Satellites

Pairing: Galen Erso/Orson Krennic (pre-relationship, can be read as platonic), also Krennic is still a teen here so any romantic feelings are one sided

A little thing I wrote for these two during their time in the Futures Program. Tagging @russiandeathcup and @enaelyork because I think you might be interested in this :) enaelyork, my headcanons are a bit different from yours but I hope I managed to capture the essence of these two nonetheless!

I cut some corners with editing so please excuse me if it's a bit of a mess lol. Finally, all the science stuff is made up as per star wars tradition ___

Waking up was a laborious experience.

But then again, Orson Krennic surmised, he probably wasn’t doing himself any favors by falling asleep the way he did. Raising a hand to rub at eyes that were crusted shut he felt around to check for any additional presences in bed with him and immediately there was a groan to his right while someone else wriggled in dismay. Orson grinned.

It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had passed out before he could summon the good sense to get back to his room.

With some of his good cheer restored he flexed his neck and cracked open an eye to survey some of his previous night's partymates sprawled over each other on the single bed, all in various states of disarray.

The room itself was a similar mess and reeked of alcohol but that was a given since it was the kind of night he barely remembered anything of. And as much as he wanted to sleep the rest of his hangover off (not as bad as last time, he was getting better at this), there was a steady stream of sunlight coming through the window and, well, Orson Krennic had better things to do with his day.

Like making sure there was another pleasant end to it, like last night's.

So he ran a hand through his hair, said a quick prayer of thanks for the lack of any vomit in sight and began the long process of extricating himself from the bed, whispering a quick apology to the girl lying half on top of him as she groaned again.

Some patting down fixed the worst of his uniform and after fishing around for a bit, he managed to find his jacket and tug it out from under one of the senior years before slipping his boots on.

He made a point of tucking his pant legs inside – a personal if unusual style choice but he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those ugly uniforms without a few tweaks – and before long he was off, striding out into the bright sunlight of Brentaal.

The building he’d somehow found himself in last night turned out to be unfamiliar but a quick jog to the nearest busy walkway had him back on track. Half a year of gallivanting to his heart’s content had ensured he knew most of the grounds like the back of his hand.

And it certainly had its perks.

From his new starting point, he was able to weave his way between dorm buildings, labs and lecture halls until he was at his own dorm complex, bright and gleaming right at the very heart of campus. Normally these buildings were reserved for the cream of the academic crop but in reality most of the people here were simply well connected, much like Orson who had his own wonderful uncle to thank for his placement.

Money, as it turned out, opened a lot more doors than test results. But Orson wasn’t so big of a fool as to underestimate the opportunities the Futures Program offered all by itself.

There was a queue for the turbolifts inside and he bypassed them to get to the stairs. Another trick he’d learned in his time here as this particular stairway connected to the professors’ living wing and he shot one of his instructors a grin on the way up, getting an eye roll and the faintest of smiles in response. A few more weeks, give or take, and he would have them all charmed, he was sure of it.

Level six was buzzing with activity which wasn’t all too unusual despite it being the middle of the day, with classes having long started. At first glance, the Program took itself more than a little seriously but in reality the people that ran the whole thing were well aware that they were as much a university as a daycare center for the kids of the various bourgeoisie that sponsored them. That, combined with the fact that its occasional sundry geniuses were better off left to their own devices, made for a pretty lively atmosphere, especially at this time of day and Orson couldn’t really complain about it.

On the contrary, the whole thing was suffused with a level of charm he couldn’t deny. Not least of all as a fifteen-year-old hungry for novelty and socialization.

Currently though his mind was set on a shower and some breakfast, maybe with a side of painkillers, and he was well on his way to getting them when he had to pause and do a double take.

He stood there for a couple of seconds staring at the open hatch.

This was Galen’s room, his mind supplied vaguely while the currents of hallway traffic flowed around him. So why was the door open?

Cautiously, Orson looked around before taking a few steps forward. The noise from outside became muffled as he entered the small corridor with adjacent fresher that led into the room itself.

Had someone broken in while Galen was away? Though not many did, his friend was definitely the type to get harassed and Orson wondered if this wasn’t some elaborate prank meant to do just that.

His next thought was that Galen, in his typical distracted fashion, had forgotten to close the door behind him when he’d gone out that morning though Orson had to admit that was a bit much, even for Galen.

Reality as it turned out was unfortunately not too far from that.

Orson felt his body slump in both amusement and relief when he finally rounded the corner, glancing deeper into the room.

As lo and behold there was Galen himself, pacing in front of the bed under the far window where a shrine of notes and a few screens lay scattered in artful disarray. His friend’s face was contorted in its usual pensive grimace as he wrestled with the numbers on some piece of flimsi, mouth moving silently as though struggling to follow the flow of his own thoughts.

It was such a profound display, Orson almost felt bad for interrupting it.

“Hey,” He leaned against the wall casually as Galen’s eyes snapped up to him. He seemed confused for a moment before finally realizing who was standing there in the middle of the room with him.

“Orson.” Galen frowned, distracted. “Did you need anything?”

“You tell me, you invited me here.”

This seemed to confuse Galen even more.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Orson jabbed a thumb in the direction of the doorway.

“You’re inviting everyone in, in fact.”

He mentally counted the seconds while Galen’s brain switched gears and then watched the disgruntlement on his face slowly melt into sheepishness.

“Ah, I must have forgotten to close it when I…right.” Galen mumbled and it took all of Orson’s willpower not to grin. He could envision it now, Galen in a rush to get to the nearest available datapad, practically vibrating with the urge to hunker down and tackle the onslaught of thoughts that were spiraling towards critical mass.

“They should put sensors on these things,” Orson heard him mutter as he threw aside the piece of flimsi, heading for the door.

If only the world were designed for scatterbrains like you, is what he thought to himself privately, suppressing another grin. A hand on Galen’s chest stopped him from getting any further.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” Orson nodded with a wink and sure enough, by the time he was back from that impressively short trip, Galen was already hunched over on his bed, staring a hole through his notes and twisting some poor tortured pen in his fingers as he muttered to himself.

Orson made himself comfortable at the other end and leaned back against the headboard as he watched his friend work. For how unusual it was, it was hardly the first time they found themselves in this position. With Galen chipping away at the mysteries of the universe while Orson sat quietly to the side, immersing himself in the peaceful atmosphere of it all and letting his mind drift.

It had become a sort of therapy for him, embarrassingly enough. And it didn’t help that Galen didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, going so far as to make room for him on whatever surface he’d perched himself on. Either that or he didn’t notice Orson at all and accommodated him on autopilot but Orson found that he didn’t mind either way.

This morning the ritual was particularly productive in chasing away the lingering dregs of his hangover and Orson almost found himself drifting off to sleep when he was rudely awoken by the growl of his own stomach.

“You should get something to eat,” Galen said offhandedly, in that way that implied he was on autopilot again.

Orson was just about to agree, reluctantly, when Galen spoke again, directing him to the fridge. Orson felt his brow furrow.

“You have food here?” he asked in disbelief as Galen waved a dismissive hand.

“I stock up at the end of every week.”

Somewhat caught off guard, Orson pondered that for a moment but then decided that he could envision it. Making an unwilling but necessary trip to one of the campus stores and stocking up with a precisely calculated amount of rations to get him through the week was a very Galen thing indeed. It must take some effort, after all, to be this much of a recluse.

Which raised the question…

“Well, I don’t want to eat your food if it means you’ll starve.” Orson frowned but his worries were met with the same dismissal.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The look on Galen’s face indicated that he had already moved on from the conversation and so despite his hesitation Orson decided that he may as well make use of the offer. It was either that or scour his room for whatever instameal scraps or junk food he hadn’t managed to devour in his drunken stupors and right now that sounded decidedly unappealing.

He got up and padded to Galen’s fridge, opening it to find just what he expected. A small stack of granola bars that he quickly calculated to correspond to three meals per every remaining day of the week.

He shook his head. Galen was a good foot taller than him (the disadvantages of being a teenager and late to his last growth spurt) and this was a pathetic amount of food for him. If it weren’t for the occasional lunch Orson knew Galen’s professors sometimes dragged him out to, he may have been worried. As it was, he simply grabbed the nearest bar and went back to reclaim his spot on the bed.

At the very least, his stomach was grateful for the bland breakfast.

After eating his food as quietly as possible (Galen didn’t like noise while he concentrated), he returned to his earlier state of meditative relaxation. Until at some point he noticed Galen’s face twitch and an ever so subtle change occur in it.

Anyone else might have missed it but Orson had always been observant and part of that entailed being able to discern the differences in Galen’s seemingly passive expressions. He could tell, quite reliably by now, when Galen’s thoughts were racing behind those narrowed eyes and when they had hit a wall. And just now his train of thought had come to a screeching halt.

“Orson, can I ask you something?” Galen muttered after a while and Orson nodded lazily from his spot.

“Mhm, shoot.”

His friend then proceeded to bombard him with two increasingly complicated hypotheses that Orson did his best to follow despite failing miserably by the end. Nonetheless he paid close attention to Galen’s every word, the gestures and diagrams he drew in the air around him as he weaved complex science jargon together.

“So what do you think?” Galen asked hopefully at the end of it all, looking at Orson as though he genuinely believed he could be the solution to his problem. A rather flattering if overly optimistic thought.

Never let it be said that Orson Krennic didn’t come through in a pinch however.

“Here’s the deal,” Orson started, “I understood a fraction of the first one and nothing of the second so it must be that one.”

The explanation didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of agreeing Galen looked oddly contrite all of a sudden.

“Come now, Orson, don’t be like that…” he mumbled and Orson could practically feel the regret radiating off him. So worried that he’d somehow made Orson feel inadequate by getting carried away.

Orson shook his head mentally, allowing himself a little lopsided smirk.

For all that Galen was a plank of wood when it came to tact sometimes and for all that he outstripped most people here in terms of intelligence by light-years, being friends with him could be a surprisingly self-affirming experience. Orson doubted, for one, that anyone cared as much about his feelings and self-esteem as Galen Erso did.

But that wasn’t the point here and Orson hurried to put them back on track.

“No, I’m being serious. Think about it, I have a basic understanding of advanced chemistry and physics, about as good as the average first year around here, and if I was able to get what you were talking about then it only makes sense that someone has already thought of, tested it and proved that it doesn’t work.”

He shrugged and leaned back against the headboard. “It’s just statistical probability.”

This time his wors seemed to get through to Galen and his friend sat there contemplating it for a moment before finally accepting it for what it was.

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded with a rare smile. “Though I’m not necessarily happy with the reasoning behind it. Thank you, Orson.”

Orson responded with a grin of his own.

“Hey, if nothing else, I’m good at pointing geniuses in the right direction. I have a nose for it.” He stopped as though actually considering it.

“You know, you should probably hire me to do it full time for you. I can see myself with a career like that.”

Galen huffed, already going back to his notes.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He stuck around for a while after until the urge to change into clean clothes and eat a proper meal finally won out and he left Galen to his silent scribbling.

Later that evening found him ambling down a decidedly more deserted campus with one hand nestled in his jacket pocket and the other loosely holding to the top of a flimsi bag. It was that odd transitional hour when students had already gone home from class and the more avid party goers had yet to spill out into the streets.

The majority were probably still winding down while others were stuck doing last minute work on their assignments.

Orson, being the only master of his own schedule, was on a mission instead.

He trekked the familiar route from the foyer up to the sixth level, bypassing the turbolifts even when there was no queue outside, and stopped in front of Galen’s room to knock. Moments later he heard shuffling inside which was a promising sign as Galen probably wouldn’t have heard him at all if he was in one of his trances. 

The door opened to reveal a mussed looking Galen who squinted at him in confusion.

Nevertheless, he quickly moved out of the way when Orson pushed past him to get into the room.

“I’ve got something important to show you, come on.”

The urgency in his voice must have piqued Galen’s interest because he closed the door and shuffled after him without a second thought, probably thinking it was another gadget Orson had lifted from the lab or some other scientific curiosity.

Orson took advantage of it and dropped his bag on the desk Galen had repurposed as an impromptu lab station, stepping back to let Galen open it. His friend’s face instantly drained of excitement as he revealed what was inside.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled in confusion, staring at the plastic containers and their contents.

Orson snorted.

“Of course you don’t. This,” He pointed at the bag. “is real food. And it’s probably the first time you’re seeing any.”

He let the smirk he’d been disguising finally crawl over his face and took extra joy in the exasperation mixed with grudging embarrassment that bloomed over Galen’s.

And real food it certainly was because Orson didn’t cut any corners. He hadn’t scouted every food place in and around campus, making sure not to get too inebriated in the process, for nothing. If you wanted the best food in radius of two klicks, Orson Krennic was your guy.

Even Galen, seemingly convinced by the smell of freshly grilled vegetables and meat, didn’t complain about his antics for once and they both sat down to eat what was unmistakably better than a chalky granola bar.

In the course of wiping their respective containers clean, they talked about Galen’s research. It was rare to see Galen this animated and Orson studied the reaction as his friend rambled about dead ends and insufficient data.

“I need to do this in a lab,” Galen said, scraping the bottom of his container with his chopsticks. “The geology hall here has a databank on Darellian crystals and a physics simulator built into the display console. If I could use that along with some of the research logged into the databanks, this whole thing would go much faster.”

Orson had been quietly following along, already feeling the inklings of a plan coming together.

“You know what,” he said after a while, “you might be able to do just that.”

It was already dark by the time they ventured out into the cobbled tree-lined walkways. Precious minutes remained until the place was crowded but Galen still clamped a hand over Orson’s mouth, silencing his cackling, when he boldly announced they were once again about to witness the talents of the great Orson Krennic. Orson considered it a personal achievement that he could get stuffy Galen Erso to follow along in his antics.

If he were to give himself even more credit, he would even say that was a smile playing on Galen’s lips.

Convincing the hall’s security guard to let them in was much easier in comparison. Especially when Orson was notorious for wheedling extra lab time for his projects from their professors. Inside, he took a seat on one of the front row benches and once again found himself in that same meditative state as before as Galen flicked between the holoboard and simulation projector, occasionally flipping through an ancient-looking flimsi booklet and scribbling unintelligible notes on the board.

In the meantime, Orson asked himself when he had become so fascinated with Galen. And the answer, frankly, was almost immediately after he’d first seen him.

It’d been during a joined physics class, with freshmen and senior years from all over the Program, when the professor had called on Orson to give an answer to one of the problems. Ever the performer, Orson had detached one of the microscopes’ digital magnifiers and climbed onto the table to spy the answer on the professor’s datapad much to the whole hall’s amusement.

After the excitement had died down the professor had turned to Galen, drawing Orson’s attention for the first time to the tall quiet student at the back of the hall. Galen had given a quick detailed response without even looking up from his datapad and though his odd demeanor hadn’t garnered nearly as much attention, Orson had felt a brief pinch of annoyance at what he perceived as having his spotlight stolen.

That feeling had quickly given way to curiosity however as he kept shooting discreet glances at Galen for the rest of the class. The rest was just a matter of approaching him after the lecture and slowly worming his way into Galen’s awareness until the latter had been forced to admit defeat and relinquish some of his self-imposed solitude.

Orson was nothing if not persistent and Galen – too polite to nip his growing advances in the bud. And given enough time, Orson could make himself agreeable to anyone as he’d been able to prove with Galen.

Which led them to the present moment, with Galen so inured to his presence and casual favors that he allowed him to loiter nearby while he worked – Galen, who valued his personal space more than anything – and regularly updated him on his progress.

It was strange if you thought about it too much. Orson himself couldn’t explain what drew him to Galen in the first place. He’d always thought it was the ostentatious types for him, the loud and exuberant, the ones he could compete with for attention and follow into mischief and glory. Yet there they were, as balanced a duo as you could get.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Galen murmured as if reading his thoughts and Orson watched him get down from the podium to flip a few more pages on his booklet. He scribbled a few more notes on his datapad and pursed his lips in thought.

“Orson could you do these calculations for me, I need this to go faster.”

That brought Orson’s reverie to a stumbling halt and he blinked at Galen, almost panicked.

“Me?” he asked in disbelief. “Doing your calculations? Don’t be ridiculous, Galen, you should just input them into a computer.”

Galen glared at him from his spot at the lecturer’s desk. “That would take too much time. Besides, it’s just some Tivix equations, I know you can handle that.”

Orson was about to protest but Galen was already walking back to the holoboard and opening another window to scribble on.

“I don’t know who convinced you you’re stupid Orson,” he said, his back still turned to him, “but you’re not. You should know better than that.”

The rudimentary protest died on Orson’s tongue and he felt his throat constrict as the meaning of Galen’s words registered in his mind. Finding himself utterly speechless, he averted his eyes to the table in front of him, unable to help it.

Not ‘stupid’, his mind corrected mechanically, but rather not smart enough.

For a horrifying moment, he had the suspicion that Galen had seen right through him there and then. All those times he had avoided doing things the right way, finding roundabout methods and tricks to get the result he wanted rather than tackling the problem head on. Did Galen know what lay beneath it? The crippling fear of inadequacy that Orson fought so hard to suppress?

The lengths he went to to avoid finding out just how incapable he really was?

Did Galen know about all of it?

Orson swallowed heavily, trying to bring his thoughts back under control.

Then tentatively, he got up and walked over to the datapad Galen had left to display a few rows of glowing numbers and barely legible notes.

He’d never thought he would graduate the program. Just like many of the students here, he had never entered it with the intention of getting all the way through. He was just like the people he partied with, careless and enjoying the brief stint of freedom their parents had bought for them to get them out of their hair or add some vague prestigious credentials to their name. Everyone knew the program was filled with people like that.

Orson himself had yearned for the chance to escape his guardians’ supervision, obsessed with the notion of complete independence and the chance of making new contacts. His doting uncle and aunt had been indulgent in allowing him that but nobody had actually ever believed anything would come out of it.

Orson was flighty. Frivolous. Given to indulgence. Things he had long come to terms with and didn’t feel too strongly about to change. He was quick-witted and perceptive, sure, and he had the head to make decent progress in his studies but his future was in politics and public services much like his uncle’s. It was a step down from what he’d always wanted but after some deliberation he had agreed there was ample opportunity there.

Now though, slowly going through Galen’s equations to the sound of his friend’s muttering, he wondered if there wasn’t still a chance for him. That maybe, if someone like Galen saw potential in him, there was a point in at least trying…

Galen wasn’t necessarily a good judge of character but he was surprisingly good at telling what was worth his time and what wasn’t. And if he had tolerated Orson so far, not to mention involving him in his research, then if not his own judgement, perhaps Orson could trust Galen’s. After all it was only fair given how often Galen had taken a leap of faith for him.

Galen was, at the end of the day, an exceptional man. Orson could tell better than anyone. If Galen’s instincts were attuned to the invisible currents of numbers and data, Orson had the same aptitude for telling where the seeds of greatness lied.

That greatness was sure to germinate in Galen and who knows, swept along in its tide maybe Orson could reach new heights as well. Ones that he had never dared hope for before.

Tentatively taking hold of that thought, he let his fingers glide more confidently over the surface of the screen.

Yes, there was merit in giving this a go, he decided privately. And even if he did fail, Orson thought taking one long look at the sure line of Galen’s profile against the glow of the holoboard, at least he would have basked in Galen’s light for a little bit longer.

And he couldn’t find himself objecting to that.

X-Men: The Hidden Years 8 (July 2000)

John Byrne & Tom Palmer

Remember when I kept complaining during First Class that it didn't do enough to interlink with the existing stories, and didn't take advantage of the interesting possibilities of being a prequel comic? Well, I take it all back.

So finally some of the various strands of this book have reunited when three of the X-Men return to the Professor: but now we have the Fantastic Four in the mix too. Oh and because this was canonically true in this period, I guess, Sue Storm is absent, replaced by Crystal, one of the Inhumans, who like all the Inhumans has weird-ass hair. If there's a Marvel team I like less than the Fantastic Four, it's the Inhumans. Why are they all here? They're here to chew gum, do some space bullshit and listen to more flashbacks, and they're all out of gum.

This issue is mostly focused on this one strand, but that only makes it all the crazier when we get literally four panels of Angel's separated-from-the-others plotline in here, along with three panels of the still-going-nowhere Candy Southern plotline and five of Ka-Zar hanging out with Lorna and Alex. Lorna is admittedly serving cunt.

The main plotline, though, sees the FF and the reduced X-Men go back into space to deal some more with the Z'Nox, the evil aliens who Xavier had to psychic away from Earth in the waning days of the original series: Reed Richards, in his usual annoying way, has determined that they're still a threat and shown up with a hyperspace ship that transports them to the other side of the galaxy in seconds to go and, I dunno, do genocide to the Z'Nox or something.

As mentioned before, I don't really think X-Men is or should be a space opera book - there are elements of this stuff that work but readers don't come here for pure sci-fi and the incorporation of these elements is always realy rushed as entire galactic civilizations get introduced and dismissed in a few pages. This issue's last page takes a wild turn, however, as we're apparently getting into a little retroactive sneak preview of the Phoenix Force. Hmmm.

No Strings Attached - Pt.2

Y/N vs. Dangerous Cardio

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3400

Summary: It’s all very sweet until it isn’t.

Warnings: swearing, Steve in a gym, mention of a migraine, violence, gun violence

A/N: Enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You woke up with a startle; some shuffling and a click of a drawer made your snap eyes open and follow the sound. Steve’s back welcomed you as he was fishing out something hidden to your sight.

What time was it? What day was it? Why had you been you sleeping when Steve looked like he just got home from work? Why didn’t he wake you?

…hold on. It was Tuesday and there were those Ministry people at the uni and the strange test and you got the splitting headache--- what time was it that Steve was already home?

You groaned when you noticed the drawn curtains, last sunrays peeking through and colouring the sky. Jesus. Had you slept through the majority of the day?!

“Babygirl?” Steve’s voice reached your ears and your head whipped back to him automatically, thanking heavens when your temples didn’t throb with the sudden movement.

He placed the socks on top of the drawer, making his way to you, concern drawing his brows together, creating those lovely worried wrinkles on his forehead.

“Uh-huh?” you hummed as you sat up, once again pleasantly surprised that the world wasn’t swimming in front of your eyes, no blurred vision, nothing.

Aside from feeling sleepy, you were… fine. Which was kinda strange, but you weren’t about to complain.

Sitting next to you on the bed, Steve gently sunk his fingers into your hair, dropping a sweet lingering kiss on your forehead. Lips never leaving your skin, beard scratching lightly, they caressed your temples next; and you realized what was happening, your own lips curling up in a smile as pleasant warmth spread in your chest at Steve’s worry.

He was lowkey checking for fever.

“You’re not subtle,” you informed him, both amused and touched.

His words vibrated against your skin as his mouth moved a bit higher again, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Not trying to be. How do you feel?”

“How do you even know I wasn’t feeling good?”

He withdrew a little – not before he dropped a cheeky kiss on your nose – raising a challenging eyebrow.

“Ibuprofen on the table and you sleeping at five in the afternoon after only attending one class?” he offered with a smirk, but you weren’t fooled. It worried him. You weren’t a perfect student, but you rarely skipped class; especially Callahan’s class, because you immensely enjoyed it.

“Fair enough. Is it really five already?” you asked rhetorically, running a hand through your hair, catching Steve’s own and brushing the soft skin of his wrist with your lips; a silent thank you for fussing. He gave a brief smile, pulling you to his side, letting your head lull against his shoulder. “When did you come home?”

“Just a few minutes ago, unfortunately. Kept messing stuff up when I wanted to leave the office.”

Because I was worried, was left unspoken and you sighed, wrapping your arm around Steve’s stomach, drawing soothing circles on his side.

Steve was a mother hen; it wasn’t something that was widely known about him, but you had had several opportunities to experience it and you loved it… most of the time. Then again, it brought unnecessary concern to weight his shoulders down.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. How did you know? Did Bucky tell you something?” you wondered, faintly remembering his gaze having following you as you left.

“Linda Parson dropped by to tell me, actually.”

A snort escaped you and you laughed into Steve’s shoulder, fingers clutching his waist. You felt your cheeks warm up with both amusement and embarrassment when you recalled your last encounter with her.

“Was she able to look you in the eye?” you chuckled, causing Steve to retreat and watch you with puzzlement written all over his face.

“Not really-- how did you-?“

“I was kinda out of it. I’m pretty sure I told on you that you don’t usually sleep naked. And that we totally went at it before going to school today. And that your hair looks really good in the morning.”

Steve’s eyebrows gradually rose until they nearly got lost in his hairline. “Uhm… that would explain it. Also… thanks?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

One corner of his lips rose higher in appreciation and then he looked you in the eye, serious again. “How do you feel?”

You didn’t hesitate – and you didn’t have to make up things just to calm his obvious anxiety. You simply spoke the truth.

“…surprisingly good, actually. Headache’s all gone, which is… weird. Frankly, it was terrible, I can’t remember feeling anything like it before.”

Steve’s gaze travelled all over your face, tender fingers tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before he proceeded to kiss the presumably offending spots on your face. You couldn’t but smile widely, pulling him in for a proper kiss, which he willingly surrendered to.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he whispered, brushing his nose with yours.

“Not your fault.”

“Well, you did sleep for a while as if you were catching up on lost hours… maybe I’m keeping you awake too much,” he remarked cheekily and you rolled your eyes at the switch of moods, tickling his side which caused him to chuckle and swiftly retreat.

“Har-har. Do you hear me complaining?”

“Nope, usually you’re just asking for more.”

You gaped at him and chuckled breathlessly, feeling your stomach flutter at the memories of you doing exactly that. “You are incorrigible, Professor Rogers.”

He only smirked and pecked your lips. “Sweetheart, you’re forgetting I know you wrote about having your cunt eaten out and getting railed against the desk in my office and thanking me for it.”

This time you sputtered, almost choking on your spit at such low blow; playful, yes, but brutal. Also – such language!

“Steve!”

“So I don’t think you should be playing this whole ‘you’re incorrigible’ game with me.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’re a menace.”

“Oh babygirl, you know it... just for you,” he assured you with a grin, his eyes now completely cleared of all worry, humour twinkling in them instead. “Anyway, I uh… I was thinking the gym, since it’s Tuesday, but-“

Right. Another thing about Tuesday. Sweaty Steve and workout. Yum and—eh. Okay.

“Of course. I’m coming with.”

You felt better – you felt completely fine, to be honest. And if it got worse by exercising, well… you could always just settle for taking it awfully easy in order to watch Steve’s biceps bulge under weights, his perfect ass growing even rounder while doing squats.

Oh yeah, you were so coming with.

“Are you sure? I mean, we can totally stay in, I don’t want you to-" he fussed again, but you just shut him up with a quick kiss.

“I’m fine, Stevie. Plus, you’re like a damn model. I need to keep up at least a bit.” You couldn’t but grimace at that a bit, drawing an offended sound from him.

“Hey!” he protested, frowning. “Thanks and all that, but what are you even talking about? Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. My perfect, perfect pretty girl-“

You squinted at him playfully as he turned your lame attempt at a joke – that might have been a bit serious, because had you seen him – into a compliment. “Charmer. But I mean in general, you know. They say it’s healthy to do sports. Plus, we paid for that couple membership, so…”

“Ah, yes, at least once a week together to get a discount. What were we thinking?”

“That sex doesn’t count if it’s the only exercise we do,” you shot back instantly, this time making him snort in amusement.

“I love you, babygirl. And I know I keep saying it, but I love how your mind works,” he added sweetly, kissing your forehead again as if he wanted to make sure you really weren’t running a fever and thus were ready to be cleared to leave the bed by nurse Rogers.

“Love you too, Stevie. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Exercising was not such a great idea.

Obviously, Steve delivered; watching him lift weights and work out in general was a delight, your mind helpfully supplying the huffs and other noises you knew he was making occasionally, but couldn’t be heard over the music.

And you actually did enjoy going just for yourself; the endorphins worked wonders for your mood, always. Even today, in the first few minutes as you jogged and then even ran on the treadmill, you were having fun.

But then the previous headache echoed dully in your skull; barely there, considerably less intense than in the morning, but you certainly had no plan to push it. You did not want to be where you had been earlier today.

So you eased up your tempo at first, the pulses in your temples slowing down and then you resigned entirely and switched to a different machine. Less cardio, more strength training, while you did not forget to get an enticing view of your fiancé, recalling other times his face got flushed like this.

Except not even sinful thoughts could quite erase the barely-there tingle of pain.

You gave up with a sigh, wiping your hands to your leggings and approached the most handsome man in the gym.

Steve carefully set his weights down, hair sticking to his forehead in a way that should not be as attractive as it was and smiled at you curiously.

“Hey there, handsome,” you humoured him, earning a breathless chuckle.

“Hey beautiful. What do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Your eyebrows jumped, smile faltering.

“I’m gonna get some air, just wanted to let you know.”

“You okay?” he asked, damp eyebrows furrowing and you couldn’t resist – you smoothened the line out, for some reason actually revelling in how sticky the skin was. “Gross,” Steve mumbled in return.

“How dare you. I’m… fine. Just feeling the head again and don’t want to overdo it. Fresh air might help,” you offered with a shrug.

“Fresh air? In New York City?”

“Fresh-ish.”

Steve dropped a kiss to your forehead, people around be damned and smiled at you, the concern still undeniably present.

“Just don’t run off on me.”

“Run off? On this?” you joked and not joked at all, gesturing to his body vaguely, earning an eye-roll.  Oh but you knew he liked to have his body appreciated alright. The attractive body just happened to hide a soul that would make angels weep, giving him a reason to actually love him. As a refiner of that, you tapped his chest lightly above his heart, grinning up at him. “And from this? I wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie.”

His gaze softened, probably following you even as you made your way to the lockers.

“Don’t forget your coat!” he called out lowly, but loud enough for you and a few people around to hear. You snorted to yourself as the on-lookers probably thought he was being like an overprotective parent – and yet, you smiled at his care.

“Mother-hen…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You were frankly grateful to have your coat – warmed up from the gym, the early March air was still rather cold against your skin. You made a mental note to thank Steve, thoroughly, for looking out you. He had also had a point; fresh air in New York wasn’t exactly an available article, but you supposed this would do.

Trying to ease the headache, you breathed in deeply, deciding against leaning against a similarly cold and dirty wall, walking slowly instead, glad that the street was one of the less frequented ones as the gym was just outside the busiest city centre.

You opted for subtly observing your fellow citizens in order to relax your mind and to resist the usual urge to pull out your phone and check what was new in the world. You played a game with yourself, one Steve asked you to play with him sometimes and which always resulted in him complimenting your unique mind which he claimed to love so much; just watching people, wondering about what their story was.

You were ninety percent sure that the guy in the beige trench coat was an accountant hating his job, but sticking with it for the sake of his loved ones; a ring told you there was definitely a significant other for him if not a whole family.

The woman your eyes fell on next, on the other hand, loved her job. Either she had a very enthusiastic colleague she was discussing a certain problem with – her eyes were shining with excitement, mouth seemingly forming very long words, likely a scientist then – or the said colleague was more than a colleague. You felt one corner of your lips rise; you knew a thing or two about blurred lines.

The next guy was--- well, hunk. Judging by his built, you would think he was heading for the gym you were hovering around, definitely reckoning him as a regular visitor. But in his leather jacket, jeans and cap, an inconspicuous clothing at first glance, there was just something about him that unsettled you.

Your heart skipped a startled beat when your eyes met. Your insides twisted uncomfortably as his irises flashed with an emotion you didn’t dare to try and read.

His shoulders seemed even wider now as his right hand reached to his lower back, probably to adjust his jeans and pull them higher to shield his loins from the cold. You didn’t blame him, his jacket wasn’t exactly long, more of a fashion statement, than a practical choice-

“GET DOWN!”

The world swayed of its place as something collided with you hard, the woman’s cry barely having reached your ears before she slammed into you. You landed on your side with a hiss of pain as you hit the ground, but the quiet sound was drowned in something much louder – something that made your blood run cold.

The bang rattled through the city noise, instantly followed by screams—and to your horror, more shots were fired before your brain even registered that someone--- someone actually fired a gun.

Multiple times.

And few of those shots rang right from above you, forcing you to close your eyes and flinch violently in fear.

“Get up!”

Your side throbbed with pain, your chest constricted as you couldn’t breathe in, the command falling on deaf ears.

An iron solid grip circled your arm and tugged you half-way up. Your eyes snapped open, catching a glimpse of blond ponytail before your vision blurred with sudden tears and another loud bang thundered through your head.

“Go, GO!”

Your feet acted on their own accord, moving swiftly, stumbling as you were forced to stagger whichever direction you were being pulled.

Heart racing as if it was meant to escape your chest, the world seemed too slow and too fast at once. You couldn’t tell how you were running away from the terrible noise, but you were – and you were still being tugged to follow your companion god knew where, hand on your bicep, fingers digging in, people getting out of your way more than willingly.

And for a good reason.

It finally connected in your brain that--- that was definitely gun in the woman’s hand. You instantly came to a halt, desperately yanking away from her grip.

“Hey!” she complained and you managed to get a look at the woman manhandling you at last, even as she kept looking back and forth as if checking whether you were being followed.

You felt your jaw go slack. She was familiar; very vaguely, but unmistakably familiar.

“Are you-“ you choked out, fear mixing with relief, because this was definitely the woman from today’s morning, the one who was with the ministry even if she wasn’t wearing glasses anymore and what the hell, did the Ministry of Foreign Affairs teach people how to shoot or-

You yelped when a black jeep pulled over by the sidewalk, causing you to instinctively jump back; and to forget for a second that there was a stranger right next to you who had just been in a gunfight probably on your side and got you as far away from the weird gunman as possible.

The backseat door flew open.

“Get in, Walker!”

Walker. Right. That was her name – the name Chuck, Carmichael, had introduced her with as his colleague. And now this.

What the hell was going on and what had it to do with you?! Why did the woman grab you of all people?!

“Come on, we’re here to help, I promise,” Walker blurted out, her sharp gaze still scanning the street, her head beckoning towards the vehicle.

For some reason, you believed her.

Because she had had an opportunity to shoot you instead of shooting after the guy who had just pulled out a gun in the middle of a peaceful street and she hadn’t.

Decision was made. She certainly was the lesser evil at the moment, even if going with her included meeting whoever was driving the jeep and he could be worse than the gunman. But there was no time to lose any more time by your useless pondering.

You climbed into the car, swiftly followed by the blond, door shutting close just as a bullet hit the wingmirror, making you nearly jump out of your skin and scream bloody murder in fright.

You were knocked backwards to the seat and to the side as the driver stomped on the gas harshly, darting from the side of the road into the traffic, horns complaining all around you as he had no regards for the regulations.

“You alright?” the deep timbre from the front seat asked, a grunt following when he took a sharp right, causing you to crash into the other woman.

Your head was spinning, the roller-coaster of madness momentarily rendering you speechless – but the question wasn’t aimed at you.

Which was good, because you were not okay in the slightest.

You were hyperventilating, your lungs burning from the improvised run, your muscles ached from the gym visit and the extra work-out which involved running from a fucking shooter. Your head was back to pounding and your heart felt like it might give out any second.

And you were definitely crying, but all that was the least of your concern, because-- what the fuck was happening?!

Who were these people? Who was the guy who--- who just decided to shoot into the crowd, nearly shooting you? Why did Walker snatch you away from the place, to supposed safety? Why not the others and--- oh god, the others.

Steve!

“We’re good. He obviously got away, but I think I took a good look on a tattoo on the side of his neck.”

The driver – tall, wide-shouldered, with dark-ish hair, that much you could see even with your vision swimming in tears – only grumbled in response.

Before you could say a single word (or yell), your phone vibrated in your pocket and you instantly made a grab for it, pulling it out.

“Is that a phone?!”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about this,” your blond companion blurted out in response to the irritated question from the driver’s seat.

You didn’t even get to accept Steve’s call before the device was yanked from your hand--- and a second later, a knife was sticking out of it, lead straight through the middle.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, horrified, terrified and--- utterly shocked.

What---what- where did it even-?

“Not safe. Had it been an older model, I’d just pull the battery out, but these damn smartphones are impossible to open quickly,” Walker complained as if her words made any sense and as if she had a reason to complain.

Why would she even need to remove the battery?! How--- she just cut you off from Steve!

You stared at her, unable to form words, too many frantic thoughts bouncing off in your aching skull.

“What-“ you lamely breathed out, bewildered, freaked out and thoroughly exhausted.

“We’re the good guys, I promise. Which is why I’m sorry about this,” the blond spoke again, softer than before.

You barely had the time to process that she was reaching behind her back before a brief pain stung your neck, the world spinning faster and faster, darkness closing off your vision… and then it swallowed you whole, the last thing you felt being the backrest against your temple.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Well, that went off rails quickly. That’s Chuck to you.

I promise things will start making sense... in the meantime:

Excuse my lacking action writing skills, it’s been a while.

Thank you for reading!

Partners

Swap Zim and Dib decide to work together. Technically a direct sequel to this thing that was posted a year and a half ago. Like, comments, and reblogs all super appreciated!

Wordcount: 1800

Warnings: Mentions of Dib experimenting on people, I guess?

Zim woke up strapped to a lab table that smelled so strongly of blood that he almost threw up. (Which was quite an accomplishment, considering it wasn’t like Zim was a stranger to animal test subjects, or even getting himself injured.) It took him a few seconds to remember why he was strapped to a bloody lab table, but hearing the familiar voice frantically muttering next to him helped.

“Come on, I need to kill him, but it’s Zim, I like Zim, I don’t want to kill him, but he’s a threat to the mission, I can’t upset my Tallest or the Professor, but maybe I could just wipe his memory...”

That voice was Dib. Dib, the stalker who had turned out to be a real live alien. Dib, the kid (was he a kid?) who must have strapped him to a table.

_____

It had started out pretty easy- he’d already known where Dib lived from the one time Dib had dragged him there when they’d both gotten caught in an explosion and he’d wanted to help patch Zim up. All Zim had to do was use a taser to short out the electric fence and some hacking to get in the front door once he found the security frequency they were using.

It was child’s play, although it wasn’t like it would be easy for anybody else. Zim was special. He was always special, always better than everyone else. Dib had seen that. As annoying as he got at times, Zim was glad that at least he was annoying because he liked Zim.

However, things had started to go south as soon as he got inside the front door. There was a chubby little pig perched right next to it, and it sniffed at him before its eyes lit up bright red.

“STATE YOUR BUSINESS.”

“You talk?” It looked like a regular pig to him, usually talking animals were a lot clunkier and more robotic-looking.

“IRRELEVANT. STATE YOUR BUSINESS, HUMAN.”

“Seeing Dib.”

“NONE MAY PASS.” The pig jolted up on two legs, and Zim noticed a small zipper on its belly only moments before the pig grasped at it, yanking it down and ripping off its- costume? It didn’t look like any fabric Zim had ever seen- to reveal a silvery robot with burning red eyes. A dozen weapons, mostly guns and knives, popped out from its head, and Zim couldn’t bite back a yelp as he fumbled in his backpack for his own laser gun.

“I know how to use this thing, you know!”

“ANY THREAT TO THE MISSION AND TO MASTER GAZ MUST BE ELIMINATED.” 

Zim squeezed the trigger, but the robot- okay, it moved way too fast for a robot that size, Zim’s tended to blow up if they tried any fancy acrobatics, but this one flipped out of the way, his laser blasting a hole in the wallpaper instead. 

He took half a second to breathe before squeezing the trigger again and swinging it around, burning a line through the wall and couch before hitting the robot and getting a metallic shriek out of it as it lunged for him, pinning him down by the shoulders and making him drop his laser.

“ELIMINATED. ELIMINATED. ELMINATED.”

“Release Zim!” Zim kicked up and heard a metallic crack before he rolled to the side, thankful for those self-defense classes he’d taken as the robot plunged about fifteen knives into the spot where his head had been half a second ago. The red eyes narrowed at him before activating rockets in its feet, and Zim ducked as it swung with a giant mallet from its head. He dropped to the floor, fumbling for the laser and swinging it around to take another shot at the thing. 

The gun managed to blast one of the arms off, but that sure as hell made it mad considering he didn’t have time to dodge the second swing of the mallet. He saw stars for half a second before there was nothing at all.

_____

“Dib,” Zim croaked, head feeling rather like it was full of rats that had thrown a dance party inside his skull and left a mess all over the cerebral cortex. 

“But this is a perfect opportunity for some experiments, you wanted that, didn’t you Dib- huh?” Dib looked up from muttering to himself.

Or rather, the alien did. It was still wearing Dib’s trademark goggles that looked heavy enough to weigh his head down with lenses too dark to see anything underneath, but its skin was an even darker shade of green, and it had a pair of twitchy antennae. No nose, no ears, and it had donned a full-on labcoat that was soaked in a whole lot of red and black stains. He’d always kind of figured aliens were real somewhere out there, but seeing it... it was like reality had tilted a little to the left. There were more pressing matters than a crisis about aliens existing anyhow, and Zim was pretty good at repressing things he didn’t like.

It sounded like Dib, though, and the way it fussed with its hands was the same with two fingers and one thumb on each, same as Dib. ‘Machine accident’, his ass. 

“You’re awake?”

“Y-yes, I’m awake. Could you let me go?” His voice came out sickly-sweet and polite, like he was talking to the counselor again to convince her that he was fine.

Dib-alien shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I really would like to, but you know too much. Protocol is pretty clear- dispose of or brainwash all witnesses when the planet is marked for conquest. But brainwashing knocks out a lot of the intelligence, and that would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would,” Zim agreed. “So let me off with a warning?”

Dib folded his arms. “Nope. But the fact that you actually held your own against a SIR unit for a full minute as a smeet- and one that I modified to be extra aggressive- just tells me that you’re still useful as a specimen.”

“Hey, I’m not a- a- smeeb!”

“Smeet, child, baby, whatever term it is you humans use.” Dib waved a dismissive hand, stalking closer and looming over Zim. His eyes were a deep, electric blue like an unsucked sour candy, and Zim squirmed under the restraints. “That table is where most of my previous experiments died, and I don’t want you to just be number thirty-six, you know?”

“Thirty-six? Thirty-six what?”

“Oh, this and that. Humans are good for experiments, they’re very determined to survive so you don’t have to use as many.”

“Well, so is Zim.” Zim tried to twist away, but something metallic erupted from Dib’s backpack like a dozen sharp insectoid legs, propelling him up onto the lab table before he dropped directly on Zim’s chest, driving the wind out of him.

“I’m well aware. You’re already a survivor, aren’t you?” He ticked off on his fingers, alien butt shifting on top of Zim a bit to get comfortable. “Barely any parental supervision, yet you create machines and work on biological experiments that are beyond the capability of most humans three times your age. You almost get blown up often and yet walk away from it. You’re an anomaly.” Dib leaned closer, and Zim could taste the sugar on his breath. “I like anomalies.”

Zim attempted to buck Dib off to no avail as he continued. “Find the exception and you’ll have found the thing of most interest, the thing that makes or breaks a species. The outlier the proves the rule, and you’re a human that behaves like an irken, showing just how far ahead of the rest of your species you are. According to my research, they’re going to burn when Gaz decides what to do with this place if they don’t destroy each other before she gets around to it, but I just might keep you as a pet.”

“Zim is no pet!” Even with little oxygen left in his lungs, Zim shouted, snarling up at Dib with his lip curled. “Earth may be terrible, but it’s mine, so back off!”

“Oh? So you agree that Earth is terrible?” Dib tilted his head to the side, one of those long antennae twitching, and Zim narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not very good at research, are you? Of course it is! But it’s mine, and I don’t want any buggy alien getting his sticky hands all over it!”

“It’s not exactly up to me,” Dib replied, hearing the wheeze in Zim’s voice and sliding off his chest to the table itself, and Zim sucked in a deep breath, feeling the air reinflate his squashed lungs. “Gaz is the one who’s actually invading, I’m just here to study the planet in case there’s anything useful. You’re a pre-contact planet, or at least that’s what’s logged, so this place is a treasure trove of undiscovered species. I’m trying to convince Gaz to at least set up a preserve so I can study some of them once she’s done with the invasion.”

“Are you even listening to me? I told you to bug off! Leave me and Earth alone!”

“I’m listening, but I told you, it’s not my call. Even if it was... you said it yourself, Earth is terrible. It would be far more useful to the Empire as a sugar-harvesting operation, or a zoo, or something else. Humans don’t really deserve to be in charge, they’re just going to blow themselves up eventually.” Dib shrugged.

“If I was in charge, you wouldn’t say that,” Zim muttered, and Dib’s antenna twitched again.

“What did you say?”

“I said, if I was in charge, you wouldn’t say that. I bet if everybody listened to me, you’d take that back. I’m a human and I know I could fix everything.”

Dib stared at him for a solid ten seconds, and Zim wasn’t sure he hadn’t spontaneously kicked the bucket. Did aliens do that? “You’re a genius. You’re a genius!” 

“Of course I am, but why?”

Dib smacked his hands on Zim’s cheeks, squishing his mouth in like a goldfish. “Of course, how didn’t I see it before? Your potential is stifled by the fact that you only have access to tools that you create, but if we worked together, you could help us because you have intimate knowledge of humanity, and I could help you by giving you limited access to my technology! We could be lab partners- I wouldn’t have to kill you, and you can help reshape your species for a better future!”

Zim blinked. “Does this mean you aren’t going to do horrible experiments on me?”

“I can’t promise that, but I’m not going to kill you right now.”

“Good enough for me!” Zim tried to shake Dib’s hand, before realizing that he was still restrained to the table. Dib leaned over, hitting a button just next to Zim’s head, and the restraints popped off. Zim rubbed his wrists for a moment as he sat up, mind still whirling.

This was a chance to fix everything, to make things the way that they should be.

“So, you won’t kill all humans, and you’ll give me access to cool tech.”

“I’ll consider your input on that, and I’ll give you access to cool tech.” Dib nodded, taking Zim’s hand, and a slow grin spread across Zim’s face.

“Then lead the way, Dib-thing.”

worked a little on this

Bad Day

He had flunked the final.  He knew it.  There was no arguing about it.  He didn’t have the strength to argue.  He would have moved heaven and earth NOT to admit it, but the time had come to admit it.  He couldn’t take 21 hours and make good grades.  

Well, maybe he could… but he had forgotten VERY one important thing.

Well… two important things.

One - he was Spider-Man.  And he could create and recreate and recalibrate schedules all day every day, but the criminals of New York City just never seemed to listen.

And number two, he was dating THE Tony Stark.

Add all these factors into the equation and what did that add up to?  Well probably an equation that he couldn’t solve because he was an idiot who flunked his final and would never get his math major, that’s what.

As he stomped through the snow back to his dormroom from Dale Hall (okay that was a lie, he was too dejected to stomp, he was too broken to stomp) he cursed everything about his life.  He knew he could have aced all his classes if he didn’t have Spider-Man duties.  He knew he would be an excellent Spider-Man if he wasn’t trying to ace all his classes.  And maybe… just maybe… just maybe he COULD do both of those things, and do them well, if he didn’t have a full-time serious boyfriend…

It hit him like lightening.  Like scripture.  It was the sudden and complete definition of epiphany.  He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone.  Actually stepped off the sidewalk, stood in the falling snow, and dropped his backpack onto the icy pavement and texted furiously.  Texted before he could think about it.

                                                         //Are we on for tonight?// 

he texted to said full-time serious boyfriend.

Quickly.  That was the key.  Quickly, before he had time to chicken out.

                                                 //Because I need something.//

Don’t think just text don’t think just text text fast before you think 

                        //I’m really hoping you can Take Care Of Me tonight.//

   He hurried through the frozen campus back to his dormroom.  There were some essentials he had to take care of before he could show up at the penthouse, and he rushed through them.  The faster they were done, the less time to stress out.   The faster he got to Tony’s place, the less time he had to live with that knot in his stomach.  

And the knot in his stomach - he knew exactly what that was about.  It happened every time there was a scheduled ‘take care of me’ night.  It wasn’t the knot of apprehension, it was the knot of doubt.  

The doubt of “am-I-really-going-to-go-through-with-this?” 

And there was only one way to get rid of THAT knot, Peter knew.  And that was to get his ass over to the penthouse.  Once he rode up that elevator (or in through the suit-pad door.  When he webslung his way over there, he just entered through the suit-pad door.  And that’s what he was doing today.  It was worse than freezing in the skies of NYC, but he’d chicken out in the time it took to take the elevator) and walked into Tony’s arms, well, that’s when the knot always let go.  Not because he wasn’t still nervous.  But because, by walking into Tony’s arms, he had committed.  From then on, whatever Tony wanted, Peter would do.

And that still made him nervous.  He couldn’t help it.  When Tony wanted to “take care of him” in that special way… well… it just made Peter nervous.  Not because it was scary (oh, but it was) but because it was so intense.  That’s why they didn’t do it very often… only for special occasions.

And fucking up his Differential Equations final?  Well, if there was ever a special occasion, this was it.

 * * * 

 [that purse sntacher that PEter caught sight of ont hew ay there had to be th emost unlucky criminal in the whole world.  When he gets all those lose ends tighed up he finds Tony already there, ready for him.  He tears up and sinks into Tony’s arms.  “I fucked up.”  Tony has ordered food - Peter was hoping to be hand-fed, god he didn’t even REALIZE how badly he wants it, not that he wants yogurt and apple sauce but because the LAST THING he wants is to sit down at a dinner and act like an adult and eat with a fork and talk … OH GOD he REALY doesn’t want to talk about had badly he screwed himself and proved that he really couldn’t take on this massive corseload AND be a good boyfriend AND an avdnger, he REALY doesn’t want to have this conversation with the dude who graduated from MIT at 17… then Tony says I’ll cut the pad thair for you, would you like your coco first?  Peter smiles.  Is there wonton soup?  OF COURSE there is…

I’m going to take care of you baby.

     “No, the��fuzzy one.”  Peter pouted, as he snuggled against the soft grey pillows, snuggled under the soft grey throw.  He wasn’t entirely sure that Tony had bought this new sectional just for the “Take Care Of You” game, but Tony had bought this particular sectional right after the first “Take Care Of You” game, and he wasn’t sure they had used it for any other purpose.

The look on Tony’s face now made him giggle.  Peter wasn’t drunk, but he felt drunk, and it was a lovely sensation.   

“I thought you didn’t like the ‘fuzzy’ one,” Tony said indulgently, still looking at him strangely. Peter couldn’t deny that this was the case.  The special blanket Tony had bought (and he had bought it for the “Take Care Of You” game, there was no denying that) Peter had found far too irritating.  He had complained, at the time, that it was his spider-senses, an annoying side-effect of his superpowers, making certain tactile input just too much to handle.  But that hadn’t been entirely true.  He had rejected the blanket had because it had felt too childish.  He couldn’t say why.  Maybe because the grey [description of Eeyore.]  ?  And while he had accepted almost al of the aspects of the game [be helpless, being out of control] being childish wasn’t something he felt comfortable with.  Even when he was being spoon-fed marshmallows from his cocoa.

But he also couldn’t explain why tonight was different.

So he didn’t try.

“I just want the fuzzy one tonight,” he said again, trying, this time, to sound more coherent.  More adult.  “Tonight is special.”

Tony considered, nodded, then wordlessly took the black comforter back to the closet and searched for the original grey blanket.  Behind him, Peter hid his face in the pillows.  Dammit, why did he have to day that?  “Tonight is special?”  How the hell was he going to explain that tonight was “special” and that “special” meant “I Fucked Up Royally and I’m Going To Get My First Bad Grade In My Life?”  Let alone the part where [“ there’s no one he can explain that to because ALL they will say is that he shouldn’t have taken so many hours so soon and he wasn’t want to hear that.]

Of course, maybe he didn’t have to explain.  Maybe it wouldn’t come up.  He distracted himself by looking at the hot coco now steaming in a grey cup on the table. He could reach out for it himself, but no… it would be so much sweeter to wait and let Tony come and feed it too him. He marveled, not for the first time, how the [he’s waiting for Tony to come and feed it to him.  He marvels how the grey blanket and the grey sectional match the grey cup - Tony put so much though into this.  He’s REALLY going to let Tony have his way tonight.]

Tony had put the remote control in his hand when he had led him to the sofa, but Peter had let it fall to the floor.  He had started to look for something to watch, but turned off the screen when he realized, with a start, that he was looking for some old cartoons to watch.  He hoped Tony wouldn’t notice.  Sometimes they snuggled on the couch and watched movies before the “Taking Care” game began.  Peter hoped they could skip that tonight.  Tonight he was in bad shape.

Which was ridiculous… absurd that a potential bad grade could make him feel more pain than grievous physical injury ever could.  

But in the end, weren’t they both just signs of his complete failure?

 He started to tear up even now – oh god Tony never asked him WHY he needed the game tonight, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if Tony asked the question.  But this was ridiculous – Tony couldn’t find him in tears, or he really would ask.  Peter looked for the clicker in an effort to distract himself.  He had to calm down.  He took deep breaths and tried to distract himself.  Doing [something involving differential equations] in his head didn’t help.  He settled for going over the rules of the game.  

(sees it like an outline, like a syllabus that ridiculous professor gave them that rambled on and made no sense?  No, no, he wasn’t going to blame his professor for his colossal failure.)

 Rule #1:  Safety Word

The safety word was ‘foot cramp,’ although Peter had stopped it before just by saying “I need a break.” Tony was always ready to back up, knowing they would resume after Peter had pulled away long enough to breathe a little (or to take over for a moment.  Usually kissing Tony hard, just for a minute, was all it took.)  

Rule #2:  Words, Code Words and the 3rd Person

They had established that soft food was too much, and that regular food, cut into tiny bits, would still work.  It was the hand-feeding that mattered.  The word “baby” was all right, as long as it wasn’t in the 3rd person.  So “messy baby” and “does that feel good baby?” were alright, but “Does baby want his _____ (noodles, cup, blanket) now?” was out.  

The word “daddy” was alright, although it would only be used Tony.  And it was alright for Tony to refer to himself in the third person (“Can daddy make you feel good?” was alright.  And “Will you be a good boy for Daddy?” made Peter weak in the knees.)

Peter never used the word “Daddy,” of course.  Although he had tried to do it, because he knew Tony wanted it, it just never came. He reasoned that the word didn’t mean anything to him.  He had no member of ever calling anyone ‘daddy,’ ever.  

Rule #3:  Codes

“Is my baby okay?” was a status check, and while it was not a rule, Peter had learned that Tony would trust his answer better if Peter didn’t answer automatically.  If he stopped, took a breath, and then nodded yes [ Tony trusted that he was telling the truth.]

“My tummy hurts” was code to indicate that he was still in the nervous stage, which meant Tony would slow down, or else another back rub was in order.  Sometimes both.

There were other rules, too, rules that they never talked about.  [He KNOWS Tony wants him to engage in baby-talk, tony never comes out and asks but Peter can get the hint.  The BEST he can do is uh-uh and uh-hu and nodding and shaking his head (he’s perfected the art of closing his eyes tight and shaking his head to say ‘no’ a move which is is proud of.)  

Four-letter words were out, but slipping up was NOT indication that the game is over (ideally, Tony said, the game wasn’t over until Peter had fallen asleep.)  And it was generally agreed at if Peter cried out “oh fuck that feels good tony” it was Tony’s own fault for being so damn good.

The Next Generation

for @writetheniteaway (a belated birthday fic) from your prompt: Prompt: “I want Spidey, Groot, and Shuri on a dream team with Morgan as the tag along.” 

... 

Summary:  Morgan Stark is 16 and working on her masters, which is great, but she still can't do what she wants most. Peter Parker is living the life he always wanted, with a healthy dose of girl troubles. Maybe? Or maybe not? He isn't realy sure what's up with SHuri and MJ. Groot is Groot. And Lila Barton is just about fed up with all the nonsense, thank you very much.

Read on AO3 

<Spidey to Groot, I could use some back up over here.>

<I am Groot.>

<That’s great, but who has eyes on the sorcerer?>

<I thought that was you, Shuri.>

<Sorcerer located. Heading towards seventh. No clear shot.>

She absolutely supposed to be paying attention. Morgan Stark knew that. She’s sure Professor Foster is talking groundbreaking astrophysics, but to be fair, she’s already completed the rest of her assignments for the semester and all the required reading. She absolutely deserved a study break, and class was always so slow anyway.

What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Morgan adjusts her earpiece and quickly activates the T.O.N.I. implant so she can pull up the information on the New Avengers’ current battle. Tiny Optic Neural Interface responds to her fingers tapping on the desk, just quiet enough to be unnoticable or to pass for a neural tic.

She sets the program to track the sorcerer and quickly taps into the team’s suits using the backdoor her dad built into Peter’s. The information pops up at a map, blinking green dots to represent the team, and a swarm of red to represent the bogeys.

From the camera feed, they look normal civilians with some glazed over looks.

<Guys, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Where are we on breaking this spell?> Peter’s face pops up in the corner of her optical overlay to coincide with his voice.

<I’m not so sure it is a spell. Whatever it is effects their brainwaves.> Shuri falls back from the fight to type something into her wrist display.

A crash and muffled curse bring Lila on screen. <Whatever it is, we need to end this before more civilians get hurt.>

<I am Groot.>

Morgan pulls up the information Shuri has collected so far. While the Panther looks for a way to end the sorcerer’s control, Morgan frowns at her display. Not all the civilians are attacking. There are plenty running away in panic.  

Quickly she runs the images back to the point of origin, when the first civilian attacked. She slows down the video. The sorcerer in question emerges on video first walking out of Hammer Industries. Or rather, he’s thrown out by two burly security guards and what look like a couple of lawyers. She speeds up the video even as the man’s information pops up on her display: Arthur Reynolds. Age 43. No history of metahuman activity.

It’s only as he gets closer to Stark Expo 2035 that civilians start to act odd. They start rioting and attacking each other. Morgan pulls up as many specs as she can on the aggressors. Visuals give no indication as to similarities between them.

Then she notices the finger twitch.

Morgan pauses and glances at her own hand. Oh.

He’s got something that resembles T.O.N.I. Not a sorcerer after all then, which means…

A couple taps later and she can confirm that all the aggressors are owners of Hammer’s latest gadget: an implant that links your phone directly to your neural system. Stark passed on the technology as it actually implanted a device that was potentially unstable into your body. They used her father’s nanotechnology to create a similar device that apparently didn’t have the same hackable back door.

She glances around her lecture hall, like tuning back in to the world after hours spent in her lab, and catches Doctor Foster hold up a card that says “see me after class.” Morgan nods and drifts back to her display.

Hammer tech, as always, causes her no trouble. Their system works on a subscription basis. Everyone susceptible to the attack is laid out in a grid that she can see worldwide. The virus itself is fascinating. It basically uses neural overlays to send the body incorrect signals or in some cases hijack their systems altogether. All in all, it’s pretty damn close to sorcery.

But still completely human.

She shuts it down and then ends the neural display. Her comms are still open so she can hear the team in their final takedown. All in all: a job well done.

Now if only they would let her join the fight.

She could argue that she’s older than any of them were when they wore their first suits. Hell, she’s arguably more educated too. How many of them are working on advanced engineering and science degrees?

Okay, maybe a bad point. Shuri probably has her beat there.

If she’s old enough to attend college, she should be old enough to make her own decisions. Peter was fighting Thanos at 15. Shuri was the same age and a genius. Groot’s age is irrelevant because he’s a space tree. Lila was fighting at seventeen.

Yet somehow she’s the one left behind. Legacy, or not.

She fiddles with her metal bracelets as lecture hall empties. When they’re only two students left, Morgan stands and walks to the front desk. “Doctor Foster.”

“Morgan.”

She’s got a couple inches on Doctor Foster. Her tone of voice, however, reminds Morgan that this woman once dated a god.

“Is there somewhere you’d rather be than my class?”

Morgan sighs. “No.”

“I get that you’re a Stark and you’re probably too smart for this, but that doesn’t mean you can do other things in my class.”

“Got it, Doc.”

Foster frowns. “What are you doing here, Morgan?”

“Biding my time,” she answers honestly. “Can’t put on the suit, can’t work in the lab, can’t fight until I’m eighteen. I designed my own suit at twelve, trained with the Winter Soldier at fourteen, I can hack an advanced system in class at sixteen, but they won’t let me fight. So I’m here, waiting.”

Doctor Foster sighs. “Your parents just wanted you to have a normal childhood.”

“I’m a genius who’s dad died saving the universe from a madman. Normal was never an option.”

…

“That was so cool! How did you manage to do that, Shuri? One second the civilians were all like ‘aaaaarrrrggghhhh’ and then they were like ‘ahhhhhhh’. I mean, amazing.” Peter gushes as he pulls off his mask.

“I am Groot!”

“Exactly!”

Lila Barton stares at the two of them, then at Shuri who is frowning at her display. She drops into her chair and crosses her combat boots on top of the table. She pops a piece of gum and flips through the logs in the computer system. If Shuri didn’t do it, there’s one person who could. Lila has a feeling Shuri’s been covering for the brainiac. Sure enough, the logs change just as Shuri announces:

“He was using Hammer neural relays. I just crashed the system.”

“Awesome,” Peter says.

“Apparently he was trying to prove a point to Hammer, that his invention was dangerous.”

“I am Groot.”

“Sending the data to the authorities now,” Shuri announces. She shuts down her display with a triumphant smile. “The New Avengers strike again!”

Lila rolls her eyes as the others exchange high fives, but lifts hers for an obliging fist bump with Parker before he disappears to shower before his very exciting lunch date with MJ. Groot heads for the garden where he’s probably flirting with some flowers or something and Lila twists to straddle her chair to stare down Shuri.

The princess does an admirable job of ignoring her. She fidgets with her designs and alters calculations that Lila can’t begin to understand. Except Lila is the daughter of a spy, the goddaughter of an assassin, she learned circus tricks at her parents’ side. She’s good at seeing through facades and Shuri’s been flipping through schematics without reading them.

Lila pulls a throwing knife from her thigh holster and starts to clean under her nails. It’s an Aunt Nat trick she likes to use.

“I suppose I shall rejoin my brother,” Shuri says abruptly.

Lila sighs, not looking up from her nails. “Why are you covering for little Stark?”

“If she wants to help, we should not push her away.” Shuri crosses her arms over her chest. “I fought Thanos at her age.”

Lila chews her lip. “And I was an expert marksman, but I didn’t join the team until I was 18. It’s like enlisting in the military.”

“That’s what I do not understand,” Shuri says with a frown. “She is a genius, she’s had to grow up faster than any child. She grew up in the thick of things as much as we did. She should not be sidelined.”

Her hand stills. The knife feels heavier in her hand. She might be Hawkeye but the Widow hourglass stares back at her from the handle of the blade. It’s part of Lila’s inheritance - Aunt Nat’s knives, the video diaries, the training, her legacy. “Her mom said no. Not until she’s at least 18.”

They both know it’s the company line. Neither of them have outed Morgan’s contribution to Pepper. Hell, it was one of the team’s worst kept secrets. Except Peter probably had no clue. He tends to be a little blind when it comes to his surrogate sister.

“We all wish to protect our loved ones…” Shuri says quietly.

“And if Pepper knew we were enabling,” Lila cuts in, “she would skin us alive. Heck, Peter would-”

“Peter would hold his tongue if he knew what was good for him,” Shuri responds firmly.

Lila raises an eyebrow. She’s not touching that will a ten foot pole. Peter and Shuri dancing around each other was cute, once upon a time. Then Peter had a girlfriend that Shuri was “absolutely fine” with. Maybe it’s because Lila remembers her parents and Aunt Natasha and the way their relationship blurred lines. She sees the way Shuri mixes well with both MJ and Peter and wonders why they don’t just get over societal restrictions and love each other openly.

If MJ’s flirting is any indication, she agrees with Lila.

“Looks like the fight got a little nasty.”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Lila grins at MJ, not the she noticed Lila, her eyes too busy looking Shuri over for injury. Shuri’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, looks worse than it is. Peter’s just taking a shower.” Shuri uncharacteristically avoids eye contact. She waves her hands and looks for an exit. “He’ll be out soon. I just have to-”

“Sure you’re okay?” MJ runs her hand down Shuri’s arm and then cups her cheek to get the genius to look at her. “Looks like you’re starting to bruise.” She brushes her hand over Shuri’s temple and the girl looks like she’s going into shock.

“I-I-I’m good.”

MJ smirks. “Then you probably need some lunch. Wanna join Pete and I?”

“Oh, um, I’m not hungry.”

Lila smirks as Shuri’s stomach audibly rumbles in direct contradiction. MJ just grins like the cat that caught the canary and pats Shuri’s cheek. “Get changed. We leave in twenty.”

Shuri looks to Lila for support and she just grins. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got class.”

With the helpless look of someone who can’t come up with an excuse (probably because she doesn’t want one), Shuri straightens her spine and attempts some form of control. “Very well. I shall join you. But I warn you: we Wakandans eat vast quantities after combat.”

She sweeps from the room with all her royal dignity and MJ drops into the seat beside Lila. “They’re both idiots.”

Lila returns her knife to it’s holster. “Yup. What’re you going to do about it?”

MJ sighs. “Lock us all in a room?”

“FRIDAY can jam the elevator, but they could probably hack their way out.” Lila shrugs. “I would just lay one on Shuri. Okoye says she’s like her brother: they freeze up around their crushes.” Lila rises from her chair and winks at MJ. “Have fun.”

MJ grins as she considers the new information. “Oh, I will.”

Lila regrets nothing.

…

“You need to be more careful.”

Morgan drops her pencil on her open pad of graph paper and frowns at the brunette sipping a non-descript coffee across the table. Lila Barton is, of course, wearing a bright purple hawkeye shirt, jeans and combat boots.Her aviators even have a slight purple tint. Her bare arms are littered with scratches from the earlier fight. A couple even have Avengers themed band aids.

“No one’s going to just grab me off the street,” Morgan counters, going back to her sketch of a dimensional portal. “TONI is programed to alert me if a threat approaches.”

“I could be a threat.”

Morgan snorts.

“Also not what I was talking about. I meant this morning.”

Her pencil continues to draw straight lines on the paper, assisted by the overlay in her glasses. She planned it out in class, even though it’s technically homework, and her teacher is a peon who insists on all work being done with pencil on paper. Highly unnecessary in Morgan’s opinion, but what does she know.

“I was in class this morning,” she deflects.

Lila hums. “Right. And you never multitask.”

“Say, if I did intercede,” Morgan concedes as she adds another line, “you wouldn’t be able to prove it.”

Lila nods. “Shuri erased any data you missed.” She leans forward. “Look, Shuri and I get it. You want to be out there, but your mother has to agree.”

Her pencil skitters across the page, creating a jumpy line. “Mom won’t agree.”

“So bargain,” Lila says. “Don’t ask to be in the field, ask to be back up from the tower. It’s what you’re doing anyway. Train with the team. You’ve got two years and you’re already prepared.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “You don’t think I’ve already tried that?”

Lila leans on the table and clasps her hands. “Pepper is scared. She needs you to reassure her. If you want to do this, you need to do it right. Your mother knows she won’t be able to stop you. She’s just trying to protect you for as long as possible.”

“I don’t need to be protected.”

An agitated hand taps on the table. “Our parents will always try to protect us. It’s their job.”

Morgan has stopped drawing but hasn’t looked up from the paper, not yet. She hates this feeling of helplessness and she hates disappointing her mother. She leans back. “How did you convince Clint?”

“I recruited my mom, convinced them I could handle myself. Not to say it was easy. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Dad put me through every test, made me train with the Winter Soldier for months and then I was still on probationary status for close to a year. I think Dad wanted to scare me off.” She stretches out, legs straight as she slouches back. “You can offer that.”

“Yeah, training with the man who murdered my grandparents won’t worry her at all.” Morgan closes her notebook. Her plan is already online. If her teacher throws a fit with that, well, she did already did the homework at 3am while half asleep.

“That’s a load of shit and you know it. Bucky is the best trainer we’ve got.”

She shrugs. “I’m already training with him on weekends and breaks.” Morgan shoves her notebook into her bag. “Mom wants me to get this degree before we talk about this again.”

Lila purses her lips. “Then maybe she needs to know what you’ve been doing.”

Morgan smirks. “Why do you think I left any trace at all? If Shuri didn’t keep deleting them, maybe she’d be coming to talk to me.”

Because that was the plan: for her mother to find out while she was being useful. Shuri and Lila were trying to help her operate in secret, which was nice. It made them great friends, but it didn’t help her agenda.

“If I get Mom on board, then it Pete will have to accept it. Right now, the two of them are blocking me.”

“Probably because they’re worried you’ll follow in your father’s footsteps,” Lila points out. “Not intentionally,” she says quickly, “but they don’t want to lose you.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “And we’re going in circles, which we’ve been doing for the past year, and it leaves me biding my time until I turn eighteen. Which Pete is a hypocrite for enforcing. Mom, I understand. Did you know I could be legally emancipated?”

Lila stares, unimpressed. “You’re not getting emancipated.”

“But I could,” she points out victoriously. She lifts her cup in a salute and takes a sip. She grimaces at the cold liquid and puts the cup back on the table.

“You’re not.”

“Want to get lunch?” Morgan asks suddenly. “I know a great place around the corner. Not too fancy. Great for a first date.”

She watches Lila’s face at her offer. Lila blinks and then looks at Morgan. There’s a moment when she looks pleasantly surprised before she relaxes and rolls her eyes. “Maybe in two years, jailbait.”

Morgan grins. “Can I hold you to that?”

Lila purses her lips in contemplation. She stands and leans forward into Morgan’s space. “Ask me again in two years.” She winks and saunters away.

Her steps have a bounce, her smile never leaves her face, and Morgan finds herself walking to the Tower instead of to class. She uses TONI to pull up all her recent activity in a log to show her mom.  Maybe it is time to have that talk.

seokjin hogwarts!au

the fluffiest hufflepuff honestly (btw im not following namjoon’s answers so… he’s a hufflepuff in this one)

literally everyone in every year knows him

his laugh can be heard like everywhere

at breakfast, lunch and dinner at the great hall

no one is complaining though so it’s all great

the first one to make a conversation

and very talkative

he’s really confident

but always blushes whenever someone compliments him,, uh he’s so cute

always on good terms with the professors

makes the mean and strict professors soft like what spell does he use ???

everyone loves him

and you can also tell just how much he loves his friends

first to ask whenever something happened

he’s so caring and worry about his friends and classmates a lot

like he always ask his seatmates if they already ate or something like that

would tell jokes everytime he can

and everyone would laugh either because his joke is really funny or not funny at all that it almost flopped

but anyways that’s kinda how you got close to him

you have charms with him and you sit beside each other and one day he turned to you and he’s like

“hey do you know what class i excel at??”

you were a little taken a back because you never had a proper conversation with him because you weren’t sitted beside him for the first half of the school year but you’re like

“um, what?”

he smiled “charms”

and you literally felt his charms working on you

you two laughed and he got called out by the professor and his face went dead serious

but when the professor turned his back you two chuckled silently.

then after that you two just clicked and starts spending a lot of time together

like copy off each other’s homework before the professor comes

and also sneak in foods in class

and eat when the professor is not looking

then like after months you started liking his like more that just a friend ??

and you’re like ‘what should i do? help me’

your friends encourage you to tell him but you’re too shy

then one time at three broomsticks, you were just reading a book then his friends are like pushing him to where you’re seated

after a lot of whispers and arguments he seated beside you and you greeted each other

you turned down your book and talked to him

it was kinda awkward at first but then conversation went really smoothly

you realized it was the first time he asked things about you and you get to know him as well

but one thing was clearly noticeable throughout the conversation is how much he’s blushing

you’re just sat there thinking if he’s cold or something but it’s was really warm inside three broomsticks so you’re really confused

then he cleared his throat and give look briefly at his friends who gave him an encouraging look and turned back to you

“so i’ve been wanting to tell you something..”

so you’re like “what is it?”

“um, i,, like you ??”

but it’s sounds like a question rather than a confession

you’re like “oh.” you’re also blushing now

then he turns like realy defensive and like “but you don’t have to like me back, i just feel the need to tell you because it’s killing me and i-“

you giggled

his eyes shaped into hearts because wow you’re so cute

“i like you too.”

his face lit up and he can’t help but chuckle

he’s like, “oh”

and you’re like, “yeah.”

then you both start laughing

“but yeah, i wanted to ask you to go out with me without all these eyes,” he looked and pointed at his friends, who turned away so quickly that namjoon almost knock off his butterbeer, “staring at every actions we do.”

soo.. after a few weeks he asked you to date him and you said yes and he is just the sweetest

always checking up on you

flying kisses at hallways between classes

midnight snacks

reviewing with each other

and many more

you two are just relationship goals and he shows how much he loves you everyday yeah it’s cute

how many times did i say cute in this one lmao

that’s all thank you :))

other members:

namjoon yoongi

havne’t fetl this fuckin horrible since great depressive episode of august 2016-august 2017 so give e a hot sec to psychoanalyze myself and wallow and type poorly

i’ve mentioned a few times that i’ve just been feeling increasingly shittier since about mid january, which is due to a few things but i think in general the january blues (like this is the worst winter i’ve ever experienced i hate winnipeg weather so much) and not liking my classes as much, as well as a few other things

but holy fuck.. today was just. fuck. basically i got a B on a presentation i did last week and i wanna die now. (for reference, a B is a failure in grad school. B+ is right on the cusp, pushing it but B is real fuckin bad.) i haven’t done this badly since undergrad.. like the worst i’ve gotten in grad school before is a couple B+s in my master’s. getting a B while in the phd program is so fucking embarrassing, especially because i respect my professor so much.. luckily it won’t really affect anything, unless i end up getting a B on my final grade, which means i’ve failed the class. but like basically all my grades are good for while in a phd is to get a B+ or higher and gets the credits to stay in the program. so i’m grateful for that but holy fuck do i feel bad about this. i feel so stupid and like  i don’t deserve to be in this program. worthless

anyway this just reminded me why it’s always been so toxic to me to rely on my grades for my self-esteem. going from a straight 90s student in high school to getting frequent Bs in university almost killed me. and i’m aware this sounds really ~first world problems~ but idk what to say this shit affects me REAL bad. it made me so much more depressed and anxious and suicidal than i already was. startign to get As and A+s again last semester was like euphoria.....i started to rely on that self-esteem again and i’m really fuckin paying for it now.

so whatever tht’s just something that i wanted to whine about. but more importantly i feel like this general ‘down’ mood i’ve been in for about 2 weeks is becoming a depressive episode and that fucking scares me so much. i can’t even explain how scared i am. i can’t go through this agin.......i just fucking can’t. i’ve been trying to tell myself this could happen again and just because this is the longest i’ve gone without having a depressive episode doesn’t mean it’s going to never happen again. but i realy felt healed and cured.. i really did. im gonna keep trying to do things to keep this at bay but i can feel it creeping up on me and i’m just terrified. i just want it to stop like i know wallowing in self-pity isn’t productive but why is this my lot in life. i don’t want to be like this, i don’t want to be myself

I really don´t know how to start this, or it´s future implications, or if you still use Tumblr, or if you still remember me, or if you´´ll ever see this or if it´s going to be read by someone. But even if this go invisible for  centuries or forever I need to put this somewhere so I can be a bit more free and maybe one day you´ll read this  and finally you will know my feelings for you. (Sorry for the shity grammar and ortography or for mixing spanish words but im kinda lazy and this is really long, so ill just leave it as it its)

I was 13 years old the first time I saw you, it was the second day of school our professor came in when class had already started and in front of him there was a new student, it was indeed someone new. Since the first time I swa you, I knew you weren´t from here, you were so diffren to all of us. We were plain and common stupid suckers that only thought in when to lose virginity and to get waste for the first time in our lives; but you didn´t seem to be that kind of person. you seemed to be quite more deep. THe first time I talked you I thought you were really old and you fucking hated ll of us., it´s kinda of surprising  how close you came to be for me, after that first encounter. We eventually become friends, I don´t know how but it happened and actually you turned up to be really fucking cool I mean you were the shit. .You were like really something else, i mean your overall style, and you were a talented drawer (you are still ive seen some of your shit and tis really great). and yu were a cospayer. So in conclsuion we were lightyears from beenso cool like you... From that first year I don´t remeber to much, just htat you lost someon important in your life, and I still remeber how you didn´t go to school and the night that, with a friend, i went to see you. I kept talking to you during vacations and that made so happy because I fucked it up, but about that I will talkin other part of this text Oh, and I started to listen to bands like Asking Aleexandria and some metal shit that was reallly cool and thank you for  showing me those bands.. So vacations, ended January was realy cold, and for thee very firt time I started to use my hair long. Of course people laughed at me, it was really a messy hair but I kida liked... To this day my har is really important its like my force its on my hair, without my hari I wouldnt be the same. That year we started kind of apart till our firen, that in this text im going to call Jordan, was expelled from school and sso it was you and me. I know that we had other friends like the one that in here im going to call Alfonso, and many oters, but principally it was you and me. One day for some reasin our cases were changed and we had to move to ihter class that was bigger I think. And since i was lucky that Jordan expeleed (dont get me wrong, I mean, i felt bad for Jordan but deep inside of me, to have you for me in the class, was like winning an oscar, the lottery o winning nobel prize) So basically from march to october we sat next to each other, and that march was the beginning of one of the best time s of my life. I remeber how to see you in my left side, focused in whatever you were draing,, that year you started to draw with rapidografos, and actually your were improving, yowere going to more anime conventions, you were improving your cosplays to. That year I started to watch anime, just have some other things in common with you, porbably without ou I wpuld have never seen anime bugt bracause of you I did, and I lied to you saying tat I did watch anime since12 years old or something like that. So I talked to you about your drawings, or music, or anime, or movies, or conspiracy theories, or how you were dying because got varicela, about videogames, about life, about books, about your cosplas, about everthing, absolutely everinght. We laghed, we played with each.. there was a time actually that we played with water and we kinda of enede u wet, we play with our foot, with our hands ( you used to make the triforce symbol with your hands and was a fucking hell to me t do it) we aughed, with the we were becoming really close... You were becming my best friend... I reaally enjoyed to go to scholol beacuse you were going tp be by my side, the morning would end fast and will had the time of my life, and those years I felt really really fine. Prbably without you hat yer would be boring, and I dont knwow , maybe it would´ve been a more difficult year for me. I would got bullied or something like that. But nothing bad happened that year actuallly it was one of the best years. During that time w=you became really close to Dr. dooferschmitz(Im calling him like that, i hope you know who im talking about) and to Monica ( you know, the girl that was best friend of the Dr. dooferschmitz) so I kinda of felt apart, I mean were laughing and stuff but I started to feel afraid that I nothing for you and that eventually you would throw me away,( of course you didn´t do thatt, know its imposiible for me to think of you doing that) and I was afraid of losing you, and that added up with the many new emotiones that I had, my fear and so many other things, made me to epeat my mistake from thae year before, I started to treat you with coldnes, I ingnored you I treated you bad, and to this day I still regreat hat. You were the last persons that deserved that, and I took you apart from me and I don´t know, why I didn´t gave an effort to avoid to hurt you i just don´t know. I fucked it up again...But agin you kinda forgave me, and seriously thank seriously losing you and those moemnts would be a tragedy for e thank you for been so cool for being amazong an for  keep beign my friend. So we kept talikng and beign friends and things become brighter for me again, going to school was my favorite thing in the world this become colorful. You know they say that when youre in love things become colorful and I agree withem, beacause hen I remember those days thers like a feeling that make it so romantic, something in the sun or in the sky or in the color of the walls make those memories really special and beatiu,, even when i was dying of boredom in the church to think that that nex t day I would be talking shit with you made me feel excitedl. My love for you was growing more and more  You were there, you showed me cool music, I was hapy with that music, with the animes you recommended me , and basiclly with life itself. My happines had no end or I thought so. We came out of school , we kept talking almost everyday day as we did in the months before, we talked through skype, i remeber seeing you making some cosplays, you were wearing a dinasour pijama that to this day, I still love, you presented me thorugh skype to shini  and I remeber how it hurted o not talk you, it was a hell to be without you, it was kinda of infectious beacause I came to depend on you its never good in any kind of relation, but yet all that pain was healed when I talked to you again.. But we started to talk less, you moved to another school, I moved to other school, and even though we still talked every now and then, thngs were changingand I did notice that. Things we re becoming gray, life started to be boring, but yet, somehow, my love for you still kept growing, buut that year (2014) we talked almost nothing. There was a day that I saw you, it was tests-week so I came out early and I was going to see you, I remember how my legs were shaking and the hug i gave you when i wsaw you, i threw you my jacket and you thre w it backt to me and th then whe huged like for a minute repeating ecac other how much we mieed us. God, you were so beatiful that day, actually i havent talked about how beatiful you are, I mean you are funny intelligent, bright, clever, how you ended up beign in this shitty city? fuck, youre so beatiufl, I love your light lips, your tiny nose, youre honey eyes, your snowy skin, your voice, your laugh, Iwas stupid in porpuse just to make you laug and the to go to heaven for a few seconds by the power of your laugh. God I really thought you were perfect,its curious because, I knew that there were things i didnt liked from you but at the same time i liked the beacuase those things made youyou, and fuck you were so beatiful in all the posiible ways, metaphsiclly, physcilly you were jus beaitulf, and realy fucking loved you a lo a lo t lot, i dreamed of you, of holding your hand, of kissing you, of sharing life with you, whit brojke the atmosphere and went to the space, ravelled to far away galaxies and was loving you I was just happy and in love I didnt care about anything ese but you. I enojyed to se your face every morning, how you putted your legs on the desk, all your gesture, i loved  the time i holded a part of your body, i loved your smell that to this i havent forget , i remeber how the sun shined and crashed in your hair as in a trigo field. I was so lucky so so lucky, you made everything else beatiful, as if there was some kind of power inside you that transformed everythin around you, to thins day i think that you were a god, and or  wanted to experience human life and so came own to the mortal war and picked anyone to be around with and for destiny reasons i was one of those lyucky basards. You were so different from this shity world. One day you invited me to your house to watch jack frost ovies ( i dont remeber its name) and at some point of that day we were ion your rooftop sitting next to each other, weather, was fresh, sky was blue as an ocean sun was warm and soft, and you were beatiufll, and i felt love and calm, everything was balanced everything, was more than ok, everything.... Life can be cruel sometimes, I think that its part of what makes all of this beaiufl, its tragical factort.... life is like that... our perfect circle ( or at least mine) broke and the only thing that i could do was  accept it and move on, but i never did that, . wel till last year, 2016 was a good year for me and it mean an advance in my life. But every time I finally move on form you I crash with sometihing, I dont know what it its. Something ive been realizing is that I will never forget you, cause what you did in its sobig that i cant just ignore it, everywher i go i will see afraction of your beatiful eyes, every time I love there weill be a part of me, that eventually will thin of you. IYpu fell in love with new people, you trvelled, and I stayed here, and I decided that finaly have to let you go. even though the things you gave to me will always come with me , the beautiness you showe med will always lay in my heart as if its writeen in stone , those beatiful memories will always be inside of me. Enven if as i became older those meories start to blur I kow that in some part of me, those memories will be there, and so you will be. Actually my life  can be seen as a life  before and after you. Before I met you, I was sleepwalking, I woke up, ate my brakefast, came from school, doing nothing during afternoons, going to church in sundays, repeating everything that was told to me, the only human from tha pat me was my desperate effort to fit somewhwere, to be like tthe popular guys, I dressed like them, I tried to be like them bu the real me wasn´t even clse to be like that. The pepole that formed part part of my life was stupid, boring, plain and I hated them. And then theres you, you were a real human, you dressed as you wanted to dress, you llistened the music you wanted to, you didn´t care what the people said, you just were a strong powerful color in the middle of thiss that gray schooI remember how teachers wanted to make you pray, and tried to obligate you  to change yourself , cause they didn´accept anthing that was different to them, and you revealed to them, you sttod up with your beliefs withyourself and ddn´t leet them to denigrate you or to destroy you, you stood p and were yourself and that inspired me. Cause you know I´ve always een a lie, to this day my parents don´t know my sexuality nor that I´m agnostic, they think that Im still that christian boy who loves god and will marry when he graduates from university. Bu actually I´m not beacause you opened my mind, o talk with you, to hear you to see howyou was exciting refreshing, an experience itself it opened my mind, it showed me that theres was world outside waiting for me to l ived it, you showed me that I have a mind and a soul and that Im someone, and that Im a fucking person, that Im a fucking person dude, it ound strange but I didn´t kew that before I met you. You know what´s funny? Thath you weren´t noticing all this things you were transfroming in me, just by been yourself you blosoomed the best of me , Dude I loved you, i really fucking loved you whit all that I had, even if was young, stupid, preteantious I loved you. I loved you I fucking fucking loved you I fucking loveeed you sooo much , My only regret in this life is to be so coward to never took the courage to tell you this and love you even more. Dude thank you for been there when life was shity, thank you for been my best friend whe I was completely alone, thank you for all the fucking great bands that you sowed me, thank you for opening my mind and been one the most influencial things in my ife and to start this fire that become me in the person I am. I know im not perfect and Im not better than anyone, but just to imagine what kind of personI I would be if I would never met you, scares me, I was full of hate and anger while I sleeped and you woke me, you gave me the srenght to move on, you gave me love, lfe, empath, forgivness. Yeah, there were bad times, there were shity things, asi in everything in this world, but there was something inside of me where to hold on. You were my big bang, you gave me a breath of life and since that i been moving on. Thank you dude, seriously. But for now I have to defintily let you go. Ive been trying to move on from you but its kind of impossible if I dont release all my feelings in some way. So I have to let you go. I don´t know what life has for me or for you but I hope its the best for both, and I hoped that you find your way if you havent, I hope that you love someone with all your heart and that someone loves you with all its heart too and that you fly acroos the atmosphere and shine like stars through space and time even after you die... Your light will still shine in this world and in aliens world and the universe will receive that light with love. If you don´t know what to do in life, do as Boukowski said: Find something you love and let it kill you. You´re talentful and intelligent and I hope that you go far in this life. Please take care of you, of your mental health ofr your physical health please, love yoursefl. Dude, always always fucking remeber how beatiful you are, how amazing you are, anhow much love you can give to people. To this day you are one of the most amazing person  I met and  think you will always ben in my list of the coolest persons in the worldyou will always hvae a part of my heart, and wherever I go, whatever I do, I will have you somewhere inside of my heart, that part is forever yours. I loved you a lot a lot.  Im sorry for the shit i did to you, thank you for been an important parf of what saved my life.Thank you for beign yourself, for beign so real, for beign so brave, for beign  amazing. Thak you for beign my first love, I couldn´thave been anymore lucky... I have to let you go, and I have to move. Keep in mind that somwhere, someone will have a part of you inside of him. I hope you the best and I remebered you that i loved you with all my fucking, heart, soul mind, thoughts, with absolutly everything I had,... Dude, all my love and best wishes for you... Goodbye...

Patronus

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Slytherin! Reader

Request: Yes!  @bluenekox3:   Hi there sweety! Can i request you an imagine? Maybe a Slytherin girl x Remus and he is teaching her to make a patronus a hers is a badger and it gets cute ? Please?

A/N: Repost! I made it again because I didnt liked it the irst time and it didnt had the things that @bluenekox3 wanted so I made it longer. Hope you like this one better!

“Today we are learning to cast a Patronus Charm!” The voice of Professor Flitwick entered the classroom.

I  was currently in Charms with the Gyffindors, and I was talking to ellow Slythern when professor Flitwick entered anouncing todaays class. When I heard Patronus Charm I was interested in the theme. I’ve read about the Patronus Charm in one of my detentions with the charms professor in thirth grade and ever since I was looking forward to this class. Now three years later I was finally having it.

“Now I am going to get you in pairs, I will name a Slytherin and then a Gryffindor they wiil both come to the front and wait until I got you all in pairs and you will sit with your partner” And he started calling names, everyone was angry that we had to pair withour worst enemys but I didnt care I just wanted to cast my patronus.

“Y/l/n, Y/n and Remus Lupin” I went to the front wth my partner.

“Hi, I’m Y/n” I offered my hand and he looked at me like I was a weird species. “What? Is it bad or a Slytherin to say hi to a Gryffindor? They are called manners”

“Sorry, it’s just I never knew a Slytherin that haves manners” He said giving me his hand. “I’m Remus, Remus Lupin” I smiled at him.

When we got to the places that professor Flitwick assigned us he started explaining. When he finishe we all standed up and got to work. 

“If you can’t make a Patronus in the next hour and a half, you will come back ater dinner with your partner and you will keep trying” Proffesor Flitwick said going between everyone to see their work.

“Bloody Hell” Remus said as he looked at James Potter cast his Patronus while his wand was just barely letting a few silver drops out.

“Dont worry, you would get that, I mean, I havent cast mine neither”

“Expecto Patronus!” he screamed. A silver wind-ish thingy came out of his wand

“Well, that is more than just dropps, may I ask what memory you are using?”

“The time I met my three best friends, I thought that was happy enough, guess not” he said looking down.

“Try with another then”

“I cant think of any other” 

“Well while you think of another I will try”

“Ok”

“Expecto Patronus!” Nothing “Expecto Patronus” Nothing “Expecto Patronus” Only a few silver drops. After a couple of tries I saw Remus’s face light up.

“I got it!” he exclaimed “May I?”

“Of course, not like I was nailing it so yeah do it”

“Expecto Patronus!”  And suddenly something that looked like a wolf came out of his wand, it was a werewolf, I looked at Remus, he was happy, or at least that’s what I saw, he looked at his three friends, who had already casted their own Patronus and were looking at Remus with an concern look.

The bell rang indicating the end of the class and breaking Remus’s concentration making the Patronus dissappear.

“Bloddy hell” we both said, me, because I didnt casted my Patronus, and him, well, I didnt knew why he said it.

“Well, at least one of us casted it, what memory did you used?”

“I-I dont- It is a secret, sorry, see you after dinner” he said walking away

“See ya’“ I said wondering why he suddenly looked upset.

In dinner I was looking for him, but he didn’t came to dinner. What was wrong? Aren’t  you supossed to be happy when you cast your Patronus? I looked at his table one last time beore I leaved at I notice that James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were there and they were looking at me.

I rushed to the stairs to go to Flitwick’s classroom.

When I got there, there were already the other two pairs that couldnt cast their Patronus. I waited a few minutes and Remus entered the classroom. I followed him to the center of the classroom and we got started.

Professor Flitwick was in his chair when two Patronus made their way trough the classroom and then dissapeared.

“Expecto Patronus!”  I exclaimed, just silver air.

“You can make it! Just think of the happiest memory you have” Remus said 

“That’s what I am thinking of! Why dont you try it again? Maybe that will give me the courage to cast mine?”

“I dont realy think like doing it”

“Look, I dont know what happened during the class, ou were happy for a second and the other you were upset, your friends looked at you with concern loooks and you didnt showed up at dinner, if you dont want to tell me, but it is ok,we both know that the patrons is the light and happiness that we all have, so dont feel bad about it, now we are going to cast our Patronus and we are gonna be happy about it”

“Ok, you are right”

“1″

“2″

“3″

“Expecto Patronus!”  we both said and from our wands came out our Patronus. from mine a beutifull badger came out and from his it was a another werewolf. They both made their way in the classroom and I was following them very close but then I stepped a book and I fell.

But I didnt fell, a strong pair of arms catched me and now I was looking to Remus’s eyes. He wouldnt let me go and I didnt wanted him to.

“A badger, it is beutifull”

“I didnt had time to tell you this in class, but yours is amazing, and very rare, wich makes it even more beutifull” I told him. We were still looking to each other eyes but then the magic broke

“Oi, Remus my friend, good catch” we separated and looked to the owner of the voice. Sirius Black.

“Shut up Sirius!” he said looking back to me “W-would you like to go to Hogsmade with me on Saturday?” 

“If is only the two of us” I looked at his friends and then my looke went back to him “Yes, I would like to go to Hogsmade on Saturday”

distress and de-stress (M)

“I didn’t really plan this at all,” you murmured, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel some slight throbbing on your head starting. “I didn’t expect to see my classmate dancing as if he was on Magic Mike,” you muttered as Namjoon chuckled.

Warning: slight smut, mentions of alcohol, stripping, and cursing Pairing: Stripper!Namjoon x reader Word Count: 5.4k Series: Of Passion and Stripping (a stripper!BTS au) Namjoon | Jin | Suga | J-Hope | Jimin | V | Jungkook

You were in your biology class, your final class before the weekend. But, as you were excited for the weekend, you were also feeling awkward because of the loud vibrating sound coming from your phone. 

Your cousin was visiting the capital after being able to score a spot on a week-long convention. Yes, you were definitely excited to see her after such a long time, but you were also aware that you were getting the attention of everybody else in your lecture class. 

She had been nagging nonstop about wanting to visit the strip clubs that were non-existent in your hometown. You didn’t blame her since your hometown’s vibe was far from the active, fast-paced lifestyle in the city you were staying in.

Fortunately, your professor who seemed too absorbed with teaching (or maybe, he stopped caring) didn’t call for your attention. You partially hoped the vibrating sound wasn’t actually noticeable, especially since you were seated at the back row of the hall. The bell rang soon after as you sighed in relief, knowing that you could finally respond to your cousin and ask her on her whereabouts before you headed to wherever she wanted to go.

“The sign-ups for the partner and project assignment will be with Kim Namjoon. Have a good weekend, class,” your professor ended his lecture as he handed a piece of paper to some bespectacled guy whom you noted was Kim Namjoon.

He was one of the top students in your year, but you were surprised that he was also taking up Biology class. This class was supposedly an elective that almost nobody took, except for those who had no more slots left during enrollment before the semester started. Obviously, your parents had a hard time sending you money because of your technology-impaired town. And so, you were resigned to the fact that you were going to take up this science class. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem like he had a hard time with his tuition fees. And it also seemed like he enjoyed the class a lot, especially since he easily became the teacher’s pet.

You made your way to the line where your classmates were waiting for their turn to sign up on the sheet. You looked down on your phone, wondering if which project you were going to have to sign up for, especially since you hated biology.

Of course, hand it to your luck to be left with the topics you hated the most. You scratched your head, wondering which was the lesser evil between ‘Cell Biology’ and ‘Evolution’.

At this point, the only thing you could remember about cell biology was that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

However, on Evolution-

“So, which one are you going to choose?”

You turned up from the paper to see Kim Namjoon, looking at you with a hint of curiosity on his eyes. You scratched your head, unsure on what to respond.

“Well, I was-”

“Well, whichever topic you are going to choose, I hope that next time you would stop texting in class. It somewhat distracts the rest of us who want to concentrate,” he cut you off as you stared at him with disbelief. 

Was he outright scolding you for your phone vibrating during class?

“That was a misunderstanding. I wasn’t texting,” you clarified, while you decided to sign up for whatever topic your pen would land on. At this point, you no longer cared.

“Not really convincing when you were holding your phone the entire time,” he hastily replied as he took the paper from the table and left. You frowned, realizing that he just cut you off without listening to your explanation. He had a point, but you hated it when people cut you off easily without listening to you. 

Maybe, that’s why you moved to the city. You hated it when the older, condescending people in your town dismissed you since you were younger. They would always talk about their experiences in life that supposedly made them more knowledgeable and elevated in life than you were. Forget about science and studies by professionals, their experiences had more validation than those studies written by people you’ve never met.

“Are you okay?” Your cousin asked you as you realized that you were in deep thought. The two of you were in your apartment, getting ready for what Friday night has in store for the two of you.

“Yup! I just had a really petty classmate, but whatever I’m good now,” you assured her as she scoffed at you.

“You’re probably more intelligent than that classmate of yours. You’ve always been the most intelligent one in town!” She patted you lightly on your arm, encouraging you to forget about that tall, bespectacled classmate of yours. He was just probably pissed off because he didn’t have a life outside school, unlike you now. 

“I’m so excited to go to that strip club! I heard that their performers on Friday nights are the best one!” Your cousin squealed in delight, putting on some mascara.

“Really?”

“Yes! I heard there’s this group of seven legendary strippers and they’re well-known to make girls and guys piss off their pants, even without the strippers taking anything off just yet!” She told you in a very enthusiastic tone, but you knew better than to believe in mere rumors.

“Well, I’m going to expect a lot from these strippers, then,” you told her dismissively as you applied your lipstick, wondering if the red lipstick your cousin bought you recently suited you. You weren’t that much of a red lipstick person, preferring pink tones. 

“I swear! Those were first-hand accounts from what I’ve read on the internet!”

You snorted at her response after finding out that they were just from the internet. Obviously, anyone could just write them. In fact, the strippers could have even written them by their selves to create hype. 

“Wait till you get to the strip club! I assure you that you are so going to piss off your pants, even just at the sight of their leader! I’ll even try to get you a private one-hour strip tease with him!” She chided you, pointing at you with her finger. You simply rolled your eyes in response, knowing her tendency to exaggerate things all the time. 

“Okay! Pre-game time!” She said, holding a shot glass with some vodka you always saved for the rainy days. You raised yours, clicking the two shot glasses before you took in the liquid courage.

God knows how much you needed that shot of vodka before you saw men stripping in front of you. 

You saw yourself whisked by your bubbly cousin to some classy strip club in the other side of the city, a side you rarely visited. This part of the city was filled with restaurants and shops you could never afford with the meager allowance you received from both your parents and the school, given that you were on an academic scholarship.

“So, what time is it going to start?” You asked your cousin, poking her with your elbow. The two of you were sitting by the bar in the club, quite far away from the stage where the strippers were going to be performing.

“Any moment now. Just relax, okay,” she told you, but you knew that she needed it more than you did. Here you were simply looking around the club, but your cousin had been drinking her free cosmopolitan nonstop from nervousness. It was her first time to go this kind of place, but it wasn’t yours. You already visited some of the cheaper gay strip clubs in your district. You sighed as you turned to the corner and recognized the figure by the door. You just couldn’t point whose back it was.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Your cousin screeched, “It’s them! It’s them!” she shouted into your ears as she pointed to the same direction. You moved away from her for a bit, cringing from the high pitch tone you’ve grown accustomed to since she was born.

Nonetheless, you were actually still wondering the identity of the person you’ve recognized. You just couldn’t figure who it was, but you knew that you definitely knew him from somewhere. You just couldn’t remember where. You mused for a moment as the seven strippers started to go up the stage. And yet, the moment you saw the faces and full profile of these highly-acclaimed strippers as they started to get into their positions on stage, you now hoped that you didn’t recognize that person at all.

The crowd shouted, realizing that the strippers were about to start as some fancy pop song started to play. The seven strippers started dancing, grinding their hips, and teasing the crowd. The crowd lost it as they gave winks, blew kisses, and bit their lower lips, actions that only stimulated the crowd to shout for more. Your cousin even went ahead, scrambling near the stage to join the rest of the intoxicated crowd. 

On the other hand, you were simply staring at your free drink by the bar, wondering if you could simply go back to your apartment at the other side of the town and start on whatever paper you had that was due the following week (except that there was none just yet.) You just didn’t want to see your nerdy, good two shoes classmate dance like an actual stripper in front of you. Scratch that, he was actually a stripper!

Kim Namjoon was a fucking stripper!

You cringed inwardly, wondering why you had to discover that fact on the same day that you were chided by him. And that had to be the first interaction the two of you had. And now, your second interaction with him was with him stripping in front of you. You grimaced as you took a sip from your free drink.

Your game plan for tonight was that you just had to get through it all and you also had to make sure that you brought home your cousin safe and sound at the end of the night. 

“This is her! This is her!” You heard your cousin talking to someone as you realized that she was talking to one of the strippers who performed on stage a while ago. Their performance had just probably ended, but you knew that your cousin had the charm and persuading skills to convince anyone to go along with her whims.

“This is my cousin who’s been very stressed with college! And you know what, just this afternoon, she got into this nasty argument with this classmate of hers who was obviously just jealous because she’s smarter!” She told the stripper, who just nodded and was looking at you. You suddenly felt conscious as you realized that the said stripper was eyeing you head to toe.

“What is happening here?” You raised an eyebrow, but she laughed as if it were just nothing.

“This is Christian Chim! He’s one of those strippers I told you about earlier! And I was just telling him that you needed to… destress after what happened today! So, I told him that you needed to see their leader!” She explained to you as you shook your head.

“It’s completely okay. I’m okay.”

“Nonsense! I know you’ve been really stressed a lot!” She shook her head as she turned to ‘Christian Chim’, as if she was expecting him to say something. 

“Rap Monster’s really good at making people de-stress, for a lack of a better term. That’s why he’s the leader,” Chim told you with a wink as you paused for a moment.

Rap Monster?

“Yes! Rap Monster! He’s the leader of the group. You should go meet him. I read that he’s the best!” Your cousin nodded as you realized that you just voiced out your thoughts for a moment. “But, of course, Chim here is the best for me,” she crooned as she had immediately linked her arms with the pink-haired stripper. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, to be honest,” you tried to convince them, but you were repeatedly being dismissed by the two.

“Oh look, there’s Rap Monster! Rap Monster!” Chim called out to the older stripper. You looked down on your cosmopolitan, hoping that it wasn’t Namjoon, but you also knew that your bad luck was on a streak tonight.

“Yo, what’s up, Chim?” The older stripper asked as he popped beside Chim. You were still looking down on your cosmopolitan, refusing to look at any of them. You recognized his voice, but you figured that you had to pretend that you didn’t know him.

“My cousin here is so stressed out and we heard of your skills. She’s been agitated by this really stupid classmate of hers who seemed so jealous of her brain,” your cousin pushed you towards his direction, but you continued to look down, despite knowing that he was right in front of you.

You partially hoped that the makeup on your face and the red lipstick made a lot of difference to your face like what happened in the movies.

“Well, that sounds really bad, but I don’t think I can just help out someone who refuses to look up,” he casually replied as your cousin nudged you, making you reluctantly look up from your cosmopolitan.

From the outside, it seemed like he didn’t recognize you, but you knew by the glint on his eyes that he did.

He fucking did.

“I think this is a big mistake, really,” you repeated your words from earlier as you tried to get away, but Chim and your cousin shook their heads instantly.

“You know you need this. You have to get rid of any thoughts regarding that no fun classmate of yours and have all the fun you need for tonight!” She told you as you closed your eyes, hoping that she would stop referring to that classmate of yours, especially when he was in front of you.

“I swear, I don’t need this,” you insisted, but she wouldn’t have it.

“Hush, I already paid for this. So, you shouldn’t refuse it,” she told you as your eyes widened in shock. She actually used her allowance for this? What would her parents think of you if they found out? “Anyways, I’m going to have my private session with Chim here. Have fun!” She added with a wink as she headed to somewhere with her arms linked with the pink-haired stripper’s.

You tried to assess the situation, wondering if there was any way for you to get out of it, but you found yourself being directed to one of the private rooms by your stripper-classmate. He motioned to the sofa where you were supposed to sit until you realized that there was some sort of pole in the room you were in. The room was partially dim, as well, but was obviously sound-proofed. You slowly swallowed the growing lump on your throat as you wondered if it was still possible for you to run away. 

“So, how do you want this to be done?” He asked you with a seductive look on his face, but all you were seeing in front of you was the teacher’s pet you saw on Fridays. You knew that he could probably make other girls (and guys) scream, but this was also the same guy who would enthusiastically answer your professor’s questions correctly.

You sighed, biting your lower lip. “Is it okay if you don’t strip or do anything?” You asked timidly, but he raised an eyebrow, obviously taken aback by what you had just said.

“So, what am I exactly here for?” He asked.

You closed your eyes, wondering what you were supposed to do now. You sat down on one edge of the sofa. “I didn’t really plan this at all,” you murmured, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could feel some slight throbbing on your head starting. “I didn’t expect to see my classmate dancing as if he was on Magic Mike,” you muttered as he chuckled.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to be studying in your own apartment?” He asked, sitting on the other edge of the sofa.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

“A guy has to earn for his daily needs,” he replied casually as you realized that he stripped off his stripper’s image already. It was as if he were some regular guy who wasn’t trying to seduce any person of either the opposite or the same gender. Basically, someone who was also trying to get through college, like you were.

“You didn’t have any other choice?” You asked, wondering about his situation. He always seemed like he was well-off.

“I did,” he said, giving a light chuckle. “I mean, I could always do part-time jobs in convenience stores, but I wouldn’t have the time to study anymore to keep my grades,” he added as you nodded, noting that he obviously took pride on his academic rank. Well, he was, after all, one of the top students in your batch.

“I mean, I have to work hard because I was so jealous of you,” he teased as you realized that he knew that your cousin was talking about him. You blushed in embarrassment, knowing that he ranked higher than you.

“That was a misunderstanding on my cousin’s part,” you explained to him.

“You’re very prone to misunderstandings,” he noted, a smirk on his face.

“I just told her that I had a really petty classmate, that’s all,” you told him, but you later cringed, realizing that you just called him petty in front of your face. He laughed at what you said as you noticed the dimples he secretly had all this time. You shook your head, noticing that the alcohol was taking a toll on you.

“Really? I was being petty earlier?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t even let me explain why my phone was vibrating the whole time!” You interjected as he chuckled.

“It was annoying when I was trying to record whatever the professor was talking about. It’s quite difficult to pay attention in his class, especially when he was so boring,” he told you as your eyes widened. He found the professor boring? How was that possible? He always seemed like he was very enthusiastic in class.

“I’m a very good actor,” he answered your question as you realized that you, once again, voiced out your thoughts. “So, tell me, buttercup, what’s up? Why was your phone vibrating then the whole time?” He asked you with a patient tone.

“My phone was vibrating because my cousin was texting me the whole time about the places we had to visit, more specifically this strip club,” you decided to tell him what you had been meaning to since earlier that afternoon. He nodded, finally understanding your side.

“Oh, I see. Well, your cousin seemed really pushy earlier. So, I pretty much get it,” he surmised as you nodded, knowing the truth behind his words. Your cousin certainly had the knack for convincing other people, but sometimes, it did get pretty annoying.

“So, why are you called ‘Rap Monster’?” You asked, remembering the nickname his colleague called him earlier. You knew that they had nicknames to protect their identities, but you also wondered why he had such a nickname.

He chuckled. “Funny story, actually. I was into rap, well actually, until now, but then, I had the tendency to be very destructive,” he grinned lazily as you raised an eyebrow. 

“Destructive?” You asked.

“I wreck people up,” he winked flirtatiously as you rolled your eyes. 

“Right.” 

“Hey, there’s a reason why we’re confident with the ‘no refund’ policy,” he said in a defensive tone as you nodded dismissively.

“And why is that exactly?” You decided to humor him. 

“You should experience it yourself,” he smirked seductively as you realized that he had his stripper face on once again. You snorted as you opened the free bottle of beer on the table, taking a swig from it before you turned to him with a look of disbelief.

“I’m sorry, but all I’m seeing right now is the dorky, teacher’s pet in biology class every Friday,” you told him as he raised an eyebrow.

“Even when I’m stripping in front of you?”

“It’s not that difficult when my first encounter of you was with you sassing me out earlier,” you replied with a snarky tone as he laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“You’re definitely going to take that against me now, are you?” He asked.

You nodded in response, chuckling. “I’m never going to live that down,” you grinned at the last part as he rolled his eyes.

“All I wanted was to listen properly to the professor,” he said, sighing, as you shook your head.

“You already told me that you were trying to record it,” you reminded him as he chuckled, knowing that he was caught red-handed.

“Okay, so, I was trying to record it on my phone because we went home really late night,” he admitted, holding his hands up.

“Why?” You asked, curious.

He pointed to his clothes. “Strippers do have to practice, as well. We can’t just do the same old routine of grinding our hips and asses off, you know,” he said as if it were a matter of fact.

“Does it really make a difference?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Sweetheart, that’s why we’re the best,” he grinned at the last part. It was as if he was really proud of his nightly activities. Normally, people wouldn’t be proud of stripping, but it seemed like he was as proud of it as he was with his grades. “I think of stripping as an art. It may seem lewd, but there’s something special about dancing and taking everything off with so much passion,” he grinned at the last part.

“So, where does rapping come into play?” You asked as he smiled, delighted that you remembered where his alias came from.

“My private one-hour sessions involve me, rapping while stripping,” he told you as your eyes narrowed as you wondered about how it was possible.

Rapping while stripping? That was certainly new, but for some reason, you could see him doing it. You could picture him, rapping sweet and dirty things to his client’s ear, promising about what he could do and show them, while grinding his hips into theirs. You licked your lips nervously before you took another swig from your bottle.

“Interested?” He asked, interrupting you from your thoughts. You immediately shook your head in response. You didn’t trust your own mouth and voice to say ‘no’, knowing that a portion of you actually wanted to say ‘yes’ to him.

“Shame.”

You turned to him, surprised by what he said. You didn’t know what to respond as you gave a nervous chuckle, wondering what you were going to talk now. Should you talk about your biology class? Or what about what topic he chose for the project? Should you ask him who his partner was for the project? Should you-

“You know, earlier, I would’ve thought that it was some sort of vibrator if I didn’t see you take out your phone when I turned around,” he winked at the last part as you gawked at him, your jaw dropping at what he just said.

“Ya! Kim Namjoon!”

He laughed at your reaction as you felt your cheeks heat up. You tried to gain your composure until you realized that he was already sitting so close to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. You didn’t notice that he had been moving closer to you slowly until now.

“Why are you so close to me?” You asked, staring at his eyes. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. Suddenly, you became aware of the mole he had on his cheek and on his chin. You were also aware of how his breath smelled like peppermint and the rest of him smelled like some sort of expensive cologne that was certainly bought from one of those stores located in this district. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just couldn’t resist the gravitational force pulling me closer to you,” he breathed out as he was slowly caressing the side of your face with his right hand. Normally, you would’ve cringed to that line, but for some reason, it sat so well with him.

“So, where does that bring us then?” You asked, but his response only made your breath hitch. 

“It brings us here.”

He closed the gap between your lips, engulfing yours without wasting any second. You could feel his soft lips on yours, tasting a hint of peppermint. You felt his lips moving with yours, synching before you felt his fingers slightly stroke your spine as your lips parted, a slight moan coming out from you. You didn’t even know that you were sensitive on that area until now.

He took this as an opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue, his teeth slowly grazing your bottom lip as you enthusiastically returned the favor, your tongues entangled in some battle for dominance. You refused to lose, but you knew he had the upper hand, being more experienced when it comes to this. Your arms surrounded his neck in an instant as he pulled you to his waist for you to sit on his lap. You felt his lips part from yours, planting small kisses on your neck as you felt him sucking on one of the sensitive parts of your neck. You moaned as you felt his smirk for a moment before he continued to suck on the same portion again and again.

“God, you look so enticing with your red lips. You thought I wouldn’t notice that you changed the shade this time, right?” he murmured against your neck, making you moan. You could feel yourself getting wet slowly as you tried to close your legs, wanting to prevent yourself from leaking. He pulled your legs apart, however, a smirk on his face. “Just what are you doing?” He asked as you felt his fingers tracing your thighs. You buried your face into his shoulder, too embarrassed to respond.

“You think that you manage to hide these,” he said as he squeezed your butt, making you moan even louder, “with your baggy pants on Fridays? I always noticed them whenever you try to walk from the front door to your seat at the back,” he whispered to you with a low growl as you felt him squeeze it harder.

“Namjoon,” you moaned once again as you felt your panties getting ruined until you realized that his finger was stroking you through your panties. “W-What are you doing?” You asked, your eyes closing in the sensation.

“What does it seem like I’m doing, sweetheart?” He asked you before he zeroed in on your ear. “What am I doing exactly? Answer me,” he whispered before slightly nibbling on your ears. 

“Namjoon,” you moaned out his name again as he clicked his tongue. 

“Tell me what I’m doing to you,” he demanded, his finger continuously caressing you through your panties.

“You’re fingering me,” you answered back, moaning. 

“And do you want my fingers inside you?” He asked.

“Yes, I do. Yes,” you said, unable to take it any longer as you felt his fingers push your panties to the side, directly feeling you with his fingers. You moaned his name yet again, unable to think about anything but his fingers inside you. His fingers were circling on your clit, pinching them before he plunged his other fingers inside and outside of you. The sensation was getting too much as you felt like there was a string being pulled inside you.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you moaned into his chest as his other hand brought your head to face upwards, engulfing your lips once again with his before you felt yourself becoming undone on his fingers. His fingers continued to go in and out of you, making you enjoy your high until you calmed down, while you moaned into his mouth, his tongue caressing yours.

“I’ve never done this before,” he murmured to you as he rested his forehead on yours. Your face looked obviously satisfied from the high that you got from your first orgasm for the night. 

“This what?” You asked, too intoxicated to realize what he was referring to. He could talk about the most basic things, but you would have no idea on what he would be talking about.

“I’ve only danced and stripped to my underwear, but never to the point where I’d have to kiss or even have sex with them,” he said tenderly, before planting another kiss on your lips.

“You only wanted to have sex with me?” You quipped, quite surprised.

“Only if you’d want to, sweetheart,” he added, waiting for your consent.

However, before you could reply to him, you were interrupted by a knock on the door, making you realize that one hour already passed. The two of you got up while you tried to pass it off as if nothing happened. He opened the door as your cousin entered, a very hyper look on her face.

“How was it?” She asked as you turned to Namjoon, who just shrugged, leaving it to you to talk about what happened. Of course, you weren’t going to tell her what just happened.

“It was really good. I don’t feel stressed anymore,” you told her, refraining to tell her what that entailed. Namjoon chuckled inwardly, licking his fingers, the very same fingers that were inside you a while ago, but you could only feel yourself getting wet once again from the gesture. You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from moaning as you simply waved good-bye towards him and Chim. Soon after, you and your cousin left the strip club, but you never got to see him anymore, hearing that he already retired for the night.

But, of course, you knew you were going to see him again on Friday.

As usual, he sat in front, while you sat at the back in your spot. He was enthusiastically listening to the professor and you were, too, especially since your phone had stopped vibrating, your cousin having left for your hometown after the weekend.

“Your partners for the project have been assigned. Please be reminded that the deadline for the paper is next week,” your professor said before dismissing the class for the day. You sighed in relief, realizing that it was the weekend again. Yet, you also wanted to see Namjoon again and perhaps, talk, just talk to him, but you weren’t sure how else you could talk to him, aside from going to the strip club.

You sighed, wondering if you had the funds to visit the strip club, but you knew that you were a bit tight for this week.

“Hi, I’m your partner.”

You turned up and saw your nerdy, goody two shoes, teacher’s pet classmate, who was also a stripper that went by the name of ‘Rap Monster’ during the night. He had a goofy smile on his face, taking out his hand for you to shake, as if it were the first time you talked and last Friday night never happened.

You nervously took it, deciding to shake his hand in good faith, but you were surprised when he suddenly grabbed you and had latched you on to his chest.

“Did you know that there’s a theory that mating played a huge part on evolution?” He whispered to your ears as your eyes widened. You steadied yourself, pulling yourself away from him, as you looked at him and saw the same seductive look on his face you saw last week.

“I-Is that so?” You managed to squeak out, surprised by his sudden quip. You didn’t know what else to respond to what he said. He only smirked at your response, leaning back to your ears.

“Would you be interested on testing that theory out tonight?”

No Strings Attached - Pt.1

Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 2900

Summary for the series: When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.

What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.

Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?

A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.

Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.

You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.

Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.

God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.

And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.

Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.

Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.

“Whoa!”

“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.

You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.

A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.

Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.

You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.

It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.

“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.

“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.

Oh no. He really was cute.

Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.

The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.

You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.

“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”

Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.

“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day-  “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”

Alert! A guy’s asking you out!

And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.

“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”

You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…

“Chuck.”

“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“

You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.

Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.

”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?

“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“

Oh god, he wasn’t cute.

He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.

“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.

Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.

“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”

You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.

“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”

“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”

Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.

“Where you headin’?”

“2.34?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.

“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”

He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”

“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”

“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.

“You’re welcome, Chuck.”

Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.

Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.

Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.

Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.

Could this day get any better?

Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”

Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.

To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.

Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.

“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.

“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”

Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.

“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.

And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.

It was just one of those strange days.

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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.

You were wrong.

Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.

And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.

Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.

But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.

In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.

For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.

For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.

Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.

Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.

Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.

Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.

“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”

The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.

“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.

You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.

“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”

“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.

“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”

“…I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.

With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.

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Part 2

About

Chuck characters

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Thank you for reading :-*

In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.

P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references… Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25  though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)  

Anika Ann out

My Experience at the Women’s March D.C.

Saturday I went to the Women's March in DC. First, let me back up and give a little insight.

Earlier in the week my friend asked me if I'd like to go with them to D.C. for the march, I put some thought into it and decided to go.I was a little skeptical at first mostly because when I picture a woman's march, I tend to imagine a bunch of women walking topless down the street. That was far from what this march was and shame on me for thinking otherwise. The Women's March was designed to be a peaceful GATHERING of women who believe in the rights that many women in history have worked to make possible. It was by no means intended to be a protest (more on that later). Regardless, my weekend was open and I thought I would take this opportunity. Things worked out, some lovely woman transferred her cabin rental into our name (at a campground-nothing fancy but super fun) and did not let us pay. SO KIND.

Friday as I was getting ready to hit the road-I started seeing news circulating about small 'riots' breaking out across D.C. because it was inauguration day. I must admit it made me a little nervous, but I knew that was not related to the Women's March which brought me lots of peace. I knew that people, no matter what, would find any opportunity they could to 'riot'.  We got to the campground around 2AM  Saturday morning.

We got up at 7am on Saturday and hit the road towards the Metro Station nearest our location. We grabbed some coffee on the way, parked our car, put our jackets on, and on we went. I had no idea what to expect. Will there be a million people on this train? Are these people going to be rowdy? I had absolutely no idea what to expect. We waited in line to purchase our metro cards and fill them up, when we were approached by a woman. She had a hand full of metro cards that she was passing out-which had $10 loaded on to them. This was a little over a round trip, which we were very thankful for.  

We got on the green line and headed downtown which was a 20 min train ride.

I read every sign that I could lay my eyes on. I watched the excitement on everyones face as we would approach each stop. To my surprise all of these people were SO NORMAL-seriously they were like the people I see every day.  Real life people. As I said earlier, I had an image of what I thought a women's march would look like based on....hmm I actually don't know. Maybe movies or other forms of media? I guess I assumed it would be a mixture of millennial and older hippie women who never left the 60's. I apologize for that assumption.  There were so many women from every possible background, age, class, race, upbringing, religion or lack thereof, but it doesn't stop there. There were families. There were generations of women there. A lot of mothers and daughters (mothers to adults but also mothers to children) and even grandmothers. Some women who marched in the 70's. Teachers. Nurses. you name it. There were men who attended with their wives, but more shockingly there were men who just came by themselves.

At this point I am just soaking in as much as I can.

We get to our stop and everyone makes their way off of the train.

Once we made it onto the platform, waiting to get onto the escalator, is when the excitement hit. Every time a new train would come with a new group of marchers there would be a roar of cheering and excitement. Everyones face said the same thing. "wow this is awesome' 'there are so many people..so many''i really hope there are enough porta potties' "

We walked out of the metro and at first it just looked like any city....and then we turned the corner and I saw the Washington Monument  running into the fog..I immediately turned into a child. I had never been to D.C. before so it just seemed so surreal. Then we turned and there is the Capital building, still set up from the inauguration, so regal and just so bold. I loved it. I loved the way I felt standing among all of those people being excited about where I was and all of the people that have stood on those streets and starred at these buildings and the monuments in awe. what a feeling.

We made our way to the stage (or as close as we could get-which was three screans away from the stage).Read as many signs as we could as we walked.People asked if they could take pictures of our signs (I'll post a picture at the end).We found a spot in a crowd of very kind people. To our left was a man in his late 20's/ early 30's from Maryland who came to the march on his own. In front of us was a mother in her 40's and her 20 something daughter. To our right was a woman in her late 30's or early 40's,  she is a history professor in Pensylvania who had the opportunity to bring two of her students (both in their early 20's). The group of ladies behind us were a hoot. One of them was dressed like Rosie the Riveter with a button up shirt and a bandana on her head. They seemed like they were all pretty close like they worked together maybe teachers or an office team.   A few people to the right were a few native american women, who were so beautiful. A few people ahead were a group of art students-who were just full of life. There was a couple in their 50's or 60's standing behind us.  

We all laughed at some of the 'rediculous' signs (you know the ones...youve seen them all over facebook and the news).  We all cheered together as the organizers started coming on stage. noone really knew what to expect but we had all been waiting in anticipation. The organizers explained how they never thought that it would ever be an event that was as big as it was. (In the early stages of planning they were only expecting around 60,000 people and the week before it grew to 200,000 expectancy, and the day of it was more that 500,000 people).

Some spoke about the sister marches across the country and the world, sharring messages they all wanted to relay to the D.C. gathering. They brought speakers (both men and women) who represented different issues. From people of the muslim faith, immigrant born families, women in education, senators, reps from planned parenthood, the healthcare system, the native american community, a reverend, a musician, etc....

Some of the speakers choose to speak about who or what they represented but a lot of speakers talked about the deep history behind womens rights. About all of the women who have been in these very streets we were standing in marching for their right to vote. All expressing great gratitude for the progress for womens rights across our nation.

I know a lot of people (i have talked to a good bit over the past few days) who think that the womens march was about walking for rights that we dont have....which is not really at all what it was. We were marching because we do have these rights. There are some that could improve (like the sallary gap-not going through with the muslim registry-just to name a few).

One thing I greatly appreciated about the Women's March on Washington was that everyone that was there was marching for a reason. Eveyone had at least one thing that they were passionate about (which could have been out of pure gratitude that they had the freedom to march or a specific cause). Even though everyone was not there necessarily supporting the same cause-everyone respected eachother and had their hearts and ears open to listen. That itself was beautiful and all worth my attendance.

Now don't get me wrong..there were some rediculous signs..and some realy strange chants that some people were doing. There were signs that I did not prefer to look at, signs that made me laugh, and signs that I did not agree with... BUT more than that there were a ton of human beings who put their hearts into their signs, who desired so badly to hear the opinions of others (both on stage and in the crowd), who want peace and unity despite differences that were among us or among those who were not there.

I want to challenge you that if you are skeptical of the Women's March to talk to someone who attended. Ask them why they marched. Ask them what they thought of the speakers. Ask them about their favorite part and their least favorite part. With that I challenge you to be open minded, open hearted, and listen to them.

Hii just saw your post aboit tech/ kinda online learning

online distance for me wss traumtic because 1. i felt like my teachers didn't put in the same amount of effort. every other week they just stuck on someone retired professional to talk (they always got sidetracked in all) and never said jack shit about assignments no content about that. (so you can imagine how that went) 2. I couldn’t create a working envrionment from home at all no matter what. 3. it fucked with any routine and stability i had (ofc i supposed i helped with that but yh aha) 4. many more things i can't think of atm

I understand where you're coming from, tech isn't all that bad but i think it was the things that inadvertently came with online learning that made it a traumatic experience for people yk?

Not that im arguing or disagreeing with you, just sharing my thoughts/feelingd with you if that's okay!

Oh no, that's fine! I'm glad to read your input!

For me personally, I felt like my professors put in the same effort and kept the same amount of rigor (honestly, that was a bit to my chagrin. Can't lie. One of my teachers threw EVERY assignment she could at us group project, research paper, presentation, AND 2 exams). But I've heard A LOT of people say their teachers weren't on their A game.

Based on the conversations with around 21 teachers I heard today, they thought it was traumatic to have to teach to "boxes" (what you see when students won't turn their cameras on) cause you can't realy connect. But also, they had to hear all of their students' issues (siblings/family and others dying, as well as other things) and there's studies that say Teachers get traumatized from hearing/being around their students who are going through a trauma (teachers were literally CRYING today during the workshop during this conversations). So I'm guessing a lot of them had burnout as well as dealing with depression and their own personal struggles on TOP of dealing with many of their students going through things and them naturally feeling bad because they care about them.

As far as #2 I also had trouble creating a good learning environment. I literally took one of my midterms when my parents were in the middle of an argument about something really stupid (If i can recall, it was about which TILE they were gonna get in the bathroom *facepalm* LOL). Needless to say, I didn't do well on that midterm.

For #3 (routine), I had a MUCH easier time during the Fall 2020. I had a workout schedule and just a school schedule without much else to do. But when 2021 came, it was hard to do that just because of how many classes I had and how many assignments (which were pretty rigourous) were being thrown at me.

For me, I'm just REALLY used to working remotely. I've been doing it since junior year of high school, did it in my first 2 years of college on some occasions, and also I've worked multiple remote jobs. So the transition just wasn't hard for me. But imagine it must've been REALLY hard for people to just have to make the switch literally overnight when they just have no concept of working remotely and have never done it. (again, goes back to "tech as a tool vs tech as toy", yeah many people use it for e-mails, research, and to write papers but I feel like for most people the VAST majority of the time they spend using tech is for entertainment purposes more than as a "true" tool). Then there's the fact that some people's equipment wasn't really up to par for doing EVERYTHING online. I'm sure many people's screentime DOUBLE cause now they have to do EVERYTHING online and couldn't really interact IRL with people due to the quarantine. That much screen time just ISN'T good, period. Nobody should be in front of the screen that much (NOTE: We still have no clue what so much screen time does to people. These concerns were being raised PRE-covid just with regards to social media and smart phones.)

But yeah, anyway, thanks for responding and giving your experience! It was an interesting perspective.

Today’s tech-savvy colleges and universities can offer virtual campus tours, complete with interactive maps. They’ve got blogs, YouTube channels and live web cams. While those are all nice additions, nothing can quite replace an on-campus college tour. It’s those campus tours that help you get an authentic “feel” of prospective colleges.

Plus, you get to pepper your tour guide and admissions officials with questions that delve deeper than the stats on the website. (Pro tip: Ask some students for their opinions, because they’ll likely give you unscripted, candid answers).

Here’s 7 questions to ask when you’re on a college visit:

What’s the average class size? Then, get specific about this. How many students are in introductory classes? What about upper-division classes? Are there opportunities for small seminars? Colleges often advertise their average class sizes on their websites, but there’s such a wide range between, say, an introductory sociology class and an upper-division lab practicum. It’s also a great idea to ask students how accessible their professors are and whether their instructors and professors can be easily reached during office hours.

Lecture halls should inspire and support modern learning. The Moncton is just one example of how to get students excited about learning. A well-designed seat goes a long way.

A post shared by Borgo Contract Seating (@borgoseating) on Feb 16, 2017 at 3:29pm PST

What’s the job market like for graduates? Colleges will take post-graduation surveys to measure things like how successful their graduates are at finding jobs or getting admitted to advanced-degree programs. While you may be able to “do your homework ahead of time” and find that information online, it’s a good idea to ask current students about the resources offered at career and internship offices on both a departmental and college-wide level. Having an internship during college can help you network and make it easier to land a job after graduation.

It's almost time… book your graduation photos now! [email protected] – www.imagesbyseb.com #graduationpictures #graduationpictures #graduationphoto #graduationphotoshoot #asu #tempe #scottsdale #phoenix #highschoolgraduation #arizonastateuniversity #asugraduation #asugirls #igraduated #capandgown #godevils #sundevils #collegegrad #collegegraduation #university #universitylife #universitystudent #highheels #dresses

A post shared by imagesbyseb (@imagesbyseb) on Feb 11, 2017 at 6:58am PST

What sets your student body apart from others? So you’ve read online about the school’s renowned physics department or know that your prospective college’s women’s basketball team are Sweet 16 repeats during March Madness.  But, what’s the pulse of the student body that’s not so obviously online? Maybe your college is especially politically active. Or, maybe, the school just so happens to really cater to vegans and vegetarians, with on-campus cafeterias offering great meals for those on plant-based diets.

When in #Denton, we must feast at #MeanGreens at the #vegancafeteria. I miss coming here for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day as a #UNT student.

A post shared by Courtney Garza (@dallascgar) on Feb 15, 2016 at 11:27am PST

What classes are hardest to get into? Or is there a professor who is an academic all-star whose class you must get in? Whether it’s an elective every student, no matter their degree program, wants to take or a professor that’s just known for giving profound lectures, every school has a few classes that are equivalents of concerts that sell out fast.  Find out what they are early on so that you can be on your A-game at registration.

David Reali (left) and junior marketing, sports and media major Nick Staloch (right) lead the W. P. Carey School of Business freshmen class on a tour of the Tempe campus on the first day of classes. ・ ・ ・ ・ ・ Photo by Deanna Dent/ASU Now. #iamwpcarey #welcomeback #campustour #freshmen

A post shared by W. P. Carey School of Business (@wpcareyschool) on Aug 19, 2016 at 4:44pm PDT

What’s on tap for the school in the next few years—whether it’s campus construction projects or degree programs? Whether you’re there for a one-year exchange or enrolled in a four-year bachelor program, your campus community will be your new home. Find out if there are any upgrades happening in the weight room at the recreation center or renovations to the library to make it a comfy space for those late-night study sessions. Also, to keep up with changing industries, colleges are adding new degree programs and tracks, which might fit into your college goals.

Last night I taught a Music Rights lecture at Golden West Cillege in Huntington Beach. After the lecture, the students broke off some songs and recorded into the night. #recordingstudio #gwc #goldenwestcollege #huntingtonbeach #college #teaching #collegelectures #studiolife #theoc #orangecounty

A post shared by Damien Pane (@damienpane) on Mar 21, 2014 at 11:12am PDT

Should you ditch your car? In many college towns, it’s more of a hassle to have a car. Parking might be limited in nearby neighborhoods and campus parking passes are often expensive. Is the college town and campus walkable? What’s the bus service like? Are Uber and Lyft active in the area should you need to get to nearby cities? Also, many campuses and college towns have bikeshare programs to help you get around.

#Savage

A post shared by T. (@2fun2furious_) on Feb 18, 2017 at 7:43am PST

What kind of financial aid is available? This one comes with lots of follow-ups, too! It’s worth inquiring about the average debt-load of graduating students. Asking about loan default rates can also help you glean whether students are getting high-enough-paying jobs to balance their debt loads. When it comes to financial aid packages, how much is in the form of loans and how much are awarded as grants? Also, how competitive are work-study jobs? 

Second place. It's not first, but we did our best and had a fun time doing it. #lovecooking #culinary #competition #yellowribbon #scholarshipmoney

A post shared by Abby Bohannon. (@abbycbo) on Mar 30, 2016 at 4:33pm PDT

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