#and granted a lot of it was to look smart or well rounded for college and dental school apps which is I guess it’s own thing

[raplinesmoon]

i think the thing that no one tells you about being forced into being a high achieving child/teen is how much it comes to fuck you over later in life when you can’t do anything without holding yourself to an insane level of perfectionism and then you realize it’s basically leeched all the fun out of any hobbies you created for yourself and left you with a shell of a personality

[ladykailitha]

Corroded Coffin Headcanons!

Why yes, I am procrastinating. Why do you ask?

I've good all week and want to take a little break and descend into madness, so I'm allowed, okay?

As always, you can headcanon whatever the hell you want, just like I can, so please no hate. Good?

Good.

This mostly about the members of CC and not necessarily about the band as a whole.

I'm going to do Eddie last because we know the most about him.

The Unnamed Freak- And as far as I've heard around, this dude STILL doesn't have a name. I've seen all sorts of names for him: Frank, because it sounds like freak; Grant, because that's the actor's name; Archie, is another I've seen crop up a lot; and of course a smattering of others. In all of my fics, he's Brian. All the other members of the band had epic names: Gareth, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table, Edward, the name of several of England's kings, and even Geoffrey has a lot of famous people of that name. So he gets named Brian. Usually his last name is Martin.

He met Eddie because they were seated next to each other due to their last names in band. Eddie got him into metal music and the subculture.

Bassist for the band he began learning at an early age, early enough that he was and is the band's only bassist.

He is the oldest of four kids having three younger siblings. Two brothers and a sister. He tries to get out of babysitting as often as he can.

He's ace but not aro. When I age him up in stories, he's often in a romantic relationship, but never a sexual one. He's not sex repulsed but it's not for him.

He was held back in kindergarten and understands what Eddie is going through as far as being older than his peers.

He's a year younger than Eddie, and if he hadn't been held back would have graduated with Steve.

Jeff- Everyone thinks his given name is Geoffrey, but nope. It's Jeffrey. It's because his mom thought it would be easier for him. Nope! He has one older sister who is away at college. His last name is Lawrence mainly because I love that name and I think Jeff Lawrence just has a nice ring to it.

He is the grade he's suppose to be in, the same grade as well...literally every other older teen in the series except Steve and Eddie. In fact he's super smart, but doesn't have the patience to help Eddie with his school work. He gets frustrated too easily.

His mom hopes he gives up the idea of super stardom soon because she thinks he's smart enough to be a doctor.

In my fics where I age them up, he has a white girlfriend and understands Eddie's fear of going public with a guy, because in the 80s, black boy and white girl is just as bad as being gay. Still is in some places, sadly.

Jeff is Eddie's best friend, mainly because they both play guitar. Jeff is rhythm guitar, though because Eddie is far and away the better player.

Jeff is bisexual. Yes, he is with a girl most of the time and his relationship with his girlfriend is a lot like a couple friends of mine, where they are both bisexual, but dating an opposite member from their sex. Still experiences attraction to the same sex, though.

Gareth- this might shock some people but Emerson is a fanon not a canon last name for the character. And because I headcanon him as second generation American, his grandparents migrated over to America from Wales and his dad is first generation, their last name is Hughes. His dad knows Welsh, but Gareth and Gethin his twin brother don't.

The main reason I think this is because Gareth is a very Welsh first name. As is the name Gethin, in case you were wondering. It's why I picked Gethin as the name of his twin.

I think Gareth is a twin because there is a character in the first episode taking pictures at the basketball game that looks a lot like Gareth, almost uncannily so. You can even see Nancy talking to him for a moment.

Gareth is gay and Gethin is straight. Gethin is everything his parents would want from a kid, straight, smart, into photography, preppy. Everything Gareth isn't. He's gay, struggles in school, drums for a metal band, and is a metalhead.

That's not to say his parents aren't supportive, because they are. They let Corroded Coffin play in their garage, after all. But Gareth still feels like a disappointment anyway.

He's a junior in high school and absolutely wants to drop out when his bandmates graduate, but he's afraid his mom will kill him.

Eddie- Look, I know I've used Edward as his full name a lot, but sometimes Edmond is just the superior name. And I use them interchangeably, but yeah it's probably Edward considering he grew up poor.

Wayne is a Catholic (you see a calendar of the saints in the trailer) and Eddie grew up around Catholicism, but the more he realized he was gay and moved further into the metal subculture the less he liked the religion.

Yes he does know the patch on the side of his denim vest is the church of Satan. :D

Wayne bought him his first guitar after his mother died and taught him how to play as way of coping with the grief.

Eddie was one of those students that coasted in school until his senior year where suddenly the difficulty was ramped up to eleven.

He promised his mom that he would graduate from high school though, because she didn't. She got pregnant with him.

I think he was 11 or 12 when he went to go live with Wayne, just barely starting middle school. He's been around Wayne long enough that he knows he's loved by him, but old enough to have been influenced a little by his dad's life style.

In fact, it was his dad that got him into dealing drugs for Reefer Rick.

His dad keeps coming into town and dragging Eddie back down with him and leaving Wayne to pick up the pieces.

I've written him bisexual in the past, and probably will again, but there is just something about Eddie being gay that hits a sweet spot. An extra box to tick in the freak department (not that being gay is bad, it's just how Eddie would see it).

The Munson Doctrine is a serious things he's picked up over the years from his dad and uncle but also his experiences with life as whole.

Did NOT get bullied by Steve. Especially since for most of Steve's high school career Eddie was the grade above him. He just dealt at enough parties to "know" rich+good looking+popular with girls=douchebag. But he hasn't had any direct experience with Steve outside of the odd class they had together his second senior year.

Is the president of the Hellfire Club in practice, but on paper it's usually someone else. Someone more liked by the principal. And is billed as a gaming club on the school records so that it doesn't get banned. Everyone knows it's DND.

Corroded Coffin- Just a little headcanon here. Gareth is the second drummer but everyone else were original members that played at that Talent Show (Gareth would have been in fifth grade). They picked up Gareth after their original drummer moved away.

So there you go, just some of my headcanons for the CC boys.

[badgerbl00d]

aot trios as college stereotypes pt.1

☆ characters: tutor!armin x reader, roomate!eren x reader, frat boy!jean x reader

☆ up next: reuniting with one piece boys after a long time apart

☆ summary: literally just smut

☆ 18+, mdni

armin 

(1.3k)

 “Okay.. let’s try number three again.” 

You sighed, and turned towards Armin, crossing your arms in evident frustration. 

“Break? Please?” Your lips were pouted and cheeks dusted pink in frustration.

Armin felt himself getting hard again. He knew he had to keep this professional. 

He was a tutor after all. Employed by the university to help failing students. He was trying. But it was getting more and more difficult with every study session. Your skirts got shorter and shorter and shirts cut lower and lower. He stared at how your clothes stuck to your curves and how you swayed when you walked. 

“Sure,” he said, “Break.” Giving you a small smile. 

Neither of you moved at first, his hand stayed on your shoulder. 

It was a quiet night. No particularly loud frat parties or football games. There was a window in Armin’s room and you could see a lot of the campus. It was dark outside and cool in the room. The light hum of the air conditioner ran in the background. And the buzz of his desk lamp cast a golden hue on the sides of your faces. Armin looked at your face. Your lips were pink, and round. The slight pout you wore on your face was adorable, and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It was getting late and the homework had been harder than either of you had expected.

You liked your influence on him. Watching how, as long as you asked nicely, he would always give in to what you wanted. Usually you’d beg for a short break and go to the library café for a latte, or peruse the different aisles of books with him. But there was always some kind of distracting factor that prevented you from being alone together. 

Tonight it was only you. 

You softly nibbled on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say. 

“Armi-”

“Y/n-”

“Oh sorry, go ahead.”

“No, that’s okay,” Armin insists that you go first.

“Well, I- it’s embarrassing.” 

“Try me.”

A furious blush painted your face and you could no longer stand to make eye contact with your tutor.  

You didn’t know what to say.

Telling him ‘I’m horny and I get wet when you say my name’ didn’t seem like the best course of action.

“Y/n?”

You shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

Slowly, you reached a hand out to him.

He always dressed very neatly. Today’s outfit was a white button down and fitted dress pants.

Tentatively, you took a button between your fingers and toyed with it, batting your lashes to look up at him.

“I just,” you watched a blush start to spread across his face, and blinked your eyes downward to look between his thighs.

The welcoming sight of a hard bulge in his pants urged you to continue.

“I just really, really like you. I think you’re so smart and… and handsome, and-”

Armin wrapped an arm around you, lifting you out of your chair and onto his lap, before pressing an eager kiss to your mouth.

His lips were soft and he slipped his tongue between your teeth, lightly moaning into your mouth.

Of course, Armin knew exactly what you wanted. Walking into his dorm room with the shortest skirt he’d ever seen, pouting at him whenever you got frustrated, sneaking looks at him when you thought he wasn’t aware.

He pressed his mouth into yours, and sat you on top of his bulge, before sliding a finger down to your panties.

“Mmf- pleashe,” you pleaded, your words muffled as he kissed you.

He slid a long finger under the band of your panties, which were now visibly wet, a dark spot spreading over the light pink fabric. 

The smooth pad of his finger gave your clit a few swipes, before he reached down further to spread your slickness across your clit, granting him more friction.

Wet sounds filled the room and you moaned against his shoulders, struggling to sit up straight.

“Wan’ fu-fuck you,” you whined, grinding your wet panties against him.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Armin carried you to the bed, lying you on your back.

He unbuttoned his pants, throwing them to the side.

He was bigger than you’d expected, you could clearly see the outline of his dick against the thin fabric of his boxers and felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of trying to take him.

He pulled his cock out, it had a thick vein running up the underside of it. His hair was neatly trimmed and even though he wasn’t thick he was long.

His tip was flushed pink and pre-cum dribbled out of it. 

Your mouth salivated at the sight and you squirmed your hips up towards him in a pathetic display of need.

You both let out soft moans as he dragged the head of his dick up and down your sticky slit, long strands of your slick sticking to him each time he pulled away.

“‘Min p-please,” you whined, desperate to feel him inside you.

“So wet,” he purred, “Tell me if it hurts okay?”

Armin tentatively pushed the head in, earning soft moans from your pretty little mouth that left his cock throbbing inside you.

Slowly, he started fucking you, your cunt stretching to his length.

“You’re so tight,” he said, almost wincing. 

You started moving your own hips to meet his strokes halfway, mewing each time he was buried in you completely, feeling him rub against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Wanted you to, mm, fuck me f-for so long,” you breathed, already feeling tension sart to build in your lower stomach.

Armin brought a hand to your pussy and rubbed soft circles on your puffy clit, now throbbing with pleasure.

Your whines were more frequent now, and you could feel your cunt clenching around him as he started to bury his cock deeper into you.

“Ah, s-so good baby, you feel so good,” Armin moaned, bringing his lips down to meet yours. 

Pretty moans spilled from your lips, and into his mouth.

His soft tongue slipped between your lips, further muffling your whines.

You were both getting close.

Completely cock drunk you mewled into the kiss, and spit dribbled out of your mouth.

Your nails were digging into Armin’s back and he groaned in satisfaction at the sharp pain.

He was fucking you at a relentless pace, and your legs were starting you shake.

“Close, baby,” he mumbled, “‘m close.”

“G-gonna cum,” you cried, feeling his tip kiss your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

“Please cum for me baby, please,” Armin panted into your mouth, kissing you between words.

The perverted sounds of your wet pussy getting pounded filled the room, mixing with the sounds of both of your whiny moans and cries, as you neared orgasm.

“A-armin, don’t stop,” you begged, the coil in your stomach tightening.

He licked his fingers and rubbed your clit impossibly fast.

“Mmf, ah, cumming baby.”

A relieving sensation flooded your body and you arched your back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, leaving your entire cunt aching and pulsing around him.

Armin’s breath hitched, and he gripped the sheets harder as he reached his peak.

“C-cumming, cumming,” he pushed his cock impossibly deep inside you, drawing cries from your throat .

“You feel so good, baby, I’m gonna fill you up,” he panted into your mouth, leaving wet kisses.

Hot, thick pumps of cum poured into your pussy, leaking warm liquid onto Armin’s sheets. 

He’d fucked you completely stupid, your pretty little head could only think of Armin. 

He pulled out, pressing soft kisses across your chest and up your neck.

“Shower?” he asked, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face.

You nodded, too tired to verbally respond.

Armin chuckled at your half-assed response, “Tired, baby?” 

You nodded again, this time feeling your eyes start to flutter closed.

You were exhausted from all the homework, and his bed was so comfy.

“Stay the night,” you heard him say.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. 

“I’ll walk you to class tomorrow.” 

eren

(1.5k)

You were hot. Really, really hot.

Eren knew it, you knew it, and your boyfriend knew it.

The short shorts around the house, the panties laying around, the innocent looks you gave Eren when he’d talk to you. You were driving him insane.

Between him and his roommate, your roommate definitely deserved you. But that wasn’t Eren’s problem. He didn’t need to deserve you. Because he simply wanted you.

In his mind, that was reason enough that he should have you.

So when he heard  of your suspicion that you were getting cheated on he used it to his full advantage.

It was around one in the morning when he heard you get up and walk towards the bathroom. He quietly made his way towards you, planning to ‘accidentally’ bump into you when you walked out. 

But after hearing soft sniffles come from behind the door, he got a different idea.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hey, sweetheart, I really need to piss.”

“Go away, Eren,” you sniffled, “Please.”

The door swung open and you wiped your face on the back of your sweater sleeves. 

Eren walked in and you tried to make your way back to your room but he was standing at the door, with his arms up on the door frame.

“It’s pretty late, no? You should go back to bed. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

You fought back tears, not eager at all to cry in front of Eren. You knew he could be an asshole and you really weren’t close enough to feel comfortable venting to him. 

After all it was just a lingering suspicion, a small doubt-

“Oh I see. 

Looks like you finally caught him, hm?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Tears started flooding out of your eyes, and you pressed a towel to your mouth to try and stifle the sobs not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

You’d had a sick feeling about it for a while now. Text messages late at night, checking his phone at angles that hid his screen from you, emotionally withdrawing. In reality, you’d known for weeks. 

But you hadn’t exactly wanted Eren, of all people, to confirm that.

You felt his hand on your back, rubbing small circles in an unexpected effort to comfort you.

Maybe he felt bad about it.

You looked up at him in the mirror, not able to identify what emotion was on his face.

He clearly didn’t have any genuine sympathy, but he also didn’t seem happy.

“I just- I never thought that he’d.. you know.” 

“Cheat?”

You nodded, starting to softly cry again.

Maybe it was your emotional vulnerability, or maybe you were just naïve, but when Eren lifted and sat you on the bathroom counter you didn’t protest.

You sat facing him, and he stood between your thighs.

Eren used the rough pad of his thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes. 

He was looking at you like you were pathetic, a condescending smile painting his face. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” he mocked, “You look so pretty when you cry.”

You batted his hand away.

Eren grabbed your wrist with surprising force and pulled you closer towards him.

“See, the thing is,” he purred, “I think that you could do a lot better.

You’re wasting your own time, it’s pathetic.”

Tears slowly rolled out of your eyes. You desperately needed some kind of comfort, and Eren was being so mean. 

He took both of your wrists into one hand and grabbed your chin with the other, firmly tilting your head upward.

“I’ve heard you, at night,” he started, “He doesn’t fuck you very well does he?”

You tried to look away from him but his grip was unrelenting. As if this wasn’t humiliating enough already.

You shook your head letting a teardrop roll onto his thumb.

“Then let me give you what he can’t.”

You weakly tried to push him away from you, but he didn’t budge.

Eren laughed, taking your wrists in his hands, “C’mon, kitty, we both know you’re stronger than that.” 

He moved in closer towards you, and you let out a small breath when you felt him getting hard against you through his sweatpants. 

You didn’t respond to him, and shifted your hips into his bulge. 

“Good girl,” he purred.

Guilt pooled in your stomach, and your eyes were still glassy, but Eren was… well, Eren had always been handsome. He was tall, and his hair was thrown into a messy bun. His hands were calloused and the way that he was looking at you like you were something to eat was causing something else to pool in your panties.

He flicked his gaze down towards your shorts and slipped a long finger underneath the waistband.

“Please…” 

You looked up at him, softly grinding your hips against him, begging him to do something.

Your eyes were still wet, and your lips were red and swollen.

Eren relinquished the last bit of self control he had and pulled your shorts down.

You had on a pair of lacy white panties, brand new.

He let out a light laugh, slipping them off and stuffing them in his pocket.

He knelt down and let his face hover over you for a few seconds, mesmerized by how you dripped for him. 

He licked a long stripe from your pulsing hole to your clit, lubricating you in spit and your own wetness.

You leaned back, your back touching the cool mirror, moaning as he started licking small circles around your clit.

He stood back up, pulling his sweatpants down. 

The imprint of his dick against his boxers was… intimidating, to say the least.

He pulled the waistband down, pulling himself out.

He was big. Very big.

His tip was a dark red and had a long vein running up the underside. Precum glazed his tip and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in months.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the counter so he could line himself up with you.

He gently tapped your clit with his head a few times, drinking up how nervous you looked now that you’d seen his cock.

He guided your hands to his hips, with surprising tenderness.

Slowly, Eren lined himself up with your slit, gently pushing in.

He bit his lip as he tried to adjust himself to your tightness, his breathing getting heavier.

You mewled as he started to move. 

He was completely stretching you out. You could feel the slight burn as he bottomed out, just barely missing your cervix. 

“Feel ok, kitty?”

You nodded, slightly hesitant. He was much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with. 

Slowly, Eren started rocking his hips. His small thrusts felt more delicious and pleasurable than you’d expected; he clearly knew what he was doing.

Soft moans poured out of your lips and Eren drank them up.

He picked up his pace, gently rubbing your clit to ease

His pace was violent and unrelenting. 

You could feel your cervix bruising from his length and drooled at the sight of a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock.

“Too much ‘ren,” you pressed your palms to his chest, trying to get him to slow down his pace, “C-can’t take it!”

He laughed, ignoring your pathetic whines.

“If you’re gonna act like a slut, then shut the fuck up and let me fuck you like one.”

You swallowed any further complaint and let him use your body.

The bathroom filled with lewd sounds of your hips slapping together, muffled only by the desperate pants you released as Eren pounded into you. 

“G-gonna cum, ‘ren,” you whined.

He pressed his lips to yours, kissing and sucking your lips, letting his tongue slip in and out of your mouth.

“Mmf! Mm-”

Eren brought his hand to your tits, lightly brushing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

You felt your stomach tightening, your nails digging into his sculpted shoulders.

He winced, and you felt his thrust start to get sloppier and his breath catch.

You pulled him in closer to you, wincing as he licked a wet stripe on your neck.

Your gummy walls fluttered against Eren, providing you both with the last bit of stimulation you needed. 

Cum flooded your pussy in thick, hot spurts. 

Eren slowly pulled out, and you both looked down to watch it spill onto the bathroom counter.

It mixed with your own and you blushed as Eren let it pool onto his finger before softly pushing it back into you.

Your breath was heavy and ragged, and Eren’s matched.

“Not bad, kitty.” 

You both heard the distant sound of a door opening.

Fuck. 

Eren winked, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the faint sound of footsteps coming from your boyfriend’s room down the hall.  

“See you in the morning.” 

jean

 (1.7k)

Jaeger: yo kirstein… party tn??

Jean turned his phone off and rolled over. 

He hadn’t slept in weeks. 

He’d had his fair share of college hookups throughout his stay at university, and a good amount of them ended messily. 

Casual affairs that lasted a month or two and ended in a broken hearted girl and indifferent boy.

Jean knew he wasn’t ready for a real relationship. That commitment didn’t suit him. 

So why was he so hung up on you?

Probably because you were the hottest girl he’d ever seen, and you didn’t give him the time of day. You had ‘more important things to be worrying about’, at least, that was what you told him. 

It had only been a few dates, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His chest tightened with every text he sent you that was left on delivered. 

That word left a pit in his stomach and kept him up at night.

You had him whipped. All he could think about was you.

It was worse when you gave him the occasional half assed flirty text back and he caught himself up in his own naivety praying for more. 

Jean: nah man, i’m good

Jeager: L

Jean made his way to the kitchen, making the now rare emergence from his room. 

“Jean!! You going to the party tonight? Eren just texted me,” his roommated wasn’t one to turn down an invitation.

“Hey, Connie. Nah man, I'm gonna stay in for the night.”

Connie shot him a look.

“Oh okay.. but,” a sly smile spread across his face, “I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be there.”

It was only 10pm and there was already nowhere to park. 

Your palms were sweaty and then 6 missed calls on your phone from a certain someone weren’t helping.

Your friend offered to drop you off so you could get in and meet you inside. 

“Thanks Sasha!”

You hopped out and made your way up the stairs.

It smelled like weed and alcohol before you’d even gotten inside, and from the looks of it there’d be plenty of both to spare. 

You grabbed a drink and made your way to the patio area.

You quickly scanned the area for any familiar faces and saw Eren. He was popular in your Intro to Ethics class. To say he was struggling would be an understatement, and a sort of acquaintance formed out of your willingness to help him.

“Hey Eren!”

“Y/n! Didn’t think I’d see you here sweetheart.” 

You slightly blushed at the nickname.

“Want a better drink than that?” He gestured towards the unopened White Claw in your hands and you nodded. 

He winked and went to grab you a drink. 

“Thanks,” you said, taking a few sips. 

Eren was easy to talk to, his friends were friendly and made you laugh while you stood with them waiting for Sasha. 

You hadn’t even noted the time passing until Sasha walked up to you complaining about how long it took to find parking.

Sasha seemed to know everyone from the group you were with and melted into the conversation with ease.

You felt a slight buzz going to your head as you got your third refill. 

The loud music and vibrant lights started to get fuzzy as your senses dulled. 

You felt like dancing and considered asking Eren.

You giggled a little bit, “Er-”

“Hey! Y/n!”

Uh-oh. 

You turned to look, and just as quickly turned back around letting out a small gasp.

“See you Tuesday,” Eren laughed, stepping back, allowing you to make your way back inside.

“H-hold on! Damn it, Jeager,” the voice said. 

You sped up slightly and made a sharp right veering towards a bathroom. 

A warm hand grabbed onto yours, turning you towards him.

“Just let me talk to you, please.” 

“Leave me alone Jean.” 

“Just listen-”

“Look, I’ve probably had too much to drink and based on the fact that you’re talking to me at all, so have you.”

“Why don’t you want to talk?” 

“Please. You don’t have thirty five other girls to talk to?”

“No,” he laughed dryly, “And even if I did, I want to talk to you.” 

Jean stepped towards you.

You looked away, trying to hide your pathetic blush from him. 

Even in your intoxicated state a persistent nagging at the back of your mind was sure to remind you that in the morning you’d regret this, but you didn’t move back. 

“Please?” he asked. 

Jean was a lot taller than you. He wrapped a large hand around your waist and your chest was snug against his sternum. 

You furrowed your brow and tried to push him off you. 

 A dry laugh escaped his throat, his fingers tightened around your waist.

Though he was usually carefree and flirty, Jean could be imposing when he wanted. He had this air of superiority around him that did him immense favors when he felt like getting something he wanted.

A taut smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at you.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, a warm feeling spreading throughout your lower stomach area and down your thighs.

You met two months ago when you impulsively decided to let him fuck your brains out at a party. He was so much bigger than you and his hands drug you up and down against his length so easily, that you had to fight the urge to tell him you loved him mid-desperate frat party sex. 

You hadn’t wanted it to go any further than that. You knew who Jean Kirstein was, and there probably wasn’t a woman on campus who didn’t. 

He’d left girl after girl broken hearted. 

But he asked you so sweetly on a date that you couldn’t say no.

Common sense snapped in after date number four and you came to your senses, cutting it off with him.

You’d prided yourself in how well you had resisted the urge to ask him for more. It felt like you were doing the impossible everytime you ignored one of his texts.

But now, finding yourself sandwiched between a wall and his chest, you weren’t sure you’d do too well. 

“I miss you, princess,” he said, with a revolting sincerity, “I thought we had something good.”

You bit your lip, hoping to stop yourself from saying anything you’ll regret tomorrow morning.

A suffocating pause fills the space between the two of you.

“We went on three dates,” you said, looking at him, “And it’s not like I’m stupid. I know your reputation.”

Jean scoffed. 

“Know it? Baby, you contributed to it. Or have we forgotten how we met, hm?”

You kept quiet. 

He was right. You couldn’t exactly judge him for something you helped accomplish. 

“I definitely haven’t forgotten,” you said, feeling a sudden burst of confidence swell in your chest, though it may have been desire, “I think about it all the time.”

Jean perked up at this.

“Seriously?”

You smirked at him, placing your hand over his and guiding him towards your chest,

“Find out.” 

Jean pushed you against the wall, his lips roughly smashing against yours.

Fervent desperation danced on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, his hands winding down your body, grabbing harshly at the fat of your ass.

You whined into his mouth, reaching for the handle to the bathroom door.

The combined body weight swung the door open as the handle lowered and Jean wasted no time seating you on the sink, hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans.

You reached behind yourself to unhook your bra and helped him take his boxers off.

You hopped off the counter and knelt on the ground in front of him. 

Looking up at him, you gently took his dick in your hands and gave his pink tip a few tentative licks.

He bit down and you saw tension spread throughout his body.

A soft hand rested on the back of your head and he slowly started to guide you up and down his length.

You pouted your lips out and let spit well in your mouth, dripping down his cock as you started to suck him off.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he panted, “That’s good- really good.”

You stroked the lower half of him with your right hand, squeezing his length with just enough pressure to get him moaning.

Your mouth was wet and warm and Jean felt his mind going numb. He was finally getting what he wanted. You.

You felt the grip on the back of your head tighten and let out a soft moan against his aching dick at the slight pain from his hold on you.

“Like that, pretty?” 

You nodded.

Jean placed his other hand on the back of your head and held you in place, starting to slowly fuck your throat, sliding himself in further with every stroke.

You could feel his pubes tickling your nose as you gagged against him each time.

Tears pooled on your lower lash line and saliva was dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

Your pink panties were soaked through and you could feel the slick wetness coming from your pussy running down your thighs.

Something about Jean was so devastatingly attractive. 

His moans weren’t loud but they were frequent and breathy. 

The grip on your head started to loosen and his strokes were getting slower.

You started to move at your own pace again, using your hands to take the rest of his length.

“Gonna cum,” he winced.

You locked your lips around him, continuing to suck his tip as you felt warm pumps of cum sliding down your throat. 

His hips stuttered as you kept going and he sharply inhaled at the overstimulation.

“T-too much- too much.”

You released him with a wet pop! 

You swallowed and accepted his hand as he helped you up.

He picked you up and sat you down on the counter.

Jean leant in and pressed another kiss to your lips. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled him into you by his collar, feeling his arms wrap around your waist.

“So… about that fourth date,” you said, lightly laughing. 

Jean smiled at you, kissing your cheek. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Oh shit!”

You both started laughing.

“One second!” Jean called. 

You got your clothes back on and waited for Jean. 

“Oh, and princess?” Jean started, zipping his jeans back up.

“Hm?”

“Answer my calls next time.”

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[thetravelerwrites]

Ravadhi (Part 9)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Female Human x Male Half-Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Half-Orc, Monster Boyfriend, Interspecies Romance,Angst, Slow Burn Content Warning: Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse Words: 4148

Holly finds out what her mother left for her in the deposit boxes. Afterward, she and Ravadhi settle into a comfortable routine until it's suddenly shattered. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Holly arrived at the bank only ten minutes after leaving, which was not at all enough time to mentally prepare her for what she was about to find in the deposit boxes, left for her by her dead mother.

She waited in the line anxiously, her fist clenched around the keys that Tonri had given her and her chest tight.

“I can help the next guest,” The teller called. Holly knew him distantly from school, he was a Ratfolk man name was Auro. The two of them hadn’t been friends or really even spoke to each other, but like everyone at school, he knew who she and her dad was, and speculated along with everyone else. Despite that, he hadn’t ever bullied her or ignored her existence out of guilt.

“Hello, what can I help you with today?” He asked as she approached

“Hi, I inherited the keys to safety deposit boxes--” She checked the paperwork she’d received from Tonri. “F152, F153, F154, and F155.”

“Okay, I’ll just need the keys, a photo ID, the death certificate of the decedent, and inheritance letter?”

“Uh, yes, right here.”

She handed the documents to Auro, who took them and scanned them briefly, stopping on the name and glancing up uncomfortably. It was a well known fact that Holly’s mother had disappeared when she was young, but she guessed the news that she was dead hadn’t made the gossip rounds yet.

Auro cleared his throat. “Of course, right this way.” He left his desk and led Holly to a private room. “Wait here a moment and the boxes will be brought to you,” He said.

“Okay, thanks.”

She waited tensely for about five minutes. Then, Auro returned with the four boxes, setting them on the table in front of Holly. He also left a large bank bag on the table.

“Would you like privacy?” Auro asked.

“Yes, please,” Holly replied in a small voice.

He nodded and smile sympathetically, then left and closed the door.

Feeling tears prick her eyes, she sat in front of the four boxes, steeling herself to look inside. She picked the one on the right and pulled it toward her. With shaking hands, she turned the key and slowly opened the lid.

The first thing she saw were the pictures. Hundred of them. Pictures of her, of Holly as a baby, of the two of them smiling and happy and together.

Holly cried softly. She thought all the pictures had been destroyed. She spend a long time looking at the photographs of her and her mother. As she shuffled through them, and envelope fell out from the pile. She picked it up and examined it, and on the front, in her mother’s handwriting, was the word, “Holly.”

Sniffling and attempting to stem the flow of her tears, she carefully slit open the envelope and took out the contents. It was a letter. It was dated seven months before Holly’s mother disappeared.

            My baby girl,           I’m so, so sorry.        If you’re reading this, it means that son of a bitch actually killed me and my attempt to escape with you has failed. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard, but he was always one step ahead of me, no matter what I did.        You once asked me, when you were very little, why I was with your father if he made me so sad. I couldn’t answer you then, because you were too young to understand. I was hoping to tell you this story in person one day when we were free of him, but it looks like that day will never come.       Abusive relationships never start out that way, you know. Your father started out sweet and kind and affectionate, and I was fooled. By God, was I fooled. He spent the first year of our relationship waiting on me hand and foot, doing anything I asked, lavishing me with gifts and attention. I was so struck by his attentiveness and loving nature that I fell for him very quickly. Looking back, I realize it was too quickly. I didn’t realize that his attention was manipulation, or that a pattern of dependence was beginning to develop.       The change was so slow that I didn’t even see it. It started with comments, off-handed observations. “Your mom was kind of rude to me today and your brother doesn’t like me. We shouldn’t go over there as much. Your friends talk about you behind your back. You should dump them and get better friends.” He began to drive a wedge between me and all of my relationships, until he was the only one left. He’d convinced me that my family hated me, that my friends were jealous of me. I started cutting ties with people who I loved dearly, and when no one was left, all I had was him. Which is exactly what he wanted.       Then there were sudden negative criticisms about my appearance or how I cooked or cleaned. I was gaining too much weight and wasn’t as pretty as I had been when we first started dating. I was spending too much time at school or work and not enough time with him. He began questioning where I went, how much money I spent, who I was with, why I was out so long. Whenever I protested, he simply said he was worried about me and that he didn’t want anything bad to happen to me, that I was careless, even reckless sometimes, and that I could get myself in trouble. I started questioning myself and actively avoiding things that would upset him. I thought he got angry with me was because he loved me. I didn’t realize he was trying to control me.       Before we got married, he had been pressuring me to leave school, saying that it was too expensive and he couldn’t afford it. I told him I could apply for grants and scholarships, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. His temper was getting shorter and shorter by the day, and before I knew it, it seemed like he was always angry. He started drinking not long after we were engaged. But I loved him, and I figured it was just stress because of money. It was easy to dismiss the emotional and psychological abuse as stress or concern, but now I know it was never any of those things.       The physical abuse started shortly after we got married. By then, I wasn’t speaking to my family or friends anymore and we had moved to Willowridge for his work, so I was completely isolated. We had another argument about school, and it was the first time he laid a hand on me. He slapped me so hard that he knocked me to the floor, and I was shocked. Looking back now, it’s almost comically obvious that the relationship was heading in that direction, but at the time, I was terrified and so very confused. I was a smart person; smart people didn’t get into abusive relationships, it wasn’t possible. And now that I had alienated all of the people who could have helped me, I felt powerless.       My mother died, and I wanted to go to her funeral and patch things up with my family, but your father convinced me that my family didn’t want me there. They hadn’t called me, after all. There had been no invitation to attend. So I didn’t go. Then my father died, and shortly afterward, my brother took his own life. Suddenly, I was without family and it was now too late to reconnect with them. I dropped out of college due to a mental breakdown, which was what your father wanted. It was then that the abuse became extreme.       He would beat me for any small thing. I had no money, no friends, no resources, and I was now living in a town of which I wasn’t familiar. I felt trapped, but I also felt like it was my fault for falling for it, so perhaps it was what I deserved. I developed an eating disorder, lost a lot of weight, stopped leaving the house, and fell into a deep depression. I always felt anxious and sick. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant with you until I went into labor.       You were a month early, and so tiny. I hadn’t been to the doctor since before our wedding and the eating disorder made my period stop for months at a time, so I had no reason to believe I could have been pregnant.       When you were born, everything changed. I may not have been able to get out for myself, but for you, I would move mountains. I made a deal with your father; you know what it was. He wouldn’t let me work, so I had to scrounge and save any way I could. I was the weirdo who took all the coins from the “take a penny, leave a penny” tray. I dived into wishing fountains and scooped up handfuls of quarters. I’d lie to your father and say I lost the receipt when I went to buy groceries and couldn’t remember what the total was. It always earned me a beating, but it was worth it if I could manage to squirrel away even five dollars. I even sold my wedding and engagement rings. I expected to tell him I had lost them and get a beating, but he never asked about them. Someone who controlled every aspect of my life for years didn’t care that the proof of our marriage was missing. Fitting, I suppose.       I’m not sure how much I’ve managed to save; I’ve never had the chance to count it. I’ve also put away all of my jewelry, collectables, and any small thing I thought might be valuable sentimental or otherwise. I hope beyond hope that you’re free from him as you read this, but if you’re not, I hope I’ve saved enough to give you a chance to get away and live a better life. If there’s only enough for you to buy a bus ticket and get out of this godforsaken town, it’ll have been worth it.       I love you, Holly. I love you so much. If any good thing came out of that miserable bastard, it was you. You were a surprise, but once I saw your little face and your tiny hands gripped my finger, I’d have done anything to keep you safe. I’m sorry I fell short. If you hate me, I understand. But please, never doubt that I loved you. I only wish I could have been a better mother and protected you, and I hope you’re not too disappointed in me.          Forgive me. Forgive me.                    Mommy

There were tear stains on the paper, old ones from when it was written, and new ones as Holly read it. Holly held the letter to her chest and wept bitterly.

“I don’t hate you,” Holly sobbed. “I don’t.”

It took several minutes to compose herself. When she’d sniffled to a stop, she turned her attention to the other boxes. In the first, she found jewelry, coins, stock certificates, and the proof of purchase on the house. In the second, there were trinkets she’d saved from Holly’s childhood, like her footprint, her hospital bracelet, and the blanket in which she’d been wrapped in. In the third was a single item: a bank account card.

Holly took all of the items in the boxes and stepped out of the room, walking back up to the teller’s desk.

“There was this account card in the box,” She told Auro. “Do I have access to this?”

“Yes,” Auro said. “Your name is on the account.”

“Oh,” Holly said, surprised. “Can I check the balance?”

“Of course,” Auro said, entering the number into the computer. His hands stilled and he stared at the screen.

“Well?”

“Right,” He said, clearing his throat. “At present, you have $53,640.35 available in your account.”

“Fifty-three…” Holly trailed off. “That’s… mine?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Auro said. “You can use it whenever you like. I can give you a checkbook before you leave, and have a debit card mailed to you within the week.”

“Yes, please,” She replied faintly.

She rode home in a numb fog. When she arrived, Ravadhi and Sarah were sitting on the front porch as if waiting.

“Are you okay?” Ravadhi asked, immediately pulling her into a hug. You accepted it gladly. As soon as he wrapped her up in his arms, she started sobbing again, unable to stop, and started to collapse, her legs crumpling underneath her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” He said softly, moving to sit her down on the porch. Sarah sat on your other side and rubbed her arm.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

“She left me some things,” Holly managed to gulp out, pulling some of the things from her bag to show Sarah

“Are these you when you were little?” Sarah said. “I’ve never seen pictures of you as a kid.”

“Dad got rid of them all,” Holly replied, shuffling through them to show her. “Or, I thought he had. Mom managed to save some.”

“You were really small,” Sarah said wonderingly. “Even smaller than me.”

“Mom said I was a month premature. I didn’t know that before,” Holly whispered.

“You’re mom said?” Ravadhi asked.

“Oh, she wrote me a letter,” Holly replied, pulling it from her pocket. She began to read the letter out loud to Sarah and Ravadhi. As private and emotionally charged as the letter was, Ravadhi and Sarah were the only two people in the world who Holly felt she could share it with, and because she could, she did. Not only that, she knew they would understand it in a way that no one else would.

“Do you hate her, like she said?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Holly told Sarah. “No, I couldn’t hate her if I wanted to. I wish she had been your mom, Sarah, she was such a good mom. The best.”

“Dad tricked her,” Sarah said, looking up at Holly sympathetically.

Holly nodded. “Yeah.”

“He didn’t trick my mom,” Sarah said bitterly. “All he had to do was pay for her drugs and vodka.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Holly said. Sarah shrugged.

“So you own our house?” Sarah asked, changing the subject. “Are you going to kick mom out?”

“No,” Holly said. “It doesn’t matter what my feelings are for your mom, I will always make sure you have a home to go to, no matter what. But I think it’s best if she doesn’t know I own it, so maybe keep it under your hat.”

Sarah nodded knowingly.

Holly sighed heavily, wiped her face, and stood up abruptly. “Well, I am absolutely starving. Do you guys want breakfast?”

That night, Holly lay in bed, unable to quiet her mind. She had decided to keep the news about the money to herself until she knew what she wanted to do with it. There were a million possibilities bouncing around in her head, and she couldn’t pin one down. She could fix up the house for Sarah, put it away for Sarah’s college, put a down-payment on her own house, go back to school, anything. But deep down, Holly was worried.

Ravadhi had said at the beginning that she was to stay with him until she got back on her feet, but now they were dating. Would he want her to to find her own place since, she had the money to do it? She liked living with Ravadhi. It was the healthiest environment she’d ever lived in and she didn’t want to have to start all over again on her own. Was that co-dependent? Maybe, but healthy co-dependence was better than depressed, anxious solitude, as far as she was concerned. She didn’t want to leave, and she didn’t think he would just kick her out. But, as her mother’s letter had taught her, you could never be truly certain of a person’s motives or intentions. Ravadhi had been nothing but kind and caring toward her, but… people can change.

What if she could get custody of Sarah? That would be amazing. If she could prove Diane was an unfit mother, would they even let Holly get custody? She knew that they wouldn’t let Sarah live with a convicted felon, though, so if she could get custody, the matter of continuing to live with Ravadhi in his house would decide itself. As much as she cared for Ravadhi, Sarah was her first priority.

What if she lost the custody case and they put Sarah in some kind of group home? Ravadhi’s tale of being in a group terrified her and she’d never subject Sarah to it. Was it best to leave her in a neglectful environment where at least Holly knew she could take care of herself and be safe? Or try for custody and run the risk of losing her in the system?

Maybe she could ask Sarah. She had a good head on her shoulders and could make good decisions for herself. A lifetime of neglect from her own parents as well as having to take care of her beaten and bloodied sister on a regular basis had aged her prematurely, so she was used to it. Unfortunately.

There had been another thing that had been weighing heavily on her lately as well, even before learning about her inheritance: she and Ravadhi had been officially dating for about a month, but they had both cared about each other longer than that. Would… he be expecting sex? Even if he did, she didn’t think he would be the type to pressure her into it, especially given his history.

Eventually, she fell asleep, wondering if she should ask him about it. A few days later, when they were alone with each other and just sitting down to dinner, she broached the topic.

“Ravadhi?” She piped up shyly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything,” He said, picking up his fork and getting ready to tuck in to his pork stirfry and rice.

“Do… do you want to have sex with me?” She asked.

He immediately began to choke on the first bite of his food, and Holly rushed to get him some water in alarm.

When he was able to speak again, he asked, “Before I answer, is that an inquiry or a request?”

“An inquiry,” She replied.

“Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath and bracing his hands on the table. “Okay.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Holly said, wincing.

“No, no, it’s okay,” He replied, clearing his throat and taking another sip of water. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to ask. That’s really important to me, that you feel safe and comfortable.” He knitted his fingers and took a second before answering, pondering the question over in his head.

“The short answer is: yes, I do, because I care about you in both a emotional and a physical way, and part of that is wanting to be intimate and sexual. The long answer is: yes, I do, but.”

“But?”

“Yes, I do, but… I know that it scares you and that you’re not ready. Yes, but I never want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe. Yes, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you feel the time is right, even if that never comes. I’m here for you because I love you, not because I want to have sex with you. Your happiness and well-being is more important to me than that.”

Holly blinked and her mouth fell open. She stared at Ravadhi in silent shock.

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“You said you loved me.”

His cheeks darkened. “Oh. I… well… yeah. I do. Love you, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t or don’t want to say it.”

Holly’s heart raced and she felt confused. “Give me some time?”

He nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”

She nodded in return, relieved. “Thanks. And… I appreciate you being cool with everything. It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it means a lot to me.”

He smiled fondly at her and continued eating.

The school semester came to an end, and Ravadhi passed all his exams, despite working two jobs and having taken Holly in during the month when he needed to study the most. Now that school was over for the summer, he took some more time to work on the house, which he hadn’t been able to do for a long time. Holly was happy to help him, and it became a new bonding activity for them both. Sarah slept over often since it was summer break, and the three of them were happy.

It was becoming easier for her to be physically affectionate with him, holding his hand and giving him hugs and kisses more casually, which was a huge step for her. He never brought up sex or being more intimate, and Holly appreciated it.

Ravadhi still had the plumbing and overnight security job, but now that school was out, he was able to take more shifts. Holly would stay up and text him until at least his lunch break at eleven P.M. to help him stay awake.

On a warm Thursday evening as the sun was going down, Holly sat on the back porch overlooking the closed-in backyard and watched some videos on her phone while texting Ravadhi back and forth. He was bored, like he always was during his shifts at the power plant. He worked alone at the front lobby and watched the cameras, which Holly was sure was nothing short of riveting. At least he was allowed to listen to music.

>What have you got playing? She asked.

>Sevendust. It’s my go-to band. Very effective at keeping me awake.

>I bet. Do you listen to any female fronted metal bands? I think you’d really like Epica and Otep. Epica has got a great opera vibe. Oh, and Sister Sin is a really good hard rock band. Great vocalist.

>I haven’t heard those bands. They sound awesome.

>I’ll make you a playlist.

>Nice. What are you up to?

>Enjoying the nice evening. I was going to clean up the kitchen before I went to bed, but I was tired. I’ll do it tomorrow after work.

>Going on rounds. I’ll text you back in a minute.

Holly switched back over to watching true crime videos on YouTube. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, suddenly the sun was completely down. She looked at her phone and realize she must have fallen asleep: two hours had gone by. She went over to messages and texted Ravadhi. He hadn’t texted back yet, which was weird.

>Sorry, I fell asleep. Find anything?

Holly decided to go inside and actually clean the kitchen. By the time she was done, Ravadhi still hadn’t texted back.

>Everything okay?

Ten minutes passed and there was no response. Holly began to feel uneasy. With a pit in her stomach, she dialed the power plant’s main line. Ravadhi had to answer that phone, it was part of his job. The phone rang and rang and rang. Ravadhi never picked up.

Holly’s breath stalled in her chest with panic and she called the sheriff’s department.

“Sheriff’s department,” Holly heard.

“Hi, um, look, my boyfriend is at work and he’s not answering the phone, which is part of his job, and I’m worried something may have happened to him,” Holly said in a rush.

“I’m sure he’s fine, ma’am,” The deputy said dismissively. “He’s probably in the bathroom or something. I’m not sure this warrants a welfare visit.”

“I’m telling you, something is wrong,” Holly insisted. “I haven’t heard from him in hours. That’s not something that happens.”

“You’re probably overreacting,” He said. “Just calm down--”

“Who am I speaking to?” Holly asked, getting angry.

“Deputy Reynolds.”

“Well, Deputy Reynolds, my name is Holly Stevenson. Do you know that name?”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end. “Yes, ma’am, I know who you are.”

“Then you know you owe me. You owe me.”

The deputy didn’t respond.

“The least, the very least, you can do is make sure the person who saved my life is okay. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy replied. “I’ll send an officer right away.”

“You do that,” Holly said. “And I expect a call when you get there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” The deputy said.

Holly hung up the phone and waited anxiously, biting her nails and pacing. A full thirty tense minutes later, she saw red and blue lights outside. She rushed to the door and threw it open. The sheriff himself stepped out of the car.

“What happened?” Holly asked.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[springday-aus]

Bad Boy!AU with Seungcheol

—

moodboard link

Group: Seventeen 

Member: S.Coups / Choi Seungcheol 

Genre: fluff, romance 

Additionally: college!au 

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: approx. 2.5k 

don’t worry, Seungcheol isn’t even really a bad boy

he’s really just… misunderstood?

actually that’s not a good word for it

it’s in the sense that his reputation makes him to be seen as a bad boy

it’s probably because of the leather jacket

and the motorcycle

and the piercings (mainly the ears)

and the tattoos

it also doesn’t help either that he’s keeps a small circle of friends

there’s nothing wrong with rolling with a smaller group

it just means a lot of people don’t actually know him and that causes more rumors about his personality

he hangs around Wonwoo and Minghao the most

Wonwoo is known to be handsome, but is also super cold to strangers

(more of a shy thing than a rude thing—a whole different story)

on the other hand, Minghao is one of those people who are brutally honest

(which makes him seem like an inconsiderate asshole)

and because people tend to lump people together

they just assume that Seungcheol is the same as those two are: cold and rude

in reality, he’s just a bit more reserved than others

makes people earn his trust, but some people found that unreasonable apparently

people are just so judgmental sometimes, especially in a small town where everyone wanted know everything about everyone

so, for college, Seungcheol picked out a city to study

because the larger populations lets him blend in with the others

tbh, let’s be real…. he def isn’t the only one who’s wearing all black on a college campus lmao

Wonwoo at some point: “look, we’re twinning”

Seungcheol: “it’s not twinning if you only wear black and keep wearing black”

Wonwoo: :(

anyways

he chose to study business

basic but it’s simple

it ensures that he’s going to have a stable job and by the of the day that’s all that matters to him

stability

also the business suit he has covers everything nicely, so it isn’t like he has visible face tattoos or piercings

not that it’s bad, but….. capitalism, you know? homeboy would like money

so, while his hometown called him a bad influence on other kids

the college sees him as another hottie in the leather jacket

he’s probably would’ve been the campus heartthrob—had it not been for the fact that he went to same school as Wonwoo, Mingyu or that new freshie who calls himself Vernon

there was one time in his theology class that he took off his leather jacket right?

the arm muscles flexing and the tattoo sleeve……….. it’s safe to say everyone took a double take during class that day

as for his academic marks……….

I mean, yeah, he doesn’t have the top grades to make it on a dean’s list or anything, but

he’s got academic scholarships and that’s enough tbh

he might not be a genius prodigy like Jihoon, but he isn’t stupid

Jeonghan: “wait, you’re not cheating off of him?”

Seungcheol: “no, Jeonghan…………. are you?”

Jeonghan: “yeah, no, I thought it was like a thing that we all agreed to”

Seungcheol: “Jeonghan, no”

Jeonghan: “Jeonghan, yes”

so he’s not like a major try-hard like all those A+ obsessive people from high school

but he does make the effort

he’s just trying to live a nice, quiet life on campus to graduate—just like everyone else here

although

there is this habit of his that he’s been trying to break: being late to class

his attendance record isn’t great……….

like he’ll be there….. but he’ll be there like five to ten minutes late so it doesn’t really matter but

it’s like a personal pet peeve about himself

granted, it doesn’t matter when most professors don’t even take attendance

but it’s also because he works really late hours at a nearby convenience shop on campus

so………. the end result is tardiness

and he’s trying to work on it

which is also how he meets you

you see, Seungcheol met you in a………… unique situation

so, Seungcheol has found it easier to go around in his motorcycle, especially in a city

and especially on a college campus

and it’s like 20x faster than walking

it’s also good for when he’s late for his morning classes because he can easily make it to the other side in campus in like 2 minutes vs the original 10 minutes

so on a bright Tuesday morning

after he overslept his alarm (once again)

he quickly got dressed and hopped on his motorcycle to get to the other side of campus for class

….. only for him to quickly stop after hearing your scream

he didn’t necessarily hit you per say but it didn’t mean you managed to pass by untouched

you were rushing off to class too

on all days to be late………. it just had to be the day you had a midterm that’s 30% of your final grade

so you were rushing through

unable to see the motorcycle that was heading your direction

which is your fault but that’s also his fault for not seeing you until you screamed when he nearly hit you, running over a toe or two

he immediately stopped, running over to you

Seungcheol: “oh my God, are you alright?”

You: hair messed up, in pain, and survived the heart attack he gave you

You: “sure”

Seungcheol: “are you sure? I can take you to the hospital or—”

You: no, no, I am already as late as is and, and, and…….”

you trail off, remembering the motorcycle that laid a couple of feet away

You: “instead of the hospital, how about a ride instead? I cannot miss this midterm”

Seungcheol was taken aback from your commitment and strange request, but complied nevertheless

Seungcheol: “are you sure?”

You: “absolutely, hustle man, hustle—we gotta go”

Seungcheol scrambles, starting up the motorcycle and handing you a helmet

which you gladly grab and attach yourself behind him with your arms on his waist

he’s a bit flustered from your proximity

what if he was a murderer and you just hopped onto his bike?

I mean, he obviously isn’t but still

You: “sir, chop-chop, pls move, my ass needs to get to McGregor”

Seungcheol: “yes, right”

it takes less than a minute to get there, especially since there weren’t many others on the pathways

you hastily get off his motorcycle, tossing his helmet back at him and running off

You: “thank you!!!!”

Seungcheol: “you’re welcome?”

he watches as you run into the building, with nothing more on your mind than your midterm

how odd

he shakes his head, clearing his head of you before going to park his motorcycle and locking it—he’s got his own problems to worry about right now

(he re-told the story to a couple of his friends, in which Jihoon said: “watch yourself, you could get a lawsuit coming one of these days” and Seungcheol just rolled his eyes)

it’s about two weeks before he sees you again

so fun fact, his college requires community involvement/field assignment

and he chose to be in the big brother program

so he’s a big brother to this adorable 6 year old girl named Rose

he filled his requirement long ago, but he highkey loved it so he remained as a big brother to Rose 

who he has to take out trick-or-treating for the Halloween event the program set up 

can you imagine Seungcheol in his leather jacket and tattoos and piercings with a little group of 6 year olds

the chaos

Rose: “what did you dress as?”

Seungcheol: “uhhhhhh….. Danny from Grease”

Rose: “who’s that?”

Seungcheol: oh my God I’m old

they get a door that’s got some fake cobwebs and bright purple string lights

Seungcheol: “go ahead little ones, knock on the door”

they yell out trick or treat and the door creaks open to…….. you

you and your friends happened to be gathering together for Halloween and decided to meet up at your friend’s old house which was in the neighborhood that Seungcheol was in

you all originally planned to watch a bunch of bad supernatural movies and give out candy to little kids

all of y’all took turns at the door and it was your turn

you give the kids a sweet smile in your doctor’s costume

(or, at least, he’s assuming it’s a costume—maybe it is and maybe it isn’t)

after you pass out the candy, Joshua, the other chaperone, rounds up the kids and Seungcheol’s eyes met your widened ones

You: “oh! it’s motorcycle dude!”

Seungcheol: “motorcycle dude?”

You: “........ you were the one who hit me with his motorcycle right?”

Seungcheol: “has anyone else hit you with a motorcycle?”

You: “so it is you!”

you two chat a bit, especially since they have to start moving to the next house

Joshua: “bro, we have to get moving, stop flirting in front of the children!”

Seungcheol: “I’m not flirting!”

he turns back to you

Seungcheol: “I’ll see you around, please don’t sue me”

You: “sue you?”

Seungcheol: “I’m a broke college kid”

You: “so am I dude”

Joshua gives him another look and another warning before they start to move to the other house

You: “you know, if you have spare time, you’re welcome to join my friends and I—we’re going to be making fun of Twilight later together”

Seungcheol: “I might take you up on that offer”

You: “well, we’ll be here, so”

you give him a smile that makes him stutter for a second, before he waves you goodbye to join the others

Rose: “Joshua says you like the doctor”

Seungcheol: “well, Joshua’s not that smart”

Joshua: “hey!”

he doesn’t know what compels him to go back to the house

but he does

(it might have taken a word or two from Rose and Joshua to encourage him)

and he has a really good time with you and your friends

hearing Seungkwan roasting Robert Pattinson was something Seungcheol didn’t know he needed

Soonyoung’s attempt of creating bgm on top of the soundtrack was also equally as hilarious

and then there were your side remarks with him throughout the movie

which he did enjoy

he left the house that night with a couple of new numbers in his phone

Jeonghan would be proud of him for making new friends on his own

after that night, you and Seungcheol hang out a bit more

you get to know each other

turns out the so called bad boy is actually just a major softie

surprise surprise, I know

he’s got a tattoo for his mom (a little heart on his heart)

he’s great at braiding (due to braiding Rose’s hair)

and he picked up sewing to patch up the holes that his friends created in their shirts

major heart eyes for Seungcheol

and he learns more about you and your little quirks

at some point, he even shares some things that happened back home

which was a bit hard for him to do but you were incredibly understanding

people just suck sometimes

one good thing about cities is that everyone minds their own business so

anyways

while he’s met your friends, you’ve also met his

you and Jeonghan are now the chaotic duo that Seungcheol wishes he can undo

Jeonghan: “are you fucking cheating? in front of my salad?”

You: steals another $50 bill from the monopoly pile

You: “no”

Jeonghan: “pay me off”

Wonwoo: “we are sitting right fucking here”

anyways

you two continue to hang out together as time goes and it’s great

sometimes you even hang out with him and Rose and it’s super cute

especially when you watch Seungcheol care for Rose like an actual sister

maybe that’s when the heart eyes started

he just……….. knows how to take care of people

he’s very attentive and understands that different people have different needs

it’s all……… very attractive

he’s very attractive

not in just the physical aspect

the inside *chef’s kiss*

Seungcheol doesn’t know when he started liking you either

maybe it was the way you really listened to what he said

you encouraged and supported him to do what he wanted

and told people off if they did say something about him

along with telling him to ignore them because it’s all stemming from jealousy and hate

and he knows that but it’s always nice to know he has someone on his side

so, what changes?

one movie night, there’s some generic rom com that you’ve already forgotten about

the blanket you’re both sharing isn’t the only heat you’re feeling

his knee knocks lightly against yours

your shoulders touching his

his fingers lingering on yours

then he’s moving closer

and closer

and then your lips meet

it’s soft, but firm

and that was the first day you started dating

dating bad boy!Seungcheol is basically the same as being friends with him only needier

he opened up to you as a friend

but as a boyfriend

you’re seeing EVERYTHING

he’s lowkey touch-starved so he’s very….. handsy

his hands got cold once and he straight up put his hands up in your hoodie

You: “thErE ArE pEOpLE aRouND sIR”

Seungcheol: “head empty, hands Cold”

lots of movie dates

(you asked if you should put on Twilight again and he said he could only take it one decade at a time)

lots of dinner and takeout dates

(the amount of menus you two have collected is insane)

lots of game night dates

which include Seungcheol’s friends

you and Jeonghan still team up to cheat, leaving the you two in the top to fight for the winning spot but Minghao always calls you two out

and then you start openly cheating

(Jeonghan literally flipped over an operations board one time)

you’ve also seen his tattoos

there are cute small ones and then there are bigger ones of flowers and patterns

You: “does it hurt more if you color them in?”

Seungcheol: “no, I was supposed to get them filled but Rose likes to color them with her markers”

You: “why are you two so fucking adorable”

You: “can I color it in?” c:

he let you

it was so much fun

on some days with Rose, you both color together on a shirtless Seungcheol

speaking of which

she loves you

Rose: “I told you you liked the doctor”

You: ?

Seungcheol: “shhhh, finish your cupcake”

oooh, also—lots of motorcycle rides

during the night is when it’s the most beautiful with all of the city lights

sometimes you stop by a park and just hang out to talk

not often bc like midnight murderers are a thing, but sometimes

it’s always a nice impromptu date

also, it’s been long overdue but he took you to the doctor’s once and brought up the whole running over your toes thing

and your toes are fine but

he still highkey feels kind of guilty but the kisses you give him compensate for the guilt

so bad boy!Seungcheol isn’t really bad just misunderstood

but like…. are we complaining? 

[allisas]

The Sims 4 Discover University (Official Blog Post)

*Requires The Sims 4 game (sold separately) and all game updates to play. For PC/Mac, see minimum system requirements for this pack. The Sims 4 Discover University Expansion Pack is coming to PC and Mac on November 15, 2019, and to PlayStation®4 and Xbox One on December 17, 2019.

[ Original Blog Post ]

Simmers, classes will be starting soon in The Sims™ 4 Discover University Expansion Pack*! To get prepared, let's take a quick tour of the University of Britechester and Foxbury Institute and find out what collegiate life is really all about!

University of Britechester

This bastion of higher education is particularly known for molding students into smart, well-rounded Sims ready to face the world’s challenges. The University of Britechester offers a variety of degree paths for its students, including distinguished offerings strongly focused on the arts and humanities.

Degrees: Biology, Computer Science, Economics, Physics, Psychology, and Villainy

Distinguished Degrees: Art History, Culinary Arts, Drama, Fine Art, History, Language and Literature, and Communications

What else does UBrite offer? On game day in the Britechester Spirit Corps Organization, your Sim can socialize, show off their dance moves, maybe do a keg stand, and promote Dragon pride. If they want to explore their creative side they can head to the canal by the commons for some outdoor figure painting with the Art Society. And they can socialize or go head to head with some of the university’s best and brightest in the challenging Debate Guild.

Foxbury Institute

Your Sim may want to opt for a more modern campus focused on creating innovative leaders, and the Foxbury Institute should be a great fit. This premier university boasts impressive facilities as well as both events and distinguished degree programs geared toward science and technology.

Degrees: Art History, Culinary Arts, Drama, Fine Art, History, Language and Literature, and Communications

Distinguished Degrees: Biology, Computer Science, Economics, Physics, Psychology, and Villainy

Some of Foxbury’s great organizations and events include the Foxbury Spirit Squad, where your Sim can don the red and gold to support their school at School Spirit Day with a juice keg, juice pong, and maybe even a little streaking. When it’s time to take a break from cramming, your Sim can attend bar night with The Brainiacs honor society for a little rest and relaxation. Want your Sim to help lead the way to the inevitable robot uprising? They’ll love creating their future overlords with the Bot Savants. And if your bot has what it takes to reign supreme in the Utili-Bot Contest, head to the quad to enter and see if your Sim will be the next Bot Master!

Financial Aid

Whether your Sim chooses the hallowed halls of the University of Britechester with its focus on arts and humanities, or the cutting-edge Foxbury Institute and its science and tech slant, there’s a ton to do, see, and learn as they journey through higher education!

But before they start packing their bags, doing a little research on how they’re going to pay for education is a good idea. There are tons of scholarships and grants available for both academically and athletically gifted students, as well as need-based scholarships. If your Sim has already started down their career path and wants to further their education, they may want to consider a career scholarship. You’ll be able to find out which scholarships are available for your Sims to help cover their college costs.

Your Sims also have the opportunity to take out student loans to help fund their education, but be aware that payments will be due as soon as they graduate.

College Life

Both schools offer students a variety of amenities and opportunities to live either on-campus or off. Decorating dorm rooms, hanging out with roommates, or just playing a little ping pong are only a few of the new experiences your Sims can look forward to. Need to study for a big exam? Why not join a cram session at the commons? Don’t forget to squeeze in some fun After School Activities like joining the E-Sports or Soccer Team to put their skills in the spotlight or head to a spirit event at the bar dressed in their best school colors.

However! While pulling pranks on the other university or doing a little painting in the park can be a lot of fun, don’t let your Sims have so much fun they forget term papers, exams, presentations, and homework. Let your Sims get too distracted and their grades will likely drop – which could lead to big problems if they’re relying on a scholarship or grant.

*Requires The Sims 4 game (sold separately) and all game updates to play. For PC/Mac, see minimum system requirements for this pack. The Sims 4 Discover University Expansion Pack is coming to PC and Mac on November 15, 2019, and to PlayStation®4 and Xbox One on December 17, 2019.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What would be the pros and cons of a four-day school week? Shorter week, therefore a longer weekend, would be nice. As for con, I’m sure the school days would be a little longer to make up for the 5th day and breaks would be a little shorter. 

What is a subject or topic that you would like to learn more about? I want to brush up on my psychology because I’m definitely rusty. It’s been 6 years now since I’ve graduated and I haven’t kept up with anything. I feel like I forgot everything. :/

Would you rather live somewhere that was hot year-round or cold year-round? I’d choose cold year round for sure. I’m miserable with the 3-4 months of miserable heat as it is and I’m glad I at have fall and winter to look forward to. Being hot year round would be horrible.

What is something that you do during the summer that you don't otherwise? I’ve really gotten into ice cream and milkshakes this summer. I also only ever go to the beach during the summertime.

What is your own definition of success? Accomplishing your goals and doing what you love.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? My days all pretty much blend together.

What are some of your favorite songs? I have a lot.

Do you donate to a specific charity or cause on an annual basis? No.

If you won the lottery, how would you spend the money? I’d have to pay off debts first and foremost. I’d pay off my parents’ and brother’s debts as well. Then I’d buy us a house and furnish it and whatnot. I’d definitely want to go on some nice vacations as well. I know I’d have to be smart about it and make sure I’m also saving, but it’d be hard cause initially I’d just be so excited and want to go crazy haha.

Would you be a stay at home parent or send your kid to daycare? I don’t want to have to kids, but hypothetically I guess it would depend because I might not be able to afford to be a stay at home parent. I suppose I could work from home or have a schedule that’s later in the day. I would think that would be more preferable.

What excites you more - tire swings or treehouses? I wouldn’t say either one excites me, but I’d choose the tire swings. I liked the swings when I was a kid and I still think that would be kinda fun. A treehouse could be cool, but that would that be difficult for me since I’m in a wheelchair.  What's the highest amount of money you received in a card? I think $100.

What's the last CD you purchased for yourself? It’s been several years since I’ve bought a CD.

Dolphins, whales, sharks, or narwhals? Dolphins.

Did you get any scholarships or grants towards your education? Yeah.

Are spicy foods a yay or a nay for you? I used to be obSESSED with spicy food until I developed a serious sensitivity to it and could no longer have it. I’m so sad, I really miss it. I realized some of the foods I used to love were because of the spice and now they’re not the same. Like, with Mexican food for example or even Mongolian BBQ. Some of you who read my answers and have followed me for awhile might remember I used to be obsessed with Mongolian BBQ as well and talked about it all the time.

Have you ever quit or been fired from a job before? No, but I also have never had a job before.

Have you ever wondered what your pets are saying to you? Yeah. It really seems like she’s trying to convey something to me sometimes I swear haha. How incredibly frustrating that would be if they were but aren’t able to.

Did you walk or take the bus to school? I used to walk to school sometimes in elementary and middle school because my school was just around the corner. One of my friends lived just a few houses down from me and we’d walk together. In college I sometimes had to take the public bus to school.

[greekgrad12]

It Takes Two: percabeth!au

Mattie Jackson and Hayley Chase meet at the start of summer and discover that they are each other's identical clone. With a little more investigating, the two girls discover that they are, in fact, twins. Things only get crazier when they find out that their adoptive parents were once in love. Now, they have to work together to reunite Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase before Mattie’s dad ends up dating the new camp counselor and Hayley’s mom gets married to a kid hating, gold digger.

And what better way to do that than to switch places?

or

i rewatched It Takes Two and decided to make it percabeth :)

read on ao3 

*******************************************************

Percy Jackson had just finished packing his last duffel bag when he heard a very familiar voice yelling outside his apartment window. A voice that belonged to someone who was supposed to be in the next room over packing her own bags. A frustrated sigh left his lips as he opened the bedroom window looking down towards the street. Just as he suspected, a crowd of children were scattered on the road, some taking up the spaces around the chalk-drawn diamond, others sitting on the sidelines. And right there on the makeshift home plate stood none other than...

"Matilda Sally Jackson!" Percy yelled down from the fourth floor to his daughter, "If I were to walk into your room right now, would your suitcases be packed?"

The ten-year-old girl turned and gave her dad an exasperated look, "Ah come on, dad! Ten bucks say you only just got done!"

"Thankfully, I'm not raising you to be like me," He teased, leaning on the windowsill. He was very much aware of the red tint on his daughter's olive cheeks, even from the distance between the two, "I'm hopefully raising you to be better. Now come finish packing, we're leaving in two hours!"

Percy and his daughter had a great relationship, unlike Percy and his bio-dad or first stepfather. Yeah, he didn't have the best luck in the fatherhood department, but that was why he wanted to do better for his daughter. And he was. Percy spent every day trying to be a good dad to Mattie. He taught her his mother's famous cookie recipe, braided her hair every morning before school, and attended every single swim match she had. Granted he was also the coach, but still.

Mattie didn't have a mom. Well, not one that she remembered anyway. Percy and his ex-wife, Lydia, were on thin ice for a long time. One of their main arguments being, Percy wanted kids, she didn't. Percy knew from a young age that he wanted a family, so there was no use trying to argue that. Somewhere along the way, they had reached an agreement and Mattie was on the way. Halfway through the whole process, Lydia changed her mind. This lead to the fifth argument of the month and to their inevitable divorce.

This also lead to the decision that would change the rest of Percy's life. Would he still adopt baby Mattie?

Yep, adopt. Lydia didn't want to go through the whole pregnancy ordeal and Percy was more than happy to adopt. He knew what it was like to grow up in a tough home and if he could prevent that from happening to another kid, he wouldn't hesitate. Mattie’s birth mother was a 19-year-old girl who was apparently going through a hard time. Truthfully, Percy didn’t know much about her, but it wasn’t due to a lack of effort. When bio-mom picked Percy and Lydia to be the parents of her unborn child, she was in the final stages of her pregnancy and she didn’t want to meet them. The only thing Percy heard about her was that she moved out west somewhere only a week after Mattie was born.

As a social worker employed at Goode Middle School, Percy had the advantage of being college friends with many of the adoption agents. This helped speed up the adoption process tremendously. At first, he saw that as a blessing, but after the divorce, it seemed that Percy was under even more pressure to make his decision.

It took some long talks with his mom to convince Percy that he could still do this; be a single dad. But it was his little sister, Estelle, who convinced him he would be great at it. After all, he had partially helped raise her and she turned out okay. She ate all of their mom's blue cookies, but she was okay. Plus, his family would be right by his side. So, Percy went along with the adoption. He hasn't regretted it once.

Yes, Mattie was adopted, but two you could never really tell. Mattie was daddy's little girl from the very beginning. From their beach days together to their daddy-daughter dates to get cheeseburgers at the local diner, the two were inseparable. By some twist of fate, the baby girl had even grown up to have a shade of green eyes like her dad's.

And that wasn't where the similarities stopped. Mattie was a rambunctious and sarcastic kid. There are times when Percy isn't sure what to expect from her, but more often than not, Mattie was the most helpful and patient kid a single dad could ask for. Still, as easygoing as she could be, Percy knew how proud his daughter was. After being embarrassed in front of her friends, Mattie Jackson had something to prove.

"Just let me hit this ball downtown! Grand slam, home run, guaranteed," Mattie was a lot like her father, but she had ambition. She was a tough girl. A smart girl. She reminded Percy of-

"Okay, fine," He started, "but if it's anything less, you're making me a mug at camp."

The girl shuddered at the idea of having to participate in her least favorite camp activity but nodded nonetheless. She stepped back up to the plate. Mattie was athletic. She hopped around from sport to sport, mainly just for the experience, but there was nothing she loved more than swimming. Her father's love for the water was one of the many things the girl had picked up from him.

But right now, Mattie's focus wasn't on the water. Percy watched as she scrunched her nose up, waiting for the pitch. The boy at the pitchers' mound, one of Mattie's friends, Cody, was taking his sweet time with the ball. Right when it looked like he was about to throw the pitch, he instead turned to his team and signaled for them to back up.

Percy couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. He wanted a World's Best Dad mug, but at that moment, he wanted his daughter to show those kids who's boss more.

The ball was pitched and the next thing Percy knew, he was hearing the sweet sound of a crack made from the balls' contact with the bat. He cheered as his daughter took first, and again when she rounded the corner for second. The ball had landed somewhere far down the street and the rest of Mattie's team were assuring her it was safe. She made it to third and right when Percy was sure he wouldn't be getting his mug, a car pulled up and parked right over home plate.

Mattie slowed down and stopped right in front of the old car. A confused look was shared between the other kids, but she knew exactly who the vehicle belonged to. And while she was happy to see it, Mattie was pissed that she couldn't reach home from under the car.

"Mattie, your dad called me half an hour ago telling me that you two were just now starting to pack. What are you doing out here?"

Before the girl could answer, Cody's voice rang out at her side.

"Loosing," The boy mocked as he tagged the girl out with the ball.

Mattie turned towards him and glared, "There is no way this counts!"

***

"I want my mug to be blue," Percy teased his daughter as she walked back into their apartment, "with World's Best Dad written in big letters."

"You and I both know that you don't need a mug to know you're the best dad. Plus, I suck at clay molding," The girl complained, "Not to mention that it's the most boring activity at camp."

Her father smirked, "Well you should have thought of that before you agreed to the bet."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Mattie grumbled, "Can I just pay Rachel to do it for me?"

"No," He laughed, "and don't even try to go behind my back and do it anyway, because I will find out.”

"Okay, you two, settle down," Sally Jackson-Blofis' laughter rang out in the small apartment. As much as Mattie was a daddy's girl, Percy was a bigger mama's boy, "I came by to see you before you leave and drop off some cookies for the trip."

Mattie's eyes couldn't have bulged out of their sockets more when her grandmother pulled out the plastic tub of blue cookies. Just as she went to grab the box, it was pulled out of reach by her father, "Oh, no you don't."

"Oh, come on, dad!" Giving the best puppy dog look she could muster, Mattie looked up at Percy, "Just one?"

Percy had to look at his mother for support. There was little that his daughter couldn't get away with when that look was thrown his way, "Nope. Not until you're done packing."

"Seriously?" His daughter whined, "Wasn't calling me Matilda in front of all my friend's punishment enough?"

"You know, I was this close to naming you Janet," He mocked, holding his pointer finger and thumb so close they were barely touching.

Mattie's big eyes narrowed into a glare as she stuck her tongue out at her father, "Fine, but don't be surprised if your mug doesn't have a handle."

"I think you're just doing that to make the sculpting easier for you."

A small grin appeared on her face and she shrugged, "Maybe."

Percy rolled his eyes at the girl and chuckled as she walked back to her room. He turned back to his mom and saw her wearing the same endearing look she always has when she watches the interactions between her son and granddaughter.

"You've definitely raised a little you," Sally laughed.

"Well, in that case," Percy grinned and opened the Tupperware container holding the cookies, "I'm sorry for hogging the shower as a kid."

Sally took the container out of his hands before he got the chance to pick out a cookie, "And I'm sorry for not allowing you to be a hypocrite."

"What? I'm done with my packing!" Percy promised as he reached for the container.

"Even the extra blankets? You know how cold the bunks can get at night."

Percy was quiet for a moment before letting out a defeated groan, "You know, I was really proud of myself for a moment there."

"You should still be proud of yourself, honey," Sally grinned, "You're a great dad, and you and Mattie are going to have a great time at camp this year, just like you always do."

Camp Half-Blood was a summer camp that Percy had been attending since he was nine years old. His bio dad had attended the camp in his youth and it was one of the few things that Percy had left of the man after he died. When his mother remarried, it was a safe place away from his first stepfather, Smelly Gabe, a man that Sally Jackson only married because, at the time, she didn't have the funds to properly provide for her son. The camp had a big influence on the man Percy became. The experiences he had, the friends he made, the place where he felt closest to his father.

The girl he fell in love with.

Even years after he grew too old to be a camper, Percy found himself volunteering every summer as a camp counselor. A few years later, he was offered a paid position as an official counselor and the camp social worker. Chiron, the camp activities director, was more than happy to have him back. Especially, when he started bringing his daughter with him.

He couldn't help but smile at that, "Thanks, mom. I'm really excited about this year. You know, Camp Half-Blood was remodeled this past fall. Everything has been upgraded, I can't wait to see it."

"I'm sure it will look great. You've been complaining about the faulty flooring in the pavilion for years."

"There's been a giant crack going down the center of that thing ever since the earthquake back when I was still a camper. That's completely dangerous!"

His mother laughed and raised her arms in defeat, "Trust me, I agree. Still, with all the changes, I'm surprised that the camp could afford all the modifications."

"Yeah, I think the head of the architect company in charge is an old friend of Chiron's. Apparently, they will be coming down and checking out the camp, you know, to see how their work panned out, I guess."

"Well, you'll have to thank whoever they are for fixing your pavilion," Sally teased him as she grabbed a cookie out of the container and took a bite. Percy's mouth fell open as he stared at his mother with a look of betrayal, "What? I don't have to pack anything. Plus, a made them, I don't need justification."

"You are a cruel woman."

***

An hour and a half later, Percy and his daughter were packing their bags -and the extra blankets- into the car and heading towards Long Island Sound. With barely thirty minutes into the trip, half of Sally's cookies had been devoured and they had played a very enthusiastic game of Eye Spy.

"So," Mattie started as she reached for her fourth cookie, "is this the year you finally tell me who A.C. is?”

When Mattie was seven, during her first year at camp, Percy was adamant about showing her everything from his time at camp. Including all his favorite spots and activities from his time there. They visited the horse stables, where Percy told his daughter stories about his favorite horses and how he was one of the best riders. He took her to the strawberry field where they picked strawberries with her uncle Grover, just like the two had done when they were boys. But he was most excited about taking her to the dock and swimming in the water. Some of his most precious memories were made at that beach, on the dock. It was a special place for him. A place where he used to sit with her and escape from the world. A place where a first kiss was perfect under the Fourth of July fireworks. A place where carved initials still stood to this day.

When Mattie first found the letters carved at the end of the dock, she knew immediately that they weren't new. The marks had faded with time. When she realized that the first set of letters in P.J. + A.C. looked familiar, she decided to ask her father, Percy Jackson, if he knew who made the marks. Percy had never been a good liar. That was the day Mattie found out everything about her father's days at Camp Half-Blood. Everything, except who A.C. was.

"Mattie," Percy sighed, eyes staying on the road, "I've told you a thousand times, she's just an old friend. I haven't spoken to her in years, since before you were even born. I don't understand why you're so interested in this."

"Because friends don't carve their initials together on a dock for the world to see," The young girl persisted, blue crumbs falling from the side of her mouth, "That's what couples do in movies and stuff."

"Well, that explains it then. This isn't a movie, T," Truthfully, Percy wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself more, "Besides, the camp went under construction this year, I'm sure the old dock was torn down and rebuilt. It was old."

Although, he would never admit this to his daughter, Percy was hoping, and wishing, and praying to anyone who would listen that the dock stayed the same. Percy would be lying if he said that he wasn't anxious about seeing it again. The thing was old, and he knew that the safety of the campers outweighed the feeling he still got in his stomach when he saw their initials carved together.

Maybe he could have called Chiron. Asked him if the new camp architect would spare that last plank of wood at the very edge of the water. Asked if he could keep it. One last memory of the childhood love he would never admit to never getting over.

What a ridiculous idea, he thought. Still, he always got like this in the summer, especially at camp.

Despite the fact that he was avoiding eye contact and staring towards the road, Percy could feel Mattie's frustrated gaze staring him down, but he held his ground. He was never going to see her again. The last time he saw her gray eyes staring back at him was at eighteen years old, their last summer as campers. She lived in San Francisco, California and would be going to UC Berkeley in the fall. He wasn't surprised, she was a genius. But Percy? He would stay in Manhattan and go to college on a swimming scholarship. They would try and stay in touch like how they did growing up. Busy schedules and adulthood would cause them to fail. Percy would still think of her, but he'd still get married to another woman. Percy would try to make it work, but he would still find himself wishing Lydia were her, and hating himself for it. So he tried to stop, but he couldn't help wondering. Wondering what she was doing. Wondering what could have been. But they hadn't spoken in years.

There was no point in telling his daughter how wonderful she was, because he knew Mattie would fall in love with her, just as he did. And they would never meet.

So, no. Percy would not tell his daughter about the girl he spent every summer with. He would not tell her about the girl who made fun of him for drooling in his sleep. He would not tell her about the girl who would sit with him at the dock and draw building structures while they talked about nothing and everything all at once. He would not tell her about the girl who's comfort book was Matilda, and that she made him read it, and that him joking about how she probably had superpowers like the character, because she too was a genius, made her blush. Percy would not tell his daughter because it would hurt too much.

Percy would not tell his daughter about his first love, Annabeth Chase.

*********

part two :)

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: True Might

Also on AO3! 

TL;DR:  Powers don't make the hero - passion does. Luckily for Izuku and Toshinori, this is something the quirkless have in droves.

AKA: All Might is a quirkless vigilante, One for All isn't a quirk that exists and 1A gets a whole 3-week buffer before villain's start kicking their face in as opposed to the 3 days of canon.

Basically: Quirkless!Vigilante!All Might and Quirkless!Successor!(gen ed) UA Student!Midoriya. It’s a riot.

Yagi is stupid strong, his only form in this AU is basically Muscle Form from canon, but he’s a little less ridiculously cut. Not quite chubby, but huggable. This is mostly because he A, isn’t a celebrity that needs to have a marketable image and B, he really likes carbs.

He’s not exactly a vigilante by choice, in his day and age quirkless kids weren’t permitted to apply to UA, either gen ed or heroics. When Nezu got the job, that all changed, but it was a solid decade too late for Yagi.

He’s admittedly a little bitter about it, but he refuses to do anything but his best. He might be a little snippier with Pros than he really needs to be but oh well.

Katsuki and Izuku are utterly enamoured with this crazy vigilante that just doesn’t lose, refuses to back down from a fight even when he’s outmatched, and somehow coming out victorious anyway, rescuing everyone. They have a tense relationship, but often find time to get together and just ramble about how cool All Might is, share theories and dissect his fights. It’s not uncommon for Katsuki to have been hurling abuse at Izuku during class, only to show up at his house after school with a backpack full of snacks and a notebook full of questions.

Izuku knows most of what Katsuki does is to keep his status in the school. If he showed pity to a dumb quirkless runt he’d be painted with the same brush. This doesn’t make what Katsuki has done right! Only Izuku doesn’t blame him because he’s way too forgiving.

Izuku is the smartest person Katsuki knows and vice versa – they are each other’s measuring stick. Katsuki shows Izuku bravery, Izuku shows Katsuki determination.

Episode 1 goes as it does but you see a real flash of regret when Katsuki tells Izuku to jump off a roof because they are kinda-sorta friends. Izuku looks so betrayed. We meet the slime villain like before, All Might saves Izuku and 100% doesn’t expect the kid to fanboy about him and ask for two autographs – one made out to a “Kacchan”.

“Can someone quirkless be a hero?” “The whole world will be against you. Most places won't even give you a shot – no matter how good you are. You’re better off picking something else.”

Izuku is crushed but he does understand. All Might leaves and Izuku trails off kinda hopelessly. He follows the sounds of explosions without meaning to.

It’s Katsuki! He’s dying! Like usual at this point lmao. Izuku rushes in much like canon, All Might shows up, pulls Katsuki free and slams a dumpster on the slime villains head before making a speedy getaway. The police rip into Izuku but Katsuki actually defends him. “You were doing fuck all while I fucking died – don’t knock the only asshole who tried.” Izuku quietly slips him the autograph before running off the scene. Katsuki cries because Izuku got that for him even after he was such a fucking bastard that day? He can’t bring himself to be a dick to Izuku again, even only for show.

All Might finds Izuku and he's like “Sorry I was an ass I was being a dick because I had low self-esteem – I’m quirkless. If you’ll have me I’ll make you into the best hero the world had ever seen

Izuku, obviously, says yes please!

Also, hypermobile Izuku with joint braces as support gear because just let me project please my arms are killing me ( I wrote this a while ago and yes. My arms are still killing me - yes even now). He gets them after All Might sees him miss a dodge because his ankles rolled beneath him. They support his joints beyond the normal range of strength, letting him do some crazy pivots and handsprings, making it easy to support all his weight on a single-arm with very little strain. They can also lock in place, lessening muscle fatigue if he needs to hold onto something for ages and preventing injury if he’s pushing against something. Produced by David and Melissa Shield and imported through Nighteye Heroics.

Is support gear illegal for civilians to own? Yes! But medical equipment isn’t so if you can just convince people its medical not support you can get away with a lot.

Yagi has no weapons himself, other than the random shit he picks up and swings at people, and has little support gear other than a communicator, panic button, and a whole lot of zip-ties.

Izuku should probably have weapons but I’m struggling to think of anything other than war fans because how cool would that look? Because Shonen they would also have the ability to create powerful downdrafts that would give a boost to a jump or dodge.

Probably doesn’t get them until later and needs to train with them.

In this AU, One for All isn’t a quirk. Rather, it’s a role, passed from quirkless person to quirkless person, the only people who can’t be hard countered by All for One. They tend to be vigilantes, crime lords or hero managers, doing their part to foil as much of All for One’s plans as they can, through whatever means necessary.

It’s a role with a pretty high fatality rate.

No one knows All Might is quirkless other than those close to him, they instead think he has a strength quirk. He’s the most prolific vigilante in Japan and is almost as much of a household name as canon All Might. More divisive though, with most people decrying his vigilante status when he could ‘easily make a respectable hero’. He’s also pretty brutal with his takedowns of some villains, leading a lot of people to call him an unregulated brute. Still more call him a villain which, legally he would be - were he using a quirk.

Nighteye is his contact in the heroics industry, gives him loads of inside info that’s typically not something he should be passing on. He’s still close with David Shield. Nighteye imports any costume parts he needs from David and leaves them at various pickup points for Yagi.

He went to college with David in America after Nana died; America having a quirk blind admission process helped - but he’d have gotten shit talked a lot if people didn’t just assume he had a strength quirk. Dude was and is crazy big.

David was one of the only people that knew he was quirkless

OH FOR FUN; Nighteye was also going to this American college and that’s where he met All Might. The three of them became the world’s strangest group of friends and may have lowkey done some slightly illegal vigilante work around the campus and surrounding town. They had a reputation for getting no sleep ever and being the most mismatched set of people

Secretly Smart Jock, Business Man with a Touch of E-boy, Science Hipster. They all tumbled into class together with varying levels of alive-ness. Nighteye and David were very much not morning people.

UA! It’s a ride. Izuku fails the practical but he’s not shocked – he was prepared for this.

He actually got like 30 hero points? But they refused to admit him on hero points alone due to his ‘deficiencies’. They don’t exactly tell Izuku this but Aizawa was there and he was furious.

Gets into 1C with Shinsou, Shinsou fuckin hates him on sight for reasons best known to him (It’s bc he was so god damned cheerful he just – assumed Izuku had a quirk. I love Shinsou but he’s more than a little judgemental). Izuku is like smiling through the pain because he just wanted to make a friend his age – Katsuki barely counts.

He sits with him at lunch and makes friends-ish with the hero kids who dragged Katsuki along, meets Ochaco again. She’s upset he didn’t get in – especially after he tells her he apparently got 30 points. The whole table gets mad on his behalf and hes embarrassed and happy.

Like day 2 he’s leaving gym and someone is like “Oh LMAO it’s Deku – he was in the year below me at Aldera. Only fuckin quirkless kid in the whole school; can’t believe he got into UA.” He turns to Izuku. “Who’s dick did you suck to get in you - ?” And Shinsou just decks him. He grabs Izuku – who is super confused fyi – and s p r i n t s. They have to stop after a while because hes having a panic attack and Shinsou doesn’t know what the fuck to do and he’s mad and upset and the sunshine boy is sobbing –

Aizawa shows up, having seen the (end of the) altercation and is ready to expel some gen ed kids he can’t legally expel – until he sees the two kids from the entrance exam he was interested in – including the quirkless kid who should have gotten in. Well he’s much more willing to hear them out.

100% requests expulsion on those 2 2E kids because that’s Discrimination and they should know better as second years. Nezu grants it because those 2 were di ck s

No USJ because no All Might – stuff like that will come,,, later : )

Sports Fest! Izuku and Shinsou kick ass, Aizawa is Watching. All Might may have gotten in as a crowd member with Nighteye and a visiting David and Melissa and they are cheering on their sun son. Also, Nighteye is going to go cheer on Mirio so he just got a pass to attend all 3 days of the sports festival. He’s just buying snacks on the second day because he’s never talked to one of the second years in his life.

Shinsou and Izuku make it to the tournament. Izuku has been training pretty seriously with All Might for a while now and hes a very good fighty boy. Makes it to the 3rd round of the tournament where he loses to Iida. Shinsou makes it second where he loses to Katsuki. Izuku is like “Iida might you be Ingenium’s brother or something?” “Yes, I am!” “OH MY GOD I LOVE INGENIUM ISN’T HE THE COOLEST” “YES MY BROTHER IS AMAZING” Shinsou is just watching while faintly amused.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

August 27th, 2000

Emile was trying not to bounce around looking at everything on campus, but he couldn’t deny the spring in his step. He was so excited to be around a real college, that he was going to be attending! He was looking forward to this more than words could say, honestly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another tour group, and noticed one of the guys in it trudging along at the back of the group. Emile inwardly frowned. He had seen this guy around campus a couple times, and every time he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Emile resolved to say hi to him at some point. After all, everyone needed at least one friend, and this guy looked like he didn’t have any yet.

  August 26th, 2002

Emile led the wide-eyed freshman around the campus with a small smile. All of them were so excitable, chattering about the possibilities of no longer living with their parents, of being able to meet new friends, of getting jobs and being adults. The freshmen were allowed to wander the campus for a bit, and Emile sat down on one of the benches with a sigh. Hesitantly, one of the freshmen from another group approached him. “Uh...sorry to bother you, are you Emile?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, offering a tired grin. “Completely exhausted and certifiably insane, according to my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Um, I can go if you want a break...”

“Nah, it’s okay, sit down,” Emile sat, patting the bench beside him. “What’s eating at you?”

The kid sat down, fiddled with his hands, staring at his lap, then, he looked at Emile and blurted, “I’m not sure if I want to go to college.”

Emile nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” the kid asked. “Everyone I told before just...laughed.”

“I’m not everyone,” Emile said simply. “You’re part of Clara’s group, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. She said I should talk to you about this because of your boyfriend. Um. He’s not part of the freshman orientation, is he?”

Emile laughed. “No!” he exclaimed. “Remy dropped out of college his freshman year and never looked back.”

“Oh,” the kid said. “He doesn’t...regret it?”

“No,” Emile said. “College just wasn’t for him. And that’s perfectly okay for anyone. Granted, he doesn’t talk to his parents anymore, but that’s an entirely different layer of complicated.”

“My parents...they’re kinda overbearing,” the kid said with a grimace. “They didn’t like any of the majors I might have been interested in. They made me choose pre-med. I would have rather gone with English, if I went with anything at all. I know there’s not a lot of jobs for English majors...but I’m not sure about college, period. And I would want to learn what I wanted to learn about.”

Emile nodded. “Makes sense. I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

“Eh. I mean, fourteen years of school later and I have a PhD and no reason to talk to them anymore,” the kid said with a weak smile. “But I don’t want to be here. I don’t like it. I just...I would rather have a minimum wage job for the rest of my life. I could live through retail, and like...maybe I wouldn’t make the most money, but I could do something, you know?”

“Yeah,” Emile said with a nod. “That’s what my boyfriend is doing. Two minimum wage jobs and I work a third, so we get the bills paid and we have food on the table.”

The kid blew out a breath. “I’m jealous,” he said with a weak laugh.

“What’s your name?” Emile asked.

“Darren,” the kid said.

“Darren, I’m going to tell you a secret,” Emile said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can change your major to whatever you want, and your parents don’t have a say. They don’t need to sign off on it. You’re an adult, you can do it all on your own. Now, I wouldn’t recommend dropping out of college just yet, because if you can get through it without harm, it can help you. But if you really would rather work retail, maybe get a Communications or a Business degree. Those could help you become a manager someplace. Get a job, get your foot in the door, and work your way up the corporate ladder, you know?”

Darren nodded slowly. “I guess...” he said reluctantly. “What if I burn out, though? I’ve already done so much school, more just seems overwhelming...”

“If you burn out you’re under no obligation to continue,” Emile said. “But I of course have to tell you to give it a shot first, if for no other reason than because I’m currently promoting the college.” Darren laughed at that. “Did that answer some of your questions?”

“Yeah,” Darren said, giving him a relieved smile. “College isn’t the only way to go. You know, I think I’m gonna change my major when school starts. And after that, I’ll call my parents and explain. Maybe if they hear how I feel directly from me, they’ll change their mind. In all honesty, I think I could be happiest at a trade school. Maybe they could help me with that.”

“I hope so,” Emile said with a smile. “And if not, you can do it on your own. It won’t be easy, but you can.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Emile,” Darren said, standing.

“Of course!” Emile chirped. “If you ever want to talk more, Clara has an uncanny sense of where I might be at any given time. She can find me.”

Darren laughed with a nod and walked away, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

“You didn’t tell me you’re already a therapist, Emile,” Remy said from behind him.

“I’m not. I’m just a good listener. I listen to what you say and I listen to what he says, and then I use what you’ve told me to talk to him,” Emile said, looking back over the bench with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on you. Seeing how you’re faring with the gremlins,” Remy said with a grin as he leaned on the back of the bench.

“We were those gremlins not so long ago,” Emile reminded him.

“Ugh, I know. Definitely not my finest moments,” Remy said with an exaggerated shudder and eye-roll.

Emile laughed and Remy rounded the bench to sit with him. “So, how’s everything, mio amore? Are you attacked with nostalgia or are you cringing at the thought that you were bouncier than most of these freshmen?”

“Nostalgia, I guess, although I don’t really get either of those,” Emile said. “I’m more...astounded. Like, these kids are going to be going out into the world on their own in four years, possibly sooner. Looking back on what we did, I’m shocked that we could achieve that. You’re eighteen, nineteen years old, you know you’re not invincible but you still feel like you have a grip on everything, like you understand the world enough to do things on your own...and now we’re sitting here, twenty and twenty one, and we’re both just laughing at how wrong we were.”

Remy nodded. “Brain development is a bitch,” he said simply.

Emile barked out a laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth as he shook in his laughter. “Remy! That’s rude! These kids are technically adults!”

“Technically,” Remy pointed out. “And you just called them kids.”

“Look,” Emile said, trying his hardest to remain serious and failing. “All I’m saying is that looking backwards is weird, knowing what you thought but now realizing that it was so wrong.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah.” He got a glint in his eye that Emile didn’t like. “So I have a question based on that,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t like where this is going. Ask me,” Emile said.

“Do you think you’d still donate your sperm today?” Remy asked with a wicked grin.

“Remy!” Emile exclaimed, whacking Remy with his arm. “Can you imagine what would happen if one of the students I was supposed to be teaching about the campus overheard that question?”

“I imagine they’d ask if you got any money for it,” Remy said with a shrug. “Would you?”

Emile made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “And I wouldn’t be anonymous, either. Those kids have the right to know where they came from, and if I get sick later down the line they should know there’s a risk for that. I might not be so convinced that someone would actually use it, but...”

“Hey, Emile, you’re cute, you’re smart, and you’re probably gonna end up with a PhD one day. You’d be a catch for any lady at the sperm bank,” Remy said definitively.

“You say that,” Emile laughed. “I don’t know exactly how much you’ll believe it later down the line, when we get older. We’ll probably look back at that decision one day and figure out that I was stupid.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Remy said. “You wanted to help families become families. That’s not stupid, that’s admirable.”

“So would you donate yours?” Emile asked.

Remy choked and stared at Emile. “No,” he said. “No. I’ve never had a deep-rooted desire to have a family, whether that’s through donating my sperm or settling down and adopting. Like, I’m not against families, you know? But when it comes to being a dad, I don’t know how well I’d do.”

“How come?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “I dunno. Like, I would not want to end up being like my parents were, you know? And I could overcompensate trying to not be them and wind up ignoring kids, or I could fall back into old habits and hurt them. Like. Okay, looking at us ten to twenty years from now. Assuming we’re still together. Were we to adopt. Could I see myself being a competent dad? I guess. There’s a lot I’d have to work through to get to that point, though.”

“Are you talking, like...therapy, or...?” Emile asked.

Remy sighed. “Emile, I don’t need a therapist. Not at this point in time, maybe not ever after this, you know? But in this hypothetical situation, I could see unforeseen circumstances making me panic and possibly needing to...talk that through with someone. So maybe I don’t need therapy now. But if we’re talking hypotheticals, I’m not blind. I know there could be issues that come up with kids. So in that one specific circumstance, there’s the possibility I’d need therapy. You happy?”

“Is it bad if I say yes?” Emile asked with a little laugh. “Because I’m just glad that you could see yourself needing help and accepting that help.”

Remy wrinkled his nose. “It’s not needing help, it’s therapy.”

Emile blinked. “That’s...those two things are exactly the same, Rem.”

“No, like...therapy is for people with PTSD, or people who got seriously hurt, or people who are stereotypically seen as ‘crazy,’ much as I hate that term,” Remy said. “It’s not just about needing help with, like, feeling like you have a dead-end job or whatever.”

“Rem, that’s exactly what it is,” Emile said. “Therapy is help with whatever is bugging you in your life at that moment. So you went to therapy because your parents were making you suicidal. That doesn’t mean that it can’t help with smaller things.”

Remy squinted at Emile, and Emile rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we’re back to arguing about this. We went through this freshman year, Rem!”

“Yeah, but you’re...you’re describing it differently,” Remy said.

“Not really,” Emile said. “You’re seeing it in a different light, because you’ve matured.”

Remy frowned. “I don’t get therapy. I just don’t.”

“That’s okay, since you’re not the one training to be a therapist,” Emile said with a little laugh. “Although, I will say that I agree with you, by and large. You don’t need a therapist.”

Remy looked shocked. “You’re agreeing with me on that one?”

“You’re well-adjusted, all things considered,” Emile said with a shrug. “Whether or not you want therapy or could benefit from therapy is a different question. But right now, you don’t need a therapist.”

“I...wow,” Remy said. “That may be the first time you’ve ever said that I don’t need mental help.”

“I hate when you phrase it like that,” Emile said. “It makes you sound like you’re that stereotypical ‘crazy person.’ People who go to therapy just need help, period. Not in the ‘they’re hopeless’ way, but in the ‘they’re struggling and this is how they find their footing’ way.”

Remy considered. “And that’s all it is?”

“That’s all it is,” Emile said. “And you don’t need a therapist, and I won’t force you to find one. But I will say that if you do ever need help again, there’s no shame in that.”

“...Yeah,” Remy said. “I think I’m starting to figure that out.”

[katelynn-a-fan]

Why We Do What We Do (2)

First | Next

“Wow! Look at that!” “Woah!” “So cool!” A chorus of voices shouted.

Logan looked up from where he was into the night sky and caught a ‘shooting star’ streaking across the sky. He was mildly surprised that he had enough time to see it by the time whoever had seen it and exclaimed and he had looked up. He allowed a small grunt to pass through his lips.

Logan disliked calling them ‘shooting stars’, because they were merely bits of rock and ice that had been shucked off a comet or were tiny bits of rock and dust from impacts of planets or asteriods far away that just happened to enter the Earth’s atmosphere. The only reason they looked like ‘stars’ at all was because they were burning up in the atmosphere from the very high temperature molecules of the mesosphere being pushed together, causing a massive amount of friction to very rapidly wear away at whatever rock/meteor was entering the atmosphere. 

Logan always found the Mesosphere fascinating though. Temperature wise it was the coldest layer, but yet each individual particle contains so much energy. It was very distinct from the Thermosphere above, in that it’s the last layer to contain a significant amount of ozone or even just air for that matter. This ozone was the reason for it to deviate so far into being colder than the troposphere of daily life, because the Thermosphere was the hottest layer of the atmosphere and that sits above the Mesosphere.

Logan coughed a little to clear his throat before continuing.

“Great job on spotting that Cal! Remind me when we go inside and you’ll get a piece of candy.” Logan projected while still gazing up to where the meteor had been.

“Score!” came Cal’s familiar voice to his right a few telescopes down.

Logan inwardly and sarcastically rolled his eyes, but he would never be so unprofessional to disrespect a student like that, much less his students.

College kids and their excitement for free food.

Logan dropped his gaze down from the sky and returned to what he was doing, helping one of his students navigate the controls of her telescope. 

“When it comes to a telescope, even the tiniest movement can sweep over what you are looking for, so always double check the coordinates you have inputed into it, okay?” 

The student, Grace, only kept her gaze on the telescope with an expression of a confusion that he probably had once shared the first time he had used telescope.

Logan waited for the student to say something, before adjusting his glasses and standing up from the stool he had been using when he was looking in the telescope when he got no response. 

He patted Grace’s shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it. You have the coordinates on your sheet, just use the paddle to input them and look through the eyepiece right here. And if you can’t find what you’re looking for, put the telescope on the lowest speed and move around until you find that signature faint green blob of the nebula.”  Logan affirmed as he pointed his finger to the small eyepiece he had been observing through and then picking up the paddle from it’s place and then returned it back.

“If you still can’t find it, call me or one of my TA’s over to help. The universe is a big place, don’t sweat it if you can’t find what you’re looking for.” Logan smiled a small smile to punctuate his statement.

It could’ve been the very dim red lamps they used for lighting their workspace, but Logan thought he saw Grace blush as she mumbled a small “Thank you” before turning to the telescope and retrieving the paddle to do her work for the class.

Logan strolled over to where his 2 TA’s were standing, chatting about whatever.

“Hey Ramie, Mike! How are they all doing?” Logan’s voice was enough to stop their conversation, but Logan doubted any of his students who could vaguely hear what they were saying were perturbed.

Ramie spoke first. “Good! Theo is getting along nicely with the focus and Alex found the first nebula using the manual controls and the coordinate sheet instead of letting the computer do it.”

“Nice! It seems Cal has some competition for best Astronomy student of the class. But... you didn’t hear that from me.” Logan lowered his voice and placed his hand like he was trying not to let Cal hear to punctuate his statement.

Alex is a lot like me, wanting to prove he knows how to do things without anyone’s help. I just hope he doesn’t get too far ahead of himself. God knows I was too smart for my own good when I was his age.

“Ha ha! Sure, sure. All good here too. I love that tonight will be so easy! They’re all such good kids. Honestly I think this semester’s going to be a breeze.” Mike interjected with a laugh as Raime went over to a student raising their hand.

Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It was not professional to check his phone while he was teaching, and he was sure it was a notification from one of the puzzle games he had to entertain himself with on his phone.

“Well, when you’re doing midnight labs, you only get the students who actually want to be here. Not many would want to have a class that ends at barely before midnight. And anyone who came here more for the party scene than to further their education would weed themselves out the moment they saw when Astronomy labs would be.” Logan articulated as he watched Ramie converse with the student about whatever problem they had. Instinctively and unconsciously, Logan lightly patted the pocket of his pants that contained his phone.

“True that.” Mike replied while also observing Ramie help the student.

They sat in silence for a moment or two before Logan’s pocket buzzed again, but Logan ignored it as before. Logan knew it was probably the secondary alert for when a notification stays unopened, he would clear it away later. Mike’s eyes flitted to Logan’s pocket for a second before seeming to think better of something, quickly returning to look at Ramie. Logan caught the glance, but decided to ignore it. 

Mike could have whatever assumption he had, really, Logan couldn’t care less about stuff like that, as long as his assumptions didn’t hinder him in his duty as a TA. 

After Ramie came back, Logan and the TA’s devised a game of Name that Constellation. Everyone would take turns scanning the sky, and when they found each constellation they would name it and any interesting fact about the myth. And if they couldn’t find a constellation or remember the myth to go with it fast enough, that person would be the next to help a student with their telescope.

Luckily, Logan was an astronomy teacher for a reason, and his TAs were grossly  outplayed. Ramie was the first to fall and looked subtly peeved as she then waited for the inevitable hand raise. Mike, luckily for Raime, fell next as his eyes searched the sky for a familiar pattern only to be met by a indistinguishable field of dots. 

Now, both of the TAs were waiting for Logan to falter. 1, 2, 3, 4 rounds and Logan always kept managing to spot countless constellations that they had apparently looked over multiple times with the ease of an adult reading a book for small children learning to read. And even the myths were explained in great detail, not just the basic premise of their myths, the full stories with their exposition, rising action, climax, and resolution. 

Granted, this was the first outside lab of the year, but Ramie and Mike shared the same assumption: that they knew their teacher.

But with this development, both Ramie and Mike shared a look that they both knew meant We have a lot to learn apparently. 

Not only about astronomy, but their teacher as well.

Now Logan did not see their shared glances as he was scanning the sky for his next target, but was broken out of his focusing when his phone went off again.

Logan’s heart sank.

It was a call this time.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this call.” Logan excused himself while keeping a mask of indifference with a small dash of embarrassment mixed in.

Logan’s pace remained measured as he descended the small flight of stairs near him, but once he was out of sight, his quickened his pace significantly as he reached the door back into the main classroom.

There was only was one person this could be calling and he knew that they would only call if it was truly important/urgent.

Logan’s heartbeat quickened as he opened the door to the empty classroom. He had pulled the phone from his pocket at some point in his trek, but didn’t want to answer too soon as to be unable to hear the call. Without looking at the lock screen, Logan pressed the call button to accept the call.

He brought the phone to his ear. 

Before Logan could say anything Patton’s voice flooded into Logan’s ear. Patton only got through one sentence before his cries took over his words where they essentially became a part of his crying as the call dropped with Logan’s shitty cell reception.

That one sentence made Logan drop his phone with trembling hands as he burst into tears himself, making Logan sway before sinking into the nearest chair. However, Logan did not have the luxury to cry outright, only letting silent tears leak from his eyes as he took in what Patton meant.

Logan picked his phone back up and saw 10 missed texts from Patton, and kicked himself for not even considering to at least glance at his phone before Patton was resorted to calling him to get his proper attention.

Logan stopped short in his emotional mire, struck by a wave of realization, his jaw setting into a stern and determined expression. Logan knew what he had to do.

Logan swiftly composed himself, wiping away the stray tears from his eyes, as he returned back to his TAs, beckoning them over to where he was at the top of the stairs.

“I have to go. Can you hold down the metaphorical fort with just the 2 of you for the rest of class?” Logan’s mask of indifference was back, hoping that neither the TAs or the students near him could tell he had been crying moments before.

Ramie and Mike now shared a glance Logan caught at full force this time. “We’ll fine, like you said, most of the kids in this class are here because they know what they’re doing.” Mike replied with a hint of something more gentle than Logan had ever seen on Mike’s face and for that he was grateful.

The silence hung between them as a silent message was implied from what they didn’t say. We know you well enough to know that whatever this is is serious. We’ll cover for you. Go.

Logan nodded as he turned and briskly maneuvered down the steps, gathering what little paper material he required for teaching his midnight astronomy class and in short order found himself cranking his car into reverse and driving towards his destination, knowing exactly where he needed to go.

The problem was, in other circumstances, he would enjoy going to his destination.

But the sentence Patton uttered on the phone changed everything. Logan knew those 7 words would haunt him for years to come. 7 words to turn Logan’s world on it’s head.

“They found him, but it’s really bad.”

Taglist:

@ironwoman359 @lefaystrent @delimeful 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW TO INVESTORS

He wanted to do everything. For example, Ben Silbermann noticed that a lot of altitude. For example, suppose Y Combinator offers to fund you in return for 6% of your company. There's inevitably a difference in how things feel within the company. That turned out to be valuable for hardware startups. So if you need to do two things, especially, it usually works best to get something in front of users as soon as it has a quantum of utility, and then sit around offering crits of one another's creations under the vague supervision of the teacher. It's oddly nondeterministic. Most startups that use the contained fire strategy do it unconsciously.1 And if you want to do good work, what you need to do: find a question that makes the product good. And so, by word of mouth online than our first PR firm got through the print media.

So our rule is just to get you talking. Kids who went to MIT or Harvard or Stanford and sometimes find ourselves thinking: they must be smarter than they seem. The four causes: open source, which makes you unattractive to investors. The initial idea is that, financially at least, that high level languages are often all treated as equivalent. The problem with spam is that in order to hack Unix, and Perl for system administration and cgi scripts. Being good is a particularly useful strategy for making decisions in complex situations because it's stateless. But this mistake is less excusable than most. I didn't think of that as your task? They all knew their work like a piano player knows the keys. By looking at their actions rather than their words. Almost everyone hates their dissertation by the time you face the horror of writing a dissertation. But because the product is not appealing enough.

Understand your users. It's not just that it makes you unhappy, but that it's obvious. If you use this method, you'll get roughly the same answer I just gave. But invariably they're larger in your imagination than in real life. Try making your customer service not merely good, but surprisingly good. If 98% of the time you're doing product development on spec, it will be easy to get more to. In the so-called real world this need is a great curiosity about a promising question to explore. The default euphemism for algorithm is system and method. Rejection is almost always a function of its founders. Since we would do anything to get users, we did. You can't answer that; if you could count on investors saving you. It's more efficient for us, and better for the company with the addition of some new person, then they're worth n such that i 1/1-n.

One thing I can say is that 99. The world changes fast, and the people you'd meet there would be wrong too. Do you have to publish novel results to advance their careers, but there was a triple pressure toward the center. And I agree you shouldn't underestimate your potential. Fixed-size series A rounds.2 But if you get a lot of time on sales and marketing. But it wasn't just TV. They win by locking competitors out of business. Understanding your users is part of half the principles in this list. I could give an example of what I mean by getting something done is learning how to write well, or how to draw the human face from life.

Offers from the very best hackers tend to be idealistic. Perhaps dramatically so, if automation had decreased the need for some kind of connection. It's just not reasonable to expect startups to pick an optimal round size in advance, because that means I hadn't been thinking about them. I need to be a good thing. And the best way not to seem desperate is not to lose your cool. Don't worry if a project doesn't seem to be overkill. That's one advantage of being small: you can use in this situation. If you have additional expenses, like manufacturing, add in those at the end. In this case, the device is the world's economy, which fortunately happens to be closest. Are some kinds of work better sources of habits of mind as well, and that you should expect to take heroic measures at first. That's the key.

The big danger is that you'll dismiss your startup. If we think 20th century cohesion was something that happened at least in a sense naturally. Though quite successful, it did not crush Apple. The one example I've found is, embarrassingly enough, Yahoo, which filed a patent suit against a gaming startup called Xfire in 2005. The summer founders were as a rule very idealistic. Even people who hate you for it believe it. For PhD programs, the professors do. Convertible notes let startups beat such deadlocks by rewarding investors willing to move first with lower effective valuations.3 Many investors will ask how much you learn in college and those you'll use in a job, except perhaps as a classics professor, but it was surprising to realize there were purely benevolent projects that had to be pretty convincing to overcome this.4 Only a few companies have been smart enough to realize this so far. I thought: how much does that investment have to improve your average outcome for you to break even?

I'm sure there are game companies out there working on products with more intellectual content than the research at the bottom of the file; don't feel obliged to cover any of them; write for a reader who won't read the essay as carefully as you do, talk to them all in parallel, because some are more promising prospects than others. So I want to invest in startups when it's still unclear how they'll do. It won't get you a job, it may not just be because they're academics, detached from the real world, programs are bigger, tend to involve existing code, for example have been granted large numbers of preposterously over-broad patents, but not to be Henry Ford. Often to make something people want? Which means if letting the founders sell some stock directly to them, they had the confidence to notice it. You can't trust the opinions of the others, because of the Blub paradox to your advantage: you can provide a level of service no big company can. More powerful programming languages make programs shorter. These turn out to be more true in software than other businesses. That's too uncertain. I do with most of the startups we've funded have, and Jessica does too, mostly, because she's gotten into sync with us. These guys want to get market price, work on something you're good at.

Notes

Our secret is to fork off separate processes to deal with them. In the early years of training, and a company tuned to exploit it. The best way for a startup. Many people feel confused and depressed in their early twenties compressed into the work goes instead into the heads of would-be-evil end.

They won't like you raising other money and disputes. As far as I know of any that died from releasing something stable but minimal very early, then used a technicality to get going, and Smartleaf co-founders Mark Nitzberg and Olin Shivers at the mercy of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-recommendation. Incidentally, I'm just going to be extra skeptical about Viaweb too.

Emmett Shear, and philosophy the imprecise half.

To help clarify the matter. Whereas there is some kind of kludge you need a higher growth rate as evolutionary pressure is such a valuable technique that any given person might have.

[maxismatchccworld]

University of Britechester

This bastion of higher education is particularly known for molding students into smart, well-rounded Sims ready to face the world’s challenges. The University of Britechester offers a variety of degree paths for its students, including distinguished offerings strongly focused on the arts and humanities.

Degrees: Biology, Computer Science, Economics, Physics, Psychology, and Villainy

Distinguished Degrees: Art History, Culinary Arts, Drama, Fine Art, History, Language and Literature, and Communications

What else does UBrite offer? On game day in the Britechester Spirit Corps Organization, your Sim can socialize, show off their dance moves, maybe do a keg stand, and promote Dragon pride. If they want to explore their creative side they can head to the canal by the commons for some outdoor figure painting with the Art Society. And they can socialize or go head to head with some of the university’s best and brightest in the challenging Debate Guild.

Foxbury Institute

Your Sim may want to opt for a more modern campus focused on creating innovative leaders, and the Foxbury Institute should be a great fit. This premier university boasts impressive facilities as well as both events and distinguished degree programs geared toward science and technology.

Degrees: Art History, Culinary Arts, Drama, Fine Art, History, Language and Literature, and Communications

Distinguished Degrees: Biology, Computer Science, Economics, Physics, Psychology, and Villainy

Some of Foxbury’s great organizations and events include the Foxbury Spirit Squad, where your Sim can don the red and gold to support their school at School Spirit Day with a juice keg, juice pong, and maybe even a little streaking. When it’s time to take a break from cramming, your Sim can attend bar night with The Brainiacs honor society for a little rest and relaxation. Want your Sim to help lead the way to the inevitable robot uprising? They’ll love creating their future overlords with the Bot Savants. And if your bot has what it takes to reign supreme in the Utili-Bot Contest, head to the quad to enter and see if your Sim will be the next Bot Master!

Financial Aid

Whether your Sim chooses the hallowed halls of the University of Britechester with its focus on arts and humanities, or the cutting-edge Foxbury Institute and its science and tech slant, there’s a ton to do, see, and learn as they journey through higher education!

But before they start packing their bags, doing a little research on how they’re going to pay for education is a good idea. There are tons of scholarships and grants available for both academically and athletically gifted students, as well as need-based scholarships. If your Sim has already started down their career path and wants to further their education, they may want to consider a career scholarship. You’ll be able to find out which scholarships are available for your Sims to help cover their college costs.

Your Sims also have the opportunity to take out student loans to help fund their education, but be aware that payments will be due as soon as they graduate.

College Life

Both schools offer students a variety of amenities and opportunities to live either on-campus or off. Decorating dorm rooms, hanging out with roommates, or just playing a little ping pong are only a few of the new experiences your Sims can look forward to. Need to study for a big exam? Why not join a cram session at the commons? Don’t forget to squeeze in some fun After School Activities like joining the E-Sports or Soccer Team to put their skills in the spotlight or head to a spirit event at the bar dressed in their best school colors.

However! While pulling pranks on the other university or doing a little painting in the park can be a lot of fun, don’t let your Sims have so much fun they forget term papers, exams, presentations, and homework. Let your Sims get too distracted and their grades will likely drop – which could lead to big problems if they’re relying on a scholarship or grant.

The first day of classes is right around the corner; in the meantime remember to connect with future classmates on The Sims 4 Forums, follow us on Twitter and Instagram, like us on Facebook, and subscribe to our YouTube channel. You can also sign up for The Sims 4 newsletter.

*Requires The Sims 4 game (sold separately) and all game updates to play. For PC/Mac, see minimum system requirements for this pack. The Sims 4 Discover University Expansion Pack is coming to PC and Mac on November 15, 2019, and to PlayStation®4 and Xbox One on December 17, 2019.

[artificialqueens]

Ungodly Hour, Chapter One (Jaida x Nicky) - Scarlet Bloo

a/n: Hi! I started this fic back when the fic challenge was announced and here it finally is, (2?) months later, 3 days from the deadline. It’s been a ride, but I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I’m happy with it, and while not every chapter will posted during the challenge I’ve at least managed to get one in!

summary: Nicky is crushing hard on a bubbly soccer playing sorority sister. It’s unusual for her to ever be into anyone like this, and all she wants is to be on her radar. Popular girl Jaida is captain of the basketball team, and while she’s usually smart, French just isn’t her forte. Lucky for her, Nicky is a native speaker, so she makes it her mission to get her as her tutor. 

Challenge notes:

A large amount of the story is told from Jaida’s point of view. 

Close friends of the main characters: Widow, Heidi and Akeria (who will become more prominent characters in future chapters.)

The title is a song by Chloe and Halle Bailey. 

Nicky snuck a look in Jan Sport’s direction, her heart tingling as she absorbed her beauty. She sighed, knowing the preppy, popular sorority girl had absolutely no idea she even existed. It was laughable that she ever entertained the idea of a relationship with her, even if it was only in the late hours of the night, a fantasy to procrastinate her studies with. But with her long blonde hair, muscular arms and smiling eyes, how couldn’t Nicky be so intrigued by her? This was a new feeling. Nicky hardly ever found herself interested in anyone, let alone a woman. It was surreal to her, but it somehow felt right.

She cast her eyes away from Jan and tried to focus on the Professor at the front of the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, it was nothing of value to Nicky. Miss Coulee was voicing her disappointment with the class after 70% of the class had gotten less than a C in the last exam. Nicky rolled her eyes, looking down at the big red “A!” circled on her own paper. Despite this achievement, she was regretting her decision to take French. Sure, it being her first language definitely made the classes easier, but left her so unsatisfied with how little she had to push herself to pass. 

“Of course you got an A”, Gigi whispered to Nicky. 

She had a defeated look on her face and Nicky felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Gigi and Nicky weren’t close, but seeing as they’d been sitting next to each other every French lecture since September, they’d gotten to know a fair bit about each other. Like Nicky, Gigi was a fashion major but was taking French so she could “make it big in Paris one day” and Nicky knew academics wasn’t her strong suit. 

“Yeah well,” Nicky smiled sweetly, “French is my language, fashion is yours.”

Gigi seemed content with that answer and nodded satisfactorily as Coulee dismissed the class and all that could be heard was the snapping shut of laptops and notebooks and friendly chatter.

Jan lingered by the door giggling with her friends and Nicky’s gaze locked in on her like a missile. She was beautiful, and she could help but trace each curve of her body with her eyes. She felt her hands go clammy as she found herself lost in her animated expressions. Jan was different to Nicky’s image of a popular girl, she didn’t strut around campus like she owned the place or go through millions of relationships. She radiated positive energy and it just made Nicky all the more eager to get to know her. She wasn’t usually this into people, but Jan Sport had turned her into a pile of mush.

“You’re staring again.” Gigi’s teasing voice brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks. She had caught her staring at Jan in awe on multiple occasions and was one of the very few people she’d actually admitted the crush to. The only other person who she’d told was her roommate and best friend, Widow. But her other friends? Definitely not. They were all art majors, and while Jan was taking music, it wasn’t really the same thing. Nicky guessed it made them the artsy crowd, and therefore substantially less popular. With the exception of Gigi and Widow, who had been in an on and off relationship with a soccer player since freshman year, Nicky’s friends spent lunch breaks talking as much shit as they could about Charles College’s elite. And it was somewhat justified. Most of the popular kids were complete pieces of shit. 

Case in point - Jaida Essence Hall, Charles College’s star athlete. The girl walked around like she owned the place, and Nicky guessed she kind of did. At the snap of a finger someone would appear at her side, eager to grant any and every wish. Or jump into her lap. Or stick their tongue down her throat. She didn’t look as confident as usual right then though, sitting fists curled around the edge of her paper in the lecture hall. Everyone else, including Coulee, had left, but Jaida remained in her seat. She must have failed the test too, but Nicky didn’t feel much sympathy for the girl. Charles college was best known for its Basketball, with its best players usually ending up in the pros, and during their years at Charles, they’d get handed everything on a silver platter. Maybe it was unfair, and a tiny bit vindictive, but Nicky got a sense of triumph from knowing that Coulee was failing the captain of the women’s basketball team along with everyone else. 

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Gigi asked as she gathered her books.

“Can’t, I have to finish up all of last week’s design work.” Nicky got up, but didn’t follow her to the door, “Go on ahead. I need to check the schedule before I go, I can’t remember when my next tutorial is.”

“Okay,” Gigi said, “I’ll see you later!”

“Later!” Nicky called after her. 

At the sound of her voice, Jan paused in the doorway and turned her head. It was impossible to stop the flush that rose in Nicky’s cheeks. This was the first time they’d ever made eye contact, and she didn’t know how to respond. In the end, she settled for a small nod of greeting. There. Cool, casual yet wouldn’t come off as rude. Her heart skipped a beat when the corner of Jan’s mouth lifted into a faint grin. She waved in response, and then she was gone. Nicky stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse exploded in a gallop. After six weeks of breathing in the same air in the stuffy lecture hall, Jan Sport had finally noticed her. She wished she was brave enough to go after her. Maybe ask her to grab a coffee. Or dinner. Or brunch - hell, is brunch even a big thing in America? But her feet stayed glued in place because she was a total coward. She was terrified she’d say no, but even more terrified she’d say yes. 

Nicky was in a good place when she started college. Her issues solidly behind her, her guard lowered. She was ready to date again, and she did. She dated several guys, but other than her ex, Kayla, none of them had been female, and none of them had made her body tingle the way Jan Sport did, and that freaked her out. 

Baby steps. That was her therapist’s favourite piece of advice, and she couldn’t deny that the strategy had helped her a lot. Focus on the small victories, Sasha had always advised. So, today’s victory, she nodded at Jan and she waved at her. Next class, maybe she’d wave back. And the one after that, maybe she’d bring up the coffee, dinner or brunch idea. She took a breath as she headed down the aisle, clinging to that feeling of victory, however miniscule it may be.

Jaida had failed. She’d fucking failed. For the last 15 years before she’d joined Charles College, they had handed out A’s like tic tacs. But the year she decided to take a French class? She had gotten stuck with Shea Coulee. It was official. This woman was her archenemy. Just the sight of her flowery handwriting—which filled up every inch of available space in the margins of Jaida’s midterm—made her want to scream, rip up the page, and leave education indefinitely. Jaida had been passing all her other classes, but this (almost ironic) F in French was completely bringing her average down. Normally, she had no problem keeping her G.P.A up. Despite what she knew a lot of Charle’s population believed, she wasn’t dumb. And the worst thing about Charles? Their dean demanded excellence—academically and athletically. While other schools were lenient toward athletes, Charles has a zero-tolerance policy. When she spoke to Coulee before class, she’d bluntly told her that unless she was going to find her own private tutor, she’d have no choice but to turn up to extra tutorials which overlapped with basketball practice. It really was a lose-lose situation.

 Jaida’s frustration manifested itself in the form of an audible groan, and from the corner of her eye, she saw someone jerk in surprise. Jaida jumped too, because here she thought she was wallowing in her misery alone. However, the girl from the back row had stuck around and was headed towards Coulee’s desk. Staci? Selena? Jaida couldn’t remember her name, probably because she’d never thought to ask for it before. She was pretty, though. A lot prettier than Jaida had ever realised. Perfect features, dark hair, a petite hourglass figure. How had she never noticed her before now? Her skinny jeans clung to a round, perky ass and her round breasts peaked slightly out of her v neck. 

“Everything okay?” the girl asked with a pointed look. Jaida murmured a reply under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk right then. 

The girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Jaida’s direction, “Sorry, was that english?” 

Jaida balled up her paper and scraped her chair back, “I said everythings fine.”

“Okay, then,” The girl shrugged and continued down the steps. As she picked up the clipboard that contained the tutorial schedule, Jaida flung on her jacked, then shoved her  pathetic midterm into her  backpack and zipped it up. The dark-haired girl headed back to the aisle. Sophie? Sabrina? The S sounded right, but the rest was a mystery. She had her midterm in hand, but Jaida didn’t sneak a peek because she assumed she failed just like everyone else.

Jaida let her pass before she stepped into the aisle. She followed her up to the exit, suddenly realizing how tiny she was compared to herself—she was one step below her yet could see the top of her head. Just as they reached the door, the girl stumbled on absolutely nothing and the books in her hand clattered to the floor.

“Shit. I’m such a klutz.”

She dropped to her knees and so did Jaida, because contrary popular belief, she wasn’t heartless, and the polite thing to do was help her gather her books.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” she insisted.

But Jaida’s hand had already connected with her midterm, and her jaw dropped when she saw her grade.

“Fucking hell. You aced it?”  Jaida demanded.

The girl gave a sweet smile. “Well, I am French. I thought you’d have been able to tell from the accent.”

“Holy shit.” Jaida felt like she’d just bumped into Coco fuckin’ Chanel and she was dangling the secrets to her  universe under her nose. “Can I read your answers?”

Her brows quirked up again. “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think? We don’t even know each other.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm.”

“Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.”

“Would you prefer miss? Ma’am maybe? I’d use your name but I don’t know it.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed. “It’s Nicolette. Nicky for short.” Then she paused meaningfully. “Jaida.”

Okay, she was way off on the S thing. And Jaida didn’t miss the way she emphasized her name as if to say, Ha! I know yours, bitch! Nicky collected the rest of her books and stood up, but Jaida didn’t hand over her midterm. Instead, she hopped to her feet and started flipping through it. As she skimmed her answers, her spirits plummeted even lower, because if this is what  Coulee was looking for, she was screwed. There was a reason she was a  geography major, for gods sake—she dealt in facts. Black and white. This happened at this time to this person and here was the result. Nicky’s answers focused on detailed analysis on texts Jaida couldn’t even translate in the first place. 

“Thanks.”  Jaida gave her the booklet, then cracked her knuckles. “Hey, listen. Do you…would you consider…” she  shrugged. “You know…”

Nicky’s  lips twitched as if she was  trying not to laugh. “Actually, I don’t know.”

Jaida let out a breath. “Will you tutor me?”

Her grey eyes—slightly green and surrounded by thick black eyelashes—went from surprised to skeptical in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll pay you,” Jaida added hastily.

“Oh. Um. Well, yeah, of course I’d expect you to pay me. But…” She shaked her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jaida bit back her disappointment. “C’mon, do me a solid. If I fail this makeup, my GPA will implode. Please?” She flashed a smile, the one that made her dimples pop out and never failed to make people melt.

“Does that usually work?” she asked curiously.

“What?“

“The winning innocent pageant girl smile… Does it help you get your way?”

“Always,” the taller girl answered without hesitation.

“Almost always,” Nicky corrected. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time. I’m already juggling school and work, and with the winter showcase coming up, I’ll have even less time.”

“Winter showcase?” Jaida said blankly.

“Right, I forgot. If it’s not about basketball or your big pageants, then it’s not on your radar.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous? You don’t even know me.”

There’s a beat, and then she sighed. “I’m a fashion major, okay? And the arts faculty puts on two major displays every year, the winter showcase and the spring one. The winner gets a five thousand dollar scholarship. It’s kind of a huge deal, actually. Important industry people fly in from all over the country to see it. Fashion houses, investors, big magazines…. So, as much as I’d love to help you—”

“You would not,” Jaida grumbled. “You look like you don’t even want to talk to me right now.”

Her little you-got-me shrug was grating. “I have to go finish up some designs. I’m sorry you’re failing this course, but if it makes you feel better, so is everyone else.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Not you.”

“I can’t help that I was born into a french speaking household.”

“Well, I want your help.”

Jaida was two seconds from dropping to her knees and begging her, but she edged towards the door. “You know there’s a study group, right? I can give you the number for—”

“I’m already in it,” Jaida muttered, embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, then there’s not much else I can do for you. Good luck on the makeup test. Baby.”

She darted out the door, leaving Jaida staring after her in frustration. Unbelievable. Everyone at this college would have cut their leg off to help her out. But this girl? Ran away like she’d just asked her to give up her first born so they could give it to Rumplestiltskin. And now  Jaida was right back to where she was before Nicky-not-with-an-S gave her that faintest flicker of hope. Completely fucking screwed.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

How We Got From There to Here

April is Autism Awareness Month.  This is the one and only fan-fiction that I have ever written featuring Peter Parker with Autism.  

-----------

Summary:  When Peter, who has Autism, tells Tony that he quit his schools FIRST robotics team because 'they didn't like him' and he didn't get to work with Ned, the man gets to work to find solution.  This leads them to join a small community team that suits their needs perfectly.  Together they navigate the world of robotics from build season all the way to World Chapmpionships.

Tags: Autistic Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parkers Parental Figure, FIRST Robotics, Platonic Cuddling... ...

Word Count: 7015

Warnings: No      Rated:  G

Link To Post On AO3 [2019-5-20] How We Got From There to Here- happyaspie

    When Tony first met Peter Parker he had noticed a few things. The kid was jittery, stuttered and avoided eye-contact as if it would burn. He didn't think too much of it. He was Tony Stark. People often acted nervous around him. A result of being well known, always in the face of the public and even more so since taking on the moniker, Iron Man.  He didn't notice a whole lot outside of that for a long time.  After all, his contact with the kid was limited to a very few interactions and most of them were brief or he was too angry to pick up on anything else other than maybe, that the boy has some serious issues with following directions.

  It was later when the kid had slipped up and his aunt found out about his extracurricular activities that he started to pick up on more.  Peter was spending a good bit of time with him in the lab now.  As he did so, he started to notice more and more things about his new mentee.  Like, the fact that he could talk circles about whatever subjects he wanted to talk about but the second Tony would change the subject the kid would revert to one-word replies.  The repetitive fidgeting the kid did with his hands and fingers had also caught his attention.  He definitely noticed that the boy never asked for anything.  If he did it was just on the verge of frantic.  Like the first time, Peter had ever had to ask where the bathroom was or when Tony lost track of time one Saturday and the boy hadn't had anything to eat or drink in hours.  He eventually learned that Peter was just in general... awkward, from the way he moved to the way he talked.  It was subtle but he could see it now.  Not that he minded in the least, the boy was wicked smart and his smile was damn near contagious.

  It was when he was sharing coffee with Peter's Aunt May, one afternoon that he learned that there was more to the kid's awkwardness than just being a bit of a nerd.  He had mentioned something about the kid's constant fidgeting when May had corrected him and used the word stemming.  He hadn't really known what she meant until he got home and looked it up.  Then it all started to fall into place.  Peter wasn't just awkward, he had Autism.  When he had called her later to verify she was shocked that he hadn't already figured it out.  They stayed on the phone for quite a while discussing it.  After that, Tony became much more tuned-in to Peter and his idiosyncrasies.

  One afternoon as they were working together in the gym, Peter was rambling on and on about robotics.  Nothing specific, just robotics in general. He seemed to know an awful lot about it as the words flowed out of his mouth in rapid succession.   When Tony finally felt like he could get a word in he asked him why he'd quit the robotics team at his school if it was something he was so into.  Peter had grown quiet for a moment before expressing that the team didn't like him.  That had Tony's attention.  How could anyone not like Peter?  

  "I thought your best friend, whats-his-face, was on the team with you?", he asked.

  "Yeah, Ned.  He does the programming.  I like engineering.  We didn't work together.", Peter said offering Tony a rare split second of eye-contact.  That was happening more and more often and he loved it because May said it meant that the kid trusted him.

  "You're a natural at Robotics, the team would be lucky to have you on it."  After that nothing else was said about the subject and discussion when back to Peter rambling on about pneumatics and hydraulics, something he had taken a recent liking to. Tony finally had to cut him off to ask him if he needed some water.  When the boy enthusiastically downed the entire bottle in one long breath, Tony, gently reminded him where the bottles were kept and he could get one whenever he wanted it.  He almost laughed when Peter gave him an indignant 'I know' because he'd never once gotten one by himself despite knowing where they were.

  After Peter had gone home that evening, he made a phone call.  A guy he had gone to college with had started a small community robotics team right there in Manhattan a couple of years ago.  He'd been quietly sponsoring the team since it's rookie season, however, he'd never actually gone out to the shop they used to meet any of them.  After talking to Rob about Peter, it became clear that this was more than likely a much better fit for the kid that his school team had been and he was excited to check it out.  

  The first time Tony had entered the workspace, he expected to be surrounded by a bunch of hero-worshipping teenagers but it seemed that they had been prepared for his visit and all he got was a multitude of thank you's and handshakes before being led on a tour of the facility and introduced to the robot they had built for the previous season's game.  It was all very impressive.  All of them were so polite and friendly that he was actually kind of sorry he hadn't brought Peter with him. 

  The next week, with May's blessing, when he did bring Peter to the shop he was sort of expecting the kid to see the large group of teenagers gathered in the smallest meeting room and turn on his heels.  When he didn't Tony was thrilled.  In fact, if the fluttering of his hands by his sides was any indication, he would say the boy was excited to be there.  As they were shown around the workshop portion of the building, no one seemed bothered by Peter interrupting whatever they were saying to insert information that he already knew, nor did they seem fazed when he criticized their choice in wheel design or climbing mechanism.  They thanked him for his input.  By the end of the night, Peter was ready to come back and be apart of the team.  

  By the time January rolled around and the build season really started, Tony was starting to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.  Meetings went from once a week to nearly every day.  Most days Peter wanted to be there, he had become an intricate part of the team, especially during the design process.  Some days he fought it saying that Patrolling was more important. Other days he was conflicted to the point that Tony or May had to pry his hands out of his hair and coach him through it.  They never did find a perfect balance but by the time the six week build period was up and competitions were starting, Peter was eager to see the robot in action.  

  The team attended two district competitions and won both, once as the alliance captain and once as the first choice of the top team.  They had also gotten an award for quality at both competitions.  There was a great deal of excitement when they made it to the state competition.  It was by far the best season the team had ever had.  Tony wanted to believe that it had everything to do with Peter but he never said it.  It was called a team for a reason.  

  The state competition had been iffy at best with Peter.  It was much larger than the district competitions.  The crowds were a little tighter and it was loud, even for Tony.  He was glad he's packed the kid his sound-canceling headphones, he wished he'd packed himself some.  By the end of the event, the kid was getting tense and cranky but they made it.  When the team lost in the first round of the finals, Peter was in shambles.  Tony had to take him outside where the boy found a place to hide and quietly cry as Tony reassured him that they'd had an awesome season and that he had two medals to show for it. Once he had the kid calmed down enough to go back inside he was pleased to see that the team greeted him pleasantly while Rob invited him to come help pack up the pit area with them.  

  When the announcement at the very end of the day had them listed with enough points to just make it over the threshold of making it to the world competition, everyone was shocked and Peter, despite having his ears covered firmly with his hands had a smile on his face that was so wide you would think it would have split his face in two.  Once Tony managed to slip the headphones back over his ears, Peter used his now free hands to hug Tony so tight that he could barely breathe.  This was followed by multiple high-fives with his teammates.  

  That win had led to a dilemma.  The championship was held in a giant convention center in Detroit.   The venue was huge, the crowds would be large and it was guaranteed to lead to overstimulation even with headphones and fidgets.  Peter insisted he had to go, while May questioned whether or not it was a good idea.  "Tony, it's four days of constant crowds and noise on very little sleep.  He's not going to sleep well in a hotel.  I'm not sure you can handle what may come out of this..."

  "He's done large events with me before, granted they were only for a few hours but we managed."

  "You did but think about it.  What did you do when he started to get overstimulated?"

  Tony didn't even have to think about it.  Terms like meltdown, stemming, sensory-overload and overstimulated were everyday words for him now.  "He sat outside with Happy for a bit... when that wasn't working anymore we left."  Then he saw her point.  There would be no going home because he was ready.  If they went they were there for the duration.  Of course, he could get a private plane or take his car and get them back to New York whenever they needed to go but there would be no instant gratification.

  This left Tony was torn on the matter.  He'd seen the kid sit on the verge of a sensory overload at the last competition and this one was bigger, longer and further away from home.  But for all they knew it could be a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Eventually, it was decided that if Peter wanted to go, he should get to.  It would be a good experience and Tony could tag along as a chaperone, since May had to work and there was literally less than two weeks' notice.

  After talking to Peter and May, it was decided that Tony would be there but in the background.  Peter would have independence while on the trip.  He would ride in the car with his teammates and stay with them in the hotel as well.  They were meant to be set up as four boy's per room but Tony paid double to keep Peter's room at three to make it less crowded and Tony would stay in a room in the same hotel so that Peter had somewhere comfortable to escape to.  They had gone over everything with Peter and he seemed more than confident that both adults were overreacting.  He went out as Spider-man nearly every night with no problems.   Neither adult felt the need to explain that he never left his own neighborhood and had the option to come back home whenever things got to be too much. Instead, they just agreed with him.

  And all of that led up to where they were right now.  Tony, standing outside of the conference center watching Peter bang his head up against a tree and cry that he wanted to go home while the rest of the team was inside cheering. He wasn't even sure what had led up to this moment.  Not for certain.  It had been going well, the first day went by like a breeze.  The second was almost as perfect, outside of a few small anxiety-inducing moments, such as having to order off of a menu at a completely new restaurant.   They had worked there way through it and his team was nothing but supportive. 

  Day three got a little rough towards the end.  Peter was adamant that he wanted to go back to the hotel by lunch and seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown so Tony had given in.  That was probably his first mistake, but the kid looked exhausted.  In his head, it made sense, let Peter go back to the hotel and catch up on some sleep then the next day, the most important day, he would be more ready to go.  It hadn't worked out quite that perfectly.

  Peter came back to Tony's room and they both slept, curled up beside each other on the king-sized bed until dinner time.  Then after eating with the team, the kid seemed to be in a much better headspace so he had encouraged him to sleep in the room with his friends for the night.  They had to get up extra early to be at the venue for the final alliance selections.  While they were placed towards the bottom of their field, they had a lot of things going for them and being chosen as a partner by another alliance was a possibility.  He really wanted Peter to be there for that. 

  That might have been his second mistake because when he came down to meet the team for breakfast it didn't look like Peter had slept.  Then when Peter's face scrunched up at the portable breakfast he had been handed, Tony thought they might have already hit the end of their rope for the day.  However, rather than toss the bag filled with a Tampico orange juice, a cup of yogurt and granola bar on the ground he handed it to Tony telling him 'no'.  Tony not wanting the day to go sour, handed him a bottle of Pepsi and promised to show up with a breakfast that he did like soon.  That seemed to work and Peter followed his team out to the cars without another word.  The silence should have clued Tony into just how off the day was going to be.

  Tony arrived just in time for the alliance selections to start with a McDonald's Sausage McGriddle in hand.  At first, when he didn't see Peter on the stands with his team he panicked.  Checking his messages, there was nothing from Rob indicating that anything was wrong so he took a deep breath and climbed the ungodly amount of stairs up to where Rob and his wife, Joyce, were sitting with the other adults behind the kids.  "Where's Peter?", he asked trying to sound casual.  Joyce smiled and pointed a few rows over to where several teenagers from various teams were gathering on the benches around several Nintendo Switch systems.  Peter was right in the middle of them.  "Katie talked him into going with her to play with them.", she said proudly and rightfully so.  Peter six months ago wouldn't have talked to anyone he didn't know more than a few words here and there without the mask of Spider-man.  The mask seemed to open something up in him.  Maybe it was the barrier of the person not knowing who he was.  There was no expectation.  Whatever the difference was, there was no denying the changes that had come about in maskless-Peter since joining the team.   He was far less shy around new people and with the encouragement of a few select friends he was joining in on more and more social opportunities.

  Hating to interrupt but also not wanting to hand the boy a cold sandwich later he slipped over towards the group and quietly handed the bag to Katie to give to Peter.  When she did, Peter's eyes flickered up towards Tony and looking him right in the eyes he thanked him.  "You're welcome, Buddy.  I'll be right over there", he said gesturing towards the other adults.  It was then that, the boy finally looked back down at the screen.  

  Once everyone had been told to put the games away and come sit together for the Selections to start he could see Peter's face fall.  He was worried he was going to have to jump in.  The kid didn't always do well with changing activities so abruptly but with Katie's help, he seemed fine.  Though rather than going to sit with her, he carried his bag over and squeezed himself indirectly beside Tony.  Eating his sandwich, Peter would periodically look over at Tony and just as he was starting to wonder if the boy was trying to suggest that he needed something, Thunderstruck came blaring into the room and the announcer started talking.  Everyone, including Tony's, attention went to that.  It was amazing how quickly he had been sucked into the whole competitive robotics culture.  He certainly approved of the soundtrack... mostly.  He could have done without a few of the songs.  Mainly the Macarena and that mostly because once Peter had mastered the dance, it became a running joke to add said dance to every song that ever played from that day forward. 

  During the video explaining alliance selections, Peter started getting restless.  Tony offered to take him to walk around but he declined, apparently, they had been told that they should stay in their seats for the process.  Even with reassurances that it would be fine to get up, Peter stayed still.  Alliance selection lasted way longer than it had at any other competition they had been to and he could feel Peter tensing up beside him.  Just as he was about to try to talk the kid into going on a walk with him again, the third seed team called out their team's number as a third pick.  The whole team erupted into cheers around them causing Peter to violently flinch and cover his ears before registering what all of the yellings was about.  Scrambling to get his headphones out of the backpack, Tony quickly set him on his ears and watched Peter visibly relax before everything clicked.  "We got picked!  Oh my God, Mr. Stark!  They picked us!", he laughed, hands flying wildly in the air before coming to a still around Tony's neck in a hug.  It really was something.  

  After that, Tony let his guard down.  That was mistake number three but just like the other mistakes, it wouldn't add up until later.  The kid smiled through all of the matches and cheered when they won.   Then as if by some miracle the little community team and it's three allied forces managed to win the field.  That would mean, moving on to The Einstein Round Robins.  No one had expected that and it was exciting beyond measure.  Peter nearly couldn't contain himself.  It was an honor to have gotten that far and much to Peter's excitement, it meant another medal to add to his growing collection.

  Once things had settled down and Peter was happily playing Uno with his team Tony gently patting the boy on the shoulder, he had been reminded that he was in charge of the team's lunch that day.  It was time for him to leave to go get it.  Peter nodded and Tony walked out of the conference center with Joyce and one other adult to collect the multitude of sandwiches he had previously ordered. 

  When they returned the message was sent out that they were in the courtyard outside and everyone should join them.  Tony wasn't concerned, the team had an established buddy system and Peter was good at following those kinds of rules.  When more than twenty minutes had passed and there was still no Peter, Tony started to get concerned.  Looking around, it appeared that the majority of the team was there already there, save for the drive team and a few mentors.  Asking around, no one had seen him.  Then one of the boys piped up and said that he'd seen Peter leave with another team member.  When Tony questioned that kid, he said that Peter had started with him but then ended up leaving with a different group.  It ended up being a wild goose chase and Tony was getting frustrated.  He had already texted the kid seven times with no reply, a quick check later and he'd figured out why.  The battery on Peter's phone was dead.

  He wasn't panicked but he was getting there.  It was an insane amount of people exiting the building at the moment.  Tony knew that Peter knew where to go for lunch and figured he would show up eventually but not having a direct line to him was kind of nervewracking.  Just when he was about to go try to track him down himself, Joyce grabbed him by the arm.  "He's fine, Tony.  Rob found him in the bleachers.  Apparently, he got separated from his group and went back there since he didn't have a buddy anymore.  He's in the pit area with him and the drive team.  I've already sent two of the kid's to get him."

  Tony thanked her and relaxed.  When Peter got to the courtyard he looked a little worse for wear.  He wasn't smiling anymore and he was staying at least five steps behind the two boys who had gone to collect him.  "Hey, Kiddo.  How was the pit?"  Peter didn't answer.  That was fine, he was probably stressed.  "Look why don't you go get a sandwich.", Tony suggested.  When Peter whispered 'no' he tried again.  "Okay, I'm going to go make you a plate.  If you eat it, cool.  It not then that's fine too.  Yeah?"  Peter nodded in the affirmative and Tony took that as a win.

  After some quiet debate, Peter wolfed down both of the sandwiches Tony had brought him as well as a bag of chips and two cookies.  Tony hoped that was enough to perk him up a bit but it wasn't.  He wanted to go back to the hotel.  He asked at least seven times and Tony deflected each one.  "You let me go yesterday!", the boy finally shouted, hands full of his own hair.

  "Yeah, I did, Buddy.  We can't do that today, though.  We need to cheer for the team.", he said calmly.  His good deed from the day before was now getting throw back in his face.  He'd accidentally set a precedent that they could just return to the hotel on a whim.

  Being told 'no' seemed to agitate Peter even more.  He watched as the boy started to pace and backed off.  Sometimes, Peter just needed time to process everything.  He hoped that he would calm down on his own.  Before he had a chance to find out, one of the mentors was grabbing Peter by the arm and tugging him towards where they were taking pictures with the new banner and handing out medals.  For his part, Peter did really well keeping it together for the pictures, though he was about two steps from the rest of the group and there was no convincing him to get any closer.  

  As everyone else started to mill inside, Tony stayed in the yard with Peter.  The kid was getting more and more worked up.  After fifteen minutes of watching the kid cry, Tony really wanted to relent and take the boy back to the hotel but that would defeat the purpose of them being there.  The team had made it to Einstein and it was a big deal.  Peter would be so mad at himself later if he missed that, he was sure of it.   "Pete, we need to stay here.  Look, let's take a break, yeah?  We can get some shaved ice and then see if we feel like going back inside."

  "No!", Peter screamed.  "No, I don't want to go back inside.  I want to go to the hotel!  I hate robotics, I hate this team, I hate being here.  Take me home!"  

  Tony was at a loss.   The kid was standing in front of him completely broken and crying.  He found himself having to glare at people as they walked past too stare.  Especially when Peter started his routine of self-harm.   Tony had never seen it get this bad.  He was used to the hair-pulling but seeing him scratch his arms and hit his head on things was different.  May had reassured him that if it ever came to that, the best thing to do was to let it run it's course unless he was becoming a serious threat to himself or others, not that, that had ever happened.  Watching the boy repeatedly hit his head less than gently on the trunk of the tree beside the path while begging to go home was heartbreaking.  With his own eyes watering, he did as May had suggested and turned his back, only glancing behind him occasionally to make sure that Peter hadn't gone too far.  He finally understood May's concerns.  No one but him could have handled this.  He loved Rob and he loved Joyce and the whole team was fantastic but they wouldn't have been able to handle this.  Looking at his watch, they were already missing the first match.  

  Next time he turned around, Peter was no longer hurting himself had gone back to pacing.  Tony casually mentioned that he was going to get in line for some shaved ice.  The boy followed him at a distance.  Tony would randomly point out different things for Peter to look at. Like a dog or a cloud that looked like a rabbit. Just talking to talk.  Helping things go back to normal.  By the time they had gotten to the front of the long line, Peter was almost calm.  Tony was getting answers out of him anyway.  Even so, it was clear he was still extremely tense.  

  Shaved ice in hand, Tony started to wander to a less populated area of the field.  It was quieter.  Eventually, Peter started talking more normally, yet his posture still screamed anxiety and tension.  Looking at his watch again, they had now missed three matches.  Sighing, Tony looked at Peter and decided to bite the bullet.  "Are you ready to go back inside?  This is pretty exciting stuff.  Don't you want to go watch some of it?"  

  "No", Peter curtly answered.  That seemed to be his word of choice for the day.  

  Tony gave it a few more minutes and tried again.  "Should we go back inside?"  The expected 'no' came without hesitation.  Tony was starting to think that something else was off so despite the fact that they had just had lunch and the kid was still holding a small dessert in his hands.  So, he started offering things.  Sometimes listing out different possible solutions got the kid thinking about how he was feeling and usually, that helped sort out anything else that might wrong.  "Does your head hurt?", he asked first. It wasn't unusual for Peter to get headaches when he was tired or overstimulated but he would keep quiet about it until it was unbearable if no one asked.

  "No.  I'm fine.", he grumbled.

  "Alright.  Good.  Did you get enough to drink at lunch?  Do you need some water?"

  "No", Peter answered more calmly that he had anything else in the last hour.  He was more than likely already clued in on what Tony was doing.  That meant that this was helping.

  "Okay... did you get enough to eat?  I can buy you a slice of pizza or something.", he tried fully expecting the kid to decline that too.  He'd had a big lunch.  

  "I need to pee!", Peter exclaimed in reply, dropping his unfinished cup of shaved ice into the grass as if the urgent need has snuck up on him.  ...it probably had.  He'd been so focused on fighting back the anxiety and sensory input while trying to regulate his emotions that the state of his bladder had probably been placed on the back burner.  That is until he'd started to calm down and Tony had started forcing him to take inventory of his own body.

  "Okay", Tony said.  He hadn't been expecting that but if the boy was offering that information on his own accord it meant he needed to act fast.  This was going to have to be handled delicately because the bathrooms were inside the building he was currently refusing to go in.  "If you need to pee, then we need to go inside.  The bathrooms are inside."

  "No", Peter whined as he started to dance from foot to foot.

  "Listen to me, Bud.  If you need to pee, then we need to go inside.  We can come back outside after if we need to.  Yeah?"  He held his breath as he waited for Peter to reply.

  "Yeah.  I need to pee.  Let's go inside.", Peter pitifully decided, allowing Tony to let out the breath he'd been holding.  He wasn't actually sure what his next move was going to be if the kid continued to refuse.  

  As they made it to the front entrance, Tony managed to skip through the bag check line.  All he'd had to do was flash his media smile and gesture towards the kid behind him who was now holding himself.  The security guard in all his wisdom suggested that Tony leave the backpack with him and pointed towards the closest bathroom.  Peter was antsy about leaving the bag with the unknown person. Tony assured him that it was fine and getting to the bathroom was the priority at the moment. 

  While Peter was taking care of his business, Tony had time to go through the day and was starting to piece the events that lead up to this point.  He was pretty sure he had it nailed down.  He already knew that the kid was tired.  After napping all afternoon he probably didn't sleep much that night and they'd left really early.  When lunch came around, Peter was going leave with one group but had then changed his mind to go with another.  Probably because the second group was going to stop by a bathroom.  Then he'd gotten lost and he was all of the sudden out of compliance, with he buddy system rule, so he hurried back to the bleacher rather than trying to catch up to the other boys, even though he knew where they were going.  That had more than likely been a panic move, especially if he knew his phone was dead.  Then when Rob found him, he had taken him back to the pit where everyone was probably in a hurry trying to get things packed up to be moved to the assigned alliance pit area. It was probably close quarters and a little chaotic.  Both of those things would be enough to raise Peter's already triggered anxiety.  After lunch, while trying to process and internally deal with all of that, he'd been pulled into pictures and still needed to use the bathroom.  At some point, it all became too much to deal with at once and holding back the tantrum had been a lot of work.  Meaning that when the coast was clear and everyone else was back inside, he'd lost it. 

  Tony was just thinking that if anything he should be slightly proud that the kid had held it together as long as he had.  Then Peter rapidly exited the restroom and was bouncing in front of him.  "The bag.  Mr. Stark, we need to get the bag.  My things are in it."  

  "Yeah, alright, let's go get it.", he said swinging an arm over the boy's shoulders.  "Since we're inside, why don't we go see how the team is doing."

  "Okay, but we have to get my bag first.  I need to get my things."

  "Of course, first your bag first, then we can go see the team", Tony reassured.  

  Bag in hand and headphones in place, Peter was more relaxed then Tony had seemed him all day.  When they joined the group in the VIP area with the team.  Peter sat beside Tony and rested his head on his shoulder.  Tony didn't mind.  The kid was already tired and he knew an emotional outburst of that caliber had to be draining all on its own.  As the weight on his shoulder became heavier and heavier he turned his head to check on the overextended child.  While he wasn't asleep, he did have his eyes closed and was taking deep even breaths.   His eyes would periodically crack open when the crowd got particularly loud to see what all of the fuss was about.  

  When all was said and done, their alliance hadn't made it to the highly coveted honor of getting to play on the Einstien Field but it had been an amazing season.  To have gotten as far as they had something to be so proud of.  He thought Peter would be disappointed but he seemed fine.  "You did good, Kid.  Look at that.  You're part of an Einstien team now.  How about that?"

  "Mm-hmm", Peter hummed tiredly.  "Can we go to the hotel now, Mr. Stark?"

  "No, Pete.  We're going to go to Ford Field to watch the final match."  When Peter whined, Tony continued.   "I know you're tired.  So here's the deal.  First, we're going to watch the finals, then we can go back to the hotel.  We can eat and go to bed right after if you want.  You can even stay in my room if you'd rather."

  "Promise?"

  "I promise.  Let's see this through, alright?  Part of gracious professionalism is cheering for the other teams, yeah?  When Peter nodded his head Tony sighed.  That had been a lot easier than he thought it was going to be.  "We're fixing to walk over to the other venue  Do you need a drink or a snack?  Need to pee?"  When Peter confirmed that he didn't need any of those things they started walking to catch up with the group.  No one batted an eye at the way Peter was clinging to Tony's hand both of his.  It was probably clear to the rest of the group that Peter was not having a great day.  

  Sitting in the chairs at Ford Feild was interesting.  It was almost comedic to see the robotics playing field set in the corner of a huge arena.  While everyone was finding their seats music started playing.    It was all of the usual dance songs they used at every competition they had been to.   Tony smiled at the screen as dozens upon dozens of teenagers and did the Cupid Shuffle and YMCA.  Then that god-forsaken Macarena song came on and rather being annoyed, Tony was elated to see Peter perk up and join some of his friends in the ridiculously repetitive motions.  He took a quick video and sent it off to May.  He was sure she was worried.  He's sent her several messages that day and hardly any of them had been great.  

  Once the speeches and awards started the arena grew somewhat quiet and Peter ended up asleep slumped down in his chair, still holding Tony's hand.  Just before the actual match was about to start Tony reached in his pocket with his free hand and got out his wallet and handed a fifty-dollar bill to the kid beside him.  "Think you could go get me one of those large popcorns and two bottles of water?  You can even keep the change.", he smiled.  

  "Of course, Mr. Stark!", The boy beamed.

  "Hey, hey!  Take a buddy with you.  I don't want to get in trouble for this!", he called after the kid who then quickly grabbed a buddy.  

  Once he had the goods he woke Peter up.  "Hey, Kiddo.  Wake up time.  I got you some popcorn and a drink."  Peter groaned but accepted the snack.  Tony was sure he would, it was way past the time they would normally eat dinner.  By the time the match actually started Peter was wide awake and in a good mood.  They cheered for the Red Alliance because that was Peter's favorite color and when they won he was ecstatic.  

  The night was set to end with fireworks but he didn't know how Peter felt about that so he gave him the choice.  "Do you want to stay for fireworks or do you want to go to the hotel now?"  He was surprised when the answer was 'stay'.  He was even more surprised when he stood there face all aglow from the sparkling lights, with a smile.  Not the wide grin Tony was used to seeing, it was more of a relaxed, contented smile.  He took several pictures of that too.  

  Peter ended up riding back to the hotel with Tony rather than the team but that was okay.  Once they got there, everyone was already outside by the public grill fixing hotdogs and grabbing chips.  Peter casually joined the group and held out a plate to receive his dinner and Tony just sat back and watched.  

  "Are you going to eat too, Mr. Stark?", Peter asked through the hotdog being stuffed in his mouth.

  "Yep, just waiting for all of the ravenous teenagers to get their's first."

  Peter just nodded and continued to eat his way through his plate. Tony eventually made it into the line at the grill and got an extra hotdog for Peter before rejoining the boy at the picnic table.  "Thank you, sir.", Peter said when Tony added the new hotdog to the plate.  "I can still stay with you tonight right?"

  "Of course, wouldn't have it any other way, Kid.  It's our last night here.  We get to go home tomorrow."  

  Peter smiled as he wiped some stray mustard off his chin.  "This was fun but I'm ready to go home.", he admitted.

  "Me too, Bud."  Then as soon as their plates were cleaned up they were both excusing themselves to their room.  It was a little after ten but Tony was pretty sure he could sleep for an entire week at this stage.  Peter had collected all of his things from the other room and was in the bathroom getting ready for bed while Tony texted May with their travel plans.  As soon as he came out, Tony went in and got himself ready. 

  Soon they were both in the bed and rather than curling up beside him like he had the day before, Peter rested his head right on Tony's shoulder.  When Tony looked down at him, Peter looked up and their eyes met.  It was the second time that day, that Peter had looked at him so directly for such a long stretch.  "What are you thinking about, Buddy?", the man whispered.  He could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. 

  "That you helped me today.", Peter said with no real context.

  "Yeah?", Tony answered, not really sure what to say to that.

  "Yeah.  I like it when you help me.", he yawned.

  "I like helping you.", Tony said in earnest because he did.  He hated to see the kid struggle and watching him fall apart today had been one of the hardest things he'd ever witnessed.  He didn't know how May did it all the time.   Sighing a contented sigh, he continued, "I like it when you help me too."  Peter just smiled at him and yawned again.  "You should go to sleep, Kiddo."

  Peter readjusted himself on the bed before he answered.  His head was still on Tony's shoulder but now his arm was stretched out across the man's middle and one of his knees were bent over Tony's outstretched legs.  "May says that People who love you want to help you.  Do you love me?"

  The question made Tony stiffen a bit.  He'd never thought about it before.  When they had met it was out of necessity.  When he had started hanging out with the kid it had been out of duty.  At some point, the feeling of responsibility to keep the kid safe had started to tightly intertwine with a completely new feeling.  One that wanted him to be more than safe, but also happy and successful.  He wanted to see him thrive.  He had to take a deep breath to keep these new emotions at bay.  "Yeah, Kid.  I love you a whole lot.", he finally managed to get out.

  "I love you too... a whole lot.", the boy sleepily replied as he pulled himself in a little more closely.  "Ned stays at his dad's house every other weekend.  Can I stay with you every other weekend?"

  Tony couldn't help but smile because it sounded like the kid had basically just asked him if he would be his father.  "Yeah, Buddy.  I would love that.", he whispered.  

  "Me too.  Good night... Dad."

  Tony picked his head up off the pillow and looked down at the head pressed tightly into his collarbone and stared for a moment.  He and Peter's relationship had been evolving for some time now.  They had been slowly building up mutual trust and Tony knew that they had gotten close enough that the boy would meet his eye sometimes when they spoke or would occasionally ask him for things and share secrets.  Their world's had slowly collided into one and this trip must have proven to solidify everything they had been working towards.  Peter loved him... and he loved Peter in return.  He'd called him dad.  The idea was breathtaking.  Leaning in to kiss the top of the boy's head he smiled to himself before whispering to the boy, "Good night, son."