever just take a 4-year break from a fandom and return with spite fic because you remembered how much you hated canon? Yeah. This fanfic is my attempt at corralling the TG worldbuilding into something coherent that makes sense. I will keep some elements of canon, others I will throw out of the window straight away. This is utterly self-indulgent.

“And with the developments in synthetic meat production—”

Hide wanted to groan. They’d been discussing the same question for the last three hours of class and he was, frankly speaking, done with it. People were running out of arguments and circling back to topics that didn’t contribute anything to the conversation they were supposed to be having. From the way their lecturer was glaring at the latest speaker, Hide would say that she was also very done.

“Yoshimura, as stated before, we are not discussing possibilities for ghoul integration, but the mere premise of whether they even deserve the rights needed to legalize their status as citizens. The right of existence of an individual should not be dependent on what modifications would have to be made to accommodate them, but whether they deserve to live regardless.”

Hide had zoned out about an hour ago. His opinion on ghouls had always felt rather clinical, mathematically detached, despite Hide’s history. Maybe too much time had passed since he’d looked at the bloody remains of his father to really hammer home the fear-motivated rejection so many people fell to. Perhaps the CCG investigators, who had dragged him away from his father’s corpse, should have allowed him to get a little more traumatized before the kindness of his new parents had become enough to dull those painful memories.

Some ghouls were no different than brutal serial killers, and they had to be taken down, but the rest seemed to be getting by just fine. If a new legislation would make it even easier for them to go about their everyday lives, perhaps the number of violent ghoul attacks would go down as well. Hide was well aware that this was the view of a privileged person. Growing up in the 20th ward meant that you needn’t be scared of leaving your house when it was already dark. Kamii University prided itself on the fact that it could safely offer evening classes such as the one Hide was attending now. The same certainly couldn’t be said for the other wards. Any citizen between the 9th and 13th wards would probably advocate vocally for the extermination of ghouls. The 11th especially resembled a warzone even during the daylight. Ghoul sightings were nothing unusual there, and investigators’ mutilated bodies were displayed as trophies and warnings alike. Meanwhile, nobody had died in the 20th war for something like ten odd years. Sometimes it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of the time, Hide didn’t even think about ghouls.

By the time class was finally over, Hide had taken only one or two more bullet points. They hadn’t really said anything of interest and it reflected in his writing. Usually, Hide would be sending rapid-fire texts to Kaneki now, but his friend was still on his date and Hide didn’t want to bother him. It had taken more than just a bit of teasing and probing to get Kaneki to ask that girl out and he wouldn’t self-sabotage his hard work.

It was good that Kaneki was connecting to people that weren’t just Hide.

And it would be awesome if Hide could do the same.

Codependence needed two people to work and Kaneki was definitely not the only one struggling with independence. Hide had yet to figure out how to let go of Kaneki when his relationship to the other boy had been the only stable thing in his world for the longest time. Nothing said mental health like latching onto an abused child to escape the stifling air of his brand-new foster fathers’ home.

The next time he visited his parents, he’d bring them some flowers to make up for how troublesome he’d been as a child.

Glancing at his phone again, Hide realized he had to hurry if he wanted to take the early bus home. He was just about to plug in his headphones when an unknown number flashed up on the display. Who would call him at this time? Hide was definitely someone who preferred texting. Even his parents knew better than to call unless it was serious. The only person he ever actually called was Kaneki, and that was only because his friend sometimes got so lost in a book, he forgot to text back or didn’t even hear the phone buzz. Hide contemplated picking up for another ring, then gave in and accepted. “Nagachika Hideyoshi speaking, who’s calling?”

“Hello, I am Tanaka Akako, a nurse of the Kanou General Hospital. You are Nagachika Hideyoshi, Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact?”

The blood in Hide’s veins froze.

“Yes, I am. Has— has anything happened? Is Kaneki alright!?”

The nurse’s voice was so calm, steady, and pleasant as if this was a chat between friends. Somewhere Hide knew that it probably helped most people, but it just put him on edge. “Nagachika-san, your friend and another young woman were involved in an accident. Dr. Kanou is preparing him for surgery, but as his emergency contact, we have to discuss the possible options before we can proceed.”

Hide didn’t want to discuss any options. There shouldn’t be any besides Kaneki’s survival. Hide wanted to rush into the operation hall and hold Kaneki’s hand, wishing he could turn back time, tell his friend to remain at his side and consider that girl out of his league so he’d spent the evening with him and not getting sent to ER. This couldn’t be real; he was sick to his stomach.

“What are the options?” Hide asked, panic threatening to strangle him as he rushed to the street, trying to find a taxi to take him to Kanou General straightaway.

“Kaneki-san sustained serious injuries. Dr. Kanou is willing to transplant the deceased Kamishiro-san’s organs into your friend to save his life even if her family hasn’t consented yet. The only consent we can ask for in Kaneki-san’s case is yours and—”

“Do it,” Hide replied immediately. He didn’t know Kaneki’s date, and as much as Hide loved people, argued for a baseline acceptance every day in class, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the wishes of a family whose daughter was already dead. The only thing they were still good for once their hearts stopped beating was serving the living with their remains.

Kaneki might survive because of her; what else could matter? “Do it, whatever you need to save him— you have my full permission.”

Finally, a taxi approached and stopped right when Hide waved for it. He quickly climbed inside and, paying no attention to the driver, told him to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“And in case he doesn’t survive, may his organs—”

“He will survive,” Hide pressed because he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he were to lose Kaneki. He’d built a life around his best friend and how much they meant to one another. Hide couldn’t give up on that, couldn’t let it slip past his fingers. “He’ll survive. I know it.”

Organ transplants took place every day without any complications—

Hide’s eyes widened. “Kaneki has recessive ROS!” he all but shouted at the nurse, startling the taxi driver.

Kaneki’s father had died because of it. If Kaneki got the wrong blood transfusions or anything, his RC cells were suddenly pushed to start acting up, the dormant sickness could turn on and what if Hide had just damned him to a life of wasting away—

No.

Stay positive. Don’t freak out even more. They hadn’t done anything yet, merely asked for Hide’s permission to help Kaneki at all. He was saving his friend’s life; he wasn’t cursing him.

“Thank you for telling me, Nagachika-san. I will pass that on to Dr. Kanou. You have just contributed immensely to the safety of the procedure.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Hide said. “Just— he has to hold on. Tell Kaneki he has to hold on until I’m there.”

“We will, Nagachika-san, don’t worry. Dr. Kanou will do his best.”

His best.

The words echoed in Hide’s mind. How was he ever supposed to know if Kanou’s best would be enough for his friend? Hide excelled at being optimistic, could see the positive side of most things in life, had learned how to be hopeful at the funerals of people he’d loathed. He just couldn’t allow himself to drown in any negative possibilities.

The rest of the drive passed in the blur, either because the driver had known to speed up after listening in on the phone call, or because Hide was so out of it that he didn’t really register the streetlamps flickering by until the taxi had reached its destination. Hide passed the driver a couple bills, probably more than the transport had actually cost, but he didn’t care. What were one or two skipped meals compared to being there before it was too late? Hide rushed inside the sterile white hospital, eyes immediately set on the front desk.

“My friend,” Hide stuttered as he clung to the counter, holding it as if it were his lifeline. “He was brought in— an accident. He was on a date and there was an accident. Dr. Kanou is operating him?”

The receptionist seemed confused, needing a moment to make something coherent out of Hide’s rambles. “I need your identification before I can tell you anything about our patients.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Hide fumbled for his student ID card and put it on the counter with shaky hands. “Nagachika Hideyoshi, I’m Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact.”

“Of course, your friend is still in the operating room. You can wait here.”

Hide didn’t want to wait, but what else was there he could do? He hated feeling useless like this, unable to contribute anything productive. The receptionist sent him a kind look and, defeated, Hide crossed the entrance hall to the waiting room where he remained together with other worried family members and patients, clutching his phone so he wouldn’t start screaming. He couldn’t stop moving his legs, stress keeping him wide awake even as the hospital emptied and less and less people sat around him. How long did such an operation take? An hour? Two? Hide had absolutely no idea. He didn’t study anything like this. His major was English literature, which was about as helpful as hot air at this moment.

He could quote enough books concerned with some medical drama and family members in the hospital, but none of them brought him any comfort.

“Nagachika-san?”

Hide looked up into the kind face of an elderly man wearing a pristine white coat.

“Y- yes?” Hide replied and quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Are you Dr. Kanou? Is my friend alright? Can I see him?”

“I am sorry to have caused you such worries. The operation went well. Your friend is resting in intensive care right now. He is still asleep, but you may visit him. The presence of loved ones is often very beneficial to the healing process.”

Healing.

A sob shook Hide’s shoulders. Kaneki was alive. He hadn’t died.

“Thank you,” he managed to say in between his sobs. “Thank you, thank you for saving his life.”

The doctor only kept on smiling and kindly put his hand on Hide’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly in what was meant to be comforting. “It is my job, young man. You don’t have to thank me. Nothing is more important to me than saving innocent lives. If you follow one of the nurses, you can see your friend immediately.”

Hide thanked the doctor once more, relief slowly filling the pits anxiety had hollowed out. He followed the nurse through the labyrinth of death, decay, healing, and salvation up to the intensive care station. Quietly, he was led to a room. The door opened, revealing one lone figure on a bed.

From a distance, hooked up with so many tubes and wires, Kaneki was nothing like the person who took up half of Hide’s life. He seemed so much smaller and looked like just one push could snap his connection to life.

“Please remain quiet,” the nurse told him. “And don’t move him.” Glancing at his still trembling fingers, she added, “but you may hold his hand.”

Hide nodded, then quickly crossed the room to Kaneki’s bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Kaneki didn’t move at all; not even a single muscle twitched. Hide would assume they had led him to view his friend’s corpse if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Pushing up the sleeves of his jacket, Hide took Kaneki’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Ken,” he muttered, pressing his eye close so no tears would escape them. “You scared me there. Don’t ever do that again.”

Predictably, Kaneki didn’t reply. Nevertheless, Hide imagined that just for a moment, he squeezed Hide’s hand back. Slowly, the tension bled from Hides’s shoulders and he made himself comfortable in the hard plastic chair. This was bound to be a long night and he was starting to feel his exhaustion catch up to him. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his friend for as long as possible, remaining alert for a change to his condition, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep them open.

Eventually, the darkness caught him as he fell. Hide knew he stirred a couple more times during the night, likely when the nurses came to check on Kaneki. Nobody asked him to move and leave, something he was immensely thankful for. He wouldn’t have been able to let go. By the time the sun began to chase away the shadows again, Hide wasn’t sure how much he had slept, only that it had definitely not been enough. But that was alright, he could catch up on sleep sometime later. It was far more important that Kaneki was going to be alright.

Hide turned to look at Kaneki’s face and found his friend awake, staring back at him.

One eye gray like a stormy cloud before the morning rainfall.

The other was blood-red against the night sky.

[ddaehyeon]

virgo - your soulmate’s current thoughts about you will show up on your skin for a short while.

send me a member and a constellation!

— pairing: kang minhee + fem!reader

— genre: fluff, soulmate au, college au

— word count: 1.5k

— warnings: light cursing

— taglist: @bunnyseongmin, @lovevity, @marigolddss

— requested by: @cloudninescenes ☆  cravity masterlist ;  taglist form

a cold feeling on the skin as words slowly get written on your wrist, the thoughts of your soulmate about you appearing for not less than a minute. that was how they described the sensation felt when you meet your soulmate and regularly cross paths with them. they even said that during the first meeting, all thoughts poured will be written.

it was the known sign to indicate who your soulmate is. however, it only shows up once you have at least exchanged one look. a few of your friends had their soulmates figured out by now, settling in such a considerably happy relationship.

but you weren’t that fortunate. for good years, that feeling had never made it to your senses. something that made you think about when exactly will you meet them. worst thought, do you actually have a soulmate?

it was spring, a new school year had landed on the calendar. an unfamiliar environment awaiting as you stepped on the campus of the university that you’d been wishing to attend. all thoughts about finding your soulmate slipping out of your head as you walked on the sidewalk which connected the main gate to several classroom buildings, the establishments and scenery provided by your school were enough to distract you even for a bit.

youthful talks resounded in the hallway with a bunch of freshmen chatting with each other as they mused about their anticipated college life. seniors setting an amused gaze, their mind whispering one thing, ‘you’ll be disappointed.’

there was no denying, you were one of the hopefuls, excited for what this new stage of life had for you. pulling your phone out, you once again checked your schedule, eyeing the room number for your first class. college algebra.

going to the classroom, only a few students were there. most chairs were empty which gave you more options of which to take. though you settled somewhere in the middle, the last rows might knock out the rest of your morning alertness and the first rows a little intimidating. who knew what kind of professor your lecturer would be?

as you settled down, another student entered. his towering height snatching your attention, his godly looks pulling you to a one-sided staring game. more so, a jittery feeling in your heart came unraveling. an urge to know his name crawling in your senses.

you watched him approach another guy from the class. “is this mr. seol’s algebra class?” his voice was low, but a little awkward.

when the other nodded, the guy began his quest to look for an available chair. with a swift turn of gaze, your eyes met. who knew one could be capable of taking one's breath in just a single glance? with multiple blinks, you averted your look away from him. a light curse in your head followed by a single thought, who allowed him to be this good-looking?

one more curt look, you told yourself before glancing in his direction. he settled on a chair in the second row, checking the time on his wristwatch.

letting go of a sigh, you tried to distract yourself once again. you fished out your phone from your pocket, fingers moving to type in a quick text to your friends.

but something made you stop. a cold brush in your skin, making you turn to your wrist. there were a few letters appearing. ‘why is she staring at me like that? that’s… weird.’

as soon as it was completed, the words disappeared right away. another one following. ‘oh, nevermind. i got the answer already. she finds me good-looking, cute.’

a warm feeling hugged your cheeks, your stomach flipping afterward. wait, he is my soulmate?

it wasn’t how you expected it to be.

right after the class, even before you could approach him, he disappeared along with the wave of your other classmates going out of the room. no words resurfaced on your skin. and as much as possible, you prevented yourself from thinking about him. however, you were sure it was futile. you were pretty much failing.

you mind plagued with thoughts about the guy whose name remained unknown to you. there was no roll call for attendance earlier. something that made you itch more to just have a conversation with him and ask him about his name.

question is, would you actually be brave enough to do it?

“come on, the first time i met my soulmate, the first thought that appeared on my wrist was: should i ask for his number?” wonjin, one of your friends, mused before downing a gulp of his soda. you weren’t even sure if he was stating the truth or simply making fun of you. “it’s funny.”

you mentally cursed. now that he mentioned that… you suddenly thought of asking your soulmate's number. it was then followed by the idea, did that thought go through his skin again?

a small pout braced your lips, rolling your eyes at the thought that every single thing you link to that guy would go directly to his skin. “stop mentioning possible things that i might relate to him. i already have a fair share of embarrassment.”

he was in your last class, sitting in the front row again. it was fascinating in a way that it was easy for you to define his figure. a single glance and you knew it was him already. but then maybe it was because you two were soulmates.

adamant to your resolution not to think about him, you droned in the monotonous history lecture of your professor. jotting down some important dates and names. it was far better than going on and on with your thoughts about him, though you wouldn’t deny, there were probably minor slips. you couldn’t help it. he was literally in front of your lecturer. one wrong turn of gaze and your eyes were on the back of his head.

with your professor concluding the discussion, your thoughts began to clash. should you walk towards him and talk to him? but what if he wasn’t your soulmate? wouldn’t it be so much more embarrassing?

you exhaled, placing your things back into your bag. the chair in front of you moved and before you knew, the male who had been plaguing your mind almost the whole day was right in front of you. his head was resting on his palm as he looked at you. no words. he just had his eyes fixated on you, observing your actions.

it was annoying how your heart began to act up, its beat thunderous in your chest, making you wonder, was he hearing it? as nonchalantly as you can, you faced him and asked, “you need something?”

he nodded, his brown hues still fixated at you. at this point, you were close to melting. “yes.”

“what?” short replies were the only ones you were capable of giving. it was also the best way not to stutter. the shorter, the better.

“you,” he said as if it was nothing. as if his voice weren’t able to penetrate directly to your stomach. “you’re my soulmate aren’t you?”

you blinked, staring back at him. it was the confirmation you needed, but somewhat your brain couldn’t come up with any other word. “what?”

he hunched his shoulder up, propping his hands on the table. his head was tilted to the side as he raised a brow. “aren’t you?”

your inability to give any verbal response made a small smile become visible on his countenance. a chuckle following it afterward. “the first time you saw me, you thought i’m good-looking.” he elevated his left hand, a finger pointing on his wrist, just below his watch. “it registered directly to my skin. followed by several thoughts aligned to that during lunchtime. it’s you right?”

“stop.” it sounded more of a whine, your cheeks hot. “can we not talk about that?”

“so it’s really you?” he chuckled once again. you only heard it a couple of times today— exactly at this hour, but you already loved it. you loved his laugh. “let’s get to know each other more.” he extended a hand for you to shake. “i’m minhee.”

“y/n,” you replied, reaching for his hand. it was a simple skin contact, but the way your nerves felt a wave of mixed warmth and coldness running from hand to your body indicated something else. the gentle squeeze he gave you pulled out a smile to spread on your lips. it was comforting.

minhee released your hand after a few seconds. standing up, he pulled your bag closer to him before swinging it to his shoulder. “you no longer have any class, right? let’s go home together.”

[miracul0us-multishipper]

“You”

A grin spread over Felix' face as he let the charade drop.

“Me.”

The black haired girl he now knew was Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to her sketch book, a clear dismissal.

“You’re blocking the light. Go bother someone else.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back, decreasing the similarities to his cousin to the necessary minimum.

“Why would I? Everybody else is so boring.”

No one in this entire city had even realized he was back; not their classmates, not the teachers, not even the brunette fashion disaster that obviously had some experience with deception. Of course his little charade would have to end once Adrien had recovered from the cold that kept him at home, but until then Felix would have his fun. Yesterday he'd spend the entire day in the Bourgeois Spa, fooling the entire staff, the Mayor and his clingy brat. Despite the latter being Adriens “best friend”, not even she had realized who she was really inviting. Getting rid of her had been a little harder, but in the end he'd spent a wonderfully relaxing day in a steam bath and his skin was softer than ever. Courtesy of the ridiculously expensive mud bath he hadn’t had to pay a single penny for.

“Looks like you'd fit right in then.”, Marinette commented and drew an especially vigorous line in her book.

“Ouch. You wound me, darling!”

She shrugged and ignored him. Ignored him! That wouldn’t do.

With a last tug at his no longer messy strands he sat down next to her, leaning into her space as far as he could risk without getting slapped. His last few attempts had thought him that lesson.

“Oh, come on, Marinette, you must to tell me!”, he nagged her, happy when her face turned from concentration to annoyance. “What gave me away? Was it the wink? Or no, it was the greeting, wasn't it? Too much enthusiasm.”

“Why do you even care? You got all the others, didn’t you?”

He clicked his tongue.

“I have standards. If there's one person who can tell the difference, my performance is obviously lacking.”

She huffed and added a little bow to the skirt she was working on. Knee-length and plain colored, decorated with small ribbons. Classic and elegant, yet a touch of playfulness. He would have complimented it if he'd thought she might value his opinion.

“If it wasn’t my words or gestures, what was it?”, he asked on, not willing to give up and admit defeat. It was their little routine by now. He'd come up and try to pass as Adrien, she'd see through him and he would try to annoy her until she either gave him her full attention, or snarked him off. Marinette Dupain-Cheng – despite her cute appearance – could be mean, he'd learned.

“I don’t think I want to tell you.”, she shrugged, but he could see the beginning of a smile tugging at her lips. She'd deny it, but secretly she enjoyed their little battles of wits.

“What?”, he gasped and slumped against her in played shock, conveniently knocking the book out of her hands and onto the steps of the Trocadero. “But why?”

Now unable to draw on, she finally gave him her undivided focus.

“Because you, Monsieur Graham de Vanilly, are a major pain in my butt.”

“Oh? I would have thought you above such pettiness.”, he lamented. “To deny a fellow fashion enthusiast your criticism! To dishonor the sacred solidarity between artists! Truly a shame.”

“You? An artist?” She snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Hey! Deception is as much of an art as these tiny scribbles of yours. And I am a master of my craft, thank you very much.”

She waved her hand and shooed him back a little.

“The questionable status of your craft aside, I'd hardly call you an expert. You were here for a day and already had the entire class plus three akumas after you. Your play didn’t even last an hour before it blew up in your face. Maybe you should ask Lila for a bit of advice! She's been here for months and is still on her unquestioned bullshit.”

He growled at that, drawing out another of these smug little smirks Marinette so rarely wore. After all his visits she knew how to rile him up.

“Do not compare me to that- that klutz! Anybody could spew some fancy tales and name drop, but that doesn’t mean she has skill. There's no finesse, no authenticity beneath that badly styled hair of her.”

“And there is beneath yours?”, Marinette said sweetly. He huffed and raised his chin.

“Of course there is. I don’t run around as Adrien for the fame, but for the fun of it. And I actually put in some effort. I was only found out because my goal required breaking character, and I still had a score to settle with my dear cousin. You think I only depend on my pretty face, because it looks conveniently close to Adrien? Wrong!”

His chest swoll a little as he spoke. With his accomplishments, he'd earned a little pride in himself.

“True, artful deception requires three things Lila Rossi couldn’t fake if her life depended on it: Discretion, Distraction and the right timing. She only ever barges in headfirst, unable to survive even a second outside of the spotlight.”

She hummed.

“My mistake. How could I ever assume you to be alike, since you obviously care so little about getting attention?”

Snarky little minx. Well, she wasn’t wrong, to be fair.

“Enough of that!”, he decided and eagerly turned back to her. “Now tell me what gave me away.”

“Let me see...”, she mused and pursed her lips. “I guess I could tell you that...”

“Yes?”

“...under certain circumstances...”

“Go on!”

“...it might be...”

“Might be?”

“The scent.”

He blinked. This had been his mistake? What kind of cologne did his cousin even wear?

“The... the scent.”

“Uh-huh.”

She moved to get back to her sketching, but he snatched the book before she could even touch it.

“Nah-ah! First you've got to expand on that. What perfume is he wearing?”

She shrugged and leaned back.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious? Adrien always wears “Manners and Class” N° 5. You on the other hand reek of “Wouldn’t know politeness if it hit me in the face”. A poor choice, really.”

She leaned in.

“You stink.”

It took a moment for her words to register, and he couldn't suppress a gasp when they did. With a satisfied smile she tugged her sketchbook out of his hands and crossed her legs, ready to put the finishing touch on her latest design. Felix fell back on the step next to her.

“That's it.”

“Yup.”

“You've won.”

“Fair and square.”

“I am defeated.”

“Annihilated. But to be fair, that opening was too easy.”

“Perfect set-up. Clean execution. Merciless punchline. You have earned your victory, so claim it properly.”

“I will.”

He fell silent after that, acknowledging his defeat. He lasted all but two minutes before his need for attention beat his shame.

“So? What do you want as your prize?”

“Peace and quiet?”, she proposed, gnawing at the end of her pencil.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You're more ambitious than that, Dupain-Cheng. Here I am, Felix Graham du Vanilly, offering you everything I can give, and you settle for peace and quiet? Tsk, you can do better than that.”

“Maybe I could ask you to clear the area, while I’m already at it. For the entire week.”

He should leave. He wouldn’t get any real feedback out of her today, and now that he had offered her a prize she might develop some common sense and ask him for his connections, or some favors that could get her publicity. He was stretching his luck every time he decided to pester her again.

But he stayed. Whether it was his wounded pride, or his curiosity ever since she'd sent that little love declaration to his cousin... he couldn’t allow the only borderline interesting person in this city to dismiss him like that. Especially not when he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her yet.

An idea popped into his mind and he spoke before he could think.

“You could ask me for a date.”

Now Marinette did put her book away.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She blinked.

“Did you miss the part where I asked you to leave me to my scribbles, as you put it? Because I am sure I mentioned it a few times, now.”

“No, doesn’t ring a bell.”

She groaned and closed her book. He counted that as a victory.

“Well, then maybe you remember the fact that I’m in love with Adrien. Which you already know, since you watched the video clearly addressed to him. And deleted said video. And replied very rudely.”

He hummed and stood up to circle her. An actor had to have a sense of drama, after all.

“The past is the past. And in the present, I look just like Adrien.”

Now he finally seemed to have broken through her cool facade.

“So what?”, she snapped at him, crossing her arms. “Do you think I like him for his looks? Am I that shallow, in your opinion?”

Of course she wasn’t. But he'd finally struck a nerve.

“You're not?”, he provoked slyly.

“No!”

She stomped her pink flats on the ground with more force than should be physically possible.

“I love him because he is kind. And thoughtful. And funny and confident and fair and so classy, and because he loves to make friends, and because he's loyal and caring and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. He's your little fairy tale prince.”, he interrupted a little harsher than intended. Clearing his throat he continued. “And you'll be relieved to know that I don’t want to date you either. No offense to you, but I am above such mundane things as crushes.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back down.

“Of course you are.”

“Fact is, my dear Marinette,” he lectured smugly, “that you can’t even say two words to your loverboy without seemingly suffering a particularly unflattering stroke.”

“What a flowery statement, Sherlock.”

“Another fact is that you can talk very fluently to me. Far too fluently, in my opinion.”

Marinette's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he smiled.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” he finished his circling and came to a stand right in front of her. “that you can use me to practice. Here, I'll even mess up my hair again!”

“Wait, I didn’t even agree to-“

“You're welcome. Aren’t I a dashing little dream prince?”

He posed in true Adrien fashion and Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Please, just don’t.”

“Pah! Ungrateful as always. Anyway, back to business!”

He spun into a dramatic pirouette and kneeled down before her, taking her hand between his.

“Marinette, my fairest!”, he proclaimed with vigor. “Is there something on that bright mind of yours you want to share with me, Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned again, but didn’t pull away.

“If you'll leave me alone after that...”

“I'll do anything my good friend asks of me! I am sunshine personified!”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Close enough.”

He almost regretted looking for Marinette this late. The sun was about to set and most tourists had already left for locations with a better view. If there had been more, one might have captured a snap shot of Adrien Agreste kneeling in front of a random girl about to confess. His cousin would be delighted when he found out about his scandal in the news.

Alas, it was only the two of them who paid attention to each other. But Marinette was about to begin, so he didn’t ponder on the viewers anymore.

“I... I wanted to tell you that...”

He almost winced at that poor display of rhetorical talent, but she wasn’t done yet. Taking a deep breath, Marinette lifted her eyes off of her shoes and looked directly at him. And for a moment it felt as if she were looking into him. He'd seen these bluebell eyes roll in annoyance, glare in anger and sparkle with mirth, but never had he seen them this piercing, this all-consuming.

“Adrien, there's something I haven’t told you yet.”, she said, and it was as if he'd never heard her speak before. This wasn’t the voice that had teased and bantered with him, or the disinterested lull she mumbled in when she tried to ignore him. This was soft, yet firm and confident. Like tugging the strings of a violin: a clear, pleasant sound that offered a first hint of the potential in this slender instrument.

“I didn’t keep this from you because I don’t value our friendship.”, she said and her fingers tightened around his. Felix was suddenly sure that no expensive mudbath could ever make his skin as soft as hers. “It's the furthest thing from it. I didn’t tell you because I value our friendship so much. And I was scared to risk it.”

She took a step closer and he had to swallow.

“Adrien, you are the first person I think of when I wake up, and the only person I see in my dreams. Every morning, when I walk into class and see you, I feel like there's pure sunshine in my chest and springs under my feet. Like gravity is just a loose suggestion and I could float if I jumped. Like... like I could do anything I ever dreamed of.”

She looked down upon their hands. Disentangling their fingers surprised him, but even more surprising was that this time, she took his hands between hers.

“I know you feel trapped sometimes.”, she whispered and he found himself suddenly very insecure. Was she still acting? Was she this deep in their little charade? Or... or was she truly talking to him?

“I know you put up a smile and try to give everybody what they expect. And that you don’t have a lot of chances to just be you, not the heir of a great legacy. But I... I want to be your escape. Your safe haven. What I am trying to say is...”

She looked back up to him, and her smile was radiant.

“I love you.”

...

There was a tightness in his chest.

Because he wasn’t breathing, he realized.

Odd.

He didn’t have time to overthink this little detail, though. For as soon as he opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn’t know – she blinked and took a step back. The spell faded and his mouth fell shut again.

“So,” Marinette cleared her throat and looked away. “How... How was it?”

“Uh...”, he made, which was admittedly not the smartest reply he’d ever given her. The fact that he still hadn’t remembered to breathe in didn’t make things easier.

Marinette shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable.

“That bad?”

Ha.

Ha ha.

He shook his head and finally sucked in some much needed air.

“Good”, he croaked out, which was still not much of an improvement from his earlier statement of ‘uh’.

“It was... really good.”

Ah. The simple beauty of a full sentence.

“You think so?”, she asked, voice high with surprise. “It wasn’t... I don’t know, a little too much?”

“No!”, he answered a little too fast. “Uh, no. No, it was really... really good.”

Marinette's eyes went narrow.

“Are you making fun of me? Because I may be small, but if you did this to humiliate me then I swear to god, I will take this pencil and-“

“I was serious. What you said was beautiful.”

They both blinked at his words. He hadn’t meant to say that. This wasn’t how their interactions went. They were snarky. Mean. Teasing from time to time. But not... this. Never this open. Never vulnerable.

“Thank you.”, Marinette gave back, seemingly unsure herself. “I should... you know, it’s late and my parents are waiting.”

He nodded far too eagerly for his earlier efforts to make her stay.

“Yes, of course. I'll... No, you know the way better than me, probably.”

She laughed at that. It wasn’t a snicker, or one of her smug little huffs. It sounded... sweet.

“Yeah, no need to walk me home.”

She eyed him for a a moment, then the emptying place.

“I could walk you home, though. If you want to.”

Yes.

“No.”, he said and something in his chest roared in disappointment. “Thank you, but it would be quite the detour for you.”

She shrugged.

“Alright. Don’t get lost.”

Shouldering her bag she took her sketch book and moved to leave, but stopped mid movement to turn back around.

“Oh, and if you tell anybody – especially Adrien! – about any of this, you'll find out what I was going to do with that pencil! Got it?”

He rolled his eyes, finally in control of himself.

“Yes, oh great master of pencilmanship. Your weapon is as feared as its wielder.”

Satisfied she nodded and turned around, but stopped yet again. With a groan she dropped the bag, stepped in front of him and grabbed his collar. He'd never admit to anybody that the surprised squeal that followed had come from him. Utterly frozen in shock he could only watch as Marinette came closer and...

“There!”, she hummed and combed back his hair with her fingers. “I like you hair better this way.”

A small nod was all he could muster up, but it was enough for her. Waving him goodbye she turned around for good.

“Well then. See you around, Felix!”

He watched her leave, desperately trying to regain his voice.

“Y-Yeah. See you around, Marinette.”

Only when she had completely disappeared in the nearby metro station he allowed himself to sit down, wobbly knees no longer able to support him.

“What...”, he mumbled to himself, “...the entire fuck...”

What did just happen? Nothing made sense, not this stupid idea and certainly not his reaction to it. Sighing he leaned back against the steps and touched his hair. It was still a little messy, but laid back against his head in its usual fashion. If he concentrated he could almost feel the warmth of her fingers trapped between his strands.

He sighed deeply.

...damnit.

- - -

A little one shot because I hadn't written about canon!felix yet.

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

The sound of your pencil tapping lightly against your notebook must have been annoying those around you, but you were too focused on the digital clock hanging above the professor’s head to care. Bright red numbers stole your attention; each time it changed you sat up a still straighter, scooted closer to the edge of your seat. The darkness of the room didn’t help. Even with the projector shining the notes you were supposed to be absorbing did nothing to block out the beacon. You were starving.

Okay, maybe not literally, but you were definitely ravenous. Breakfast had been the last thing on your mind this morning and now you were paying for it severely. A headache brewed right under the surface and your stomach gurgled and bubbled from the emptiness. The thought of leaving early did cross your mind, but that would have been rude, not to mention highly inconvenient since you were seated near the middle of the small lecture hall. It was best to avoid the dirty looks and low curses from those that you have to crawl over to get the stairs on the edge.

“And that ends the lesson for today.” The professor walked over to the side and flipped on the light. The sudden brightness made you squint, but it was worth the relief you felt. He’d ended the lesson a whole ten minutes early. You packed your belongs as quietly as possible while still keeping a listening ear. “Please look over chapter six, sections one and two before next class, there will be a two question quiz over the passages.” You scribbled a reminder down in the corner of your notebook and hopped up out of your seat. You weren’t the only one who had called it quits for the day even though the professor was still talking. “Don’t forget the first outline of your project is due next class as well, if it’s not turned in then it’s an automatic twenty percent deduction.”

Standing in line to shuffle out from the row of desks, you made a mental note to go over your outline one more time. You were already on the third stage of the project – gathering the necessary sources for the paper – but it was still a good idea to count your ducks and make sure they were lined up nicely.

You hurried to the cafeteria. The moment you were inside you hopped in the first line you saw, not bothering to take the time to consider your options. The line you were in was for the salads and sandwiches; boring food it was. Your stomach didn’t care if your taste buds weren’t going to be blown away today, it only needed sustenance. With your tray full, you moved over to the cash register and paid for your meal before finding a free table.

“Hungry much?”

Willa slid into the chair across from you, her own tray holding the spaghetti special. The buttery garlic smell drifted over to you and made your mouth water. You chewed slowly on your bland sandwich. Maybe later you could stop by for an afternoon snack….

“Already started without me, I see.” Eric dropped his bag in the half booth beside you and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled up at him. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“But the second mouse gets the cheese,” he countered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

You leaned around him and stared at the long lines forming across the way. “I don’t think that second half applies here. You better get going before all the good stuff is gone.”

Erik followed your gaze. “Oh, crap. You’re right. Be right back!”

After swallowing a mouthful of noodles, Willa sighed. “You two are so cute.”

You snickered under your breath, but didn’t reply. Erik and you had met in World Music Appreciation your freshman year. In class, he was the slightly loud, slightly obnoxious kid who sat behind you with his friends. Somehow – and to this day you still weren’t sure the steps that led to it – you ended up in their study group for the final exam. You found that the boy who sat behind you was indeed funny, but also intelligent, generally entertaining to be around. After passing the exam that was much harder than any introductory music class should have been, you found yourself going out for celebratory pizza with him that morphed into your first date. The two of you had settled into a comfortableness with each other and you were happy.

As if trying to contradict you, Minseok’s face made an appearance in your mind. You shook the image of his smile away. That… that wasn’t good.

“Not hungry anymore?” Finally through the line, Erik sat down beside you and cracked open the can of pop he’d purchased. You looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in your hand. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped eating. The grumbling of your stomach hadn’t completely subsided, however, the bread and meat combination was no longer remotely appealing. Was this your “grass is always greener” moment?

To wave away the thoughts, you became playful again, reaching over and plucking a lob of cheese off the fresh slice of pizza on Erik’s plate and tossed in your mouth. “No, I just decided that your food looks better.”

“Well, then here.” Erik picked up your plate, took the sandwich out of your hand and slid his tray over to your side. “I’ll eat this.”

“No, Erik, give it back.”

“Seriously, (y/n), it’s fine.”

“Holy crap.”

Willa’s soft outburst stopped the playful argument in its tracks. “What is it?” Erik asked after taking a bite of your sandwich. Giving in, you nibbled on the pizza as you waited for the answer. Your taste buds cheered in victory. This was much better.

“A couple campers were attacked last night in the woods.” Willa’s eyes were trained on her phone, scanning the article that fed her the information. Whatever words she was reading, they must have been bad. Normally, Willa was the more upbeat, nothing-gets-her-down type. It must have been bad.

You leaned forward on the table. Your happy mood at the better-tasting meal as disappeared, replaced by worry. “What was it? Does it say?”

Willa swallowed thickly. “The one that was still awake said it was a wolf. A really big wolf.”

“The one that was still awake?”

“Yeah. I guess there were three of them. One died and one’s in the ICU. The third was only sort of injured when the park rangers found them.”

“Maybe he did it,” Erik said skeptically.

“I thought the same thing, but the police say the scene was consistent with an animal attack.” She clicked the lock button on the side of her phone and put it down. Her eyes flickered to you then back down at her food. It didn’t take a telepath to figure out where her mind had gone.

Erik threw an arm around your shoulders. “See why I don’t like the idea of you going out there by yourself?”

Guilt sunk your stomach. Now you really didn’t feel like eating. To try and hide it, you smiled up at him. “I’ve always understood, but you’re right, that’s a scary thing happen and it could happen to anyone.”

Satisfied, Erik removed his arm and turned his focus back to eating. You continued to pick at the cheese in order to throw off any suspicion. While the guilt of lying was still there, that wasn’t at the most forefront of your thoughts. As plausible as it was, you hoped that it wasn’t your wolf that attacked those people. Well, the wolf didn’t belong to you, but you couldn’t image such a creature killing a human being. He’d seemed to gentle and sweet to be able to do such a thing.

It was an animal, you reminded yourself. They ran on pure instinct. Besides, you didn’t know the whole story. Perhaps, if it was the same one you met in the clearing, he was provoked. Idiots were always teasing animals, whether at the zoo or the park. It was quite possible that the campers brought it upon themselves.

No. You shouldn’t think like that. A person died. Sighing, you pushed the tray away from you.

“Full?” Erik asked. You nodded and he picked up the remains of the pizza, devouring it in only a few short bites. You giggled at the grease stain left in the corner of his mouth. With the napkin, you wiped it away and started to feel somewhat at ease again.

**

Minseok was devastated. There was no other word for it. This- this was not a possibility he had imagined. How could fate be so cruel?

As he stood near the entrance of the cafeteria, he’d been overjoyed at spotting you, sitting alone at one of the hybrid tables near the middle of the large crowded room, devouring the food in front of you like Chanyeol at his favorite burger place. For a moment, he’d considered walking over and saying hi, but thought better of it since he wasn’t alone. Jongdae was chatting about his classes, laughing merrily with Jongin and Yixing beside him. All the noise was a simple hum in Minseok’s ears. His fellow students were nothing but blurs his peripheral; only you were in focus. One foot started your way despite his previous hesitation, but then another girl sat down across from you. He took that as a sign to slow down. Then a guy joined you, placing his bag down as if he owned that space beside you, and kissed your head. You beamed up at him.

The ground shook beneath his feet, vibrating his whole body. An elbow connected with his stomach and made him flinch. “Hey, you okay?” Jongdae asked.

“Yeah,” Minseok lied as he turned away from the sight that caused his blood to boil. The wolf had never been so hard to fight before. Human. He had to be completely human here. “But I think I’m going to take my food back to the lounge.”

“What? Why?”

“Is everything alright?” Yixing tilted his head in that way he always did when he was trying to read through the expressions on their faces. It was irritating at times, especially when they didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering them. He meant well, but he wasn’t learning to become that kind of doctor.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Minseok forced himself to turn away before he stormed across the cafeteria. The sure fire way of having you reject him would be to slam your boyfriend against the wall. Jongdae opened his mouth to counter, but Minseok was already moving into the line, grabbing a faded red tray still wet from the washer and sliding it across the three metal bars that kept the herd of college students at bay. He swiped up a plate with a lukewarm slice of pizza and kept going. Bypassing everything else, the last thing he grabbed was a can of flavored coffee from the open fridge before going to the register.

Jongdae pouted as Minseok waved goodbye and walked out of the building. His grip on the tray was strained, knuckles pale and tendons popping out from under the skin on the back of his hands. This complicated things well beyond the obstacles he already had in his way. And here he had the fairytale in his head, thinking he would simply meet you, continue to “coincidentally” run into you and get to know you until the two of you naturally fell in love and then… well, he didn’t exactly have a plan after that, but now that would really have to be put off while he figured out how to get past step one.

Arriving at the mathematics college where he spent most of his time, he made his way through the halls until he found the lounge reserved for the GTAs. There were tables where they studied and put together lesson plans as well as couches where more naps occurred than other types of casual reclining. Against one wall was a stereo equipped with Bluetooth while a TV and game console sat across the way. It was a room where they could relax and bounce ideas off each other. The place was empty at the moment, most of the usual occupants either in class or eating lunch with their friends.

Minseok sat down at one of the tables. He aggressively chewed on the pizza as he tried not to think about what he saw a few minutes ago. And here he thought eventually telling you that he was a wolf was going to be the hard part. A large group came in then, happily talking amongst themselves. Spotting Minseok, they joined him. Sungkyu took the seat to Minseok’s right and dropped a heavy binder on the table.

“Sometimes I wonder why I took this job,” Sungkyu grumbled.

So much for peace and quiet. Oh, well, hopefully this would serve as a nice distraction. Minseok could go back to planning his next step later, once he’d calmed down a bit.

“Having fun with the freshman?” Minseok teased. As GTAs, that was the main group they taught. Not all classes were bad, but it usually took a while for some of them to realize that college was much more serious than high school.

“Actually, it’s not a freshman.” Opening the binder, Sungkyu pulled out a few papers stapled together. A sticky note covered the name written at the top, but the red ink that dictated the score was out for the world to see. “She’s close to our age, a senior, but she put this class off until the last minute. And I’m starting to see why. I don’t want to fail her, but….”

“Just give her an extra credit project,” Varya suggested between sips of her peach tea.

“Like what?”

Changmin was the first to have an idea. “Have her put together a project that applies the math to whatever her major is.”

Sungkyu wrinkled his nose at the idea. “That sounds complicated. She’s an arts major.”

“Get someone to help her with it.”

“Are you volunteering?” Varya snorted. Changmin was… charming and used it quite well, to put it mildly. “Who is it? Maybe I’ll help.”

Sungkyu peeled back the sticky note. “(y/n) (l/n).”

Minseok nearly choked on his food. Was this fate giving him a Get Out of Jail free card?

Varya shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

“I’ll do it!” The word were out before Minseok could figure out how to say them without sounding overeager. Everyone at the table was staring at him, confused. He wasn’t the kind to volunteer for these sort of things. He wasn’t the kind to add additional interactions to his schedule; he was too much of an introvert for it.

“You hate any sort of tutoring,” Sungkyu pointed out.

“I need it… for my resume.” He didn’t even have a resume. At least not a serious one. The last time he’d put together the paper bragging about himself was for a class three years ago. The file was probably somewhere on his laptop, but he doubted he would ever actually add something like this to it.

While Changmin and Varya still eyed him curiously, Sungkyu simply shrugged. “Whatever. This is only if she agrees to do it, anyway.”

“If she wants to graduate, she’ll do it.” Standing up, Varya threw out the remaining ice in her reusable cup and slipped her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got a research paper that’s not going to write itself.”

In an overdramatic fashion, Changmin placed his hand over his heart and looked to the ceiling. “If only they did. My school career would be so much easier.”

Sungkyu rolled his eyes. “And yet completely negate the purpose of it all.” Changmin wasn’t bothered by the comment at all, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his social media as he leaned back in his chair. Sungkyu replaced the sadly scored paper and closed his binder. “Are you free tomorrow a little after four?” he asked Minseok. “I want to try and catch her after class. I’m sure she’ll agree to do the extra credit, but maybe having you right there to say you’ll help will nudge her if she’s on the fence about it.”

“Absolutely.” There was no way Minseok was going let this opportunity go. Maybe this was the better way to go about it. The two of you would be spending time together while he helped you with this project; endless time just you and him. He could get to know you, learn about what you liked and disliked, where you saw yourself going and where you’d already been. Then he could properly fight for your heart, win his mate over the right way. The excitement of what awaited him was almost too much. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

**

You wanted to disintegrate there in your seat.

Right on the front of the homework you just received back was a sticky note asking you to stay back after class. Never had you want a period to not end, to go on and on in a cycle of torture. You knew it was about it your recent grades. It wasn’t as if you weren’t trying. But this subject had never been your strong suit and recently it had been harder to grasp the concepts. You were an arts student, a photographer. When were you ever really going to need to know how to find the function of x after this?

Unfortunately, the end came and you stayed seated while the younger students happily skipped out of the classroom. When it was only the two of you left, you got up and walked over to the desk.

“That bad, uh?” you said in an attempt to lighten your own mood.

Sungkyu, at least, seemed a little sympathetic. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, not everyone can be a math genius.”

“No. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to make up the points.”

You perked up. This was… somewhat good, given your mind had wondered if he was going to suggest you drop the class for now and try again later, under a different teacher. “Really?” You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit jumping for a carrot hanging in the air. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Sungkyu reached behind him and plucked up a sheet of paper before leaning back against the desk. “I’ve got an outline here that’ll explain the project in detail.” He handed it over to you before continuing. “The basics, though, are pretty much just write a paper of how the subject relates to your major.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Clearing your throat, you said, “O-okay. I think I can do that. Except….”

“You don’t know where to start?” Sungkyu guessed. You nodded. “That’s alright. I’m not going to make you do it alone. I’ve enlisted some help for you. Minseok?”

In from the hallway strolled in the very same Minseok you’d run into the day before. There was no way…. You nearly laughed out loud. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? But the manner in which he shyly waved at you and fidgeted from foot to foot told you that it might be.

“Minseok will help you with the research and come with ideas. He’ll also help you with the examples that way you get all the points. Is that alright?”

Your stomach did a backflip. This meant the two of you would be spending time together – alone. Which wasn’t anything unusual; you’d had project partners of the opposite sex before, but none of them sent your heart leaping either. Perhaps it would be best to keep this on a need-to-know basis for the time being. Smiling, you looked at the expectant GTA.

“Peachy.”

[cyraclove]

Higher Pursuits

BOTW Grad School AU

-

-

“...so, if you do decide that you’ll be writing a thesis in lieu of the comprehensive examination, I’ll be the one you’ll need to speak with.”

Zelda scribbled furiously in her notebook as Dr. Kaneli continued to speak, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every few minutes like clockwork. He’d come to Dr. Teba’s diagnostics lecture that morning to speak about research opportunities, accompanied by several of his current research assistants. 

“No need to decide right this moment, of course,” he said, “but we will be needing your name and thesis topic by the end of your first year if you do select that track.” 

Thesis by end year one, she scrawled onto the paper. 

God, a thesis. She’d dreamt of this moment. 

Had Zelda ever wanted anything more than to write a thesis? What greater pleasure was there than to delve so completely into research that you know every facet of it like you know the letters of your own name? The plethora of potential opportunities was exhilarating, her mind running rampant at the very notion of selecting one. 

A hand suddenly covered hers, causing her pen to scratch to a halt. 

She glanced up to see Link staring at her, an eyebrow cocked in her direction. 

“What?” She whispered, “I’m taking notes.” 

‘Just listen,’ he signed, ‘You don’t have to write down every word he says.’

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes. “We’ll see who’s coming to who with questions in a few weeks.” 

Link grinned brightly, waving a hand at her in dismissal. 

“My personal field is neurological disorders,” Kaneli explained, recapturing Zelda’s undivided attention, “and if you have any interest in my research, do let me know. I am always in need of hardworking graduate assistants. It’s not easy work, mind you, but we do have fun.” 

The professor then paused to smile at a young man seated amongst the other second year students In the front row. 

“I’m sure you can attest to that, Mr. Medoh,” he teased cheerily. A few of the others around him chuckled lightly. 

From where she and Link were sitting in the lecture hall, it was impossible to see his face. Even when craning her neck a bit, Zelda could only glimpse locks of raven hair that dusted the man’s shoulders, several strands pleated into delicate braids while some was piled atop his head in a haphazard bun. 

Medoh, she wrote hastily in the margins. 

Link tapped the table to get her attention before furrowing his brow and asking, ‘Why?’. 

She shrugged. “Might be good to have second year connections. And quit reading over my shoulder.” 

Link’s face took on a sly expression as he eyed her curiously. With two fingers, he gestured a circle around his face before pointing to the man in the first row. 

“Handsome?” Zelda scoffed, “How can I think that he’s handsome when I can’t even see him? You hush.”

He waggled his brows at her. ‘I’m not talking,’ he signed. 

“You know what I mean,” she said. “You can make that joke all you want and it still won’t be funny.” 

“Ah, does someone there in the back have a question?” 

Zelda’s face prickled hot as nearly everyone in the room swiveled around to look at her. She froze, damning her immoveable tongue for not immediately coming to her rescue with a response. She barely heard Link sniggering beside her as she stared blankly at Dr. Kaneli, an expectant look on his face. 

Her gaze was drawn downward to a pair of green eyes staring up from beneath thick, dark lashes. 

The young man that Kaneli had called Mr. Medoh was now looking directly at her, incredulity marring his brow. His sharp, almost bird-like features gave him a stern appearance, the strong cut of his jaw curtained by wisps of hair. The striking emerald of his irises was offset by the deep, rich tone of his bronzed skin. 

Oh. He was handsome. 

Someone cleared their throat.

“Ms. Farore,” Dr. Teba prompted from his seat in the corner, “did you have a question or didn’t you?” 

“Oh, no. Uh, sir. No, sir,” she stammered, “I didn’t...um, no. Sorry.” 

Teba pursed his lips and hummed his disapproval, but said nothing more. He instead encouraged Kaneli to continue, apologizing for the interruption. Zelda’s pulse thundered in her ears as she caught a hint of a smirk on the dark-haired man’s face just before he turned back around. 

She wanted to die. 

And, maybe, smack Link. 

The remainder of the lecture went quickly, though Zelda registered only a quarter of anything that was said. She still felt hot with humiliation, her embarrassment taking the uncomfortable form of sweat; she could think only of how badly she wished she had a stick of deodorant and a new blouse. 

When Kaneli and Teba finally concluded and announced dismissal, Zelda slumped down into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She sat amidst the shuffling of papers and zipping of book bags, letting the rest of the class file out until she and Link were the only two left in the large hall. 

When she finally peeked through her fingers at Link, she saw him looking just as remorseful as he could, signing ‘sorry’ on his chest. 

Zelda sighed. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I’ve already forgiven you, you know that.” 

He beamed at her, and she suddenly remembered why it was impossible to ever be cross with him in any capacity. He stacked his fists then, twisting one atop the other as he raised his brows in question. 

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. You’re buying.” 

_ 

The Café Bar was bustling with students just being released from class, flocking in from outside to escape the chilly October air and scrambling for a place in line. Others stood idly by and scouted for empty tables, often to no avail. Though there were several places to go for coffee on campus, the little, locally-owned coffee shop that sat just near the university was by far the most popular. 

The gentle hiss of milk being steamed and the pleasant gurgle of fresh coffee brewing could just be heard above the sound of light jazz mingling with idle chatter. Cups and saucers clinked as they were cleared from tables. Zelda inhaled deeply, the comforting scent of espresso a welcome respite. 

“I have a vanilla latte with extra whip on the bar!” 

She nudged Link with her elbow to get his attention. They had managed to procure their favorite spot; a small circular table over by the large bay window that sidled right up to the window seat. He looked up from his phone. 

“That’s you,” she said. He nodded and stood with a smile, lightly touching her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze as he slipped behind her. Zelda smiled to herself before returning to the article that she’d been perusing, a clinical research study on the affects of naturalistic treatment protocols on aphasic patients. She’d not even read five words when she heard her name being softly called from across the café. 

“Zelda, over here.” 

A petite, red-headed young woman came striding towards her, her arms piled with books. Zelda hopped up from her chair to lighten her load, carefully taking a few of the books off of the top. 

“Oh, Mipha, let me help you. Where’s your--wait, here, set them on the table.” 

She thanked her profusely as she plunked the remaining books on the tiny table, making it wobble sadly on its narrow legs. She slid onto the window seat, shrugging her blue sweater from her shoulders. Her cheeks were a pretty, wind-bitten pink as she smiled warmly, releasing a sigh of relief. 

“I thought you’d already gone home,” Zelda said, “And what are all of these for?” 

 “Oh, these are my textbooks for this semester. I’ve just been to the bookstore to pick them up,” she explained. She screwed up her face. “They didn’t have the one I need for my biochem class, though. I preordered that one, too.” 

“You need all of these?” Zelda asked, brows raised in awe as she mentally tallied the books. 

Mipha nodded resignedly. “Yes, all of them. That’s what I get for deciding to get my master’s in marine biology, I suppose. I’m on my way to the apartment, but I thought I’d stop and grab a latte or so—” she paused, copper eyes shifting their attention from Zelda’s face to just behind her. “Oh, Link, hello.” 

Link nodded cheerfully at Mipha with a mug in one hand and a plate holding the largest muffin that Zelda had ever seen in the other. She kicked out his chair for him with her foot and he sat, gingerly placing his coffee on the table. He signed ‘thank you’ with his free hand, the other still absentmindedly clutching the plate as his eyes swept the café. Mipha and Zelda gave one another a quick, knowing look.  

“Sidon’s still at the rec with Bazz,” Mipha mentioned, a smile in her voice, “He told me to tell you ‘hi’, though.” 

Zelda watched Link’s jaw visibly clench as he sucked in a breath through his nose. 

‘He did?’ 

Mipha nodded. 

Link bit the inside of his cheek, and then quickly shrugged and focused his attention on making a dent in the mountain of whipped cream on his coffee. 

‘That’s cool,’ he told her, ‘Tell him hey, I guess.’

The redhead turned to Zelda for a translation; she was with the two of them so frequently now that she’d been able to pick up quite a bit of ASL, but still needed occasional help. Zelda found that Link was particularly difficult to understand when the subject of conversation was Sidon, simply because his hands moved twice their normal speed. 

“He said to tell Sidon that he’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen and that he’d love to go on a date sometime,” Zelda answered casually, unlocking her phone to open up her article again. 

Link nearly choked on a piece of muffin. 

“I have an americano with cream on the bar!” 

“Be right back,” Zelda chimed as she got up to get her drink, looking back briefly to see Link signing ‘wrong’ on his chin repeatedly. She chuckled inwardly and turned back around, only to collide with an oddly familiar looking green cardigan. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, backing up, “That’s my fault. I wasn’t even paying attention.” 

“Evidently not.” 

Zelda’s eyes flicked up at the foreign voice, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized with whom she was speaking.

Oh, shit. 

Handsome braids guy. 

“Uh, hi. Again,” she muttered, hopelessly lost for anything else to say. 

He gave her a queer look. “Again?” 

“Um. I mean, yeah. You were just in Dr. Teba’s lecture? You came with Dr. Kaneli. For the, uh, research. Thing.” 

The corner of the young man’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Right. You didn’t have a question.”

Zelda felt her cheeks burn at the very mention of the incident, her chest tightening at the memory. The man raised a brow at her, an irritatingly amused expression on his face. She felt her eye twitch. 

“Yes, well. If you’ll excuse me. Sorry, ag--” 

A barista interrupted.

“Americano with cream to-go!” 

Green cardigan stepped up to the bar to accept the coffee, thanking the woman who’d handed it off with an actual smile. Zelda watched him, dumbfounded, as he hoisted his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and glanced in her direction for a fraction of a second before heading for the door. 

“Wait!” 

The words had flown out of her mouth before she’d even had time to register them. Perfectly annoyed, he stopped to turn and face her, his eyes on her in silent query. 

“About Dr. Kaneli’s research lab,” she began, “are there still spots open for new assistants right now?” 

His demeanor changed at the question and he adopted a defensive, almost territorial stance. He studied her closely, eyeing her with an uncomfortable thoroughness; as though he were sizing up a rival. 

“Yes,” he drawled, “Why?” 

“I’d like to apply,” she responded, maybe too quickly. 

He sucked his teeth. “Interesting. Well, come by the office at the clinic if you want an application. They’re due in a week.”

Zelda grinned, nodding excitedly. “Oh, that’s excellent. I’ll definitely be by, then. Thank you, um...” she paused, chewing her lip, “Sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

Making for the door once again, he left Zelda with her mouth partly open, staring after him in quiet disbeleif. His fingers brushing the handle, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. 

“It’s Revali,” he said, and was gone. 

Zelda stood in place for a while until he was completely out of sight, her mind fumbling with the entire interaction. Her stomach had twisted itself into a squirmy knot, a feeling with which she was unfamiliar. She felt like she’d somehow been both insulted and praised at the same time. 

Revali, she thought to herself.

What a dick. 

-

-

I hope you enjoyed this completely self-indulgent drabble of a Grad School AU that I’m considering. The more I think about this ship the more I like it. Thanks for reading! @botwrareships

[fairylightsandchai]

The Internship - Part 1

A/N: Hello! I know I usually don’t post fanfiction to this blog, but I really wanted to participate in @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​‘s Pre-Code Challenge! Just ignore this if you follow me and you’re not interested. 

Pairing: Dark!Professor!Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: >10K

Summary: You are a student in the former-Captain America’s American History class, and you soon notice that Professor Rogers has been paying more than a professional amount of attention to you. But when he approaches you with an internship opportunity that’s too good to be true, how can you say no? 

(A/N: This fic contains non-con elements, stalking, and manipulation, and in later parts it will inclue rape, breeding kink, and kidnapping. It is also inspired by The Wild Party, a film from 1929. I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.) 

           You had always wanted to be a writer. When you were a little girl, you’d spent most of your time with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds, dreaming of the day when you would tell stories of your own, stories that connected with people all over the globe.

           And then the Battle of New York had happened.

           You had been in high school during the attack, a shy freshman who had only wanted to blend in and disappear amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d still had your dreams of being a bestselling author someday.

           But, like so many other things in your small, sheltered world, all of that changed the day the Chitauri invaded. You hadn’t been in the city at the time; you’d grown up in upstate New York, about an hour away from the busy metropolis, but it had still shaken your small town to its foundations. It was too close to home, too huge for you and your neighbors to comprehend.

           After it had happened, you spent less time dwelling on fiction and more time focused on the truth; the nonfiction isles of your school’s library became your second home, and you were always the first one in your family to read the Sunday paper. You followed current events almost obsessively, imagining one day having your name printed on the New York Post under a ground-breaking story that would define the rest of your career – the rest of your life.  

           You had not, however, counted on having one of the Avengers as your professors in college, and yet here you were, stood outside the history building of Columbia University with binder in hand, a syllabus and class schedule tucked inside of it.

You hadn’t realized that you would need to take classes on subjects other than writing – you’d known about the needed electives for your course, obviously, but most of them were somehow linked to writing, be it creatively or informatively. Your required history credit had surprised you, though, and your surprise only doubled as you’d scrolled through the available history courses on your student Blackboard account and found a name that stood out amongst the rest. American History (157) – Professor Steven Grant Rogers.

At first you’d chuckled at the coincidence and signed up for it without thinking, but after you’d been accepted into the course, after you’d read and studied its syllabus, you’d started researching your various professors only to find that Professor Steven Grant Rogers…was actually THE Steven Grant Rogers. As in, Captain America himself. As in, one of the people who had fought against the Chitauri and inspired you to seek out journalism.

           And now you were about to walk into his class.

           Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed a strand of your hair out of your eyes and adjusted your cardigan before pushing open the door of the classroom and stepping inside. Looking around, you only noticed a handful of other students, but then again you had arrived fifteen minutes early for class. Your eyes scanned each of their faces before finally meandering to the front of the classroom, immediately picking out the shape of your professor sitting at his desk.

           Even with him sitting behind his desk, you could tell that he was huge. His shoulders were broad, and the fabric of his light blue shirt strained against them as he hunched over, jotting something into a leather notebook. His hair was neat and trimmed, and he had grown out a beard since his retirement from the Avengers. It looked good on him, you mused, but in the middle of your thoughts he turned and looked at you, his piercing blue eyes looking directly into yours, and you froze where you stood.

           You saw his eyes widen for a split second while he took you in, but before you could register the shift in his expression he had put on an easy smile, giving you a small nod.

           “Welcome,” Professor Rogers spoke, his voice warm and genuine.

           You, for your part, answered with an incredibly smooth and well-thought-out response.

           “U-um…” you stammered, shifting on your feet. “Hello.”

           Feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you ducked your head and darted to the first row of desks and sank into one, willing your heart to stop its infernal pounding. As you silently cursed yourself for being so nervous, you opened your binder and pulled out the only two sheets of paper in it along with your spiral bound notebook before reaching into your backpack and rooting around for a pen.

           He’s just a person, you lectured yourself internally. A person who has saved the world on more than one occasion, but a person, nonetheless. He probably gets tired of people acting differently around him just because he’s-            “Do you need a copy of the syllabus?”

           The voice came from in front of you, and your head popped up to see Professor Rogers standing in front of your desk holding a stack of papers. He held one out to you, but you quickly smiled and picked your syllabus off of your desk.

           “Oh, no, thanks! I printed one off last night,” you explained. “But thank you.”

           His smile grew, and he walked back to his desk, setting the papers back down.

           “You’re prepared; I’m glad to hear it.”

           The minutes ticked by after that, a slow but steady line of students filing into the class as its start time grew nearer. You gauged your peers’ reactions curiously, observing as some hardly seemed to recognize your professor while a few others stopped to ask for a selfie with him. The first time that happened, your eyes had widened their bold question, but the former Avenger bared it gracefully, simply shaking his head and giving them a smile.

           “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to hold off on that till the end of class,” he’d say. “If you still want one after we’re all done then just stay behind for a few minutes.”

           Finally the clock read 10:30 and Professor Rogers made his way to the front of the desk, right in front of the empty, clean whiteboard. He took a few moments to look out over the full classroom, taking in all of the students before him. When his eyes landed on you, you swore that you saw him linger for a moment, a curious gleam resting in his eyes before he looked away and opened his mouth to speak.

           “Well, everyone, it’s time to get started,” he began. “As you probably know by now, my name is Steve Rogers, and this class is dedicated to American History from 1914 to 1939. I’d like to just say right off the bat that I’m happy to have all of you in my class, and I hope that this course is informative and helpful to each of your personal fields of study.

           “Now to address the elephant in the room,” he said, starting to pace slowly, “yes, I was alive during most of that period of time, and I did use to be known as Captain America. But I hung up that hat a few years ago, and I’d appreciate it if you showed me the same courtesy and respect that you show your other professors. That being said, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask me any personal questions you may have as long as they relate to what we’re discussing in class. Any off topic questions should be kept to yourselves or saved for after we are finished for the day.

           “Any questions?”

           There was a moment of silence as he searched for any raised hands.

           “Is the shield as heavy as it looks?” someone called from the back row, and a few snickers could be heard from around the room.

           Professor Rogers let out a chuckle of his own and pointed to the student who’d asked.

           “That is a great example of a question that should be saved for after class.”

____________

           Steve waved goodbye to the last of his students, only minorly annoyed at how many had stayed late to take a picture with him. As he packed up his things and prepared to head to his office for the rest of the day, he mused that he should have been used to it by now. With social media so prominent in society these days, he’d been hounded for selfies ever since 2012, but they were still (and probably would always be) aggravating to him.

           He didn’t linger on that today, though; he had so many other important things to think about, after all. And most of them revolved around you.

           A smile twisted his features as he remembered how you’d looked when you’d first walked into his class – so shy and hesitant but just as gorgeous as always. He’d been so pleased to see you wearing your long green cardigan today; it was one of his favorites. Mostly because of that time he’d seen you walking around your little apartment wearing nothing but your bra and panties under it, but he had to admit that you’d looked almost just as sexy wearing it with those brown leggings you’d had on today.

           As he made his way across campus to the building his office was in, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face; he finally had accomplished the first part of his plan. He’d hoped to have you in his class sooner, but it had been hard finding someone to hack into the school records to add that history credit to your list of prerequisites. Well, rather, it had been hard finding someone discreet enough to get the job done. Plenty of his friends would have been able to do it without any problem; hell, Tony probably had done that exact same thing in the past. But they would have asked questions, and he couldn’t afford to have people poking around in something that didn’t concern them.

           A part of Steve knew that this wasn’t the right way of going about having you; the Steve from before Thanos would have been disgusted with his actions, absolutely repulsed at what he was planning to do. But after the snap, after he’d watched so many people he’d cared about turn to dust, something in him had changed. He’d tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to do the right thing, but in the end it hadn’t been good enough to stop everything from happening. And even now, after Thanos was dead and the fallen had been brought back, he was still different than before. He’d done the right thing his entire life, and all he’d gotten from it was heartache.

           But now he would finally claim what he deserved. He would claim you.

           The first time he’d seen you, it had been in the campus coffee shop. He had only been teaching for a year at the time, and he hadn’t foreseen how overwhelming it could be. While the students were cramming and stressing over finals, he was clamoring to compile the perfect exam for his class, the perfectionist in him never fully satisfied and constantly worrying if he had enough questions, if they were balanced enough, if they were too easy or too hard or irrelevant to the course.

           Basically, he had been frazzled, and all he’d wanted was a small black coffee and a corner booth at the café to work on his laptop in. But then he’d seen you.

You were sitting at a table with a girl around your age, and the two of you were laughing about something; it must have been hilarious, because your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed as your laugh bubbled out of your smiling lips. It was in that moment that he knew that love at first sight existed. Every love song he’d ever heard had suddenly sounded in his ears, and he stood there as if frozen as he watched you, his eyes already straining to remember every little detail about your face.            

After that day, he’d started seeing you on campus more and more often, though that might have been because he was following you. In his mind, though, it wasn’t following. It was…researching. He had to know if he’d been mistaken, if that electric feeling he’d felt upon seeing you had somehow been something other than love at first sight.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months of him following you, of him watching you while you were none the wiser, he knew that he hadn’t been mistaken. It seemed fell for you more and more with everything he learned about you and your life. Your body, your mind, your very soul seemed to be meant for him.

There was a problem, though. On the third day of him watching you, you and your friend from the café (he’d learned that her name was Tina) had gone to the library to study together, and he’d overheard you telling her something that made his heart sink.            “So… You’ve been in college for a year now,” Tina had started, and you’d groaned, knowing where she was going even before she said anything else.

“No, Tina,” you sighed.

“What! I’m just wondering when you’re planning on finding yourself a man,” your friend insisted as you rolled your eyes.

“Is never a viable answer?”

“No – you and I both know it’s not. C’mon, you’ve talked about wanting to meet your dream man since high school!”

“Well, yeah, I’ve talked about it,” you’d said. “Talking about something and actually doing it are two different things, babe.”

“I knowww,” Tina had sighed. “But c’mon, now is the time to be looking for people to share a future with.”

You’d snorted a bark of laughter at that.

“It most certainly is not,” you’d countered. “I need to focus on my career right now, Tina. Even IF I met Mr. Right, I’m not gonna start a serious relationship until after college. I gotta put myself first right now.”

“I guess I see where you’re coming from,” she’d huffed. “I get it. But you could just, you know…fool around, right? College is the time for experimentation! Don’t you wanna get that cherry popped before you graduate?”

“TINA!”

“What!” your friend had laughed. “I know you’re dying to turn in that v-card of yours.”

Steve had had to stop listening at that point. With a muffled curse, he’d turned on his heel and all but fled from the library, feeling his heart soar and shatter all at once. On one hand, that same sick part of him that was driving his actions was all but singing; if your friend had been telling the truth, then you were a virgin. His (Y/N) really was a good girl – something that was rare to find these days, especially in young college girls. A sweet, innocent girl just like he’d always dreamed about starting a family with.

But, on the other hand, you were determined to hold off on relationships until the end of college. And even if you’d be willing to let Steve be the exception to that rule, that still didn’t change the fact that you were a student and he was a member of the faculty; he would not only lose his job if the two of you were found out, but he was sure that reporters and journalists would jump at the opportunity to write an exposé  about Captain America taking advantage of a student at the university he taught at.

No, he would have to be smart about this. He knew he didn’t want to wait for you to finish your four-year degree, but he also couldn’t risk either of your reputations with some kind of forbidden relationship, if you’d even have him. He would have to think this through. He would have to come up with a plan.

___________

You were surprised at how quickly you got used to having Captain America as a teacher. You would still get nervous when he spoke directly to you, of course, but the insight he had to offer was priceless. It was one thing to learn about a period of history from a textbook, but it was another thing entirely to learn about it from someone who was actually there.

Professor Rogers was knowledgeable and kind to all of his students, and your favorite parts of his lectures were when your classmates would raise their hands and ask him about what it was like to live during whatever part of history you were learning about. You’d learned about Captain America and his backstory in high school history classes, of course, but the way he would answer those personal questions showed a whole different side of him. But you were starting to wonder if that new side of him was as golden as his status as a hero made him out to be.

Recently, something seemed a little bit off about him, as much as you hated to admit it. It only would happen in brief little flashes, so brief that immediately after you would find yourself questioning whether or not it had actually happened, but you could swear that he’d been…staring a lot recently. Specifically, he would be staring at you.

More and more often in class, you would start to feel like you were being watched; it was if you could sense eyes on you just out of the corner of your vision, and it would make your hairs stand on end. Usually, you would turn and see nothing out of the ordinary, and you would be able to chalk it up to an overactive imagination. But every now and then, you would turn and see Professor Rogers staring at you, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark.

As soon as it would happen, his expression would clear into a neutrally polite smile, and you always tried to return it to the best of your ability. But as the weeks went by, it was happening more and more frequently. And then there were the touches.

Mr. Rogers never touched you in an inappropriate way; you were almost certain that he never would. But whenever he would collect your papers, or whenever he would pass out assignments, his hand would always seem to linger. Sometimes, he would let his fingertips drag against yours as he took whatever you were handing to him; sometimes, he would set his hand on your shoulder for the briefest of moments when you dropped an assignment off with him before leaving class.

He’d also started commenting about your appearance at the beginning of class. From the moment you walked in the door to the moment you sat down in your seat, he’d manage to make some comment on your outfit. The first time he’d said something was on one of the many occasions where you were wearing your favorite cardigan.

“You look very nice today, (Y/N),” he’d mentioned in passing, almost making you stumble on your way to your seat. You’d barely managed to stutter out a ‘thank you’. After that, it happened every time you saw him, and some part of your mind whispered that he never complimented your classmates the way he would compliment you.

“I like how you did your hair this morning,” he’d said the next time.

“Like the new jeans, (Y/N),” the week after. (How had he even known those jeans were new?)

“That’s a nice color on you.”

“Looking lovely as always.”

You did love having Professor Rogers as your teacher, but each class with him made you feel increasingly uncomfortable despite your best efforts. In your mind, you knew that you were reading too much into it, but that was never able to stop you from feeling a cold shiver run up your back when you’d see him glaring at you from behind his desk.

           Despite your growing anxiety about your history professor, though, you were settling in quite nicely to your day to day routine. Your favorite days were Fridays, though; you spent your afternoons right before the weekend with your best friend, Tina. She had been your friend since junior year of high school, and while the two of you were opposites when it came to most things, the bond you shared was strong and deep.

           This Friday, however, she’d had to cancel your weekly study session; Tina was in Columbia’s dental department, and every now and then her and the other aspiring dentists would do volunteer events to help people in the surrounding area get free dental care. You were always proud of her when she took part in events like those, but you always felt a little lonelier on Friday afternoons.

           After spending the morning sleeping in and meal prepping for the week, you set out on your way to the library without your best friend in tow; you would just have to study on your own that week, especially with the first test of the semester looming over you in Mr. Roger’s class. He was kind to his students, yes, but he was also demanding. He’d made it abundantly clear that he expected quality work out of his students.

           “This is an advanced class,” he would say. “I expect you to be advanced learners.”

           Pulling your heavy wool jacket tighter around your body, you trudged into the library and sat at yours and Tina’s regular table towards the back, opening your history textbook and busting out your favorite blue highlighter; this would be a study session of the ages, not interrupted by anything or anybody-

           “(Y/N), is that you?”

           …Maybe you’d spoken too soon.

           Looking up, you saw none other than the man whose class you were about to be studying for. Professor Rogers was walking over to you with one hand in his pocket; in his other rested a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, and you smiled as you read its title.

           “Hi, Professor,” you greeted him. You made to stand up out of your chair, but before you could he took his hand out of his pocket and set it on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

           “Oh, no, don’t get up on my account. What brings you here today? Got a big test coming up or something?”

           You forced a weak smile to your lips, acutely aware that his hand was still on your shoulder.

           “Oh, yeah,” you managed to joke. “One of my pesky teachers is giving us a test next Thursday.”

           “Who does he think he is?” your teacher chuckled. Finally, he let his hand slide off of your shoulder, and you once again looked at the book he was holding.

           “The Book Thief?” you asked, nodding to it. “Are you checking it out?”

           “Oh! Yeah. For the second time, actually. It’s one of my favorites.”

           “Really? It’s one of my favorites too!”

           Steve grinned, even though he’d already known that. He’d read most of the books you had on your shelf at home; at first, he’d done it to try and draw closer to you, to see what kind of stories you liked. But after a while he just did it because you had good taste; the only book of yours that had disappointed him was a cheesy teenager romance you’d had since high school, but even then he thought it was adorable that you found enjoyment in such things.

           “It sure is a small world, huh?” he drawled, pulling out the chair across the table from yours. “Do you mind if I join you for a little while?”

           You hesitated, looking between the chair he was already half sitting in and the charming smile he had on his face. Something about the whole thing seemed off to you, but you shook away that feeling and nodded your head.

           “Be my guest,” you finally said, and your professor didn’t hesitate to sink into his seat.

           “Thanks, doll.”

           You felt your cheeks heat up at that and quickly gave him what you hoped was more of a convincing smile.

           “N-no problem, Mr. Rogers,” you hurriedly assured him. A smirk stretched across his lips as he reached across the table, letting his hand rest on the back of yours.

           “I’ll never get used to people calling me that,” he chuckled. “How about you just call me Steve when we’re not in class?”

           Your eyes widened and you gulped, eyes flickering between his face and his hand, so warm against yours.

           “Wouldn’t that be, uh… unprofessional?” Your voice was higher pitched than usual as you said it, and it only made his smile grow.

           “Not if we kept it our little secret. You wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?”

           He arched his eyebrows questioningly at you, and for some reason you immediately shook your head.

           “No, I… I wouldn’t tell anyone, Prof- Steve.”

           Steve tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he felt like fire works were going off in his head upon hearing you say his name. He knew it would sound sweet in your soft voice, and if it sounded good now, he couldn’t imagine how nice it would be to hear you moan it. One day, he promised himself. One day.

           You squirmed in your seat as Professor Ro- Steve, you told yourself, Steve – watched you. After a few seconds of silence you hesitantly leaned forward.

           “Steve?”

           He seemed to snap back to reality, and once more his ever-present smile was carefully arranged on his face.

           “Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, uh… Zoned out there for a second.”

           “It’s ok,” you assured him. “I do that in your class all the time.”

           “Hey,” he laughed, “C’mon, that’s not nice.”

           You chuckled at your own joke and shrugged.

           “I’m just joking,” you assured him.

           “Oh, I don’t know,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you and Tina are always studying together.”

           You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something stopped you from saying anything. Something about what he’d just said didn’t quite make sense, you told yourself.

           Steve furrowed his brows at the look on your face.

           “You ok over there, doll?”

           “Y-yeah,” you nodded rapidly, turning to collect your things as alarm bells kept going off in your head. “I’m fine. I actually just remembered something; I have to go.”

           “Go? So soon? I didn’t chase you off, did I?” His lips were lifted into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched you pack up your books.

           “Oh, no!” you were quick to exclaim. “No, not at all! I just… I just left one of my textbooks at home. I’m so stupid.”

           You finally slung your bag over your shoulder and made to leave, but all of a sudden there was an iron-like grip encircling your upper arm. You whipped your head around so quickly that for a moment your hair obscured your vision. When you shook it away, you saw Steve watching you with slightly narrowed eyes, his smirk still on his lips.

           For a moment, you just stared at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken as his thumb idly rubbed circles against your bicep.

           “Don’t call yourself stupid,” he finally muttered, letting his hand fall. “You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). I’m sure you’re just feeling a little…overwhelmed. From your classes, that is.”

           You nodded numbly, taking a small step backwards, taking yourself out of arm’s reach.

           “Y-yeah… That must be it. Sorry, Steve.”

           You turned and walked away, just barely catching his next few words.

           “No problem, hon.”

           You felt his eyes on you all the way out of the library, and the feeling didn’t go away until you fell asleep that night, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears and the line of his smile still etched behind your eyelids. Just before you drifted off, it suddenly came to you, the reason why you’d felt such a sudden need to leave him.

           How had he known that you were friends with Tina?

_____

           Steve sighed as he sank into his armchair, watching you fall asleep through his telescope; one day he would really have to talk to you about leaving your blinds open.

           Once he was sure you were asleep for the night, he looked around his small apartment, thinking about your little study session in the library. When you’d left in such a hurry, he’d felt angry at first, just barely able to keep himself from snapping at you to sit back down. It was rude to just run off like that, after all.

           But then he’d heard your heartbeat, pounding away in your soft, sweet chest, and he’d understood: you were nervous around him. The fact had made him so giddy that he’d excused your impolite behavior this time, letting you go and waiting a few minutes before following you back to your apartment. You were nervous around him, and he was willing to bet it was because of your feelings. He’d been watching you even closer than usual for the past month, watching how you’d squirm in your seat in class when your eyes met his, feeling your quickening pulse anytime his hand lingered on yours.

           You were starting to fall for him, he just knew it.

           He stood up from his armchair, wandering over to his tiny kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself. It would all be worth it someday – the tiny apartment he’d bought just to be closer to you, the time he’d dedicated to watching you each day, the expensive hidden bugs he’d planted in your house so he could listen in on your life. One day, when you were well and truly his, he would move out of this apartment and buy a home for the two of you, one big enough for the family you would have.

           He could see it even now as he settled back into his favorite chair, peeking through the telescope to glance at your sleeping form. One day, you would be able to quit your silly dream of journalism and be his wife, focusing on him and the children you would have. Oftentimes, Steve would imagine five or six little kids running around the house, even though he knew it was unreasonable to think of such things.

           You guys would stop at four, he’d decided.

           His cock twitched in his sweatpants at the idea of you round and swollen with his child. You would be such a good mother, such a good wife. You would be everything he’d ever wanted.

           With a sigh, he took his cock out, stroking it leisurely as he kept your eyes on your face, peaceful and oblivious as you slept on. He hoped you were dreaming about him, fantasizing about him the way he was fantasizing about you right now.

           He let out a soft moan at the idea of what your first time together would be like. You would lead him into your bedroom, hand in his as your hips swayed with your stride. He would sit on the edge of the bed as you stripped, watching as each delicious inch of your skin was slowly revealed to him. You would be wearing white, lacy lingerie, as pure and unsullied as your body.

           His hand moved faster on his cock as he imagined what you’d taste like, what it would be like to have his face buried between your legs, his tongue delving into your tight, wet heat as you bucked and squirmed against him. You’d pull his hair and moan his name, your voice getting higher and breathier the closer you got to your release.

           But he wouldn’t give it to you, oh no. Not with his tongue at least. He would pull away at the last second and hold you in his arms, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as he pushed his cock into you. He would go slow, at first. He knew it would be your first time, and the last thing he ever, ever wanted was to hurt you. A small part of him still wondered, though, what noise you would make as he pressed into you for the first time, how his cock would look coated in your cum and blood, how your face would contort in that strange mix of pleasure and pain as he took your innocence.

           All too soon, though, he was brought back to reality when he felt his cum coat the back of his hand, and as he came down from his release, he felt a familiar surge of disappointment that it wasn’t your pussy that was making him cum, that his were the only moans to be heard in his lonely apartment.

           He shoved his cock back into his pants and took one last look at you before standing up to go clean himself off. You were still sleeping, innocent and unaware of all the plans he had in store for you.

_______

           You debated skipping your next class with Steve. As each day went by, you got more and more paranoid. Whether you were at work, walking from class to class, or even at the grocery store, you kept thinking you saw Steve. You would catch a glimpse of blonde hair or broad shoulders and do a double-take, but every time you saw nothing out of the ordinary.

           Part of you still thought you were overreacting. He was your teacher, for god’s sake. And he was a former Avenger; if anything, you should’ve felt safer in his presence.

           When Thursday came around, you pushed down your desire to skip class and soldiered on, stopping for a coffee on the way and taking your seats just a few minutes before class began. The teacher you’d been so paranoid about was seated behind his desk, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he stared at his laptop.

           As you passed him on the way to your seat, his bright blue eyes darted upwards, and he gave you a soft smile like he always did when you walked into his classroom.

           “Good morning, (Y/N),” he greeted you. “That’s a nice sweater you got on today.”

           “Good morning, professor,” you’d murmured back, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Thank you.”

           You scurried over to your seat and plopped down into it. With all of your nerves, you’d almost forgotten to study for the test today. You’d only managed to cram in about half an hour last night; all of your other attempts at studying had found you without the ability to focus on the textbooks in front of you, mind wandering distractedly.

           “Alright, guys,” your professor finally sighed, standing up from his desk and grabbing a stack of papers off of it. “Before we get started with this test, do any of you have any questions?”

           When no one raised their hand, he nodded and started passing them out. As he set your test on your desk, you looked to see him wink at you, his lips curving upwards.

           “Good luck,” he whispered, and your cheeks heated as you slid the paper closer to yourself.

           After that, you made a decided effort not to make any more eye contact with your teacher as you started writing out your answers. Mr. Rogers had only ever given you guys essay questions, encouraging his students to write out their thought processes behind each of their answers. You kind of resented him for it; essay questions were always, without fail, tedious.

           The minutes ticked by slowly, the only sounds in the room behind the scratches of pens and pencils against papers and the occasional rustle when someone would flip their page over. You were amongst the first ones to finish, and when you dropped your test off with Steve at his desk, his hand once again found a way to linger against your own.

           Biting your lip, you drew your hand back quicker than usual, scurrying back to your desk and pulling a book out of your bag to read. Not that you actually read it; your eyes stayed steadily on one sentence for the next several minutes. When they finally did lift off of the page, they immediately found your teacher’s eyes, boring into you with that same dark intensity. You shivered as you snapped your gaze back to the page in front of you.

           When everyone had finished with their tests, Professor Rogers stood from his desk chair and cleared his throat, drawing all attention to himself.

           “Alright, good job guys. Feeling good about how you did?” There were a few grumbles and murmurings heard throughout the room; apparently you weren’t alone in your dislike of essay questions. “I’ll take that as a yes.

           “So I thought that I would cut today’s class short this week,” he went on, and all of you perked up at the idea of leaving early. “Before you all head out, though, I wanted to tell you about a new internship opportunity I’m spearheading.

           “For the time being, the details of the internship are being kept under wraps, but I can say that it involves travelling to New York City for a week and keeping a field journal while you’re there. What you’ll be doing in New York, unfortunately, can’t be disclosed right now.”

           You sat up straighter in your seat, interest piqued. A field journal? It sounded like whatever the internship was involved journalism skills. (Or scientific skills – you were pretty sure scientists kept field journals, at least. You shrugged that idea off pretty quickly, though; why would a history professor be in charge of a scientific internship?)

           “If you’re interested in applying for it, you’ll need to write an essay and turn it in to me at the beginning of next week’s class. The essay needs to be about a historic event that has somehow impacted your personal life, and it can be from any era of history, not just the one we’re learning about in class… Oh, and make it over 1,500 words in length. Any questions?”

           A few students raised their hands, but you tuned them out as you thought over what you would write about. That is, if you decided to apply for it. You still had no idea what the internship was for, after all. But, you reasoned, if it didn’t turn out to be something you were interested in, you could always say no, right?

           “…Alright, guys, you’re free to go. Email me if you have any questions about your test grades once they’re posted,” Steve finally said, and you distractedly started putting your things away, still thinking about what you would write about.

           When you finally stood up from your desk, you went to sling your backpack over your shoulder only to feel it hit against something. Or, if the small “oof” that had sounded upon impact was anything to go by, someone.

           Your hand flew up to your mouth when you turned and saw none other than your teacher standing there, having just been hit in the stomach by your bag – your very heavy bag, which contained no less than three textbooks inside of it.

           “Professor Rogers! Oh my god, I am so sorry-“ you started, but he waved it off with a good-natured grin.

           “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” he insisted, waving off your concern. “I’ve survived much worse, believe me.”

           You smiled a little at that and finished putting your bookbag over your shoulders.

           “Still, I’m sorry. I promise I’ve never assaulted any of my professors before.”

           “A likely story, Miss (Y/L/N),” he joked. “A likely story.”

The two of you were silent for a beat before he cleared his throat and gestured to you.

“I was just wanting to ask if you were planning on applying for that internship I mentioned.”

           “Oh, uh… Yeah, I was, actually. Why do you ask?”

           “Well… I know that I said I couldn’t go into what exactly the internship entails, but I did want to mention to you that it involves some journalism. That’s what you’re majoring in, right?”

           You nodded, feeling excited about your suspicions being correct.

           “It is, yeah! I thought it might have something to do with it when you mentioned field journaling,” you said. “Could I ask what the journaling would be about, or would that give too much away?”

           “It would give way too much away,” your teacher confirmed. “But trust me, I think it’ll be up your alley.”  

           Your mind turned it over, taking in Steve’s raised eyebrows and expectant smile. He seemed even more eager than you were about the internship.

           “Well, I’ll make sure to write my essay for it,” you assured him. “Just gotta think of what I’ll be writing about.” Your brain had already pondered writing about the Battle of New York; sure, it hadn’t even been ten years since it happened, but it was a historical event. And it was the main reason you’d wanted to pursue journalism, of course. But you almost died with embarrassment at the idea of writing an essay about something Captain America was involved in and then letting it be read by Captain America himself.

           As if reading your thoughts, Steve asked, “Any idea about what your subject will be on?”

           “Oh, uh…” you muttered, “I-I had one idea, but I don’t think I’m gonna go with it.”

           “Why not?”

           “Well…” You sighed, not able to meet his eyes as you confessed, “My immediate thought was the Battle of New York. I know you probably don’t like being reminded of it, but it just… It changed my world, the entire way I view things – it’s what made me want to be a journalist. After the invasion, the world – the universe, really – seemed so much bigger, and it made me want to tell stories about the reality we live in now rather than telling stories that are fiction.”

           You trailed off, looking back up at him sheepishly when you realized you were rambling. He was watching you with an intent look on his face, and for a second you were worried that the memory had upset him.

           “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean-“

           “No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t be. I understand; it kinda turned my world upside down, too. I’d thought that waking up from the 40’s had been disorienting enough, but… When I saw aliens on the streets of the city I grew up in, it really made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

           Your lips twitched into a half-smile.

           “Was that a Wizard of Oz reference?”

           “…It sure was,” Steve grinned. “Old fashioned, I know, but it was one of my favorites growing up.”

           “Me too,” you nodded. The man in front of you chuckled at that and you arched an eyebrow questioningly.

           “What is it?” you asked.

           “Nothing, it’s just…not too often that I have something from my childhood in common with someone else these days,” he answered.

           Your heart squeezed with compassion for the soldier in front of you, and without realizing what you were doing, you’d rested your hand on his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you wanted to; you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for what he went through, that you would never be able to understand what it had been like for him but that you knew it had to have been hard. For a second, you regretted ever feeling uncomfortable around him; hadn’t he proven his entire life that he just wanted to do what was right?

           You said none of that, though, and after a second you let your hand slide down to your side.

           “I’ll have that essay ready for you next week,” you promised him, and with that you turned and left the room, not even feeling the weight of his stare on your back as you retreated.

           For several moments, Steve just stood there, glaring at the spot you’d been standing in and feeling himself fall for you even more. Because even though you hadn’t said any of what you’d been thinking, he was able to read it all in your eyes.

­­­­______

           You’d missed your study session with Tina that week again; for the next several days, when you weren’t working on homework for your other classes, you were working on your essay. You didn’t know why you felt such a sudden need to do well on it; something in you just couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. Plus, you’d never before written about your feelings on the Battle of New York and what it had meant to you.

           Even though Steve had said the word limit was 1,500, your final essay clocked in over 3,000 words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to shorten it. You’d dedicated an entire week to making it perfect, and you finally got to the point where you didn’t want to change a single word.        

           When that fateful Thursday came around, you gave Steve a bright smile as you set your stapled essay onto his desk. Judging from the pile of papers resting on it, you hadn’t been the only one to apply for the internship, but you didn’t feel nervous about your odds; either you got in or you didn’t. You were content knowing you’d done your best.

           “You seem like you’re in a good mood,” Steve noticed, and you winked, actually fucking winked, at him, wondering a second later why you’d even done such a thing.

           “I’m just happy to be done with that essay,” you confessed, continuing on to your seat. “I spent all week perfecting it.”

           Steve grinned, knowing for a fact that you were telling the truth. He’d kept an ever-so-diligent eye on you since your last conversation, watching as you typed away on your laptop ceaselessly, feeling satisfied to know that all your work was for him. His heart soared this morning to see you so happy, and he’d felt butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, in his chest when you’d winked at him.

           Class went by as usual, closing off with a list of chapters to be read and homework to be completed before the next class. In fact, the rest of your day went by uneventfully, and the only thing out of the ordinary came in the form of an email on Friday morning.

           You were standing in your kitchen, just wearing your most comfy pair of sweatpants and a tank top, sipping some coffee when you heard your phone ding with a notification. Opening up the email, you felt yourself gulp so fast that your coffee burned your throat as you read it.

           Dear (Y/N),

           Good morning! I know that this is last minute, but would you be willing to come see me in my office today at 11 am? I would like to discuss your essay with you. I’m in the C Building, third floor, Room 212.

           Sincerely,

                       Steve Rogers

           You looked up to the clock on your microwave and cursed when you saw what time it was – 10:34. You set your coffee down so quickly that some of it spilled on your pants as you rushed to your room, throwing on some jeans and a cream cable knit sweater before rushing to gather your phone, keys, and wallet. It usually only took you ten minutes to get to campus from your apartment, but the C Building was basically on the other side of the continent from student parking.

           You sped in your tiny, beat up car all the way to your college, power walking to the administrative building while huffing and puffing; this was the most exercise you’d gotten in a while, what with your busy schedule.

           After an agonizingly slow elevator ride, you reached the third floor and glanced at your phone as you passed by several offices – it was 10:58. You felt your lips spread into a grin.

           When you finally reached room 212, you hesitantly rose your fist to knock on its door, but before you could make contact it was opened from the inside. Steve looked down at you with a smile as you jumped.

           “Sorry! Didn’t mean to surprise you,” he said sheepishly. “I heard you walking up the hall.”

           “…Super hearing?” you guessed, and he nodded bashfully.

           He gestured for you to follow him into the room, your nose immediately flooded with the scent of something delicious. Your eyes fell on two bags from your favorite café on campus, and you could distinctly make out the smell of their turkey bacon wafting up from within.

           “I hope you don’t mind that I got some food for us,” he said, settling into the cushy office chair placed on the side of the desk opposite to you. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, and all I’ve had was coffee-“

           “How?” you interrupted him, feeling that old coil of unease wrap itself around you. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet, that is?”

           Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened for a split second after you’d asked, but he quickly schooled his features back into something more neutral.

           “Oh, sorry,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have said that I knew you hadn’t eaten; it was just a guess. I’m assuming I was right?”

           You warily nodded, slowly walking over to the chair he had situated in front of his desk. The door behind you was still cracked open, something that helped comfort you enough to reach into the nearest bag and pull out a to-go box.

           “I got you some turkey bacon and a cheese biscuit,” he said as you opened the package up. “And there’s some blueberry muffins in the other bag if you’d like any.”

           Your hands trembled as you took a bite of your bacon; it was the exact same order you usually got for breakfast.

           You were so focused on swallowing your bite of food that you jolted when you heard the man in front of you clear his throat. Your head popped up to see him watching you with an expectant face, tapping his fingertips on the desk beneath him.

           “U-um…” you stuttered, not sure of what he was expecting you to do or say.

           “It probably shouldn’t bother me, but… Back in my day, we thanked people when they got us something,” Steve shrugged, trying to pass off his words as nonchalant. You could see the way his fists were clenched, though, and it made your heartbeat quicken.

           “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed. “I, um… Thank you, Steve. For breakfast.”

           Your cheeks were on fire, and you felt your palms getting sweaty as you set down your piece of bacon; maybe you weren’t so hungry after all.

           Steve, though, just smiled gently and dug into the matching box of food he had placed before himself.

           “It’s ok, doll,” he hummed. “Bad manners are just a pet peeve of mine. Go ahead and eat.”

           The food felt like cardboard against your teeth as you hesitantly obeyed, still uncomfortable from how Steve had just spoken to you. You began to squirm in your chair as the minutes ticked on, the only sounds in his office coming from your quiet eating. Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you cleared your throat and spoke so quietly that Steve probably wouldn’t have been able to hear you if not for his advanced hearing.

           “So, um… In your email you mentioned my essay?” you asked, sitting up straighter. “Did you want to talk with me about it today?”

           He smiled and set down the muffin he’d been working on, leaning his elbows against his desk and looking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

           “That’s right, (Y/N),” he answered, his face so bright and excited that it was almost easy to forget how harsh his tone had been just a minute ago. “I wanted you to be the first to know that you got the internship.”

           You blinked a few times, feeling surprised despite how hard you’d worked on your essay.

           “Really?” you asked, slowly starting to smile again. “I did?”

           “Of course,” Steve insisted. “Your essay was the best out of the bunch; it’s obvious that you want to be a writer.”

           “Thank you so much, sir,” you said, hurrying to say so after what had happened the last time you hadn’t been grateful for his kindness. “That…means a lot.”

           “Well, it’s true,” he assured you. “And now you get to know what the internship actually is; I know you were curious about it yesterday.”

           You nodded eagerly, watching as he leaned back in his chair.

           “A few months ago, I decided that I wanted to write an autobiography,” he began, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “I’ve never been much of a writer, but I figured that it would be nice to try and put my story down on paper. And I thought that it would be a great idea to go back to Brooklyn, where I grew up, and write down what’s changed about it and what’s the same as a sort of opening for the first chapter of my book.

           “That’s where you come in,” he added, pointing to you before setting his hands on his desk. “I wanted to go back to Brooklyn with someone who grew up in this century, someone who could help me take notes on that part of the city and who I could bounce ideas off of. After all, most of my readers would be people who have no clue about what the 40’s were like. I’d need someone to hear my ideas and tell me if they’re relevant and if they’d appeal to folks these days.”

           Your head was already turning with ideas on how he could link his past to his present in the beginning of his novel; the writer in you was salivating that the idea of this project, and you opened your mouth to tell Steve that you’d take the position.

           But then you hesitated, slowly closing your mouth again as you looked at the man seated across from you. You remembered every time he’d made you uncomfortable, every doubt you’d had about him, every time he’d made you squirm under his penetrative gaze. Would you be able to work with him one on one without feeling so nervous around him?

           “I’m…flattered that you think I’m a good fit for the job,” you started out, “And this is such an amazing opportunity, but… Um, would we the alone in Brooklyn or would there be other people with us?”

           Steve’s brows furrowed; clearly, he hadn’t expected that question.

           “Why would it matter?” he asked, voice hard as steel.

           “Well, I just… I wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong i-idea, you know?” you stammered. “I wouldn’t want them to think-“

           “No one would know,” he interrupted. “For obvious reasons, this project is being kept strictly confidential. You would have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before we left.”

           Your doubt must have read on your face, because Steve’s face softened, and he slowly stood up, walking around to stand in front of your chair.

           “Hey, (Y/N),” he said softly. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, right? I understand that you can be…shy, but think of this as a week off! I’ve already talked to the school board, and your absences with your other classes won’t be counted against you. We’ll go to the city, take our notes, maybe even have a little fun.

           “Whatya say?”

           You sighed and let your head droop, looking down to your clenched hands as they rested in your lap. You liked his words; they were kind and considerate, but they didn’t reach his eyes. No, they were dark, a stormy gray-ish blue as he watched you intently.

           “I… I’m still not sure,” you murmured weakly. “Could I have some time to-“

           “It’s a paid internship,” Steve interrupted you, his voice just barely edging to desperate. “And I would let you write the Forward to my novel. Think about it, (Y/N) – your name on the cover of ‘Captain America’s’,” he rolled his eyes at the name, “autobiography. You’ll be able to have any job you want when you graduate. A guaranteed successful start to your career.”

           You paused at that, eyes widening at the thought; he had a point. You’d be a famous writer even before the beginning of your writing career. And your bank account was laughable at the moment; you only had a part-time job at the college library, and it definitely didn’t pay much.

           Your head tilted up and your eyes met Steve’s, and he was wearing a smile that spoke volumes; he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

           “I’ll do it.”

_______

           Steve let out a soft grunt as he came, his hand finally stilling on his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. You’d left his office hours ago, but his mind hadn’t stopped thinking of you since you’d said those three little words. He was coming close to the end of his plan; his reward was so close now. He could practically taste it – taste you.

           He wasn’t happy that he’d had to bribe you, of course. He hated the idea that you were just saying yes because of the money and success he could offer you. But if that’s what it took to make you his, then he would do it. It was worth it for your future children, for your future life.

           Letting out a soft sigh, he stood up, putting in his airpods and selecting his favorite app on his phone. With a press of a button, he could hear the sound of your soft humming as you turned the pages of your textbook. The camera in your living room showed you curled up on your couch, studying like the good little student you were. Soon you wouldn’t have to work so hard; Steve would give you everything you could ever want or need – a family, a house, a ring on your finger… He smiled at the thought.

           He shoved his phone into his back pocket, keeping his airpods in so he could listen to the sound of your humming as background noise. He grabbed his keys and headed out, tucking his laptop under his arm as he started walking out of the building. The two of you would leave for New York in a week, and he had so many preparations to make. His back-up plan still needed to be put in order, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it with you.

           You were different from all the others – sweet, obedient, smart… Whatever ended up happening, Steve knew that you would see things his way eventually. The two of you were meant to be, after all.

[pastelsandhazelnutcoffee]

Tips for your first semester at university - A Masterpost

So, I know that it always depends on the country you live in, but here in Austria the next university semester starts on the first Monday of October. I have been at University for 3 years now and I remember how lost I was when I came there first. So I thought that I´d share my experience for those that start university this semester.

Important: This guide is written especially for universities and not for colleges of higher education as they have a different system when it comes to lectures and such.

1. Inform yourself as much as possible about your university. 

Nowadays, all universitys have their own homepage. What might be confusing however is that most universities don´t have only one. Big universities normally have a general homepage for all things that regard the university as a whole, like registration, academical celebrations or for example the actions that the university takes because of corona. This page is important for the first steps you have to take, like registration, getting your student ID and also for important news. This page will also show you what your university stands for, how they present themselves (for example if or how they support gender equality, students with physical or mental issues or their stance on climate change and what they do about it).

Often times, there are also one more pages for student services that help students with their questions and are responsible for organisatory stuff. Always check out their FAQ, it might help you a lot and sometimes they even have explaination videos. Most of the time, there are also contact options for you, like a telephone number, mail adress or even (when there is no lockdown) consultation hours in their offices.

At big universites, every faculty has at least one homepage, sometimes even more then one (for example one for students and one for the professors, sometimes another one for the curriculum and such...). And no, all these websites often are not linked to each other, so better safe them with a bookmark in your browser because otherwise finding a certain homepage again might cost you quite some time...On these pages, you normally can find the curriculum and sometimes even the recommended studying path - basically meaning which course you should take in which semester.

2. Find out where the buildings are and get to know them

Many universities have more than one building or campus. When you have to commute between them, it is important that you know how to reach them, how long it takes you to reach them (from home and from another building) and where the most important lecture halls and seminar rooms are. In most countries, the university buildings are open to the public you can just walk in and look around as long as you don´t walk into a seminar or lecture in the middle of it! If you can´t find a certain room, you normally can also ask the concierge for help. Maybe even take notes how to reach each building and the most important rooms so that when you are in a hurry and get overwhelmed by all the new experiences, you have a backup in case you forget something.

3. Plan your time wisely

You have to register yourself for the lectures and seminars you want to take each semester, so make sure you plan your time wisely. If you have to commute between buildings, don´t make yourself a tight shedule! You never know if you have questions for a professor after a lecture, if you want to exchange numbers with other students, if a lecture takes longer than planned or if the public transport arrives on time. Also, your first semester will be way more exhausting than you expect, no matter what you are used to! Never plan a full day at university for your first semester and I would also advice you to register for less courses than recommended. You can still do more in the following semesters and the first one is always the most difficult as you are not used to the new system. Keep days free for the asignments you have to or the notes you need to rework.

4. Get to know the surroundings of the buildings and the reading and studying halls.

Sometimes you will have some time between courses so it is important for you to know, where to spend these breaks. It also depends on what you want to do during this time: Talk to friends, eat, have a nice walk or read/write something for university? Most universities have rooms for studying and reading, where you have to be silent but also some where you can work together with other students and talk to them. Search also for bakeries, take-aways and a refectory so that you know where to get a meal from, if you have forgotten to bring something. Sometimes it is best to walk into some side-streets for normal grocery shops, as they often sell sandwiches and salads but are way cheaper than the refectories and restaurants in and around the university itself.

5. Have a student planner AND a calendar on your mobile phone

If you have a stundent planner, it easier to take notes about your assignments or write something down quickly. It is not dependend on a battery and you have a lot more space than on calendar or to-do-list apps. However, it can happen that you forget it on some days, so always a phone calendar as a backup to remind you of which lectures you have where and when! 

6. Try out which way of taking notes works best for you

There are so many ways how you can take notes during courses, so try out which of them works best for you. I will soon make a special post about the different ways of talking notes and organizing them, so if you don´t know about this topic, make sure to check out the upcoming post!

7. Networking is key

You are not in a normal class anymore. You won´t see the same people in every course, so try to meet new ones in every course. You don´t have to be friends with everyone, but just exchanging numbers and helping each others out with homeworks or when you can´t visit a lecture every now and then is a great help. Also join Facebook, Discord or Whatsapp Groups and read what other students write in them. If there are none - make your own and invite as many students that you meet as possible. Ask other students - especially some from higher semesters - if you have quesions about organizational stuff, rules for thesis papers and recommendations of professors or courses.

8. Document your semester

Don´t spend too much time on it, but make sure to document some important details of your semester. Which professors do like or don´t like and why? Make sure to write down their names too, not only their courses, so you know where to register again. Write down which studying or note-taking techniques work beste for you and which don´t. Write down at which times of the day you are very productive at home and when is the best time for you to be at university. 

10. Read the curriculum and the recommended study path thoroughly

The curriculum includes which courses you have to take, where you can choose and if there are requirements for some of them. It also includes description what you will learn in which course and approximately how much effort it takes to complete a course. Of course these descriptions are not always completely accurate but they will give you a good overview and especially which requirements are needed is very important to know and keep in mind.

Not all but many faculties also offer recommended study paths.These recommend, consdering not only the official requirements but also your knowledge and the efford, which courses you should visit in which semester. Often times, these are really helpful, so ask students from higher semesters if these are helpful and if they agree, then definitely stick to them!

11. Use Apps for students

There are many apps that can help you. Some of them are specifically made for connecting you better with your university by giving you direct access to your account, your mails, your time table and the latest news of your university. Other apps help you focus or keep organized. I will do another post on this topic too, so make sure to check it out too!

12. Don´t get a job immediatelly

If you can, don´t get a (part-time) job immediatelly. If you can afford to not earn money for some months, wait at least until your second semester to get a job. The first semester is challenging enough and no matter how tempting it seems to earn a nice amount of money, it is important that you can find your place at university.

13. Start studying early

I swear to you that during your school time, you never wrote an exam with such a huge amount to study - most likely not even your A levels. So either revise every weekend what you learned during the week or start studying at least some weeks before your finals to make sure you don´t underestimate it.

14. Keep yourself motivated

A semester at university can be very exhausting and challenging. You might not like all the courses you are registered for but also can´t drop out of them. So you need to keep yourself motivated, even in the middle of the semester when the next holidays and the rewards for your efforts seem far away. Keep your goals in mind, reward yourself every now and then for all the studying you are doing and use stationery that motivates you.

15. Bring enough food with you

You won´t always have the time to buy a meal at university and even if you have the time, more often then not they are overly expensive. Bring food from home that you can eat during your breaks, if possible even while walking - you may need to eat while walking to the next lecturing hall. Make sure the food won´t go bad during the day and bring brain food to. Also bring water with you and refill it during your breaks. Bring something like coffee, black or green tea, energy drinks or coffeinated gums too for long days or when you have to start very early in the morning.

16. Keep pencils and some sheets of paper everywhere

Modern technologies like mobilephones and laptops are nice and handy, but they are always dependend on their batteries. Therefore you should keep pen and paper in every bag you use, every jacket, every trouser or wherever you can keep them. By doing this, you make sure that you can always take notes, no matter what else happens. Also make sure you have a drawer or a place near your desk where you can collect these notes so you won´t loose them!

17. Keep the balance

A lot of people think that university means partying and having lots of free time. Others study all the time, having barely any free-time. With most of the exams taking place at the end of the semester, one can easily forget how much studying it takes to complete a course. On the other hand, all the new testing formats and the complex topics can seem overwhelming. Therefore it is very important that you keep a good balance between studying and freetime. Especially outside the finals week, it is good to keep one or two hours free per day that you use only for hobbies and leisure time.

18. Don´t let others pressure you about your grades

Yes, a lot of students like to brag about how fast they get on with studying and how good their grades are. Fact is, that you can´t see their university certificate, so you can´t even know if they are saying the truth or are just bragging. Furthermore, even if they say the truth, everyone goes their own path with their own pace. You don´t have to be the best or better than anyone. Do the best you can but never harm you physical or mental health for your grades!

19. Don´t be scared to change your field of study

In school you barelly get to know the different fields of study. Even subjects you have at school like a language or maths are totally different at university. If you realize that a field of study is not right for you, it is totally okay to change it! There is nothing to be embarassed about. It is important that you do what you like and what you can do - not everyone will be successful in every field. That does not mean that you should give up because one course becomes a bit difficult or because you got a negative grade on a final. Throwbacks and some troubles are normal in every study and don´t mean that you´re not qualified for it. But if you realize that it is not what you are interested in, it is better to choose a different field.

20. Don´t expect everything to be interesting

No matter how much you like a field of subject, there will always be some courses that you will find less interesting than outers. Keep yourself motivated when you have to do such courses and don´t give up because of them if you like most of the other courses and lectures.

21. Inform yourself about the types of courses before you register for them

Most faculties offer many different types of courses, all of them meaning a different effort and different ways of performance controls. Lectures normally don´t require you to be present (although it is helpful) and only have one test at the end of the semester. Seminars don´t have finals, instead you have to write a portfolio or thesis paper. Exercise courses normally have at least one test in the middle of the semester and one final plus multiple assignments or homeworks. There are many more kinds of courses, depending on your field of study.

22. Don´t expect too much from yourself

University is actually way harder then colleges or school. It´s the most difficult type of education you can choose, so don´t expect perfect grades from yourself. No matter how good your grades where at school, it is totally fine if you don´t keep them up at university! That does not mean that you became less intelligent, just that university is way harder than school!

I hope this post is helpful for some of you! I will be doing an own post soon on how to go about your first digital semester!

[akirakurusuimagines]

Connected

@p5auweek​ day four: Soulmate AU (Potential Soulmates are able to talk to each other telepathically for a few minutes at a time.) 

You clicked your pen listlessly, your focus miles from the classroom and your professor’s dull lecture, completely and utterly absorbed in your grumpy mental chant to leave, leave, leave. Today was just an irritating day, only a couple weeks into the semester and you were already completely over it. You regret not taking full advantage of your spring vacation, especially now, where you were stuck with Ms. Chouno’s latest tangent. You just wanted to go home, cuddle up in your blankets, and take a nice, long nap. 

I get it, so can you be quiet now, please? You’re not the only one who wants to leave.

You froze at the sudden voice, head whipping every which way inside the classroom, looking for any potential people who spoke to you, anyone who met your eyes with a glare, anything. Thinking for a moment, you realized you didn’t recognize that voice, despite being vaguely familiar with most students in your class. If it didn’t come from inside the classroom, then did it come from inside your head? No, that couldn’t be it. Right? That’s just preposterous! Maybe it was just your imagination, you were bored to the point of insanity. 

Yeah, I’m just going crazy. That’s it, you convinced yourself, considering the lingering silence in your head. No wonder, she’s dragging on and on and⁠— 

Seriously, look, I don’t know what’s going on either, but can you please keep your thoughts to yourself for five minutes? The voice inside your head returned. It was rather light and gentle, but the snark in his voice was inevitable. Whoever managed to sneak inside your head didn’t seem like a fan of whatever was going on, either. 

Absolutely not! you retorted, eyebrows pinching together as you had to make sure to speak inside your head to this stranger. Get out of my head! 

I could say the same to you.

But you were the one who got in my head in the first place!

No, I think it’s the opposite.

“Whatever!” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, unintentionally drawing attention to you from the other students in the form of giggling and snickering. Your cheeks reddened with shame as Ms. Chouno’s glare pierced right through your soul, though she continued the lesson without a word, likely choosing to confront you after class for your outburst. 

Regardless, the noise in your head died down and you were left to your own devices. Yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to try to contact the mysterious man again, half in fear that you were actually going crazy and it was a figment of your imagination, and half in fear that you weren’t and that he was going to be a permanent resident inside your head. 

That was the first day you heard his voice. 

Since then, his voice would only creep up upon you and scare the living shit out of you at the most inconvenient times, really. Once, he had blurted out the answer to the question you were pondering on an exam which caused you screamed in surprise. Luckily, the professor believed you when you nervously explained that you saw a bug and it shocked you and let you off with a warning.

Conversations between the two of you would only last for a few minutes at a time, and usually left you exhausted afterwards, though whether it was the bickering you two often found yourself engaging in or whether it was the energy needed to talk to someone telepathically, you weren’t sure. 

Neither one of you were comfortable enough with the other to use your real names or give any other kind of information, and you were perfectly fine with that, but you still laughed at him for a few minutes when he told you to call him Joker. What kind of a nickname was that? With the way he snorted when you announced yours, he didn’t think it was much better. 

There were a few times when you could’ve sworn you heard him say something rather odd⁠— yet anytime you asked him about it, he’d pull out one of the rules that you two set up with each other to have some form of privacy when you were at school, since it seemed like the only time that strange connection ever happens and you’d respectfully back off, but it didn’t make you any less suspicious of him.

It was strange, but you got used to hearing Joker’s voice in your head, and admittedly began to look forward to it. It was a nice distraction from the strange life you had at Shujin, and you wondered if he felt the same way about talking to you. The way he seemed to lighten up and become more and more friendly with you seemed to indicate that, especially considering you two were listening in on the depths of each other’s psyche. 

A couple months of your interactions with him passed by, and you noticed that most of your conversations with him were short and blunt compared to the light banter you two normally had. You couldn’t blame him; the situation involving the mafia’s more aggressive movements in Shibuya recently was nothing to scoff at. Perhaps he was worried about it? He never answered you when you asked, yet you still worried for him. He seemed like the type to get himself caught up in trouble. 

Trusting your gut, you set off to stake out Shibuya, settling yourself comfortably within Big Bang Burger and hoping to connect with him while you were there. He was worrying you. You weren’t exactly ready to give up that strange bond you had with Joker for him to up and die from messing with the mafia.

So you waited.

And you waited. 

And waited some more. 

You were beginning to think this wasn’t your best idea. Hours passed and no sign of life inside your head other than yours, which you had to admit, was a lot lonelier than you would’ve first imagined. Sighing aloud, you packed up your things, at least grateful for the opportunity to finish your homework, as difficult as it was. The kind woman working the register bid a farewell as you exited, wincing slightly at the change of lighting. It was time you started heading home, your parents were sure to wonder where you’d been the entire time, considering how dusk was nearing already. 

Yet your legs refused to move towards the subway, that small glimmer of hope in your chest of at least getting to properly talk with Joker winning over your rationality. You wandered around the streets of Shibuya for a little longer, making as much racket in your head to try and see if Joker would respond. Then again, he might not even be here and all you’re doing is wasting your time. 

It really was a mistake on your part to let yourself get so distracted with improbable ideas. You could tell rather quickly which people felt shady as hell, and despite your attempts to steer away from them, they seemed to be attracted to you like moths to a flame. They badgered you with easy money, simple jobs, promises of wealth, anything they think would be attractive to a high schooler like you. Everytime you dismissed them, they came back, more eager to get you to agree than before. 

You should’ve made a run for it, towards the subway station, and just hop on the first train and go, but you were too late. At your continuous refusal, one of the shady men who hounded you grew absurdly irked, perhaps because he was falling behind on his quota, and snatched your wrist, pulling you back into the shadow of an alleyway and pressing a knife against your throat. 

You froze up completely at the sensation, hardly even registering the words being said to you by the man who reeked of tobacco and booze. The realization of what was happening made your heart race, the blood pumping loudly in your ears, as you repeatedly pleaded in your head, keeping as still as possible in hopes that he’d just let you go. Please, Joker, please⁠— please answer me! you beseeched, quickly losing faith in this plan of yours, but it was the only one that came to mind. 

What’s happening⁠—? Where are you?! 

You nearly cried in relief, hearing the startled and panicked voice of the man you’ve never seen yet feel so close to. He was close. In the alley across from the beef bowl shop, please hurry, I⁠— 

“So what, you’re just not gonna answer me?” You bit back a gasp as the dull edge of the knife dug a little deeper into your neck, the man clearly displeased with your lack of response. “Are you gonna agree, or am I gonna have to get nasty?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you,” a cool, deep tone sent shivers down your spine. It was familiar, and yet you still couldn’t see who it was. You were too afraid to look with a knife pointed to your throat. “Try anything and I’ll shoot.” 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing⁠—?!” The grunt spat out, though with the way his tone wavered as a click behind his back rang loudly in his ears. 

“Go, and don’t you dare try this again.” 

“Nngh…” he withdrew his knife from your neck and shoved you aside, before rushing off to god-knows-where. 

You barely managed to catch yourself, body trembling slightly at the terrifying experience, before you finally looked to see who it was who saved you. “T-Thank you,” you managed to mutter. 

“What are you doing here? You know Shibuya isn’t safe for students right now,” the tall student who bore your same uniform stared down at you, concern etched all over his face. The voice clicked, hearing it in person: he was the same one who saved you just now, and the same one in your head. I’m glad you’re safe. 

“No way,” you mumbled, eyes wide, baffled. Akira Kurusu: Shujin’s transfer student with a criminal record, the one with more rumors than you could count surrounding him, that was Joker? “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” It was hard trying to keep up with everything, and hold on a moment⁠— did he have a gun? 

“...You should go home,” Akira spoke after a moment. “We’ll talk later.” 

“Wait⁠—” You gripped the sleeve of his uniform as he began to leave, “there’s so much I need to talk to you about, and… I don’t want to travel home alone after what happened.” 

Akira stared at you, his glasses shielding his eyes from the world, yet after a minute, he offered you a kind smile. “Are you sure you’d like to walk home with me, after threatening to shoot someone? You’ll be fine, trust me.” 

You couldn’t stop him from slipping through your fingers, walking away with his hands shoved in his pockets, not bothering to look back. You stared, stunned, as he became lost in the sea of people, leaving you behind with questions and a heavy heart, but the determination to find out just what was going on with him now that you had a name and a face to associate with the voice inside your head. 

But first, you had to make sure you went home safely. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .epilogue v.

just another tuesday

masterlist

Warnings: dub con sex (oral, intercourse)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Things get a little more complicated.

Note: So this will be the last part for this week (probably lol). As Rebecca Black said, It’s Friday, Friday! And unfortunately that only marks the middle of an 8 day stretch of work for me. I’m tired, I’m hormonal, and I’m gonna try to actually relax in my short hours off. But thank you to everyone who’s been reading along and thanks for the support. I really hope you enjoy (my porn).💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply!

...

The school cafe was bustling as you sat alone at the table, two lattes steamed in front of you. Kylie said she was five minutes away ten minutes ago. You yawned as you checked the time again and looked to the door. She was always fashionably late though you would’ve preferred her on time in rags. 

You hoped her skinny, no foam latte was cold when she arrived. At the same time you didn’t because you had spent five bucks on it. Your leg shook under the table and you looked at your phone. Another missed call. Steve knew you were supposed to meet Kylie but he was calling you anyway. The two of them were bound to drive you wild; Steve’s presence and Kylie’s absence were too much to deal with at once.

You sensed a presence and glanced up expecting Kylie. Your lips parted in surprise as Bucky stood across from you. He held a paper cup as he smiled down at you. 

“Having a little wake me up before you start on those edits?” He mused.

“Uh...yeah, I…” Your tongue was clumsy though you couldn’t even think of words to say.

“Classes today?” He asked.

“Um, yeah, noon til seven,” You batted your lashes unthinkingly. “Midterm tomorrow morning.”

“So...I guess you’ll be busy studying then,” He lifted a brow. “No time to waste.”

You realized what he was hinting at. You’d already allowed Steve to weasel in on a study night, you really didn’t want to make your mistakes habitual. 

“Not really,” You said nervously. “I--”

“Sorry I’m late, I--” Kylie stopped just beside Bucky and looked over at him. Her eyes brightened and she smiled as she dropped her phone on the table. “Uncle Bucky!” She threw her arms around him.

“Uncle?” You echoed as she parted from him.

“You know Kylie?” His blue eyes narrowed as he thought.

“We’re friends of course,” Kylie trilled. “You do know I have more friends on campus than you, don’t you?”

“Well, it just so happens, your friend is in my communications class,” He countered. “Smart girl, wonder how she ended up with you.”

“Pfft,” She scoffed and pulled out the chair to sit. “Sure. You seen dad? He’s in town to see you, isn’t he?”

“Business. I just happen to be at a convenient distance now,” He returned. “I saw him the other night.” His eyes flitted over to you and you looked away. “He seems well.”

“Yeah, didn’t see him much this summer but when he drove me up in September he was...less of an ass than usual. Not so much when he dropped in a lectured me at my dorm.” She rolled her eyes. 

“You know me, I never give a lecture off the clock,” He chuckled. “And he never does without reason.”

“Well, you know,” She sighed, “I used my emergency card for a Louis Vuitton but it really was an emergency.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, it matched my shoes,” She snickered. 

“Hmmp,” He shook his head. “Well, I’ll leave you girls to your coffee. I’ve got a class to get to.” He looked between you. “Oh,” His eyes fixed on you and his tone steadied. “Don’t forget our meeting at seven-thirty. Right?”

“Uhhh…” You peeked over at Kylie as she sniffed at her latte. “Sure. Y-yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. We have a lot to talk about.” He cleared his throat. “Regarding your paper.”

You nodded and he said one last goodbye. You watched him go and your stomach turned. Shit. He was smart, he was a professor after all, and you knew he must’ve connected some of the dots. Kylie was too invested in her phone to notice your discomfort. You sipped your latte and shook off the butterflies.

“So, how was the midterm?” You asked and she lifted her head, a momentary pause before she registered your question.

“Oh, you know what? I don’t think I did half bad.” She perked up. “Sat next to this guy who’s gaga over me. Still got acne but he’s also first in the class. Very neat writing.”

“Christ, Kylie, you always find a shortcut, don’t you?” You snorted.

“Oh, shush, if you’d helped me study I wouldn’t have been so worried about failing.” She chided. “What was it that kept you? You’re rarely too busy for a study date.”

“My own schoolwork,” You retorted. “And my preference for peace and quiet.”

-

Your classes went quickly to your chagrin.You dreaded your impromptu meeting with Professor Barnes. Had he guessed everything? What did he think of you now? Did he regret what happened in his office? Did you?

As you climbed the stairs, you recalled the previous day. How he’d walked beside you up the flights and led you into his office. Closed the door even. He never sat but stood close. It had all been so deliberate. Calculated even. If you had deceived him, surely he had done the same. Enticed you, at the very least.

You knocked on the door. The halls were empty. The other professors were either in a lecture or at home with their stack of student papers and glass of aged scotch. The door opened and you flinched. He checked his watch and stepped back.

“Early, as always,” He waved you in. You placed your bag beside the chair and sat. He moved around and glass clinked as he neared the other side of his desk. He set down two short tumblers and opened his drawer. “Whiskey?”

“Whiskey?” You repeated.

“The least of your sins in this office,” He kidded and poured. He slid a glass over to you without awaiting your ascent.

“Thanks,” You took it and stared into the dark alcohol. 

Your fingers tapped on the glass nervously. He took a long drink and set his back on the desk. You avoided his gaze as you waited. Silence.

“I was gonna work on the revisions toni--”

“You knew Steve already, didn’t you?” He asked. You nodded and looked at him. You took a sip and winced at the burn of the whiskey as it trickled down your throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged and took another gulp. “I don’t know, I...was nervous. I wasn’t expecting to see you there--”

“Wait,” He leaned forward as brows drew together in realization. He blinked and his lips twitched. “Was he the friend you were meeting?”

“N-nooo,” You said. Even you weren’t convinced. He slapped the desk and laughed.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking your friend’s dad,” He grinned and grabbed his glass. “How fucking precious. I knew--” He took a swig. “Especially after yesterday, you’re not such a good girl after all.”

You stared at him. Mortified. The glass slipped from your hand and you pressed yourself back against the chair as you watched the whiskey splash across the carpet. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You bent and picked up the glass. “Shit.” 

You looked around and he stood calmly. He grabbed a wad of kleenex from the box on his desk and knelt to dab the carpet around your feet. He didn’t say anything until he finished. When he stood, you tried to as well but he caught your shoulder and pushed you back down.

“Stay there,” He tossed the tissues and slipped between you and the desk, leaning on it as his eyes bore into you. “So, are you sorry for spilling the whiskey or lying to me?”

“Both,” You pouted. “I didn’t--I only...followed his lead.”

“Does he know about us? Or have you lied to him too?” He tilted his head.

“He knows,” You admitted. “He didn't really care.”

He nodded and his eyes wandered as he thought. A smirk spread slowly beneath his beard and he stood. “You remember how I fucked you. I want your hands on that desk. Just like before.” He sidled away from you. “Now. And don’t you move them.”

“What--”

“Quiet.” He snapped. “Now, be a good girl.”

You looked up at him and he crossed his arms. You pushed yourself to your feet and nudged aside your empty glass. You set your palms on the desk and slid your feet back just a little. He moved the chair as you craned your head to watch him. 

“Eyes forward,” He said sternly. “You see, when you’re bad, you have to be punished. That’s just the way this has to work.” He neared and reached around you. He unbuttoned your fly and pushed your zipper down. “Now, I’m not mad that you fucked him. You obviously have a certain taste in men. I’m upset that you lied to me. Disappointed.”

He shoved your pants down  around your thighs.He spread his large hand across your ass. You blinked and resisted the urge to look back. He pulled his hand away and your brows furrowed in confusion. He slapped your ass and you yelped.

“Shhh,” He rubbed your ass and smacked you again. “Don’t go getting yourself into more trouble.” He struck your ass a third time. “Good girls take their punishment. Quietly.”

You bit your lip and hung your head. As he continued, you breathed in time with each impact. Your nails scratched the wood of his desk and you shuddered as it stung a little more with each smack. You counted twenty before he stopped. You were trembling and out of breath. Your body was on fire.

He pulled your pants up over your ass and you flinched. He backed away and strode around the desk. He sat heavily in his chair. He grinned at you as he unbuckled his belt. “Now, show me your sorry.”

He pushed his fly open and pulled out his cock. He pointed between his knees and tilted his head. You hesitantly pulled your hands from the desk and stood straight. You buttoned your fly and stepped around the desk numbly. As you neared, he rolled his chair back just a little and tapped his toe.

You knelt before him and lowered your eyes to his lap. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. His hand rested on his thigh and his cock twitched. He rubbed circles on his thigh and brought himself closer to you. You wrapped your fingers around him and pressed your lips to his tip. He let out a long breath.

You took just his head in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. He gasped. His hand gripped the arm of his chair and you took more of him, a little at a time. You pulled back at every inch as your saliva slickened his length. Your lips met your hand and you slid your mouth and hand along his cock. 

He groaned and you kept your motion steady. He spread his legs and lifted his hand from his thigh to grab the back of your head. He guided you faster as his breath hitched. He hit the back of your throat over and over and the sloppy slurps and gags filled the room.

“Fuck, fuck, stop, stop,” He rasped. “Whew.”

You sat back on your heels and let him slip out of your mouth. He leaned his head back as he gathered himself. You looked up at him hungrily. You didn’t want to stop. You wanted him to cum in your mouth. You wanted more.

“Sit in my lap, baby,” He sat up and patted his thigh. “Come on.”

You undid your pants and rolled them back down. You were only too eager to listen. You’d thought the first time would be the last when you arrived. You were glad it wasn’t.  You moved back and reached behind you. 

You grabbed the arms of the chair and he lined himself up. He slid between your folds and you sank down on him entirely. You moaned and he gripped your hip. You lifted your pelvis and crashed back down. He helped you as you moved atop him and he snaked his hand around you. 

He dipped his fingers down and played with your clit. He drew circles as you rode him and gritted your teeth as you tried to stifle your moans. The chair squeaked as it rocked below him and you felt the flurry as it filled your core. You quivered and quaked as he forced the orgasm from you. 

He pulled his hand away and grabbed your other hip. He stood, still inside you and pushed you against the desk. He grasped the back of your neck and forced you down until your cheek was to the wood. Your legs were trapped in your jeans as he fucked you relentlessly. Each thrust was harder and deeper. He grunted as the desk groaned beneath you.

He slapped your ass as he pounded into you. You buried your head beneath your arms as you held in your murmurs. 

“Are you sorry?” He growled.

“Yes,” You rasped. “Yes, I’m sorry, Professor. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” 

“I’m sorry I lied, Professor,” You whined as you lifted your head. You were cumming again and your entire body radiated with suffocating heat.

“Good girl,” He squeezed your ass and rutted into you. 

He gave several long thrusts as he snarled and pulled out suddenly. He came on you, his cock against your pussy as he bent over you and panted in his release. He rested his weight on you as you laid breathless in the warmth of his body and the afterglow.

“I forgive you, baby,” He kissed your cheek softly. “Now go study,” He lifted himself and smirked down at your dripping pussy. “And get those edits done.”

[hees-theman]

Mistake at the First Sight (Chapter III)

CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Enemies to Lover

Summary: You’re a transfer student from London and Park Seonghwa thought that you don’t know Korean language. Little did he know, you are actually a Korean who moved back to the place you were born.

A/N: Starting next chapter I will change my writing style to 3rd POV because I feel more comfortable that way ^^

<< Chapter Two

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Friends. That’s what he said. Friends. However, did he really want both of you to stay just as a friend? No. He feels like wanting more – scratch that. He wants something more than just a friend.

But, how can he say that to you when you are sitting across him, next to San, chatting with each other. Ever since that night, you and San are getting closer. Most of the times, San will sit next to you in the class while the other boys including Seonghwa sit behind both of you.

It’s irritating to him. It’s enough for both of you sitting next to each other during the class, but doing the same in cafeteria, well, guess who’s furious? The son of Park.

The way both you and San are laughing together bothers him a lot. Was it that funny that your eyes are almost gone from laughing happily? Was it that amusing that San’s hand keep caressing your back, trying his best to calm you down while doing the same to himself?

He wants to know what made both of you this close. He doesn’t remember you making that much conversation with the guy while at the bar. The only thing he noticed was the fact that San was the one who asked you to join them that night. However, he didn’t do it directly.

So, how can both of you become this close? As if both of you are a happy couple.

Couple. Holy. He wishes that it is not true. He wishes that San is no more than just a classmate to you. He wishes that San will never cross that line with you. He wants to convince himself that both of you aren’t together romantically. However, seeing the scene in front of him, it’s impossible to not think of it that way.

Seonghwa is too busy with his thought that he didn’t realize that San and the others already stand up on their feet to go to their class, leaving Seonghwa alone with you.

“Seonghwa,” you called but he didn’t response. You frown slightly before calling his name once again. Still, no reaction. You lean forward slightly to slap his cheek lightly, making sure that it’s not painful but enough to wake him up from his thought.

He blinks at you for a while before looking to his left and right. When did the people left? He turns to look at you before opening his mouth. “Where is everyone?”

“They all have another class. It’s Thursday, remember,” you answered his question.

Thursday – the only day that you and Seonghwa only have two classes while the others have three classes.

Seonghwa’s lip curls up into a wide smile at the sudden realization. Thursday had always been the day where Seonghwa get to spend his time alone with you. Both of you have done a lot. From watching movies to hang out at the convenient store nearby the university.

Thursday is the day where he will go back home, feeling happy and full. He loves the fact that both of you get to spend time together while your classmates are struggling trying to stay focus in the lecture.

But, his smile doesn’t last long today as he remembered the way you interacted with San earlier. Maybe you are closer to San because you get to be with him every day while with Seonghwa, both of you only have a day in a week to spend time together.

That can be the reason why you are not as close to him as you are with San.

“So, shall we go there?” Your question woke him up. He tilts his head slightly, his expression full of confusion. “Go where,” he asked.

You shake your head a bit as you look at him with a soft smile. You put both of your arms on the table and lean slightly to him.

“There is a new menu at the café in front of the university. Should we go there today?”

His eyes might be looking at you, his ears might listen to you but in his mind, there is you and San, being happy together. Should he decline your offer and spend the rest of the day filled with curiosity or go with you and ask about San?

He wants to take a rain check but today is the only day that both of you can hang out together. He doesn’t want to let the chance go but he doesn’t feel good after what he saw earlier. The fact that he overthinks it makes it even worse.

Seonghwa looks at you who are currently looking at him softly, resembling a puppy wanting a treat from its owner. Fuck, she’s cute.

Letting out a sigh, Seonghwa nods his head few times, making you smile widely at his answer. You stand up from your chair and grab your back before sling it on your shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

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“Do you want to add on anything?”  The waitress asked both of you, but mainly Seonghwa as she was looking – ogling – at him with sparkles in her eyes. You bite you inner cheek at the sight.

It’s not the first time you witnessed this. Ever since both of them stepped in here, this waitress had been trying to flirt with Seonghwa whenever she got the chance to. And today is not an exceptional.

Seonghwa lifts his head up to look at you. “Do you want to order anything else,” he asked. You close the menu and shake your head without muttering a word.

He takes your menu and put it with his before handing it over to the waitress, looking at her with his charming smile on his face. “That’s all for now. Thank you.”

The waitress takes the menu and let her eyes linger on Seonghwa for extra seconds before bowing her head a bit and walk away to the kitchen.

You look down at your fingers on the table while Seonghwa looks at you. None of you bothers to mutter a single word to each other.

Your head is filled with how the waitress keep trying to gain Seonghwa’s attention and the fact that Seonghwa doesn’t notice it bothers you a lot.

You don’t know why you feel uncomfortable with the way she always looked at him with her flirty eyes. Her face plastered with the I-love-you smile. She always purposely took her time taking the menu away from him, just so that she can look at him a while longer.

It annoys you and you don’t know why – or maybe you know but refuse to acknowledge it.

“You’re so close with San nowadays.” Seonghwa’s words poofed your thoughts away and make you lift your face up to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging out with him the past few weeks,” you said to Seonghwa, oblivious at the rapid change of his facial expression.

Just like what he thought, you and San had been spending a lot of time together which explained how both of you can be so close when it’s only been two months since you came here. Is he jealous? Yes, yes he is.

He wants to be like that with you. He wants to be able to sit next to you and laugh together with you. He wants to calm you down by caressing your back, just like San did. He wants to be intimate with you. But, he can’t. He is not that close to you.

Although both of you had been hanging out together, Seonghwa rarely initiate any type of skinship, and so do you. The last time both of you actually looked so close was when you were treating his injuries at his house. After that, it’s always casual talks like a classmate talking to another classmate.

“Are you happy with him?” He asked. Your eyes stay on him to study his expression. He is looking down now. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve say that he is sad.

“Well, we’ve been spending our time doing fun things so I guess I am happy.”

Seonghwa clench his jaw as his hands clasp together. He doesn’t know how to react to this. You just confirmed to him that both you and San are enjoying your time together. He licks his lip before looking at you, a soft smile plastered on his face.

“I hope you guys will stay together for a long time.” His words got you choked on you saliva. What the fuck is this guy talking about?

You can’t conceal the surprise expression on your face. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. You can’t believe what just came out from his mouth.

“Why did you say that, Seonghwa?” Your question makes him twist his lip for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh. “San, he is your boyfriend, right?”

It took a while for you to react but as soon as you registered what he was saying, you burst into a laugh. He is shock at the sudden expression. Did he say something funny to make you laugh so loud until you had to hold your stomach in order to stop yourself?

“You did it once again, Park Seonghwa,” you told him after you finally calmed yourself down. He looks at you with confusion apparent on his face.

You lift up one of your hand to use your palm as a support for your chin as your eyes watch him amusingly. "San is not my boyfriend, but Jiyeon’s.”

Now it’s his turn to be surprise. How can San be Jiyeon’s boyfriend when he is so close with you? His frowns get deeper as he tries to figure out the connection.

As if reading his mind, you open your mouth to give an explanation. “That night where San invited me, he and Jiyeon had been hitting on each other ever since the new semester started. After the night, Jiyeon and San got closer than ever and few days after that, they are together.”

Seonghwa put his fingers at the bridge of his nose. His face then lit up when he realize something. “Then, why did both of you look so close? Why did he sit next to you in class every day? Why did you guys laughed happily at the cafeteria today? Where is Jiyeon?”

“Didn’t you notice that Jiyeon sit on the other side of him? He sat in the middle of us because the air conditioner was placed at the center and he doesn’t want Jiyeon to get cold so he always made us both sit on his side. Jiyeon was absent today because she fell sick and we were laughing because he showed me a picture of Jiyeon sleeping while they were on video call.”

He nods his head after you finished explaining to him. His lip slowly curls up into a smile. He can feel that his heart is finally at ease now. He feels so much better now. He was so happy in his thought that he didn’t notice you leaning in and flick his forehead, making him yelp in pain.

“Why did you do that,” he yelled as his fingers try to soothe the pain on his forehead. You stick out your tongue at him. “That’s what you get for judging something without asking again.”

As if on cue, the waitress came to your table with a tray on her hand. She put down the tray on the table to serve your food first. “Here’s aglio olio and ice tea for the lady…”

She turns to look at Seonghwa then flash a flirty smile towards him before continuing her words. “… And carbonara with milk tea for the man.”

Seonghwa turns his head to look at her before smiling softly and mutters a thank you to her with you watching the whole thing.

You feel like your eyes almost roll itself to the back and you try your best not to gag at the sight. It’s a sore for your eyes. Can’t they just act like the normal worker and customer? Can they not flirt around as if you aren’t there?

You thank god once she finally walks away from the table. Your gaze turns sharply at Seonghwa who is currently eating his food.

The way he just calmly eat his foods as if nothing happened annoys you. Didn’t this guy notice how she’s trying so hard to get to know him? Hitting on a customer should be illegal by now. It makes you feel mad.

But, if you think about it carefully, you’ve seen him around girls quite a lot of times before. The fact that he even let you in his house – a girl – and only the two of you in there says a lot about how he interact with other women. Somehow, deep inside your heart, you feel shattered… and disappointed.

Seonghwa notices that you’ve been staring at your food for few minutes now. He waves his hand in front of your face, trying to make you look at him.

“Why aren’t you eating your food?” He asked. You clear your throat and shake your head before picking up the fork and start eating your food.

None of you make conversation while eating and it had always been that way ever since both of you start hanging out together. It’s a normal thing to enjoy your foods in silence. But, why do you feel slightly uncomfortable? Is it because what happened just now?

A lot of things are running in your mind but you chose not to say anything until both you and Seonghwa finished the foods and drinks. You glance at your watch and it’s almost five o’clock in the evening.

“I’m going to toilet for a while,” you said to Seonghwa as you stand up from your seat and walk to the restroom. You turn on the tap and wash your hand with soap before turning it off and look at the mirror.

Why does it bother you so much? She is just a waitress so it is her job to be friendly with her customers. However, deep down, you know that she wants is more than just an interaction between worker and customer. She wants an interaction as a man and a woman with Seonghwa and nothing annoys you more than that.

You have to admit that Seonghwa is an attractive, charming man. His face itself screams visual and his height never fail to compliment his outfit. He can wear a sack and still looks good. His voice is soft and it almost sounds like a lullaby for you.

At first, you thought that he was just another conceited guy but no. He is a kind man. He is always nice and always take care of those around him. The thing that you love the most about him is the way he treats his friends. It almost look like he is taking care of a family.

Just the thought of it is enough to make your heart beat like crazy. Is this what love feels like?

You inhale some of the air and exhale through your mouth. You straighten your clothes and walk out of the restroom, just to see a sight that you refuse to watch.

There she is, standing in front of Seonghwa with his credit card in her hand. Her cheeks are blushing and she looks flustered. Right at that moment, Seonghwa hands her a tissue before she walks away, looking all shy.

You roll your eyes and scoff at the sight. You have watched a lot of dramas and movies to know that is a way to exchange numbers. So, this is his way of giving out his number to a woman. You stomp over the table and grab your bag.

“I’ll make my way home first,” you said and turn your heel without waiting for his response and walk out of the café.

What is wrong with her? He thought before taking his bag and follows you out of the place, trying to catch up with you.

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“So, how is it? Did he say he will contact you?” Her friend – a cashier asked behind the counter. The waitress shakes her head lightly.

“I gave him a tissue with my number on it when he called me to make a payment…” She looks down at the piece of tissue in her hand before her lip form a small smile.

“… But he rejected me by replying in here.”

She put the tissue on the counter, making it visible to her friend.

XXX-XXX-XXX

I LIKE YOU

I’m sorry but I’m in love with the girl that came with me - Seonghwa

                                                                                                     Chapter four >>

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

roommates AU!! Maybe one where young Tony has had a string of awful roommates (ie. they bully him for his age, etc.). The housing office transfers him one last time and tells him to give it a week. If this one still doesn't work out, then they'll let him room alone. At first, Tony just wants the week to be over, but of course his new roommate is the sweet Peter Parker. Cue pining!Tony, oblivious!Peter and a fluffy resolution... Just my rambles, but always excited to see what you come up with!

do the thing - send in all the prompts.    

Nonnie, this was a lovely prompt - thank you so much for the idea! I aged Tony up a little bit to make sure there wasn’t anything underage, but I hope I hit all the things you were looking for! 

Tony always figured flying through school would be a breeze. And for the most part – it was. The class material turned out to be easier than even he anticipated; he could’ve easily gotten through high school with his eyes closed. At 16, the concept of winning was the only thing that registered to him – what he was winning, he didn’t really know; but beating out his peers around him always made him feel just a bit better about how ridiculously brainy he really was.

Of course, the social aspect of school wasn’t nearly as easy. Most people didn’t understand what it was like to be the son of Howard Stark – Tony knew the inside of a lab before the age of 4 and attended dinners with some of the world’s figure heads on a consistent basis. As one of the youngest people in the entire room always, Tony struggled to fit in. Being smart wasn’t the piece of school that people admired, especially when the age gap was already so substantial. To say he was picked on was putting it mildly.

He assumed getting to college would end all of the bullying that came pre-packaged in the high school experience. Why would people in the pursuit of a degree in higher education care how old anyone was? The shocking reality of how wrong he was came when his very first roommate locked him out of the dorm for a full 48-hours. Tony didn’t like to throw around the weight of his name, but he hadn’t showered and needed textbooks to get to some of his classes. Needless to say, his roommate did not remain in the room for much longer.

Tony’s next roommate at least lasted for the rest of the year – he was an asshole at all points in time, but he didn’t lock him out of the room or touch his shit. There wasn’t enough of a connection to ask him back as a roommate – so Tony put his name back on the list for a roommate and went about his summer vacation.

Coming back from Italy, Tony was refreshed and more than ready to get through the next year as quickly as possible. He’d turned 17 over the summer and was one step closer to being on the cusp of independence. Then, people couldn’t judge him for his age. Tony walked into the year with a positive attitude – that was quickly bat down by the homophobic bigot they stuck him with. Tony still didn’t like the way faggot sat on the surface of his skin.

The struggle to keep a roommate brought him in front of housing for what felt like the hundredth time – all he wanted was some peace to get through school and maybe enjoy some of it. The notoriety of the university kept the supply of single rooms scarce, but he figured if push really came to shove, he could find a way to get one for himself. Cindy, who’d been dealing with him since his first gem of a roommate screwed the pooch, looked at him with a mixture of pity and concern. “I need you to give it a go one more time, for at least a week. There aren’t any singles available and I’m certain that this person will be suitable for you. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do if all else fails.”

A barely concealed scoff left his mouth, but he nodded, anyway. After the stream of lectures he got from his father when the initial trouble started, Tony was determined to settle the situation by his own means, even if that meant trying to stomach one more person for 7 days. All of his other roommates proved how terrible they were right from the get-go, so he figured he could make it – the other side held the key to his single and a little bit of peace from the boring monotony of societal norms.

A couple of days later, a knock on the door drew Tony from the book in front of him – he’d been balls deep in the chapter on electrical energy conversion. Standing up from his seated position, Tony realized how long he’d been sitting when his feet felt a little numb. The break was obviously needed.

Pulling the door open, Tony let a soft gasp leave his lips – the person standing there was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Long legs led to a torso that was covered with a white and purple striped shirt and flight jacket. The length of this person’s neck held a head covered in dark brown, curly hair. Tony took a couple of steps back on instinct, his brain going haywire.

“Are you Tony?”

In an attempt to speak, Tony opened his mouth – no words followed, however. Blushing, he chose to nod instead. He opened the door a little bit wider, his hand swinging in a ‘come in gesture’. His lips were quirked into an involuntary smile, everything about his body he could usually control now running on instinct and the overwhelming hormones that coursed through him.

A soft chuckle left the other’s mouth, the sound like music to his ears. Why did it take this long to deliver someone like this to his door? More than anything, Tony hoped that handsome person walking into the dorm that must be his new roommate wasn’t a total piece of shit – he wanted to be able to hold out a little hope.

“I’m Peter – Peter Parker. I just transferred here,” the man, Peter, said – his eyes wandering around the modest fixtures that Tony kept around the shared space. “Is that really a big-screen TV?” Peter’s plumps lips formed a roguish grin, coffee-colored eyes flashing with genuine excitement. “I never thought I’d see one of those in a college dorm room.”

Tony watched him trace a hand across the top, his fingers fiddling with the wiring at the back of it. “And it has HDMI capability. We can get both of my systems set up on this thing.” Peter’s excitement took him by surprise, everyone else who walked through the door didn’t care about the cool shit he brought with him – just the differences between them; his age, the sexuality he refused to hide – his academic abilities, even.

Not Peter, though – he went on to explain that he was getting a degree in Electrical Engineering and didn’t get to have some of the newer appliances growing up. It was weird, to see someone so excited about the nerdy stuff Tony liked, too. They heartily discussed the best way to get both the Xbox and PlayStation set up through the tv without bogging down the cable setup already existing in the room. 

By the time they were both happy with how Peter’s things mixed into the fixtures of the room, Tony figured he was already head over heels for the guy – for the first time in his life, someone took him at face value and didn’t hate what they saw.

----

The rest of the year with Peter went by seamlessly. During the spring semester, they planned to have a class together, both of them still needing to take some of the basic engineering classes. There wouldn’t be a lot of cross over later in their degrees, so they took advantage. It was different, having someone he could rely on sitting in class next to him, and then being there at home later on, too. Tony never got to experience the sort of camaraderie that Peter so freely gave to him.

Mornings were filled with the two of them trying to make breakfast on the little hot plate Peter brought from home. It was always an adventure, trying to get everything cooked all the way through and evenly – at least, Tony enjoyed watching Peter puzzle it all together. Their day started together and as the time passed, it ended together, too. Peter liked to spend time in their shared space, so Tony found excuses to be out there, too.

Tony found himself seeking out Peter’s company all the time, if he were being honest. Peter was the most interesting person – he didn’t care about the normal things; he wanted to learn and explore, he wanted to see what the world had to offer. Best of all, he seemed to want to include Tony in the things he wanted to know more about.

A couple of months into their second semester living together, Tony looked up to find Peter staring at him. “What’s your middle name?” Peter asked, a smirk slipping across his lips. “Are you an Anthony, or just Tony?”

Putting his pen down in the book he’d been reading to keep his place, Tony shifted a bit and gave Peter his full attention. “My full name is Anthony Edward Stark. No one but my mom calls me Anthony, though.” Tony tried to keep the blush he couldn’t help under cover, but his ears were warm – there was no escaping it. “What about you? Are you a junior, or something?”

The exchange went on a for a while, Peter talking a bit about his family in Queens and the Brainiac’s team he left behind when he graduated and came to Cambridge. Tony soaked up the information and attempted to be open about pieces of himself, too – he talked about his dad and the weird relationship they had and about Dum-E and the never-ending tweaks and adjustments he made to better him.

It was a little easier after that conversation, both of them felt a little more comfortable and for Tony, he felt closer to Peter than any other person in his life. He hoped it wasn’t obvious, how much Peter meant to him. There were stars in his eyes constantly – so he kind of doubted it.

Even his mom noticed how things shifted for him – he wasn’t his normally surly self when he went home over spring break. Maria looked at him with a weird smile – Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen the look on her face before. “School okay, Tony?” she questioned, her hands brushing through the hair by his ear. He figured she missed the little kid he used to be – he would sit for hours and let her pet him like that back then.

Grinning, Tony nodded – his teenage hormones making it hard to keep himself calm, cool, and collected. “Yes, it’s okay. I’m doing well and really enjoying Differential Equations this semester.” He kept his answer brief, his inability to talk to her still in place despite the weightless feeling that accompanied him. “I’m thinking about picking up a class in the summer and sticking around.”

He didn’t tell her that Peter was involved in a work study program and would need to be on campus all summer working. It seemed silly to give up his bedroom in the place that was now his home simply because summer came around. 

Tony didn’t want to miss a single second of time he could be around Peter – no matter how weirdly pathetic that probably was. Later, when he left the kitchen and headed towards his room, Tony missed the smile his mom beamed his way.

Their end of the semester project was due a couple of weeks after they got back from spring break, so Tony and Peter spent a lot of time together when they got back from visiting their respective families. It was a little like the time away from each other strengthened the need for the bond between them. Peter spent more time in the dorm and when he couldn’t be there, Tony pestered him at work, the help desk more than familiar with him after all the time he spent there.

The closer they got; the more Tony wondered if Peter felt the same way that he did. Tony knew he was still young, his 18th birthday creeping slowly toward him. There were tons of great looking people on campus, people that were closer to Peter’s age – but he hoped, he crossed his fingers and looked up in search of a person he didn’t believe in just to send up a little wish into the atmosphere.

Tony tried to gage things between them a couple of weeks before the end of the semester – he wanted the summer to go off without a hitch and knew his useless pinning would be more of a burden than anything if he didn’t at least try and find out if he stood any chances. He wasn’t completely sure of how he’d try to fish out the truth, but he needed to – the probable thought of exploding crossing his mind frequently.

A perfect opportunity presented itself when Peter came home a little tipsy from a party that Friday night, his face split into a loose smile, eyes shining with the blaze of alcohol and something simmering just below the surface. Tony paused the round of Tekken he’d been playing, his hand patting the cushion next to him. “Have a good night?” Tony asked curiously, his lips slipping into a smile when Peter threw himself carelessly down onto the couch. Their shoulders brushed, that little bit of contact sending a torrent of happiness through him.

“I definitely drank enough to make it feel like it was a good night,” Peter replied, the alcohol letting the words fall easily from loose lips. “MJ brought 151 in a little flask – it doesn’t taste like shoe cleaner, so it was easy to drink a little bit too much.” He smiled and leaned further into Tony’s side. “Glad to be back, though.”

A nose brushed the side of his neck, Tony holding his breath to stop the gasp that tried to escape from the confines of his chest. He put the controller down on the arm of the couch and sat more fully on the couch – his arm going around the back of it. “I’m glad that you’re back, too,” Tony admitted, his hand moving inch by inch until his fingertips were just barely fumbling with the sleeve of Peter’s black t-shirt.

“What are you doing, Tony?” Peter asked from his place against Tony’s shoulder, his breath tickling his skin, the sensation distracting. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and absorbed he warmth while he could – Peter nestled in the space Tony wanted him the most might never happen again.

“I – don’t know. I – “ Tony started to speak, but the common problem of getting a little tongue-tied around Peter coming back with a vengeance. “I think I was trying to put my arm around you.” He felt his face flush even further – his cheeks and ears the same colors as Peter’s without the influence of alcohol and its properties.

While he didn’t actually move away, Tony felt Peter stiffen. Sucking in a hurt breath, Tony froze, too – he must’ve read the room wrong. “Oh,” he heard Peter say, the word muffled by Tony’s skin still. He gulped, then extracted himself from the tangle of longer arms and warm skin – his eyes already starting to burn with tears he wouldn’t be able to control for much long.

“Sorry – I didn’t, I mean. I – sorry, Pete.” Tony babbled, the inability to speak in full sentences hitting him double time now that embarrassment coated the nervousness that threatened to overcome him. How stupid could he be? Turning before he could embarrass himself further, Tony made a quick beeline to his room and shut the door. He slumped back against it, sliding down to the floor.

----

Tony avoided Peter as much as he could leading up to the end of the semester, and subsequently, Tony’s birthday. He’d already made the commitment to stay over the summer, and he steeled himself for the awkwardness that would more than likely settle between them. The soft ‘oh’ Peter mumbled that night still played in his mind – his voice just as confused as the rigid posture of his body.

Either way, he needed to find a way to get over it – Peter was the best roommate he ever had, and he still had at least one more year of school to get through. It felt good to finish a semester and he did his best to focus on that instead of the weird ache in his chest. No wonder so many people were so wrecked by the love thing – when it didn’t work out, it hurt like an absolute bitch.

The two weeks before finals and Tony’s birthday followed much of the same pattern – Tony stayed in his room until he couldn’t stop the rumble in his stomach; he did his best to time his ventures into the shared space of the dorm when he thought Peter wouldn’t be there. It was easier to just ignore the situation and hope it past.

His birthday rolled around without much fanfare – he was glad to be 18 and didn’t need the huge party his parents wanted to throw him. They were never about him, anyway. Tony figured he’d spend the day watching the TV in his room and making his way through the couple different cartons of ice cream he put in the freezer the day before.

A knock on the door around 10AM had him muting the TV to answer it, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw Peter on the other side of the door. “Hey. Happy Birthday, Tony,” Peter started, the card in his hand being thrust forward into Tony’s chest without much finesse. The hand he could feel against him shook; Peter obviously nervous for some reason.

“Actually – that’s not why I’m here. I thought maybe you’d be more willing to open the door when there was something to celebrate.” Peter shrugged, his legs crossing in front of him. “Tony, that night – I wasn’t… upset, or anything. About what you said. I was surprised. I didn’t have any idea that you felt like that. It was a shock – I’d been crushing on you for months at that point and there you were, adorably trying to put your arm around me. You were gone before the ability to think started to work again.”

He reached out and traced Tony’s cheekbone with a soft finger, the caress barely there. “I like you, Tony – I want you to like me, too.” The fingers trailed along Tony’s soft skin and into his hair, the entirety of his hand palming the back of his neck when it got there. “And I think you do.”

“I do, Pete. I do. I really, really do.” Tony let both of his hands drift to the bare skin of Peter’s forearm, his fingers gripping the grounding warmth there. “Will you kiss me?” Tony asked the question so sweetly, the blazing in his eyes a sharp contrast

Peter used his lips to answer, the hand on the back of his head pulling Tony close enough to press their lips together. A gasp left Tony’s lips, the touch like an electric shock. In an attempt to keep his feet on the ground, Tony fisted Peter’s shirt in his hands, the move bringing them closer still.

The need for air had them pulling apart, Tony’s eyes opening wide to take in the look on Peter’s face – he figured the loopy smile there mirrored the happiness etched into his own cheeks.

“Want to go out with me, Tony?” Peter mumbled, his face breaking into a beaming smile.

Laughing, Tony used the grip on Peter’s shirt to pull him back in for a chaste kiss, his entire being thrumming with life.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[lostinmymindpalace-m]

The Light of Knowledge

Chapter one, part 2/2, in which the thoughts are free

I want to make good use of my time and get a general idea of the material, so I return to my room directly after dinner and skim through the school books. They seem to be quite advanced in English here and the topics in mathematics and chemistry look more complicated than anything I have done so far, too. I take a deep breath, rub my glasses clean on my blazer and start taking notes. Outside it's getting dark and I have to turn on my desk light to be able to read my tiny, compendious  handwriting. But I manage to make connections between the new topics and my body of knowledge. Now that's not looking too bad. I surely won't be easy, but I think I can handle the work load. Finally, I take my diary out of the drawer and write down what happened today. The words are flying so fast my hand struggles to keep up, but I feel more relaxed with every sentence. When I put the pen away, there is just half an hour left until lights-out, so I put on my pyjamas, take off the glasses and go to the bathroom. Fortunately, it's empty. I brush my teeth, stare into the mirror and think about tomorrow. The class representative Neil and the other guys seem really nice, I sat with them during dinner and they treated me very well, better than I'm used to. But I assume they were raised to be more polite than the boys at my old school. Hopefully the rest of my classmates are the same. Hopefully I get good teachers. What if they treat me different because I'm a girl? Only the foam that's running down my wrist from the endless brushing bringst me back to reality. 

The next morning I jump out of bed at the first ring of the alarm clock. Put on a fresh uniform and admire it in the bathroom mirror as I fix my tie. The only one I recognize during breakfast is Richard Cameron. He is sitting alone and reading and I intend to do the same. Just like last night, students start to whisper when I walk by, some of so younger ones even point fingers at me. It makes me feel like I don't belong here and I can't let that happen, therefore the book. I have the right to be here and go to an ivy league college and so do so many other girls. Just get used to it. My first class of the day is chemistry, so I get my school bag from my room and head for the chemistry building. I'm way to early, but the laboratory isn't locked. I push the door open carefully and sit down in a row of tables in the middle of the room. A teacher comes in from the secondary room and, before I can say a word, tells me to hand out a thick pile of papers. While I walk around and put a project list on every table, my classmates enter the room in small groups. Neil and Todd are the last ones to arrive, they scurry into the lab just as the bell rings. As soon as class begins, I stop looking left ans right and note down what Mr. Hartley tells us. A laboratory experiment every five weeks, 20 questions due tomorrow. I make a note to read through the project list later today. The rest of the lesson is a lecture about acids and bases. When the bell rings, I have to shake out my hand. I grabbed my pen so hard it started cramping. Next is Latin with Mr. McAllister, a man with a Scottish accent who is walking up and down in front of the class, repeating diffrently conjugated and declined words that we have to echo. I hardly manage to write them down. What a stupid way to teach us the conjugational and declinational classes I think as I examine my poorly legable notes. There is a system that the words follow depending on their basic form. It's easy enough, but not when you just repeat random words. I scribble nominative, genitive, accusative, ablative, dative and singular, plural onto the page and decide to copy all of this again correctly. Math class on the other hand is no problem for me. Dr. Hager makes us stand up and recite definitions and methods of solutions from memory, but since I prepared myself last night, the questions aren't too difficult. When I repeat the definition of a cosine correctly, he gives me an approving look. Then he announces that any missed assignment will cause the subtraction of one point on our final grade. I quickly note that down and underline it twice. Not that I planned on not doing my homework, put this does increase the pressure. All in all, I'm a bit stressed when I sit down in the English classroom. The teacher, Mr. Keating, is sitting in front of the class, looking outside of the window and ignores us completely. That's kind of weird, but a nice break. I clean my glasses and try to relax a bit. Mr. Keating got up by now and is pacing around the room. Meanwhile he's swinging a ruler through the air and randomly points it at students. They look just as confused as I feel. „Ha! You flexible young brains!“, he suddenly shouts, which doesn't really help to clarify the situation. Then he jumps onto his desk and recites loudly: „Captain, my Captain!“ The others exchange looks. „Does anyone know who this is from?“

After the lesson, when I follow the stream of students to lunch, Keatings words are still stuck in my head. He made us go to the entrance hall and look at the pictures of former students while Gerard Pitts read out a poem. Infront of the walls I wished my picture upon just yesterday, he talked to us about our own finiteness. That was... something different. We are food for worms... I can hardly wrap my young and flexible head around it. I eat lunch, but whatever it is, it leaves no impression on me. Carpe diem, seize the day, make your lives extraordinary. I feel like this should move something inside of me, make me wiser, somehow. But all I can think of is that I am working to make my life extraordinary, that one day, my picture will be among these boys in the entrance hall. I only have two years here, assuming everything goes as planned. I can't let my concetration slip, not on my first day, not ever. So I take Mr. Keating's insistend words, open a little drawer in my head and lock them away.

The sports lesson in the afternoon helps me to shake of the memory of English class. All we do is run rounds in the hall and when it's finally over, and I'm done changing in the bathroom, my legs are wobbly, but my mind is free. I once again register how beautiful the school grounds look in the sunlight, so I take my homework and sit down on the lawn at the lake. I wonder what's going on at home. It's hard to believe that I've only been here for a day. How are Mom and Dad? Do James and Betty miss me? Ich shake my head. It doesn't matter. Thinking about them will only make you miss them and that won't help anyone. So I take a deep breath, watch a bunch of seventh graders throw someone's homework in the lake and start studying. By the time I'm done with math and chemistry, the air has cooled down considerably. I stroll back to the housing and think about my plans for the rest of the day. My Latin notes nedd to be rewritten. Should I do that in the common room? Other people will be there. But it's surely going to be loud. But you'll have to make contact eventually.Or not. They will only distract me. I'm still working on this question at dinner, when a tipping on my wrenches me out of my thoughts. It's Neil. „Do you have any plans for tonight, Diana?“, he asks kindly. „We are doing a study group later, you're welcome to join us if you want.“ Some of the other boys are peeking in our direction, their clearly hopefull expression makes me smile. But I refuse. „Thanks for asking, but I think I would rather do my homework in my room. Maybe another time.“ So I spend my first full day at Welton exactly how I planned it: With undistracted studying. I finish my work and write in my diary, then I put on my checked pyjamas and read poems from my English book before I go to sleep.

The next days proceed just the same: The classes are hard, I am prepared, Mr. Keating's lessons are extraordinary. Each one is fascinating and thrilling, but I'm not sure I like that. Sometimes I almost back of a little, as if too much contact with Mr. Keating's way of thinking could cause some kind of harm to me. Once, he makes us rip pages out of a school book. I hesitate for a moment, because as funny as this idea is, I can't afford to get in trouble. As if to confirm my foreshadowing, Mr. McAllister enters the room just when I'm tossing the introduction into the understandig of poetry by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard PhD into the dustbin. Thanks to Mr. Keating aren't in trouble, but my heart still misses a beat. I just hope we learn everything we need for exams.

I do my repetitions and the homework in the afternoon and fill the remaining time with exercises, reading and studying. As time goes by, I feel more and more at home at Welton, the boys seem to start accepting my presence, some of them I really like by now. My extracurricular acticities are interesting and I attend every meeting, thus I frequently spend my afternoons in the company of Meeks, Charlie, Cameron, Knox or Todd (I don't really get why some of them are referred to with their surname, but whatever). The pupil's magazine is my favourite. We have a lot of fun every time and I really like writing articles. Charlie says, I could easily make the team of chief editors, but I don't want to. Writing is amazing, but I would rather prepare myself for my classes than go to two extra meetings a week. Sometimes, when I'm done with my school work and the sun is just setting, I go to the entrance hall to look at the awards that are illuminated by the last warm rays. In these moments, I feel like my heart will explode with happiness and pride. I'm so excited for the future.

It's a paticularly autumn day, I sit with my back against a tree, let she sun warm my face and work on my translation for Latin. Or at least I try. But something keeps distracting me. It's not the boys playing soccer and cricket on the school grounds, that's for sure. I sigh and read what I unconciously scribbled on the edge of my paper.

The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse

That's what Mr. Keating told us at the end of class today. It has been stuck in my head ever since. Or maybe it has been bouncing up and down in my brain, messing up my vocabulary and causing the throbbing pain behind my temple. I shove the Latin book away and rub my eyes in frustration. I want to contribute a verse. I really do. That's why I'm here, that's why I study every day. I have been given the opportunity to be so much more than I could ever hope for. To be able to contribute a verse when I'm done with school. I will be the girl that gave generations of female students the opportunity to attend the best preparation school in the USA. If I only work hard enough, the project will be successfull. It has to be. So why do I keep thinking about these words? I slowly open my eyes and notice my former welcoming committee rushing across the lawn. They talk to Mr. Keating and show him something. Is it a book? Maybe they had a question about something we did in class. Whatever. I put my glasses back on and give Latin another try. Honestly, what was Ovid thinking. A logical sentence structure never hurt anybody. The next time I look up, Mr. Keating is gone, but the boys are still huddled together for what seems like a heated discussion. I wonder what is going on. When the dinner bell rings, they move back to school, still talking vividly.

It starts to rain during dinner. But it's a study night anyway, so I pack up my books and go to what I call the big homework room. Dr. Hager is supervising and pollutes the air with his pipe smoke. Aside or that, I like study nights. Doing school work can get lonely in the long run and here I have company without getting distracted. Normally. There is a lively whisper coming from the table in the back. The guys seem to continue their discussion. They are bowed over something on the table and whisper so agitatedly that Hager looks up from his book and admonishes them to be quiet. Todd isn't with them. Usually, him and Neil are inseparable... I put the pen away and let my gaze wander over the bent necks. Actually, Todd is sitting a few tables apart from the others, looking up from his work every few minutes and watching the guys unhappily. What is going on? When Dr. Hager calls them to order again, I guiltily turn back to my homework. But just a few minutes later, a movement catches my attention again. Neil got up and is sneaking to Todds table. Whatever Neil is trying to convince him of, Todd doesn't seem to like it. Suddenly Neil jumps up and speeds to the others with a smirk. I watch Todd who is looking after him in a slightly desperate way and somehow our eyes meet. For a moment, we look at each other over the tables and open books, then I give him a small smile and go back to my work.

Shortly before lights-out, someone knocks at my door. It's Neil. „May I come in?“ „Yeah, sure, wait a minute.“ He closes the door behind him and I take my books from the desk chair and shove the candles and socks aside so he can sit. „What is it?“, I ask as I drop down onto my bed. Neil hesitates for a moment, then he says: „I just wanted to see if you're alright. I mean, you're always by yourself studying“, he smiles, but his eyes seek mine, „so we hardly get to see you. But Todd said you looked kind of sad tonight. You aren't afraid to hang out with us, are you?“ „No, of course not. What makes you think that?“ „Hm“, he says and absentmindedly lights one of the candles on my desk. „So if I asked you if you wanted to come to a club meeting in a cave across the river, let's say, tonight, you would come?“ I rise my eyebrows. „It's late and we have school tomorrow.“ He starts laughing. „It's Friday, Diana.“ „Well, it doesn't matter. I have work to do tomorrow and there is a debate club meeting I have to attend. I'm sorry. I really like you guys. It's just... I have to focus on school, you know.“ He nods slowly. None of us talks for a moment. „I heard you got a part in a play, how is that going?“ His face lights up immediately. „It's so great. We only started rehearsing like two weeks ago but“, he seesaws back and forth in excitement, „I love it already. Acting is great. Makes me feel alive.“ He looks away with a beaming smile and notices my diary on the desk, dangerously near the lighted candle. „You write a diary? About the fascination of Welton?“ I shrug and pick up the worn out notebook. „I used to, but I haven't written in a while, actually. I didn't feel like it I guess.“ I can feel his eyes on me as I stroke the cover with my fingertips. He gets up. „I'm glad you came by, Neil.“ For a moment, he stops, still looking at me pensively. „You know what you told me when I showed you around the school, on your first day?“, he asks. „The thoughts are free? Doesn't look like it to me.“ Then he leaves. I bite my lip and slowy sink down on my desk chair. Watch the flickering flame he lit. For a moment, I let myself wonder, patting the notebook in my hands. Then I take a deep breath and blow the candle out.  

The days go on and the weather keeps getting worse. The sun seems to drown in dark grey clouds and cold rain and I can't go outside anymore. So I do my homework in my room and read out poems to the ceiling until I know them by heart. I've gotten only As in all my assignments. The teachers seem satisfied with me. I should be thrilled. But the truth is, my mood is as dark as the sky outside. Maybe I miss my family. Right know, I'm not even sure what I feel. Kind of numb. I'm rewriting my notes from today's chemistry class under the light of my desk lamp. Outside of my window, a rainstorm is raging. Huge drops are drumming on the roof and I have several unmeant lines on my paper from when I winced at the thunder. When I finish a paragraph about aldehydes, the room goes dark in a flash. I try to switch the lamp back on, but it doesn't work. A riot starts in the other rooms. Seems like a blackout. Annoying, but what can I do. I take off my glasses and rub my burning eyes. I can't focus anyway. Once again, Mr. Keating's lesson is stuck in my head. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. We stood on his desk today. It felt weird, but also... As if it could make you wiser, in a Mr. Keating way. For some reason, I find my dark room unsettling, so I take out a candle. As I light it, I suddenly remember Neil doing exactly the same. He told me my thoughts weren't free anymore... I frown, because that doesn't make any sense. In fact, I think I have never thought more than I do right now. But still... What he said touched something inside of me and I don't understand why. Try to see it from a different perspective. Carefully, I move the burning candle to the side and crouch on my desk. I can't stand up because the ceiling is too low, but it's a start. Unfortunately, I still don't get it, I just feel silly. What a mess. I really miss home. What happened to me? I used to be so excited about this school, about every single day, every single class. I try to listen for the joy, for the feeling of freedom, but my chest feels empty. And alone. I feel so alone and it's dark and my knees start to hurt from cowering on the table. Tears make the candle flame look blurry. I remember what Neil said about acting: It makes me feel alive. I want to feel alive. Crouching on your desk and sobbing in the dark doesn't. I remember the boys whispering at dinner, excited, planning. Maybe they went to this cave Neil mentioned, before the rain started. For a minute, I sit still, my mind racing. Then I blow out the candle, grab my coat and run out the door.

It appears that I have underestimated this blackout-causing thunderstorm, because I'm dripping wet by the time I reach the edge of the woods. But I don't care. I understand how stupid it is to run through the forest in a thunderstorm, looking for a cave you have never seen before. But I don't care. The rain is cold, but at least my body has stopped feeling numb. When I finally hear voices and stumble into the mouth of a small cave in the hillside, I am facing six dumbfounded boys. Pitts looks like he is choking on a cigarette. I can't blame him.

When the shock and confusion are over, I'm welcomed to sit next to the fire that somehow is still burning, but besmoking us all. Nuzzled into Knox' and Todd's jackets, I explain why I the hell I'm here. And while Charlie tells me this sounds like some hard marrow-of-life-sucking to him, while I watch the bright flames and take in deep breaths of smokey air, I feel it.

Free. Alive.

[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

A/N- It’s my first time posting my writing on Tumblr but I guess better late than never huh, so here you go. More is in work so please anticipate a lot.

~Fay

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:1.7k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more ; you.

Series: Masterlist ll Part 2 lI Part 3

                                           Part 1: Distress

                                            °•. ✿ .•°

“Why own a fucking iPhone when you can’t even answer a fucking call?! Dammit!”, he breathed hard after his nth tempt to connect the line failed again, his own Samsung device was clutched tightly in hand, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Yoongi had reached that point where smashing the black covered device in hand to the wall was considered a bliss, but he was saint enough to convince himself otherwise. Not when his phone was his gateway out of this mess; the only way maybe. So he tried again; redialing the numbers, manually even.

 “I swear I’ll shred your trench coat to pieces, fucking im-“

The end of the line connected midway his constant ranting.

“Oh thank God above you finally answered! What took you so long?”

“Ever heard of Bio lecture Yoongi?”, the soft voice at the receiving end answers calmly, though Yoongi knew the person was beyond annoyed.

 Who wouldn’t? Multiple spam in all form of communication, texts, kakaotalk, Instagram dm; at this point, Yoongi wanted to settle down to those damn pigeons. Even Yoongi would be out of his head if it happen to him, not that it will happen in the near future or anything.

“Don’t outsmart me woman, I’m not in the mood.”

“What is it Yoongi? You know I have class at this time of the day”

“I need your help”, his breath came out breathless than ever.

“Fuck if you’re asking about the same kinetic and potential energy chapter, I’m gonna rip all my nonexistent and existent  hair out of my-“

“Please…”

                                        ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You swear it took you everything not to scream out of frustration watching your phone blow off during lecture period. Plus, the same ID that keeps popping up on the lock screen adds the bitter taste. Once your professor said the word ‘thank-‘, you were already making your way out of the hall, books not even properly shoved in bag and you were sure you left your favourite baby blue Sharpie highlighter behind.

Once in the hallway, you yanked your phone out of your sling bag and slide the screen harshly, already embracing yourself for the upcoming questions and constant groaning. What you did not expect is the person on the other side panting heavily, desperate. Yoongi sounds…distress.You were still processing his jumbled words but once the word ‘please’ escaped his mouth, you froze.

That word is so rare to even pass-through Yoongi’s head, what less say it. The last time you remembered the word ever exist in his sentence, was the day he consulted you at the cafeteria. Head down, full frown and shoulder slumped was some few giveaway you could collect which equals to one thing; failed test.

You were used to people asking you questions, since you were one of the few alphas in curriculum areas. But having Yoongi, the junior of Art and Music Department, Majoring in Music Production asking you to be a full-time physics tutor is…well, unexpected. You pity him, that poor boy seems like he couldn’t breathe for goodness sake, not until you lean back to your metal seats and smile softly, not forgetting to nod along while you utter the word that Yoongi seems dread to hear, ‘Sure, when?’

You swear his eyes shine like a good measure 60 watts light bulb. But that was long time ago, you lost track how long it was though you were sure it won’t be more than a year now, hearing that Yoongi is in serious problem was the main pushover to your muscle cells.

The thing is Yoongi never beg, ever. He never sounds that desperate even when he got 5 per cent on his last two physics quiz, he never sounds this discomfort.

“I’ll be there in five”.

                                          ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You almost lost a footing while climbing the stairs up the boys’ dormitory, but you didn’t stall behind. Once room 103 is in front of you, you proceed to reach out to knock, when you heard an infant’s cry. You froze, chest rising in rapid beat from all the runnings.

“Yoongi?”

The crying was still there, you glance to check the neighbouring room number on the door, confirming that the room in front of you indeed belongs to Yoongi. So you crossed your heart and decided to knock, after all, you go with the concept YOLO. The door opened to reveal a hopelessly in despair Yoongi and a small woven basket on his dinner table, the moving mauve blanket shows that he wasn’t alone in the room, physically anyway.

Though the facts were right in front of your eyes, your mouth was sealed from emitting any word, what less sounds. You just stand there, at his doorstep, mouth agape. The cried were getting louder and the small tiny hands rising from the woven basket was doing nothing other than deepening the frown on Yoongi’s forehead.

“Come on Y/n, say something…”

Once his words registered in yourself, you took a last glance to Yoongi, before backing away into the hallway and sprint off.

“I need to go.”

“Y/n wait!”

No no no, this is bad. He thought Y/n would be different, thought she’ll understand but turns out, she ran away.

“Just…just like Hyoju.”, Yoongi whispers.

The cries from behind him gets louder and he snapped to look at the one sole thing that currently gives him a headache.

“Can you fucking shut it?!”

Yoongi growled but then retracted away from the dining table, against the wall and sliding down on his back until he reaches the floor. A sudden seed of fear bloom in his chest,

“What am I doing, am I already out of my mind? He’s just a baby, what does he even know?”, Yoongi sigh while standing and dragged himself to the basket, brushing along his slender fingers through the baby’s thin hair; his baby. The living being right in front of him is his own making, an act done without even considering about the effect. In this case, Yoongi can admit that he’s one of the few to be blame, maybe THE ONE to be blamed, fuck he was so drunk that night he can barely remember her, the mother of his child, Han Hyoju

The baby’s crying subsided a little as soon as Yoongi’s fingers make contact with the head, as if the touch of a 10-minutes-ago-newly known-father is proof that it’s safe for the little one.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do”, he whispered because it was a fact.

Yoongi was never a fan of kids, he was never a person-type, a typical signs of an introvert. His only source of never-ending help support is none other than his roommate, Dance Major Park Jimin. He helps Yoongi realize that age is just numbers, Yoongi; as a hyung, two years older, seeks more advice than he wants to admit. This whole two years living with Jimin, the topic of conversation never goes off if it didn’t start with Jimin encouraging Yoongi to get some sunlight on him to which Jimin always said, as Yoongi quoted “We don’t need a walking paperwhite corpse walking around campus, hyung. Go out and get some air would you?”.

 It’s just that Jimin’s happy go lucky trait as well as his naturally warm smile is enough to blooms a friendship unlike Yoongi, who people would just point fingers at and said ‘cold, harsh and rock dead’ just by a mere look. Jimin don’t, however. That’s how Yoongi opened up a little to him. But now, that said roommate can’t help him, being on the other side of Korea, back in Busan his hometown for four days(though Yoongi doubt he won’t prolong it) limits Yoongi to ask for any favour to his friend. The kid in front of him will die of thirst first if he waits for Jimin. That’s what left him to his other only friend; Y/L/N Y/N.

But Yoongi could understand what you did, how you act. It’s because both Yoongi and you didn’t share more than three sentences, or on some lucky days short bickering outside of your tutoring hour. He only knows the basic things for someone to be an acquaintance; name, major and room number(because it slipped your mouth once when texting your roommate), but other than that, zero-knowledge. Jimin insisted that he asked more, to what Yoongi always dismiss, he’s too shy or scared, or maybe both.

Though Yoongi knew so much, he still labels you as a friend, which means a name listed in his life whereabouts, significant enough for him, not a nobody. He wanted to smile thinking that you’re indeed a friend to him, but it falters upon remembering you retreated away.

“I’m doomed…”

A sudden burst of the door jolted Yoongi, retracting his hand that once was playing with the baby hairs on his child’s head. You walk in, head high and face determined. You dropped off your school bag by the sofa, the usual place when you hang around Yoongi’s room after tutor session. Yoongi was overwhelmed, all his senses went numb, why did you return?

“Yoongi, does the baby comes with a bag, a pouch, anything other than the basket?”, you already made your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi still got a perfect view of your side profile from where he’s standing.

“Umm-“, Yoongi snapped out of his short trance and reached out for the mustard yellow beg that was originally in the same basket as his child when he first opens his door this morning, “Is this it?”

You glance over to him and nod, motioning him to hand it over. Once the bag is in your hand, you unzip it and pull out a baby bottle. Yoongi just watched in awe as you mixed baby formula, Yoongi assumed the grey paper bag you brought with you contained the powder formulae. He knows he shouldn’t be gawking like that, but he’s completely amazed, the fact that you came back had him racked his brain for a reason why, and now you’re going through all of this just to feed his kid. He felt small. Once the formula milk was done, you walked towards the living room and straight to the dining table, where the baby is. The red face of the baby shows just how long it had been crying.

‘Poor thing.’,  you thought. You put down the baby bottle on the table, hands reached out to swoop out the crying baby and puts the nuzzle near the mouth. After some effort, the baby takes in the nuzzle into his mouth and right away the rooms fell into a deep silence.

“Aww you poor thing, starving huh? It’s okay it’s okay. I got you.”,  you cooed.

Yoongi stood there dumbly, watching you feeding his own child, still confused but for sure, extremely grateful. Now if only explaining is easy enough.

[pickybearcub]

Getting to know Spiderboy: Chapter 2

A/N: Welp... no feedback yet, but well, I haven’t really posted fics here til this one. Just have to keep cracking on then. (Note: Dividers by @whimsicalrogers)

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC

Genre: Friendship/ Adventure/ Family

Warnings: Again, none so far.

Masterlist

**A few days later**

Nadia still couldn't believe that she'd found the actual spider boy's bag. Maybe her family really was a magnet for the out of the ordinary in this world.

The masked vigilante had been spotted more and more throughout Queens. She'd never seen him herself, but the internet was full of blurred pictures and quite a few videos. She'd never expected him to be so young either.

Thank God for Facebook. Why she hadn't thought of it before she made several calls to different Parkers in the phonebook, asking if they had a young relative named Peter or if they knew someone with that name, was embarrassing as hell.

When she'd found who she knew had to be the right Peter Parker less than two minutes from inputting his name in the search bar, she nearly banged her head on the table.

She came across a few group pictures with him in a school marching band and some candid shots of him with who she assumed was his friend with an academic decathlon banner in the background.

From another shot, she made out the name of his school.

Midtown School of Science and Technology

 Ugh… she felt like a stalker.

She could either try her luck spotting him at his school…

Or scroll through more of the pictures and maybe…

Bingo!

Nadia found a selfie of Peter with a woman wearing glasses who looked to be in her thirties. She got a family sort of vibe from it. The picture was tagged too.

 with May Parker

 Lucky…

"May? I'm home." Peter shut the apartment door behind him and slumped onto the couch. "Sorry, I'm late." He'd spent a bit longer on patrol today.

"Peter?" His aunt called. "Look who found your backpack."

The teenager immediately straightened and looked to where May was seated in the dining room, a dark-haired young woman he didn't recognize seated next to her. The stranger looked like she was in her late teens or so.

The lady gave a slightly awkward wave and a small smile.

Peter returned the gesture with an even more awkward half-smile. His wave ended with him pulling a hand through his hair.

"Th-Thanks… uh…" He trailed off when he realized the young woman didn't introduce herself yet.

"Nadia." She said, giving him an apologetic look before turning back to his aunt. "Uh… Ms. Parker, I-"

"Just May, please." Said woman chirped cheerily.

"May…” Nadia corrected herself, “I just wanted to drop off Peter's bag. I'm sure he has a lot of homework and stuff to do. I should be going." She got up from her seat to leave.

"Oh, sweetie. Please stay for dinner. It's the least we could do." May got up as well, remembering the rotisserie chicken she had in the oven. The timer on the appliance rang and called the older woman away before Nadia could protest.

"Well… okay…" The dark-haired lady said to no one in particular as Peter decided to approach the table hesitantly. May would give him a lecture if he just went to his room to avoid interaction with the stranger.

"So… uh, th-thanks again, Nadia." He stuttered out slightly. "B-Better dinner now, I think. Other-Otherwise May might insist on coffee or something another time." Peter chuckled a bit, one side of his lip quirking. He knew just how his aunt could be at times.

"I'll take your word for it." The lady smiled back, this time more relaxed.

"So how did you figure out I owned the- the backpack? and..." A sudden realization hit him and his eyes widened slightly. "How did you know I live here?" He said slowly, body tensing slightly even when he couldn't sense any ill intent from the lady in front of him. Instead of acting like she got caught or something, her cheeks heated and she looked slightly away, letting out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"I found a few papers in your bag with your name on it. Then tried looking you up on Facebook…." Peter could sense that there was more to it than that, but he didn't push. "There were a few pictures of you at Midtown, and I found a few tagged with your aunt's name. Then it was easy just looking up ‘May Parker’ in the phonebook." Nadia scrubbed a hand down her face in embarrassment as she finished her explanation. "God, I'm sorry. I still feel weird and guilty for looking you up like some kind of stalker."

Peter relaxed, shrugging. "N-no need to apologize. I guess- I guess I understand how that would have worked." He knew how easy it could be to find someone with all the social media nowadays. The lady didn't look like she was hiding anything. As far as he could tell, she was sincere. His spider senses weren’t tingling.

---

Dinner would have been a little awkward with a stranger at the table, but May's insistent questions and push for conversation made things quite a bit easier.

Peter found out that Nadia just moved to Queens just two weeks ago and worked part-time at a café a few blocks from the deli store he frequented.

Nadia learned what instrument Peter played in his school band and that he had a best friend named Ned.

The two laughed out loud when they both shot Star Wars references at each other.

May was ecstatic that Peter seemed to have made a new friend. She knew her nephew wasn't a loner, he did have Ned, but it would be nice to have someone else to help keep an eye on Peter. Especially with how strangely he was behaving for the past two months.

The dark-haired woman left the apartment with May promising that she and Peter would visit the café she worked at some time and that the teen would show Nadia some of the sights in Queens when he was free.

Nadia shot the boy a "Don't worry about it" look when May wasn't looking.

Peter was honestly relieved. Nadia was nice, but he didn't really know her to not be unbelievably awkward if he gave her a tour. Though, when he thought about it while he emptied his newly returned backpack in his room, showing her around wouldn't really be a bad thing. It was awesome that she liked Star Wars too.

He found the quizzes that she had mentioned.

Yup.

They did have his name scrawled on the upper left-hand sides.

He let out a breath when his black notebook was one of the things that fell out of the bag. He tensed a bit when he realized it was the one he wrote his web fluid formula ideas in.

"At least all she went through were the papers." Maybe he could use his chemistry class to try mixing a new formula-

Peter gaped at the sauce stain in the middle of the page. A note was stuck on the bottom, written on a Post-it.

 Sorry about the mess.

 Next time you need a place to leave your bag,

I can take care of it for you. The fire escape at my building faces the alley.

I'll put my spider plant out so it's easier to spot.

(Not me trying to be funny. I actually already had that plant before I found your bag. It was ahousewarming gift.)

 There was an address scribbled at the bottom of the note, along with an apartment number.

:: Boss, there’s been some suspicious activity that might suggest someone is searching for Mr. Parker.::

Tony Stark frowned. "Already?" He'd recently connected the dots regarding the teenager being the new masked vigilante that was swinging around New York. From what he'd seen, the boy had a lot of potential. "Bring up the data, FRIDAY."

Searches by a Nadia Capelli for Peter Parker on Facebook. Not really anything alarming. Could be a girl with a crush.

Nope.

What did a woman in her twenties want from a kid like Peter?

What really did raise a red flag were the calls this Nadia made before the search. She'd managed to ring up quite a few "Parkers" in the phonebook before resorting to social media. A call to May Parker was then registered a few minutes after the search.

So she was specifically looking for Peter. Even more concerning was that she apparently just moved to Queens barely two weeks before she started searching.

What made Tony decide to keep tabs on this Nadia Capelli was the fact that records of her were quite a bit lacking for someone her age. He couldn't let a possible threat get to Peter Parker before the man could decide whether or not he was going to take the boy under his wing.

Nadia wasn't really surprised when a red and blue costumed figure landed on her fire escape the next night.

She disregarded his agitated posture, sliding open the window and sticking her head out.

"Spider boy! Looks like you have your bag with you this time." She grinned. "I've got brownies." She slipped back inside after that simple statement.

Peter took a few deep breaths to control his anxiety before he ducked through the window. He ignored the rest of the apartment and went straight to the kitchen. Nadia was slicing said pastries into squares.

"You said you only-"

"You sound a little muffled, Peter." She replied offhandedly while placing half the brownies on a plate and the other half in a paper bag.

The boy put his laced fingers behind his neck and paced agitatedly, "Oh man…." His fear was confirmed. Someone knew he was Spider-Man. It was a split-second decision, but he pulled off his mask and goggles.

"You said you only looked through my quiz papers!" Peter's voice was high-pitched and cracked at the end.

"I said I saw your name on some of them. I just didn't mention that I looked through your notebook to find a few more hints to your school and such." She clarified simply, moving a bit closer to the distraught teenager.

"B-but-!" Nadia cut the boy off, raising a hand before he could work himself well into a panic. "Finding that page was pure coincidence. I swear, I won't tell anybody."

Peter's eyes were wide, and he was wringing his hands. "P-please-" There really wasn’t any protocol for someone finding out his secret. He’d been careful!

"I won't." She said softly. "I'm sure not even your aunt knows…"

The boy shook his head in response.

"Which is why I didn't say anything about the notebook. I didn't want you to freak out in front of your aunt. That would have been hard to play off." Nadia chuckled.

Peter forced out a small laugh, his brain still in panic mode. The dark-haired young woman noticed the still present tension in his shoulders.

"Peter, I know what it's like to have to keep a secret." She assured, continuing to speak in a soothing tone. He looked doubtful. A sigh escaped her lips.

Before Peter could say anything else, Nadia mumbled something under her breath.

The bag of brownies on the kitchen island glowed slightly before gently floating over to her outstretched hand. The light faded when she clutched the top of the paper in her fingers.

Peter gaped, his jaw dropping.

"There's no way I'm giving you the recipe for these brownies." She said with a smile before placing the bag in the teen��s hands. "But if you or your aunt want more, just say so." She pats his shoulder, leading him back to the window.

The wide-eyed teen seemed to have collected some of his wits and turned to her. "You- You can-"

Nadia put a finger to her lips and winked.

"Put your mask on, Spider-boy. And you better put those in your bag before you swing off." The young woman gestured to the paper bag.

Peter fumbled for a moment and did as she said, adjusting the goggles over his eyes. He was out on the fire escape before he paused to look at Nadia again. "Thank you." He breathed, a little overwhelmed with relief and wonder as well.

"If you need anything, Spider-boy." She smiled before waving her hand in a shooing motion.

Peter smiled back under his mask. "It's Spider-Man." He said before turning and shooting a web to swing away.

"Boy!" Nadia hollered after him just before he disappeared around another building.

---

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