#tomorrow i will write up the powerpoints from the last week of classes. as that needs to be done.

[lingeringscars]

Submitted my final final paper of the semester

[threenorth]

Mental exhausted,

Remind me, I hate powerpoint and excel... Especially both at the same time...

I have to make this presentation that's no more then 10 slides of context that was hard enough, and then have to make it so fucking simple that I have to put arrows on the data like hey look at this, this what I'm talking about,

then have do the math calculations that are all simple under 5 calculations like 10 to 5 or 15 like shit I'm bad at math but this is all simple af math like, all under single digits, no higher than 10 something like oh the data went from 8-3 that's a 5 percent change wooowowo

because Apprently without it, and without the arrows " it's to much "cognitive effort for the audience" .

Like slow clap, you didn't pass math class? Shieeet, these brain dead fucking idiots.

Then Like fuck me, do one slide times three times in a row with three different arrows on it.

Where for first ranked positions equally first, and there's like four or three tied, then the next three equally second, then the last slide showing the 2 percent changes, but the stakeholder was like why didn't you do top 5, If I showed the 1% change "there's to much information on the screen" as there's 11 out of 54 that are one percent change.

Then lastly, the one percent changes are at 11 so you can't read the statment of the data and you told me "it's to complicated to read"

so I have to rephrase every slide to each context to the arrows pointing at them,

When it's done I'll tell you what.

My brain is using all its cognitive fucking fhcitnong so you can have a nice simple read through hell, and without adhd meds I'm pretty close to flip desk...

And she's like don't bring a bias to the data, then later as I scope the data as she said following the data it's to much to absorb.

It's been six weeks, or eight and this was painful...

I think about coming home and kissing you,

I'll tell you what, I need more than that today...

Would of been nice if you picked up, but I guess that's just the way you want it to be,

Time to rest up before I have another meltdown then try scan some cards if my brain can even do simple alphabets, God I hope next week I get to try Vyvanse I need my execution function...

I love and hate my professionals... Oh yay tomorrow is psychologist and I'll have to tell her most of my thoughts I had was about work so not much to write down here to see if it's a CD.

Just doing my job till I drop.

But soon ill be out of the rats, how's your...

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Not a Fashion Major

Summary: Blaine has a crush on a fashion student in his elective class.

Notes: one of said fics that came to me not at all related to my folklore series. But I did enjoy this little fluff story. 

AO3

Blaine wasn’t a fan of war. Hated it in fact. It’s why he was avoiding taking his you-absolutely-need-this-to-graduate-history-class-requirement. The thing about going to a liberal arts college is they make you take classes outside of your major. Most people were dreading their math requirement but Blaine aced statistics spring of his freshman year. The requirement he didn’t want to be reminded of was history. That was until his advisor had told him that any historical content class would be counted.

It’s his junior year and he really wants to be spending all his energy on his thesis next semester. That’s why he chose History of Menswear in the fashion department. Blaine always liked flipping fashion magazines though he may not keep up with the trends in Vogue. He enjoyed a well-patterned bow tie and appreciated a good outfit with suspenders every now and then. He was really hitting two birds with one stone. Goodbye history requirement and hello to some new wardrobe ideas.

He assumed the class wouldn’t be too difficult. Blaine asked around about the professor and apparently he put all the lectures online and his exams were almost all available on Quizlet. However, he was warned about one partner project that counted for half their grade. So, Blaine needed to make a friend who would put in as much effort as he would for this project. At least, it wasn’t a full-blown group thing. Blaine despised group work. It was never equally divided and he always ended up picking up the slack.

With an easy class to end his days three times a week, Blaine had a pep in his step as he walked into his lecture hall in a building he hadn’t really been in before. He got there a few minutes early in case he got lost and chose a seat somewhat in the middle of the room. During his time at college, he found sitting up front or way in the back brought too much attention to yourself. Right in the middle offered the best solution and he was able to see the board, which was great.

All in all, Blaine was ready for a wonderful first day full of ice breakers and going over the semester’s syllabus. What Blaine hadn’t anticipated was Kurt Hummel. A junior fashion major and clearly the best-dressed person in any room, even one containing a large ratio of fashion and design majors.

The room was silent as Kurt introduced himself. He stood up, said his name and major, and favorite article of clothing (scarves). Then, the next person went and listed off their get-to-know-mes.

All Blaine could watch was Kurt. Doodling something in his notebook with an orange-colored pen. Resting his head in his left palm.

He was beautiful. Bright eyes, highlights in his hair, and perfectly put together. A light gray vest covering a forest green silk button-up, and tight denim jeans. Blaine caught glimpses of his white Doc Martens when Kurt shifted his feet under the table.

Blaine tries to talk to him after class but Kurt has someone waiting for him just outside the room. Well, there’s always tomorrow. Except, the same girl met Kurt after every class. Sometimes joined by a tall, blue-haired boy too. They all seemed to be friends.

If he can’t get Kurt’s attention the old fashion way, it’ll have to be just the fashion way. Despite his pacifism, Blaine starts an outfit war. He isn’t even sure if Kurt’s aware he’s playing but every class Blaine steps up his game.

Whether that means tighter pants, crazy patterns (he’s fond of his dinosaur fabric pants he found at the thrift store last week), themed outfits (his loose-leaf striped top and number 2 pencil colored bow tie was a hit with his roommates), or one day of platform shoes he borrowed from his roommate Mike, who had them from a dance number a few months ago. Blaine’s all in.

Kurt claps back with broaches big enough to see across the lecture hall (Blaine is a personal fan of the hippo head), pattened shoes (the tiny polka dots were nice), and one day he donned a pair of leather pants. Blaine didn’t know that pants were made that tight. After the leather pants fiasco, Blaine’s sure he didn’t write any notes that day (thank god for uploaded powerpoints), he was sure Kurt knew about the feud.

Then came mid-terms and the dreaded partner project. When Professor Hank–he told them to call him Hank but Blaine couldn’t let go of Professor–uttered those words, Blaine’s eyes drifted to Kurt as they always tended to, except this time Kurt was looking back at him.

He pointed to himself then Blaine.

‘Partners?’ He mouthed.

Blaine nodded.

“Okay, pair up and I’ll pass out the rubric.”

Blaine stood up and walked over to Kurt. Here it goes, their first conversation.

“Hi, I’m Blaine,” he said.

“Kurt.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

They studied the rubric together and exchanged some initial ideas for a topic. Professor Hank said his final notes on the project, due dates and the like, before dismissing them for the day.

“We’ve never had a class together before,” Kurt commented, packing up his bag.

“Not a fashion major,” Blaine admitted, “Just taking the elective.”

“Oh,” Kurt replied, sounding surprised. He steeled his face before saying, “you wouldn’t know it by the way you dress.”

Blaine blushed and laughed nervously. “Just the gay gene.”

“Wanna get some coffee?”

“I’d love that,” Blaine said.

It’s not until their third date when Kurt asked Blaine if there was a winner of the outfit war.

[kazuyaasai-serenaspencerli]

My Music Teacher nsfw ver

A/N: I've written a suggestive version of this Here, and I decided to write a nsfw version of this. Thanks to my best friend encouraging me, I finally finished writing it. Enjoy reading~

Unedited~

Characters: Kiro x Reader (Odile)

Warnings: NSFW, oral, public sex

Summary: "This room is soundproof, let me hear those sweet noises baby girl."

"I'll give you more points in your music activities... So let hear that... Hngh... Sweet voice..."

The bell rings, signaling that we only have an hour left until I can go home. I sigh while scribbling down my notes. I mean, Kiki's notes.

"Did you hear, we're going to have a new music teacher!"

"Others said that he's so handsome!"

"But too bad that he's going to tech us but only for an hour..."

Looks like that Lucien and Gavin are really famous in this campus. Sighing, your mind starts to wander. Him, pinning you in the table, with him between your legs, sapphire eyes full of lust. Your face turns red

I close the notebook and put it inside my bag. I took out the music text book that Kiki gave me.

*Knock knock*

"He's here!" Hearing those words from my classmates, I look up to see our new music teacher they're talking about. Lifting my head, I saw a familiar golden hair walking in...

'Kiro!?' I bit my lip not to exclaim his name. But what is he doing in here? Damn it, how can I control myself hnggg.

He walks down unhurriedly as the female students whispers. And then a young man sat beside me and smiled. "I guess you're a stand on for Kiki?" He asked, and I nod. "Please tell her that she need to take care of her self." We smiled to each other and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

With a side glance, I saw him looking at us. The student stood up and all of us follows and greets Kiro, "Good afternoon Professor."

"Good afternoon everyone. Since everyone knows me already, I will be your new music teacher, and please call me Professor Zhou." He smiles as the students tries to calm their selves not to scream. His golden hair shines in the afternoon sun and his shinning sapphire eyes that cannot be hidden on those spectacles. He gestures with his hand and all of us sat down quietly.

I ducked my head so that he wouldn't see me, but before I open the book to hide my face, our eyes met.

'Miss Chips' He mouthed and smiled.

My heart suddenly pounds and I broke the eye contact and burry my face in my elbow. Suddenly our conversation last week, popped in my head. He said he will be in a reality show, his character is either a student or a teacher...

"Young miss? Are you okay?" His voice brought me back to reality and found all students looking at me. I cleared my throat and answered. "No Sir." He nods and started to check the class attendance. I didn't knew that the reality show that he mentioned will be held here in Loveland University. And I'm also here because Kiki got a cold and she said she cannot miss this lecture.

As he calls each student's name and all of the female students are getting more and more crazy. Some of them even whispered OMG....

"Kiki."

Huh?

"Is miss Kiki here?" He asked. I raised my hand hesitantly and he nods, putting down the attendance sheet.

He really loves to see me jealous isn't he? Hmph... We'll see...

I pout looking at his back as he walks to the bookshelf.

He took out a book from the shelf near the projector and opens it in a certain page.

"So... Today, we're going to tackle about the Electronic music this 21st century." He starts to discuss and changes slides from time to time. He also asks questions from us about who are the composers and also their works. Until.....

"So, miss Kiki..." I eyes shot up as he tries to hide a smile. "What is the meaning of 'Musique Concrete?'" He asked as changes the PowerPoint slides, hiding his meaningful smile.

This man...

"Musique Concrete means 'Recorded Music.'" I stood up and answered coolly. Something flashes in his eyes as I stand there, head up.

Damn, he's making me wet with that gaze of his.

"Alright~ the answer is correct." He says as he narrows his eyes and went back to lecture. "......" My lips formed into a thin line as I sat down trying to hide my smile. This man, he really loves to tease me...

"Everyone, please take down notes." Only the sound of pages being turned can only be heard. I'm kinda surprised to see them so serious. As expected of my husband. Kiro looks so serious when he's teaching.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Time flies so quickly...

"Okay, that's it for today students. I hope you will still remember this topic tomorrow, because teacher Lin will be teaching this to you... So thank you everyone for participating in this lecture...."

All of us applaud and we bid goodbye to him. I took my bag hastily and run out from the classroom, earning a chuckle from him.

I open my bag and saw that Kiki's book is not in here... I must have left it in the desk. A female student walk out of the hall and smiled at me. "Oh, is the textbook named Kiki your's right?" She asked.

I only nodded and she told me that the man beside me before took it. I thanked her and she smiled and walks away.

"Miss, you forgot your text book." Someone called out to me suddenly.

I look up and saw the young man from earlier.

I took the book from him and thank him.

He left first while I open the locker just outside the classroom and putting all Kiki's text books.

It's too early to go home, so maybe I'll wait for Kiro. While walking down the corridor, someone grabs me and pinned me in the wall. Looking up, I met Kiro's eyes. He takes my wrists and pins them above my head. Our noses touches as his other hand bunched up my skirt... "Hnngg wait... Somebody might see us hnggg. "Everybody has packed their things and went to their respective club rooms." He says huskily as he smiles naughtily.

"No worries, no one will see us." Kiro freed me and drag me in the dark corridor. He opens the door and closes it. I let go of his hand and run my fingers in the piano. This must be the music room. Sensing his gaze, I turn to him and met his hungry eyes. He walks up to me slowly and pushed me down the big sofa.

Kiro hovers over me and pins my hands above my head. He bends down and started kissing me, unaware of the tie binding my wrists together. He lets go of my hand and starts to run it in my thighs. My moans were swallowed by his lips. Our tongue dances as he pushes my skirt up.

He pulls away and I reach out to him. Seeing that my hand is tied, I whined. "Kiro..." He looks at me with dark lust in his eyes as he unbuttons my blouse. "Miss Chips is so naughty. You're not even wearing a bra." He runs his tongue and sucks my pebbled nipples.

"Uhn.... Mmm..." Biting your lip, you try to stiffle a moan. "This room is soundproof, let me hear those sweet noises baby girl." He whispers huskily in your ear as his hands puts aside the cloth and strokes your folds. "Hah.... Ahh...." Mewling, my heels dugs in the soft cushion of the sofa. Kiro leaves trails of love bites from my neck to shoulders.

His fingers skillfully draws circles in my clit just like in our wedding night. His hands slow but enough to make my knees weak. Unable to move my hands, you call his name. A delicious moan came out from my mouth when he pushes away my panties and buries his face in my heat. His tongue tortures me as I grip the head of the sofa with my tied hands.

My back arches when he pushes a finger in then adds another digit. His tongue skillfully pushes me to ecstacy. He stops when I was near to my release and I moaned in frustration. I look down at him, eyes full of lust. He adjusted himself and I raise my leg and runs it in his erection.

"Odile..." Kiro kisses me and I wrap my legs around his waist.

"I need you... Hubby... Nghh..." I mewled loudly as he leaves another live bite and I started to get more impatient. Then... The door suddenly opens and Kiro hugs me tightly. "Don't say a word." He whispered. "Looks like it was just my imagination..." A young man's voice rang throughout the room. We can hear his footsteps stops and I try to control my breath.

The sound of a phone ringing makes my heart skips a beat. "Hello? Really?" It turns out that It's the student's who has the phone call. I silently sigh in relief but there's a naughty boy above me. Kiro nips at my neck and I nearly cry his name. I glare at him and he just smiles naughtily like a spoiled little boy. The footsteps neared and the rustling of paper can be heard.

"Yes sir. I'll be there." The young man is still in the phone call while Kiro is here pleasuring me like there's no tomorrow. His golden hair tickles my neck and cheeks. I wiggle a little and he bit my shoulders. Biting my lips, I put my tied hands around him. The student's call ended and his footsteps stops outside the door.

Hearing the door closes, we breathe a sigh of relief. Kiro unties my wrist and puts his tie in his pocket. I look at him pleadingly as he smirks. "That was close Miss Chips..." He pulls down his zipper and freed his cock. He bends down and pecks me on the lips. "Kiro plea-ah! Uhn.... Hnggg..." I moaned loudly as he enters me teasingly slow.

I drew him closer to me as he moves against me slowly. His hands pushes my knees down so that he could penetrate more deeper. "I'll give you more points in your music activities... So let hear that... Hngh... Sweet voice..." He sexily whispers and I clenched down at him. His pace fastens, the sound of skin meeting skin and wet sounds can be heard throughout the music room. I'm a whimpering mess when it comes to this man hnggg.

His fingers starts to draw circles in my clit again. My back arches at the way he pleasures me. I've never experienced something way more exciting like this. I call his name as I came, body trembling. He kisses my jaw, the notch of my throat and nibbles on my collarbone. "Odile..." He says my name in a low voice and he bit my earlobes. "Ah hah..hah... Please Ki- Si-sir..."

His pace fastens even more. Just a few more thrusts before he came inside me, making me warm inside. He embraced my trembling form and gives me soothing kisses.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Kiro sat down in the car where Odile is waiting. It's already 7:00 pm. He turns his head to see her asleep. He takes her small form and wraps his arms around her. "Must be tiring for you sweetheart..." He whispers and kisses her forehead.

He reaches out in the front seat for the blanket, unfolds it and wraps it around her. Kissing her forehead again, he hums happily as he thinks of a plan how to surprise her for the next few days...

[hologramband]

Never The 1

(gif crds cryinghimbos) 

Alive!Reggie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: This is taking place after the boys cross over, I like the little theory where “crossing over” means just “crossing over” back to life or something, idk we gonna roll with it tho lol. 

The song I use in this is  “Never the 1” by ROSIE

The hallways were busy as you and Flynn walked side by side to your next class. This dreary Monday was almost over, just one class stood between you and hanging out with your friends. 

You knew how to sing, but you never thought you were any good, so you tended to keep to writing lyrics here and there, but mostly helping with Flynns sides of things when it came to advertising the bands events and other things, helping the band in a few different ways. 

“So, (Y/n), how have things been going with you and Dylan? Is he starting to be more okay with you spending more time with the band?” Flynn started a conversation while waiting for you to switch your books at your locker. 

Dylan was your boyfriend of seven months, things had been good between the two of you until you started wanting to spend more of your time with Julie and the boys the last month or so. You had an image issue before you met Dylan, never really being confident in yourself, you liked hiding in the background. Julie and Flynn had always included you in everything they did, but something just finally clicked with Dylan, he made you feel special. 

When the band took off you were ecstatic, growing close with each of the boys, especially Reggie, your personalities meshing really well, and Alex, him becoming like a brother to you.

You still made time for Dylan, hanging out with him when you weren’t helping the band, even invited him to practices when you went, but for some reason he wasn’t a fan of hanging out with your friends. 

“Eh, he’ll come around eventually. He can’t expect me not to have any friends other than him.” You shrugged your shoulders and closed the locker door, the two of you changing topics and continuing to class. 

When you get there a smile instantly grows on your face, this was your favorite class of the day since you shared it with both Flynn, Julie, and the boys. 

“(Y/n)! Hi! Are you coming to practice today?” Reggie smiled as you sat in your seat across from him. 

“Well duhh, wouldn't miss it.” You smiled back and looked around at the rest of the group, falling into a conversation with the rest of them. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, signaling you got a text from someone, looking down you saw it was Dylan. 

-Hey babe, something came up so I, won’t be able to go to Julies with you after school, sry :/-

You frown at the message, he hasn’t been to a single practice yet, “something” always coming up, but send a short reply saying it was okay before the teacher, Ms. Adamson walked in and started her lesson. 

“Alright class, for the next project I want to get your creative juices flowing,” She clasps her hands together and moved to the board, switching her powerpoint slide to the instructions to the new assignment, “by the end of the week I want you all to have an original piece prepared to present or preform for the class.” 

You felt your eyes widen and your body stiffen, the main reason you haven’t ever let anyone hear you sing was due to your crippling stage fright. 

You glance around and see the rest of your friends smiling and high fiving each other, seeing this as another opportunity to bring a light to the band. 

“Is this a group project?” Luke raised his hand and asked, only to be met with a smirk and a shake of the teachers head. 

“Unfortunately, Mr. Patterson, this is an individual project, consider it a time for everyone to showcase what talents they have and are keeping hidden,” Ms. Adamson laid her hand on your desk and sent a subtle wink your way. 

She had walked in on you one day in the music room while you were messing around with some new lyrics for the song the band was working on.

You sunk in your seat a bit more and looked to see the rest of your friends looking your way, slight confusion on their faces, meaning they also saw the wink your teacher had sent your way. 

The rest of the lesson was focused on the details of the project and her giving ideas on what could be done other than music, such as spoken word, a painting, etc. You spent the rest of class figuring out what you could do other than sing, but had a feeling Ms. Adamson would accept nothing else from you. 

The bell rang, signaling the end of the day and everyone stood from their chairs and collectively walked to their lockers, getting ready to walk to Julies for practice. 

You made your way to your own locker, smiling when you saw Dylan standing to the side of it. 

“Hey, Dyl.” You went to give him a kiss, but he moved his head so your lips landed on his cheek instead. 

“Sorry I can’t come today, I bombed a test in math so Mr. Douglas is making me stay after with a tutor for the next week to fix my grade.” He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes were darting from place to place. 

Deciding not to comment on his weird behavior, pushing it off as just embarrassment of failing the test. 

“No worries, you’ll make it to one eventually,” You smiled at him and saw the crew walking towards you, everyone always walked to Julies together after school. 

Dylan noticed your gaze shifting and stiffened at the sight of all of them. 

“Hey,” You placed a hand on his arm, confusion growing, “everything okay?” 

He simply shrugged your hand off. 

“Yeah, yeah, just gotta get to the library, see ya.” He left a chaste kiss on the top of your head as he rushed in the opposite direction of your friends. 

“What was all that about?” Alex commented as he swung an arm around your shoulders. 

You were still in shock that he ran off like that, but again blamed it on the bad grade, as dumb as it was. 

“Not sure,” you mumbled, quickly changing your attitude, “you guys ready to head out?”

With nods all around you all started the short walk to Julies. 

--

Practice went great, the band trying out new songs that Luke and Julie had written, you fixing a few of the lines so the song flowed a bti better. 

During one of the breaks, everyone decided to sit and talk about the upcoming project. 

“What are you guys gonna do? Not being able to play as a band?” You wiggled your eyebrows at the group and they all kinda shrugged. 

“Oh I know what i'm doing! “Home is Where My Horse Is” will finally get the recognition it deserves!” Reggie stretches his arms along the back of the couch that the two of you were sitting on, setting his feet on the table in front of him. 

Laughter erupted from everyone, already knowing that was what Reggie would do. 

“What about you,” Alex turned the attention to you, “Ms. Adamson sent a pretty pointed wink your way when explaining it was gonna be individual.” 

You felt your cheeks burn a bit and you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Eh, you know how she is, I’m sure I’ll come up with something.” You looked around and realized that your answer hadn’t satisfied the group. 

Your phone again buzzed with a text from your mom saying you needed to get home. 

“Oh, sorry guys, mom needs me for Dinner,” you stood quickly. 

“Ah, saved by ‘mom’,” Julie winked. 

You laughed as you gathered your things. 

“I’ll walk you!” Reggies exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, meeting you by the garage doors. 

This was a pretty normal experience for the two of you, Reggie and you always enjoying the walk together, being more open with just the two of you rather than the whole group. 

“Lets go, partner,” you winked at the reference to his growing love for country music. 

It wasn’t a terribly long walk, but after the sun went down it was always safer to have someone with you. 

Another thing that happens when the sun goes down is the reminder that you forgot a jacket, a slight chill running down your spine. You had hoped that you covered it up with a couch, but within seconds an extra layer of warmth was thrown across your shoulders. 

Reggie had taken his flannel from his waist and given it to you, you thanked him as you pushed your arms through the sleeves. 

“So, how are things with you and Dylan? You seemed upset earlier when we got to your locker.” Reggies glanced at you.

“Oh, you know, it’s fine, he’s just been a bit distant lately, i’m not sure what’s going on but i'm sure we’ll get through it.” You shrugged and looked at your shoes, suddenly finding them very interesting. 

“There’s something else, c’mon, (Y/n),” Reggie slightly bumped his shoulder into yours, causing you to look up at him, a slight smile from the action on your face, but falling instantly. 

“Um,” you look back at your shoes, “it’s really nothing, silly really.” You shrugged your shoulder again, stopping as you got to your driveway. 

The real reason you had been so shocked when Dylan walked away earlier was due to him not telling you he loved you, he had always said those three words before parting your side, no matter the circumstances, for the last four months of your relationship. When he didn’t say them this afternoon it took you by surprise. 

“Well, you know i’m always here right?” Reggie moved a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up in his direction. 

“No matter what it’s about, whether you need to rant, cry, or share something really cool, I’m always here to listen,” He smiles down at you, causing you to crinkle your nose and smile back, bringing him into a short hug. 

“Thanks, Reg. It really means a lot.” You pull away and walk the last few steps to your house, hesitating at the doorway, turning back as Reggie spoke again.  

“Have a good night, (Y/n),” Reggie smiled at your retreating figure, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“You too, see you tomorrow!” You waved and walked in the door to your house, pulling his flannel a little tighter once the door closed, then shaking the thoughts that were entering your head away. 

Reggie was just a friend, plus you had a boyfriend, Dylan might be distant right now, but he was still there…

--- 

The next few days had gone by quicker than you anticipated, it now being Thursday and you still didn’t have a plan for what you were going to do in class the next day. 

You had tried writing a few lyrics, but nothing felt right, you couldn’t find the right inspiration for what you wanted to do, you honestly didn’t even know what you wanted to do. At this point your game plan was to fake being sick so you wouldn’t have to stand up in front of the class, gasping like a goldfish out of water. 

You sat in your last class of the day, all your friends talking about what they were doing tomorrow, Alex had a drum solo with a few lyrics he had come up with, Luke singing one of his songs he was able to whip up within an hour, Julie doing the same, Flynn had made a really cool beat she was going to freestyle to, and Reggie had Home is Where My Horse Is. 

Ms. Adamson had given you the day to work and finalize your projects for tomorrow, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed. 

The bell rang and snapped you out of the anxious trance you had been in.

You walked to your locker and tried to figure out what you were going to do, you had under 24 hours to figure something out now. 

“Hey, (Y/n), you coming?” Reggie and the rest of the group were at your side, waiting to see if you were going to walk back with them. 

“Um, I think I’m gonna stay back today, I really need to focus and figure out what I’m going to do for tomorrow,” You ran a hand through your hair and let out a breath, “Plus I think Dylan is tutoring in the library so I might see if he can help or something, I haven't really much from him lately.” You lightly laughed at how sad that sounded, and shook your head, waving to the group as you walked towards the library.

“Let me know if you need anything!” Reggie called out and you sent a grateful smile his way. 

You didn’t see Dylan when you walked in, so you choose a secluded spot in the corner, trying to get some work done. 

After 30 minutes of staring at the blank paper, you give up, deciding to call it a sick day tomorrow and pray that something comes to you this weekend. 

As you pack up your things you scan the room again, curious if maybe Dylan had just come in without you noticing, but frown when you don’t see him. 

You start drafting a text to him that you were looking for him, but stopped when you heard a book fall from the shelves a few rows away, and a moan that sounds quite familiar. 

Slowly, you walked down the aisle paralleling where you heard the noises coming from, and froze by what you saw through a break in the books. 

Dylan was here after all, but he had his hands all over someone else, lips on someone who wasn’t you.  

A tear escaped from your eye as you turned away, deleting the text message you were going to send and starting a new one. 

-Hey, I was looking for you in the Library. I found you… I left the bracelet you got me on the table by your aisle. -

You removed the small charm bracelet the boy had given you after your three month anniversary and placed it on the table, hit send, and blocked his number. 

Tears were flowing freely now, as well as your thoughts.

Did he ever care? 

Was I just a joke to him? 

Did he ever love me? 

Why wasn’t I enough? 

You found yourself in the school's music room, taking a deep breath as you sat down, pulling out your song journal. 

Inadvertently, Dylan had given you just the inspiration you needed for your song. 

Your fingers flowed freely on the keys, finding the right melody for the emotions you were feeling. You played and wrote the notes down, some lyrics came now, but you were focused on the melody. 

The janitor eventually came around and told you that you had to leave, and you rushed home, not wanting to forget the lyrics you had in your head. 

You skipped dinner and ran straight to your room when you got home, the tears starting again as your phone flashed with a text, not due to the sender, but the picture on your lock screen. 

Angrily you opened your phone and deleted all the pictures of the boy you had loved, not wanting the reminder that you had trusted him flashing  in your face anymore. 

While deleting the pictures you ran across one of you and Reggie messing around in the garage, the next one of Flynn and Julie with their arms wrapped around you. 

You smiled and set your lock screen as the picture of the girls and you, your new background the picture of you and Reggie. 

Feeling a bit better, you went back to work on writing the lyrics that you had been thinking of. 

When you finally finished, you saw the clock flashing 4am at you. 

Having all your emotions finally written out on paper made you feel worlds better, and you found sleep easy after, but just too easy at that. 

When you woke up the next day you saw that you had already missed the first few classes of the day. 

Reggie, Julie, and Flynn had all called and left text messages asking where you were.

Cursing, you got up and dressed, throwing the first things on that you could find, one item happened to be Reggies flannel he had lent you the other day, giving you a sense of ease when you breathed in his cologne.  

When brushing your teeth you saw your reflection and gasped, no amount of makeup would cover up the red puffy eyes that blessed your face. 

With a sigh you splashed some cold water on them, helping a little, only being able to tell now if someone was really looking. 

Not having the time to focus on this you gathered your things and ran to school. 

You walked through the doors and took note of the time, and made your way to the lunch room where you found your friends at their usual spot. 

“Well, well, well, there she is,” Flynn called as she saw you approaching. 

You smiled at the girl and sat down, trying to keep your head down, hoping they wouldn’t take notice of your appearance, but to no avail. 

“Babe,” Julie turned your face towards her, “what happened to you?” 

Before you could answer you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to see Dylan standing there, anxiously rocking back and forth on his feet. 

“Um, can we talk?” He scratches the back of his neck, looking from your friends to you. 

“There’s nothing to be said,” you whisper and turn away from him, but he just sat in the empty seat in front of you. 

“You haven’t been answering my texts, just let me explain, please.” He was getting stressed, you weren’t giving in like you typically did. 

“They won't go through, I blocked you,” you shrug, “and there's not much to explain, you lost me the second you decided to make out with Sara in the library, sure was a pity you got caught, wasn’t it?” You shot daggers with your eyes as you spoke, a slight gasp from Flynn came from your side. 

Dylan felt the hostility from the band and shifted in his seat, why he was still here was beyond you, but the bell quickly ended the conversation. 

You stood and tried to walk away, just for Dylan to catch your wrist and turn you towards him. Before he could get a single word out you felt yourself word vomiting.

“Why wasn’t I enough for you?” the question that had been ringing in your head since you caught him finally came out, a single tear running down your cheek.  

His mouth opened and closed a few times, and you just nodded and pulled your wrist away from him, only a few steps away before Reggie had you pulled into his arms in a tight hug, soon joined by Alex and Luke, then the girls. 

They pulled away and you wiped your tears, smiling at them. 

“C’mon, we gotta get to class.” You muttered, Reggie slinging his arm around your shoulders, not an abnormal thing, but it was just what you needed in this moment. 

Class was going by quickly, the rest of the band performing their pieces, Reggie just sitting down from singing HIWMHI.

“Alrighty, last, but certainly not least we have (Y/n),” She smiled at you and you stood, making your way to the piano in the corner, the band questioning this since they only thought you knew how to play the guitar, just wait until they hear you sing. 

You clear your throat and start on the keys, taking a breath and letting the music take over. 

“Met you in October

You talked sweet and a little slow.

And I thought, mmm 

I think I, mmm”

It was obvious to almost everyone in the room that this song was about Dylan, what most of the room wasn’t aware of was that this was a break up song. 

“Warm eyes and your hands cold

You sang soft like a sore throat

And I thought mmm

I think I mmm

Cause I know you're dangerous

I saw through your games and played them

And I hate myself for letting you in”

You look at Ms. Adamson before continuing to the chorus, he eyes already gleaming with pride that you chose to sing. You tried to send a mini apology for the curse word that was coming in the next part.

“Now I could write 10 songs 'bout 9 ways you fucked me over

Only took you 8 second to forget 7 months together

We were up till 6 in the morning

5 ways a week

You said 4ever then left before I counted to 3

Loved you a little 2 much but I was never

I was never the 1”

You took a deep breath and played the keys a bit before moving onto the next part of the song. 

“You mеt me on a Friday

I dressed up likе a first date

So you'd think, "mmm

I think I mmmm"

And I knew we loved when

You stayed past 2 am

And I thought mmm

Does he think mmm”

You looked up and opened your eyes, making eye contact with your friends, Julie and Flynn having small tears in their eyes, knowing this song was written with fresh heartbreak. 

The boys all had looks of shock written on their faces, this being the first time hearing you sing, and the emotion ripe in your voice just making it that much better. 

Reggie had a hint of a smile on his face, pride radiating from him watching you blossom in front of him.

“And I knew you were dangerous

I saw through your games and played them

And I hate myself for letting you in”

You closed your eyes and launched into the chorus again, really letting the emotion carry you through the rest of the song. 

“Now I could write 10 songs 'bout 9 ways you fucked me over

Only took you 8 seconds to forget 7 months together

We were up till 6 in the morning

5 ways a week

You said 4ever and left before I counted to 3

Loved you little 2 much but I was never

I was never the 1”

You took your hands from the keys and repeated the last line again, just your voice filling the crowded classroom. 

“Loved you a little 2 much, but I was never, I was never the 1”

You held out the final “1” and then stepped back from the piano, applause breaking from across the classroom. 

You shyly courtesy and quick step it back to your seat, your stage fright quickly returning. 

“I would like to thank you all for your participation today, and another thanks for being vulnerable with everyone in the room. Everyone was absolutely amazing, I'll have grades up by Monday, have a good weekend!” Ms. Adamson dismissed the class and all your friends' eyes turned to you. 

“WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL US YOU COULD SING?” Luke exclaimed with wide eyes and flailing hands. 

You giggled a bit and shrugged your shoulders.

“Girl, that was so good, did you write it all last night?” Julie shook her head in amazement. 

“Uh yeah, inspiration hit and I just wrote until it was finished.” You shrugged and wring your hands together, not wanting to focus on the moment that inspired it all. 

“Um, are we going to the garage to hang? I can go get my things,” You tried to change the subject by standing and starting towards your locker, Reggie hot on your heels. 

“(Y/n)! Wait up!” You stopped and waited for the boy to catch up, continuing as soon as he was by your side. 

“You really have a great voice,” Reggie gushed as he looked down at you. 

A blush crept on your face as you shook your head. 

Reggie leaned against the neighboring lockers to yours as you gathered your things, looking up at him when you saw his muscles tense. 

You then followed his gaze to see him looking at Dylan walking on the opposite side of the hall, arm slung around Sara, like he used to with you. 

You returned your gaze back to your locker, a new rush of emotions flowing through you. 

Reggie lightly rested a hand on your arm and pulled you into his chest much like he had a few hours prior. 

“He’s an idiot for letting you get away,” He mumbled in your hair. 

“No,” you pulled back slightly, “I’m the idiot who thought someone like him actually loved me.” You wiped a stray tear, Reggie then grabbing each of your hands in his own.

“Don’t you ever think like that, he was rude, careless and just plain stupid for not seeing what he had right in front of him.” 

You look up at the boy in front of you. 

“(Y/n), you are the most beautiful girl I know, inside and out. Your thoughtfulness for everyone around you is absolutely amazing, you care for so many people, you do so much, and don’t ask for anything in return. You are a whole package, and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind.” Reggie finished and wiped the tears that fell while he was talking. 

You leaned back into his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso, feeling grounded, safe,  in a way you never did with Dylan. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, leaning back and feeling butterflies in your stomach, “Um, Reggie, I don’t want to start anything right now, I need some time to figure me out-” you started, but were interrupted by Reggie shushing you. 

“Hey, don't stress about this, you take all the time you need, I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles down at you, you return it tenfold. 

“Hey! (Y/n)! What would you think about a feature on our next song?” Luke comes running up beside you and Reggie, ending the moment that was occurring. 

“Um, i’ll have to think about that a bit,” You smirked, Reggie grabbing your bag and placing it on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around you as the group walked out of the school. 

“By the way,” Reggie whispers in your ear, “I’m loving the way my flannel looks on you.” 

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

[dearmrsawyer]

I’m back to work tomorrow so i’ve started mentally preparing, and looking ahead with more intention. I’ve really enjoyed this holiday! Mentally i do feel recharged, and like i’ve used this time wisely in terms of building habits etc. I’ve spent the last couple of days starting to look ahead with intention, and think about what i want.

Our first semester is still online, so the first 6 months (at least) will be very similar to last year. I feel like i’m going to come into this semester with an understanding of how the year will play out, unlike last year when there was no chance to take a breath! I know the systems i need in place to make the library function at its best, and i’ve had time to think through some proposals for improvement. E.g. i’d really like to open the library to students one day a week with conditions like mandated masks and a time limit on visits. I have no authority over whether we could do that, but i’d like to suggest it/have the discussion! 

Now that i have a year’s experience of working from home/all our classes being online, i’m not really interested in setting a bunch of work goals. I think our circumstances fluctuate too easily, and the reality is that i’ll do whatever i need to do to make sure things get done. I don’t wanna say ‘i’m setting a hard line of no evening/weekend work’ because honestly, i might need to! There are parts of this that are out of my control, for example if a lecturer’s powerpoint slides need to be made available before class starts on a Monday, but they don’t finish them until Saturday afternoon, i simply can’t control that. No matter the parameters/timelines we put in place last year, it didn’t work, so i might need to spend a Saturday evening preparing content for Monday. Who knows! It can’t be helped! Last year i spent a lot of time balancing out my work hours and taking time off when i believed i needed to, even if it was technically during my scheduled work hours, so i can do that again. Whatever! This is a weird time, things aren’t going to be neat and tidy and i have accepted that reality!

One work-related goal i would like to make is going for lunch time walks to break up my day. I did that sporadically last year, weather permitting, and it was so so good for me. I was able to go get some movement after sititng at my desk for a couple of hours, and i also came back mentally refreshed for the last few hours. So that’s my one goal! 

I set a Goodreads goal of reading 12 books this year. I’d like it to be more but let’s just start small LOL. I read like one book last year rip, and maybe like 3 or 4 fics, like i just did not read last year bc i didn’t have any mental energy to spare. And i have no regrets, any practices that felt through last year, i am a-ok with bc god weren’t we all dealing with enough! But i don’t want to go another year like that, so we’re getting a goal! I’ve already read a couple of fics this month and i’m halfway through a book, so its going well \o/

I’ve managed to write every day for the past week :) Just a few hundred words a day, which is great! I’ve been writing on paper, and i think i am going to continue doing that. I realised last year that my recreational time was really disrupted by the fact that my personal laptop had become a work laptop, so whenever i sat down to do something recreational, i felt like i couldn’t focus/summon the creativity/break my mindset. That’s going to continue for at least 6 more months, so i’d like to keep as much of my recreational activities separate from my laptop as i can. I’m going to keep writing on paper and i’ll probably spent more time on tumblr/reading fic on my phone. I think that’ll help. 

The Big thing this year is that we need to move. My brother and i really want to move bc we’re sick to death of our house lol, and my grandparents really need to move bc a) their house is so painfully impractically for 2 seniors, and b) my mum has become a part time carer for them, and it would really help her to have a commute shorter than 20 minutes between her place and theirs. So we’re trying to find a house where my brother and i, and our grandparents, can live in a house together closer to town. We’ve already been working at this for a few months so really we’re poised to move as soon as we can. Could be in a month, could be in 4, who knows, all depends on when we can find a place!

[academiadaisies]

my struggles with studying

I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.

I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3

School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.

But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.

Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.

In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.

But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.

This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.

*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.

And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varieties of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.

I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.

I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.

But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”

Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.

And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.

But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”

I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.

Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3 (also this is a repost because I tried posting last night but it wouldn’t go to the tag, hope it works this time)

[bellemorte180]

Degas

Caroline Forbes had her life mapped out. She was not about the let anything stand in her way; including the unexpected appearance of her soulmate. The fact that he is her professor, might make this a bit complicated.

Written for Klaroline week, Day 7-Trope x Trope- Soulmates mixed with Professor/Student

Thank you @klaroline-events

The thing about soulmates was the fact that were rare. The words were written on the forearm of every person but that never meant that anyone would actually hear those words spoken by their soulmate. It was more common than not that the words were never uttered. Someone could hear their soulmate speak for years but if the words were not directly spoken to the person who had them inked on their skin; the soulmates would never connect.

It was rare for someone’s words to be spoken and Caroline was not about to put her life on hold for a daydream that most likely would never happen. At first in her early teens, she swore up and down that she would find him. Then she dated Damon during her sophomore of high school and vowed to never again arrange her life for a man. It was not Caroline’s fault that Damon did find his soulmate but that she died so soon after their meeting. Although, he did try and live his life after the loss of her but Caroline never measured up to Damon’s version of perfection. He called her shallow and useless. Stating that Caroline could never possibly get into a university such as Duke. So, out of spite Caroline worked her ass off and did just that and on a full ride.

While Damon was never physically abusive, he could never stop comparing her to the ghost of Katherine Pierce.

“Caroline, are you coming?” Bonnie, Caroline’s roommate, asked. Bonnie and Caroline met during freshman year of college and have been friend’s ever since. Years later, the two still lived together through ups and downs, boyfriends and breakups. “Earth to Caroline.”

“Almost finished.”

“Care, you’ve proof read your thesis outline a thousand times. I’m sure it is perfect.” Caroline turned to glare at her best friend. This was the thesis for her master’s degree, it had to be more than perfect. There could be not even the hint of a flaw, especially if it would help her get into Duke’s doctoral program for art history. “Besides, if you don’t go now, you’ll be late for class.”

Caroline looked at the clock on her phone and jumped up.

“Shit! Bonnie! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” She hissed out as she put the pair of small black go-to boots on her feet. She quickly pulled her hair back into a messy bun. Her jeans and tank-top would have to do. She grabbed a matching black hoodie in case the lecture hall was cold and seeing that Caroline thought seventy-degree weather was freezing, she knew it would be. That and it was common practice for people to keep their words covered and Caroline had no time to search for her arm band.

“I tried but you were in that ‘Caroline study trance’ you get when you’re super focused, it took a minute to get your attention.” Bonnie said, watching her friend rush around in amusement. “I am covering Professor Fleming’s class today and need to leave so I figured I’d pull you from it now before you miss class completely. I’ve heard how Dr. Mikaelson is about attendance.”

“Not only that but he runs the doctoral program. I cannot be late for this class.” Dr. Niklaus Mikaelson’s classes were hard to get into. Caroline never managed it during her under grad and now that she was in her second to last semester before completing her master’s, she was finally able to land one of his classes. “I need him to like me.”

“It’s because he is hot? Isn’t it?”

“Bonnie!”

“What? He is. And that accent…”

Dr. Mikaelson was a prodigy in the art world. Caroline did an extensive google search of him when she was deciding if she wanted to pursue her masters at Duke or move onto another university. It was his work that kept Caroline there. He graduated secondary school by the age of fifteen and got a full ride to Oxford-completing his bachelors degree in just under two years. From there he achieved a masters and doctoral degree before moving to work at the Louvre all by the age of twenty-seven. The last few years saw him teaching at Duke and taking over the entire art history department in the process; and he was only thirty-three.

“His attractiveness is not what I need him for.” Caroline stated as she ran down the hall of the apartment. “Dinner later?”

“I have papers to grade. Remember? Joys of being a TA.”

“Right. See you tomorrow then. Bye!” Caroline replied as she grabbed her bag and left the apartment. She all but frantically drove towards the campus. Once parked she had to run towards the lecture hall and she made in it enough time to take her seat before the Professor strolled in and began his lecture. He opened a PowerPoint that showed a famous painting of ballerinas dancing on a stage, appearing as though they were in the middle of preparing for a performance.

“Edgar Degas. He is claimed to be one of the founding fathers of impressionism. However, as many of you know it is claimed that he hated that title. He preferred to be called a realist.” Dr. Mikaelson pointed to the painting on the screen. “Ballet Rehearsal on Stage is a prime example of his reasoning. The painting does not follow the typical style of impressionism painting. It lacks the color and the technique used is far different. It is far darker…”

Caroline leaned forward, engaged in his voice. There was something comforting in how he spoke, and it was not just the English accent. She could see the passion he had for the art he taught and his love for the painting. While his biography on the school website and what she found through her various digging, there was little to go on about his personal life. While Caroline agreed with Bonnie that the man was very attractive, Caroline was more interested in his work and how it could possibly help her get her foot in the right direction. It was only the second week of classes but Caroline knew she needed to make an impression sooner rather than later if she was going to get into the doctoral program next year.

He went on and on about impressionism, Degas and those ballerinas on the screen. Caroline took notes, switching from highlighter to highlighter and using her post-it note system that used to drive Bonnie insane. She jotted down her questions, points and theories she might need for a paper later on in the semester. She was tempted to click at her pen but knew, after years of dirty looks, that most would not appreciate such an action in the middle of a class.

“It is said that Degas fascination with painting the ballerinas were because he viewed that as the perfect example of the human condition. Towards the end of his life he made comments about the limbs of the dancers and how they moved. How they became one with the music and that is what he was trying to capture.” Dr. Mikaelson leaned against the desk and looked at this class. “Now, most of you are at the point in your studies where you have developed you own opinions on an artist work and what is art without interpretation? Any thoughts?”

Caroline among a few other students raised their hands. Dr. Mikaelson chose a young girl by the name of April that Caroline recognized from a couple classes she had with her previously. April, while bright, always seemed a bit shy.

“I always thought that the ballerinas were beautiful but in an artificial way. That they showed what the ideal beauty was during the late 19th century in France.” April smiled. “Kind of like in today's society, we are bombarded with what we should look like. The dancer always reminded me of that ideal.”

“It is true that young woman during that time were pressed to act in a certain way.” He replied, pointing at the screen again. “Dancers especially were encouraged to dance not for themselves but for the pleasure of men. It was not uncommon for the dancers to become lovers of wealthy gentleman and they did so in order to keep their place in the ballet before they came to an age that was deemed no longer desirable for the ballet. While Degas was a talented painter, he was also a man. Perhaps he painted the ballerinas for the simple fact that he admired their beauty.” He looked around and saw the students writing. “Anyone else?”

Caroline raised her hand again and this time, Dr. Mikaelson pointed to her. While she had attended every class they had thus far, which was only three since it was only the second week of classes, this was the first time he picked her. She admired how he tried to choose a different student every class and how he liked to keep the students engaged in the lesson.

“Honestly? There is something eerie about it.” She saw him freeze but Caroline pressed on. “The use of the shading and the dark colors make me feel as though he was always on the outside looking in. Like, his obsession with the dancers was far darker than we realize. He was a grown man who watched young girls dance and painted pictures of them. It is kind off-putting once you think about it. Almost predatory.”

Dr. Mikaelson did not move. He was looking at her as though he had seen a ghost of a long lost loved one. She was not the only one who seemed to have notice his hesitation but quickly enough, he seemed to shake himself of his thoughts.

“That certainly is an interesting perspective and not uncommon.”

And then, she felt it. She felt the slight burn on her left forearm. Her eyes grew wide and she felt as though she could not breathe. Dr. Mikaelson turned away from her and called on another student but Caroline could not look away from him. She did not understand how he was able to go on teaching when both their lives were just turned upside down. Everything changed and yet not a single person in that class realized what just happened.

He listened as one student droned on and on about Degas, and in truth, Caroline could not even focus on what was being discussed. She just watched as he moved around the podium that was perched in the front of the class. She noticed how his fingers seemed to trace over something and then his eyes searched the class again. He was looking at the seating chart they filled out on the first day.

He was looking for her name.

“All valid opinions, then again. Are not most opinions valid? Well, almost all.” He stated, cutting the student off. There was a slight chuckle echoing through the class. “We can all agree that there are many different interpretations of Degas’s work and that brings us to the major assignment of this class. If you read the syllabus, which I am sure you have, you know that you each will be required to pick an artist and study their style of painting, sculpting or whatever their choice of expression was. I want more than a biography and a regurgitation on their methods. I want your opinion. I want to know what your honest opinion of their work. I want to know how it makes you feel and what you believe drove the artist. Dig deep inside and find that inner artist yourself. Basically, I want you to woo me.” That caused another round of chuckles and Caroline could not help but notice how his eyes flickered to me. “The paper is to be submitted a week before the end of the semester. For further instructions, look at the syllabus or contact me during office hours. Dismissed.”

The students around her began to gather their belongings but Caroline was unsure on what to do next. Did she gather her textbooks and hurry of the lecture hall? Did she hang around trying to get a word? She noticed that if she did not move soon, she would be left sitting there and that would just be odd, so she began to gather her things and walk down the steps. She looked down and noticed that he was speaking with April and by her flushed cheeks, it was obvious that April had a crush. Caroline could not explain the rush of possessiveness she felt but she did not like the idea of anyone else having feelings for her soulmate.

“Ms. Forbes?” Caroline paused at the bottom the steps near the front row of the class, he had been watching her; waiting for her. “May I have a word?”

“Of course.” Caroline replied and waited as April walked past them, giving Caroline a small wave as she went. Caroline, however, was only able to give her a tight smile. Once the smaller woman was out of the room, Caroline felt as though all the air was sucked out with her. “Dr. Mikaelson.”

“Klaus.”

“What?”

“Call me Klaus. I believe you have the right to do that.” Dr. Mikaelson, Klaus, was smirking at her. He was gazing at her in a way that made her feel as though she was being studied; paying attention to her as he would one of Degas’s paintings.

“Klaus. Right. Short for Niklaus.”

“It is.” He moved his right arm over to his left and began unclasping the cuff-link. He rolled the sleeve of his white button-down dress shirt to reveal his forearm. There upon his skin were her words written in black ink…. spanning down a good portion of his arm. Caroline felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment but he only seemed amused. “I wondered for a long time about the woman who would have such an opinion on grown men drawing pictures of dancers. I never expected her to be in one my classes. Or about Degas.”

“You know, I wanted nothing more last year than to be in one of your classes but they were always filled. I never expected you to be my soulmate. In fact, I never expected to find my soulmate at all. And yet here you are, someone whose work I admire and had hoped to pursue my doctorate under…and oh my god.”

“Caroline?”

“You run the doctoral program here for the art department.” Caroline began to feel her chest contract and her breathing to become uneven. “I’ll have to leave this class; I won’t be able to pursue my degree here. It’s too late to transfer now. I am set to get my masters next semester!” She started pacing back and forth, feeling as though everything was crumbling around her. “Everything I worked for will go out the window.”

Klaus slowly made his way towards her, as though he was approaching a lion who was about to strike. He placed his hands on her shoulders and despite the hooded sweatshirt she wore, she could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric.

“Caroline, look at me.” Her breathing was still going rapid but she followed his direction. “You will not have to give up your dreams. I will not allow you to give up now, okay?” Caroline nodded. “Now breath. Slowly. In and out.” It took a few minutes but she began to feel herself calm down. Klaus drew small circles on her the sides of her arms and she focused on that feeling his touch invoked. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Klaus paused before speaking again. “Do those happen often?” She looked at him confused. “The panic attacks?”

“What? No. Sorry.” Caroline replied, blushing bright red again. “I’m so embarrassed. I was just so nervous and then realizing that this would be a major issue if I continued studying here. I mean, you’re my soulmate. If that isn’t crossing that line.” Klaus just started to laugh at her lightly. “Oh, come on! You know what line I’m talking about. You know the cheesy stereotype of the professor getting involved with his student!” At this point Klaus was full on laughing at her and despite the panic attack she had earlier, hearing his laughter calmed her frayed nerves. “I’m serious! This is serious! And you’re laughing! And I’m rambling on and on…. ugh, I do that when I’m nervous. Clearly.”

“Good to know.” Klaus was still smiling at her while Caroline found it hard to look at him without embarrassment coursing through her. “I won’t lie to you and say that there will not be road blocks in our path. I am your teacher, that is true and it is most definitely something we have to consider. However,” Klaus reached down and picked up her left hand. He pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt to reveal his words on her skin “finding one soulmate is rare. I spent the majority of my life curious as to who you would be. I’m not about to let that chance go now.”

The feel of his skin connecting with hers sent chills shooting through her entire body. Their eyes locked and she lost herself in the bight blue orbs. She could see excitement, uncertainty and vulnerability coursing through them. Caroline found herself wanting nothing more than to crawl inside of him. The feeling of his touch went beyond anything sexual, although the attraction was there, but it was more intimate than anything she experienced before.

“I don’t think I could let go now if I tried.” Caroline whispered and Klaus smiled widely. His smile was breathtaking and Caroline though it was unfair how beautiful he was. His dimples along made her heart flutter. She had always thought he was attractive but she was so focused on his work that she never bothered to think about the man behind the work.

And now she could think of nothing else.

Klaus dropped her wrist when other students began filing in. He went to the desk, unplugged his laptop from the USB cord and closed it, not bothering to turn it off first. He picked up his briefcase, shoving the laptop inside and motion toward the door. The next class would be starting soon and neither one of them needed an audience. They left the lecture hall together but Caroline noticed that he was keeping a respectable distance. She was unsure if she should be grateful or hurt. She knew that even though everything changed for them, the world still spun around the sun and he was still her teacher. The rules did not end with her life taking a drastic but joyful turn.

“Have dinner with me. Tonight.” Klaus stated. He paused in the middle of the courtyard just outside the lecture hall, not caring that it was a Tuesday afternoon or that they both had places to be the next day. He turned to look at her with a warm smile. “I would say let us just take the afternoon to know one another but I unfortunately have another class; and as you pointed out, I head of the doctoral program and have students to advise.”

“Okay.” Caroline nodded. While she was disappointed that she had to say goodbye, she was partly relieved. She realized, as the North Carolina sun beat down on her that she met her soulmate in an over sized sweatshirt, jeans and had her hair thrown up in a messy bun. She looked like the typically college student and that was embarrassing. “I don’t have plans tonight, unless you count obsessively studying and working on my thesis. Which, I honestly feel is coming along great but it more difficult than I anticipated. Not that I thought it would be easy, and you’re laughing at me again.”

Klaus couldn’t help himself but smile and shake his head.

“You’re rambling.” His tone was soft and full of affection, which made her only laugh alongside him. “You have no reason to be nervous with me. I promise.”

“Okay. Right. Dinner.” Caroline pulled a notebook out of her bag and ripped a piece of paper out of it. She grabbed her pen and jotted down her phone number and address. “Here is my address. Pick me up at seven. I love pizza and all things Italian. The spicier the food, the better.”

“Good to know.” Klaus smiled that devastating smile again, making Caroline’s skin heat up. She swore it was from the sun; not his stupid smile. She could see that he wanted to lean in and kiss her or simply touch her again; but in the middle of Duke’s courtyard was not the time or place. “I’ll see you tonight Caroline.”

With that, Klaus turned from her and Caroline watched him stroll across campus. There was something pleasing about the way he walked. It took her a moment but she noticed that the sleeve of his button-down was still rolled up to his elbow; letting the words out for the world to see. She couldn’t explain it but Caroline felt proud that those where her words on his skin.

Realizing that she was standing in the middle of a college campus, ogling her professor (who happened to be her soulmate), Caroline pulled herself from her stupor and moved off into the opposite direction. She had another class in about thirty minutes but she knew that she was not going to be able to focus for the rest of the day. While she was not typically one to blow off her classes, she would make an exception just this once and ensure that she studied extra hard over the weekend to make up for it.

As she walked to her car, Caroline dug out her phone and dialed Bonnie. She knew that Bonnie’s class that she taught for Professor Fleming sometimes would be over and that she most likely was in her office; either meeting with a student or grading Fleming’s papers. While Bonnie enjoyed being a TA, Professor Fleming had a tendency to push all her work on her TA’s. It as free labor and Isobel Fleming certainly took advantage of that.

“Come on Bonnie. Pick up.” It rang a few times before clicking to voicemail. Caroline huffed in frustration as she heard her best friend’s voicemail kick on. “Call me immediately. I have a friend emergency. Like life changing emergency.”

It wasn’t until Caroline was home and staring at her closet in abject horror; realizing that she had nothing to wear that screamed, you won’t regret being my soulmate, that Bonnie’s name flashed up on Caroline’s phone.

“Thank god Bonnie. I need you.”

“Sorry. I was helping a student. A completely useless student but a student nonetheless. I totally get why Fleming hates actually doing her office hours.” Bonnie stated. “What’s up?” “I met my soulmate.”

“What?! Seriously! Oh god that’s….Caroline!”

“I know!” Caroline screeched his excitement. “We’re doing dinner tonight and I literally have nothing to wear. I met him in that black hoodie I wear pretty much to hide my bloating during my period. It was embarrassing and I need something spectacular. Please, help me.”

“Hold on.” She heard a rustle and Bonnie speaking in the background to someone. Caroline, in the meantime, picked up a red dress that she wore for special occasions that she was sure she was going to get laid, but decided that it was a bit much for a first date. Maybe the second date. “Okay, Luka is going to take Fleming’s evening class and I’ll grade my papers at home after you leave. Now, you go shower, shave and do all of that. I’ll meet you at home in about thirty minutes to help you get ready.” Caroline smiled widely and expressed her thanks. “What time is he picking you up?”

“Seven.”

“Okay. That gives us four hours to make you look drop dead hot. Now go shower, I’ll be there soon.” Bonnie hung up and Caroline plugged her phone in by the bed before running to the shower. She turned on the shower and took a good look at her legs. She winced slightly at the neglect and grabbed a brand-new razor. By the time she was done in the shower and had herself wrapped in nothing more than a robe with a towel on her head, Bonnie was in her bedroom throwing her entire closet around the room. “Your phone has a message. Unknown number…”

Caroline dived for her phone and pulled it off the charger. She gave a smile as she read the message.

[Klaus][3:42 pm]:I made reservation s at La Rustica. Fire roasted pizza?

[Caroline][4:03 pm]: That sounds perfect.

[Caroline][4:03 pm]: I can’t wait.

[Klaus][4:04 pm]: Me either. I’m having trouble focusing in class. And I’m the teacher. Pretty sure my students are starting to notice.

[Caroline][4:04 pm]: Off your game?

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: I have them watching a documentary on ancient cave paintings from the bronze era. A move I typically use for my into to art classes. Not my doctoral ones.

[Caroline][4:05 pm]: So they are bored. Got it.

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: Very.

[Klaus][4:05 pm]: That and a certain soulmate has me smiling like an idiot. Its drawing a lot of attention.

[Caroline][4:06 pm]: Blaming me for your inability to focus in class?

[Klaus][4:06 pm]: Of course.

[Caroline][4:06 pm]: Well, don’t blame me. Go teach. Use that big brain of yours because I have a date to get ready for and SOMEONE is distracting me.

[Klaus][4:07 pm]: I suppose I can focus on my students instead of you. But trust me, you’ll have all my attention later.

[Caroline][4:07 pm]: I better.

“So, I just wanted your facial expressions for the last three minutes and I have to say, it was a roller-coaster ride. Wish I had popcorn.” Bonnie replied and Caroline stuck her tongue out at her. She tossed the phone on the bed and sat down on it. Bonnie went over to her manicure kit that Caroline assumed she grabbed from her room. “Here, pick a color to pain your nails. We can build an outfit around that.”

“I’m thinking blue. Matches my eyes. Oh, and we are going to La Rustica so, nice but causal.”

“Good starting place. Now spill.”

“What?”

“Details. I want them. Now.” Bonnie cocked her head at Caroline. “I just watched you have a conversation with who I’m guessing is your future father of your children and I’ve never seen you smile like that. Ever, so, details please.”

“You’re never going to believe it.” Caroline sighed and told her everything from the moment she sat down in class to Klaus inviting her to dinner afterwards. “I always knew hearing him speak that there was just something about him. At first, I figured it was the accent. I mean hot British professor. Come on, even you said he was hot. But the moment he spoke the words.”

That certainly is an interesting perspective and not uncommon.

“You’re happy.” Bonnie looked as though she was about to melt. Caroline nodded. Bonnie did the most un-Bonnie like thing, Caroline had ever witness from her. She squealed. Loudly. “I’m so happy for you. And incredibly jealous.”

“Thank you!” Caroline laughed.

“I mean it. After everything you told me about douche bag Damon and watching your awful relationship with Tyler…” “Hey! My relationship with Tyler was just fine!”

“Care, you never spent any time together and that is probably why it lasted two years. Every time you guys were together, you fought. Trust me, that break up was a mercy for everyone.” Bonnie looked at her seriously. “But now you met your soulmate. Literally, you probably are the only person I know who has met them and frankly, screw you I’m jealous.”

“Give it time Bonnie. Maybe you’ll be next.”

“Caroline, the words on my wrist literally say Pardon me darling, but I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. My soulmate sounds a drunk frat boy picking up girls at a frat party.” Bonnie replied and Caroline gave a snort. “But enough about me, let’s get you looking beautiful so he forgets that you wore your period sweater when you first met.”

Over the next three hours, Caroline painted her nails a baby blue color, had Bonnie dry and style her hair into waves. She applied some light makeup, preferring something more natural looking, while Bonnie continued to root through the closet to fine the perfect outfit. Caroline kept anxiously looking at the clock, watching as the time slowly ticked by and she couldn’t help but fidget.

“What about this?” Bonnie asked, pulling out a nice white lacy tank-top and paired it with a blue cardigan she typically wore to summer weddings. “Add jeans and wedges. You’d look good.”

“Ehh…”

“Wait. I think I have an idea.” Bonnie rooted through her clothes, Caroline wincing at the fact that her color coordinated system was ruined, and pulled out a pair of simple skinny jeans, matched it with the lacy tank-top and slipped Caroline’s favorite pink leather jacket over top. “Cute, casual, but will have him eating out of your hands.”

“I do have those pink stilettos that match that jacket perfectly.” Caroline mused. “I like it.”

“And this.” Bonnie pulled out a large white purse that Caroline rarely ever used for fear of it getting dirty. “Slip a pair of flats in there as well as a top and a change of underwear. You’re all set.” Caroline narrowed her eyes at her. “What? I’m just saying that I don’t plan on waiting up for you. It will make it easier to leave for class tomorrow if you don’t have to swing by here first.”

“I don’t know if that is going to happen. We might want to take it slow. I don’t know.”

“Caroline. You shaved. I know you. You’re planning on it.” Bonnie replied in a matter of fact voice. “Which means, you need to pick something to wear under your clothes. I suggest a strapless bra.” Caroline rolled her eyes, not willing to let Bonnie know she had a point. She got up and went to her dresser, searching through her underwear drawer. She had a few pieces that had not seen the light of day in a while and tonight did give her a very good excuse to wear them.

And she wanted to see Klaus’s eyes bulge out.

Bonnie stepped out and let Caroline get dressed. She pulled on a matching baby-blue bra and pantie set before slipping on the skinny jeans. She looked at herself after she put on the lacy white tank-top, just to ensure that it wasn’t see-through. There was a slight peak of the blue bra at the top but it did not look trashy. One would have to be really looking to see it and she wanted Klaus to look.

It was decided. She was going to do something that she never thought herself capable of.

Caroline Forbes was going to fuck her professor.

When she was getting her purse ready, with all of Bonnie’s suggestions and a few extra needed items, Caroline heard the slight knock on the apartment door. She glanced at her phone and noticed that he was exactly five minutes early. Her lips perked up and she knew that they most definitely were made for each other. Caroline hated being late. She heard Bonnie yell that she would answer the door while Caroline quickly added a few more items to her bag.

“So, you’re the soulmate huh?” Caroline heard Bonnie’s voice, before Klaus could reply, Bonnie pushed on. “I’m Bonnie Bennet, the best friend and person who will cut off your dick if you hurt her. Got it?”

“Bonnie!” Caroline screeched as she came around the corner. She paused when she saw Klaus standing there, torn between amusement and concern. He was dressed down compared to class earlier. He had on a pair of fitted jeans, a grey Henley and a black jacket. That feeling she felt when he first said the words on her wrists returned. Her heart stopped for a moment and she couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’m going to go grade papers now.” Bonnie stated as she looked between the two of them. She moved towards Caroline and smiled. She wiggled her eyebrows at Caroline which made her nervousness fade slightly. “Have fun.”

“Bye Bonnie.” Caroline laughed at Bonnie before gripping her purse and walking forwards the door. “Sorry about her. She is my best friend and means absolute every word she said to you. So, you’re forewarned.”

“Noted.” Klaus teased. “Shall we?”

Caroline nodded and the both headed out the door. Unlike their walk across the campus, Klaus did not keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t indecent but he did touch her just ever so slightly. As they walked out to his car, he put his hand on the small of her back. As he drove, his left hand stayed on the wheel while his right held hers. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the little pizzeria that Caroline realized she had been drawing little circles with her thumb the entire way there.

“So, did your students find class any more interesting? Did they become engaged in Neanderthal art?” Caroline teased as they walked towards the door. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together again. At the skin on skin contact, Klaus couldn’t help but smile.

“Not in the slightest.” Caroline laughed. “This is a small class, with about five students total and they all know one another. I think they were all more interest in the fact that I was texting in class than actually teaching.” Klaus opened the door for Caroline, which just earned him bonus points, and looked toward the hostess. “Reservation under Mikaelson.”

The small pizzeria was upscale but didn’t feel as though it was intimidating. The walls were made of brick and there were fairy lights drifting from one side to the other; giving the space a romantic glow. As they walked to their table, Caroline could see wine racks lining the walls that had different types of wine. The tables had a modern rustic look to them that fit in with the cozy romantic feeling the pizzeria was trying to achieve. The hostess led them to a table in the back that would let them be undisturbed but not completely out of view.

“Now, I don’t think that’s fair!” Caroline replied. “We were only texting for about five minutes tops. For all they knew, you could have been texting your mother.”

“If I was texting my mother, trust me when I say that my facial features would be one of annoyance not the, what did young Joshua say to me, ‘love-struck’ expression my face held.”

“No! Seriously? A student said this to you?”

“Small class, Sweetheart.” The waitress approached their table. “Do you prefer white or red wine?”

“White.”

“A bottle of Pinot Grigio, please.” The waitress wrote down the order and left. “Like I was saying, small class and I’ve gotten to know them all fairly well over the last few semesters. Most of them have been my students since they were in their working on their masters. Only a one or two were transplants from other universities. Joshua is a bit braver than the others. He had no problem teasing me for, what the term, ah yea, ‘sleeping on the job’.”

“The gall!” She laughed. “I mean to be honest, you did better than I did. I skipped my next class and if you see Professor Saltzman, feel free to take all responsibility.” Klaus laughed at that. “I’m serious. First class I’ve missed in about ever. Last year, I had that nasty stomach flu and I still showed up to class.”

“I admire your dedication.” He reached across the table and took her hand. Klaus flipped her hand over and began tracing his words on her wrist. Their eyes locked and Caroline could hardly breath at just feeling his fingertip tracing the black ink. It wasn’t until the waitress came back to pour their wine that he removed his hands. “So, tell me, if pizza is one of your favorites, what kind? Let me guess, pineapple?”

“No, but I fully believe that there is nothing wrong with pineapple on pizza.”

“We will have to agree to disagree on that, love.”

“While there is nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned Hawaiian pizza, I can’t help but enjoy the classics.” Caroline looked to the waitress, who wore a soft smile and looked down at Caroline’s uncovered wrists, (knowing fully well that these two were soulmates). “We will take a classic margarita pizza please.”

“I admire a woman who takes charge.” Klaus replied, wearing a smirk. Caroline bit her lip as her mind went a very dirty place that she should be ashamed of. However, by the look Klaus was tossing her way; she could tell that his mind had followed the same path. Gone was the professor who was so engaging in art and the history behind it and was replaced by a man who by the intense stare she was getting, was very passionate.

“Get used to it.”

“I plan to.” The dimpled smirk was back and that did nothing for Caroline’s resolve. What she wanted to do was drag him from the restaurant and screw him in his car but the more rational part of her brain wanted to at least know him just a bit better first. Caroline cleared her throat and pushed a blonde lock behind her ear.

“So…from your comment, I know you have a mom but any other family?” Caroline asked. “Because I googled you. Hard. Beyond stating that you are from London and are practically a genius, it didn’t say much about your personal life.”

“Trying to find out if a girlfriend?”

“No! Wait? Do you? Because that would make this really awkward. Like, what happens if soulmates meet and the other person is like, married or something!” Caroline’s eyes grew wide. “Oh god! You’re not married, are you? Because I’m not. Very single…...very very single.”

“No, love. I’m perfectly unmarried and single, or at least I was until this morning.” Klaus laughed, finding her ramblings refreshing and adorable. “Let’s see where to start. You obviously know about my professional career and yes, I do like to keep my private life…private.” He gave her a heated look again that caused her skin to flush, something he clearly enjoyed doing to her. “Yes. I have a mother but we are not particularly close, distance and all that. I speak to my father maybe once or twice a year. I am one of seven children-”

“Your mom had seven children?” Caroline breathed out, eyes growing wide. That was a lot of siblings. She chose not to comment on his relationship with his parents, figuring he would open about that as their relationship grew. “Wow.”

“Yes. My eldest sister Freya, is a doctor in New York. Neurosurgeon actually. My brother Finn is also a doctor but has a small practice in Oxfordshire, England where he lives with his wife Sage and their five children; who I am perfectly comfortable being the uncle who just sends gifts in the mail.” That made Caroline chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong love, I like kids but my brother’s children are a nightmare.”

“Good to know.” They exchanged a look, an unspoken understanding passed. One day, they would have kids. “Were they soulmates?”

“Finn and Sage? No but they were childhood sweethearts.” Caroline nodded. Soulmates were rare and she realized how lucky she was to have found hers. “Then there is Elijah, he is a dean of a boarding school for spoiled little rich kids in England, although he makes a significant number of trips to the States. Not sure if it is the students or close proximity to our mother.”

“I take it your mother is a character?”

“Harsh and cold would sum it up. You know, typical English upper-class woman. Part of the reason why I pushed myself to graduate secondary school at such a young age.” Klaus replied, brushing past the description of his mother. “Then there is me. Fourth and typical middle child.” Caroline laughed at that. “Then there is Kol. At twenty he picked a random city out of a hat, ran off New Orleans with his college fund and opened a bar…well a year later he opened one when he realized that the drinking age was twenty-one here. He doesn’t get out of bed until well after twelve in the afternoon, just in time to kick his latest conquest out of bed.”

“So, the rebellious child?” Despite his unflattering description of his younger brother, Caroline could hear a hint of affection and exasperation at him. While he seemed distant from his parents, she could sense that the siblings where all close. “And here I thought the Mikaelson clan bred only geniuses. We have two doctors, a dean of a boarding school, a prodigy professor and then a bar owner…what happened there?”

“A question we have all asked at one point or another. My parents were very disappointed, which only made Kol even more pleased. He’s an odd one.” Klaus smiled. “And then there is Rebekah.”

“Uh oh. Let me guess. Spoiled little sister?”

“Very.” Klaus shook his head. “Freya is a lot like our mother in a way. Cold and hard but she has a work ethic that I applaud. She rarely has a social life but is very dedicated to her patients and her field, while Rebekah has not worked for a single thing in her entire life. She was supposed to be the last child so our parents doted on her. She lives primarily off of her trust fund and spends most of her time on some yacht of her boyfriend of the moment; before showing up at one our houses. Unexpectedly of course.”

“She sounds…”

“She is a complete brat but I love her. One day maybe she will settle but lord knows we all have tried to tame her.”

“And your youngest sibling?” Klaus froze slightly, a small shadow passed over his eyes but then after a second, he gave a small smile. Before he could speak, their waitress was back with their pizza and some plates. It wasn’t until the each grabbed their own slices that Caroline had the courage to press forward. “Are you okay? If you don’t want to-“

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Henrik was the youngest and unexpected baby of the family. After Rebekah, my parents did not want anymore children. Six kids were enough but Henrik came along and made everything better, if that makes sense. He was shy and funny and loved to laugh. He was genially a good soul.”

“What happened to him?” Caroline did not miss how he used the past-tense when he spoke of his youngest brother. She reached across the table and took his hand in hers. Klaus ran his thumb over her knuckles and she could tell that her touch brought him comfort.

“I was working at the Louvre at the time. Henrik was supposed to come and spend the summer with me that year. He was seventeen and like I said, he had a heart of gold. A friend of his had gone to a party and had one too many and was too scared to call his parents. Both my parents were working that night and the only other person home was Rebekah. So, he left alone and went to pick his friend up. Two other kids from the same party did not call a ride and left, they both were heavily intoxicated. Ended up running my brother off the road. Henrik and is friend died instantly.”

“I’m so sorry.” Caroline had tears streaming down her face. She did not know what to say other than that. She could tell that Klaus felt the loss of his little brother deeply. She wished that she could take that pain away but knew nothing she said would make it better. Klaus leaned forward and wiped away the small tears from her cheeks.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.” That made her smile instead. “It was six years ago. Yes, it hurts but I’m to the point where I can remember him fondly.” With that he pulled away and picked up his pizza, something Caroline completely forgot they had. She followed suit but her mind still on Klaus’s brother. “What about you, any siblings I should know about?”

“Nope. Just little old. My mom often tells me that I broke the mold and she couldn’t handle another one of me.” Klaus burst out laughing, drawing attention from a few other people in the pizzeria. “Shh.” Caroline turned to a few other patrons and mouthed her apologizes.

“I may have only known you for a few hours but I think your mother is right. You seem like a handful.” Klaus teased her and tossed her an innocent expression yet his eyes had mischief written all over them.

“Maybe. Are you up to the challenge?”

“Most certainly.” Klaus lifted his glass of wine to his lips and Caroline couldn’t help but lick her lips as his tongue peaked out eve so slightly. He gave her that look that sent heat straight to her core; and by how he was eyeing her; Caroline could tell that she was having the same effect on him. “I find it very unfair that you were able to google me and all I could find was your college transcripts in your student file.”

“You read my file?!”

“What else was I supposed to do during a documentary about Neanderthal cave drawings?”

“I don’t know? Teach?”

“I learned a good bit of interesting facts about you.” With that, Klaus pulled out his phone and began to scroll. “Let’s see, shall we. You were Miss Mystic Falls your junior year of high school, which I had to look up by the way because I’ve never heard of it. Small town Virginia, looks charming. You were the chair of the Mystic Falls beautification committee and the director of the policeman’s yearly raffle.” Klaus shot her a coy look. “On top of maintaining a 4.0 GPA average in high school. Very impressive. My favorite part, of course, was your essay. ‘When I am accepted,’ really liking the use of ‘when’ here, very confidant, ‘I intend to redefine excellence and above all, I promise to aspire, inspire and perspire…obviously we ran out of words shortage of words ending in ‘spire’.”

“Oh god.” By this point, Caroline was covering her hands with her face. She was silently cursing herself at the moment, no matter how joyful Klaus seemed in that moment. It was clear that he was just waiting to bring that up. “Laugh it up. I can’t believe you found that. I almost wish you photo stalked my Facebook instead and found unflattering pictures of me.”

“Well, you just secured my plans for later.”

“Play your cards right and you might be too busy.” They shared another fiery look that spoke volumes. Caroline had to look away, focusing on her pizza and grabbing another slice before being able to peak at him. He was still watching her, clearly imagining what he was going to be doing to her later. “You’re staring. It’s creepy.”

“Is it?” They both knew the answer. Klaus leaned back in his chair, with his arms crossed; enjoying her flushed cheeks. “So, what was not on your college application and other academic transcripts?”

“Well…” Caroline thought of what to tell him. Frankly, compared to what she knew of him, there wasn’t much in her life that she found impressive about herself. “As you know, only child. Parents divorced when I was about fifteen. My dad turned to be gay and as I’m sure you can imagine how that strained the marriage.” Klaus nodded, his eyes widening slightly. “My dad and his partner Stephen live in Charlotte but I don’t see them often. My mom is the sheriff of Mystic Falls and very keen on teaching me to shoot a gun.”

“Sounds like Bonnie is not the only one I have to worry about?”

“Nope. My mother will most definitely get to you first.”

“I was talking about you Sweetheart. You seem like you can take care of yourself.” Caroline smiled at the hint of pride in his voice. “I wasn’t lying earlier Caroline. I like a woman who can take charge and care for herself.”

“Good.” Caroline chuckled. She took a sip of her wine and Klaus reached over for the bottle and poured her another glass. He was driving so he was sipping his glass slowly but there was no reason why she couldn’t indulge slightly. She trusted him. “So, you said Finn and Sage were not soulmates but did any of your siblings find theirs?”

“No.” Klaus shook his head. “Rebekah had this dream to find hers but…her words faded before she got the chance.” Caroline nodded. It was not uncommon that the words written on someone’s wrist to fade. It meant that their soulmate passed away in some fashion. “She was seemingly okay though. I had thought that she would be devastated but Rebekah bounced back and went on her merry way. Despite the fact that she is spoiled and bratty, she is a strong woman and I admire that about her.”

“Good for her. For bouncing back.” Caroline could tell that out of all of his siblings, he was closest to this wild child of a sister and Caroline wondered how the she would get on with her. Caroline vowed to do her best because she wanted this to work and could not imagine being on bad terms with Klaus’s family. “Sometimes, that is not the case.”

“You speak like you have experience in that?” Klaus asked lightly but Caroline looked down at her plate. She did not expect to get into this now. She did not expect to be revealing her deepest shame on the first date, over really good pizza to her professor. Yet, she trusted Klaus. She knew that he would never hurt her. “Caroline?”

She looked up to see him giving her a concerned look. She did not like that look on him. She wanted to see him happy, laughing and flirting as he had been all night. Their pizza was almost gone and the night would progress onward. Yet, this wasn’t just this night in play here. It was the rest of her life. Her entire outlook changed in the span of a few hours and no matter what happened, Klaus would be there. At least, she hoped he would be. Some things were never certain.

“I knew someone whose soulmate died.” Klaus nodded, not saying anything but was eyeing her with worry. She reached over the table and grabbed both his hands into hers. She needed contact with him. Even though she only knew him for a few short hours, she felt as though Klaus gave her strength. “I was sixteen. Rebelling hardcore. My parents were pretty much absent. Dad was with Stephen and mom threw herself into work. That is when I met him.” Klaus froze but gave her hands a comforting squeeze. She could see that his mind was going a mile a minute; thinking of the worst scenarios. “His name was Damon and he was about six years older than me. Bad boy. But if there was a bad boy within a five-mile radius, I would find him.”

“What happened?”

“At first, I thought he liked me. He was first in everything.” She gave him a significant look and Klaus understood her meaning. “I was young and stupid. He told me stories of his soulmate. Her name was Katherine and she died six months after they met. House fire. He never really got over it. He drank sometimes, he would either pretend that I was Katherine or just be mean…”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Klaus..”

“Caroline, did he hurt you?” Klaus asked again. She could tell that he was trying to stay calm. He was imagining the worst ways a man could hurt a woman and Caroline began to panic. That wasn’t the case. While Damon was mean and controlling, he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t a good boyfriend but he never laid a hand on her.

“No! No. Nothing like that.” Caroline vowed and Klaus’s shoulder’s sagged in relief. “I’m sorry. This is coming out all wrong. Damon and I’s relationship was complicated. He was older and hurt and I was so young and naive. He prayed on my insecurities and made me feel worthless but he never laid a hand on me. In anyway. I promise. My mother would have killed him if he did. Although, honestly she didn’t know about the relationship until years after it took place.”

“Okay.” Klaus nodded. He let go of her hand briefly and picked up his wine glass. He took a long drink and sat it back down. Klaus looked at her and there was such conviction behind those bright blue eyes that she quickly began to adore. “I want you to listen to me. You’re not worthless. You are by far the most amazing person I have met. You’re fascinating, strong and so full of light. Even before our words were spoken, I noticed you were beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yes”. He laughed. “But I was your professor and you were my student. Like you said this afternoon, there is a distinct line that should not be crossed.”

“But one we are crossing?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Caroline bit her lip in understanding. Their hand where still connected and Caroline thought that if she let go, the moment would crumble and reality would set in. “You know, your transcripts were not the only thing I looked into this afternoon.”

“That documentary must have been really boring.” Klaus smiled.

“This was during my office hours actually.” Caroline just gave him a mock impressed look causing that dimpled, cheeky smile to appear. “I looked at my contract. There is, as you would imagine, a clause about professor and student relationships. Of course, it says that anyone in a position of authority should not have intimate relations with a student.” For a split second, Caroline looked forlorn but Klaus pressed on. “However, there was a sub-clause regarding soulmates. If a professor happens to find his or her soulmate in one of their students, the rules are…different.”

“Different how?” Caroline’s breath froze. Despite the overwhelming joy she felt at finding her soulmate and the fact that Klaus was everything she imagined him to be, part of her was still worried over how this would affect her academic career. She had worked hard to prove herself at Duke. She built a life and wanted to continue on this path she mapped out for herself. She didn’t want Klaus, who she already knew she would be unable to give up, stand in the way of that. Then of course, the last thing she wanted was for Klaus to be punished for having an inappropriate relationship with a student. Universities took those situations seriously and it was not unheard of that a professor would lose their job if he or she was found taking advantage of a student. She didn’t want that for Klaus.

“I can’t advise you on anything. I can’t grade your papers or if, for example, you were to pursue your doctorate at Duke, I can’t be apart of it. I would have to remove myself from the board who would oversee your research. You can continue with my course but with the understanding that I will not be the one who you go to with questions.” Caroline nodded. “I will have to report this to the Dean and there will be protocols to follow.”

“You haven’t already told him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see how this went.” Klaus admitted. “I wanted to see how dinner and tonight went first. It would be nearly impossible for me to give you up. After that brief encounter in my class this afternoon, I knew I wanted to be with you.” Klaus paused, searching her face before he spoke the next few words. “But if you wanted to wait until you finished with your doctorate, I would wait.”

“But that could take years!” Caroline looked at him with a slacked jaw. He would have waited for her. However long it took, he would have sat by while she completed her dreams. Even if it took her a decade, although, this was Caroline Forbes, it would not take her a decade, to complete her degree, he would have waited. “We need to go.”

“What?”

“Like right now. Check please.” Caroline raised her hand, trying to get the waitress’s attention. Klaus continued to question her but she ignored him. Her mind was made up. They needed to get out of this restaurant immediately. The waitress came over quickly and Caroline asked for the check. Klaus looked at her with a baffled expression. “Look, you just said you were willing to wait, I don’t know at minimum four years for me, which is a long ass time. You pretty much spelled out that you want me to complete my dreams. If anything is getting you laid. It’s that.”

“Oh.” Klaus was speechless. He did not know exactly how to respond to that but continued to look at her with amazement. “Yeah. Check please.”

The waitress came back quickly and before Caroline could protest, Klaus pulled out his card and handed it to the waitress. The look he shot her told her not to argue and accept it. No matter how much Caroline was an independent woman, the southern belle in her liked to see a gentleman pay for dinner. So, she allowed it.

There was a tension that sizzled between them. It was a low burn that they both could feel. Neither spoke but instead waited for the check to come. Caroline tapped her fingers on the table while Klaus swirled his wine in the glass. When the waitress finally appeared with the check; Klaus signed quickly and held out his hand for Caroline.

Eagerly she laced her fingers with his and he all but pulled her from the chair. Quickly, Caroline grabbed her purse and the two of them made their way out of the pizzeria. Their pace was quick but Klaus was mindful of the fact that Caroline was in stilettos; a fact that he learned from having a diva little sister. Their hands where still linked together as they walked towards Klaus’s car.

“Wait.” Caroline paused as Klaus was opening the passenger side door for her. He stopped and looked at her with questions in his eyes. He would only go forward if she was certain, he wanted no doubts on her part. “I just want you to know that I don’t do this. I don’t jump into bed with anyone on a first date. I like to get to know them. Make sure they are not going to bury me in their basement or wrap me up in their carpet to let my body decompose in the woods.” Klaus raised his eyebrow in question and a smirk playing on his lips. “My mom was a cop, okay?! I think of these things. The point is. We kind of just met…only not really because I’ve been in your course for like less than two week-“

Klaus stepped forward and latched his lips on to her. Caroline, once she got over her split-second shock, Caroline melted into the kiss. Klaus placed his hands on her hips and Caroline wrapped her arms around his shoulders. If she thought the mere holding of hands sent her into a tailspin, it was nothing compared to his lips upon hers. She could taste the wine on his lips mixed with his saliva. For a moment, she forgot they were in a parking lot or the fact that she just really met him. All she could think about was how good it felt to kiss him. When they broke apart, Klaus held her in his arms, his forehead pressed against hers.

“I know Caroline. I know that this isn’t the run of the mill for you because it isn’t for me either.” Klaus kissed her nose and Caroline laughed lightly. “To be honest, it has been awhile since my last relationship and awhile since anyone has been in my bed. I don’t sleep around and I want you to know, that from this point forward, it’s just going to be you. I can’t explain it. Maybe it is the soul mark or whatever deity was kind enough to let us meet, but I just want you.” Caroline kissed him again but it was light this time. A simple peck upon the lips to let him know she heard him. “Just…you. I want you. So, for all that is holy, please get in that car before we are arrested for, I don’t know, something indecent.”

“Okay.” Caroline nodded and Klaus opened the car door and ushered her inside. The drive itself went quickly despite the fact that she felt that Klaus was obeying way too many traffic laws for such an occasion. When he pulled into a drive of a small craftsman house, she couldn’t help but smile. Briefly she wondered if he had a roommate or if one of his many siblings were visiting. “Do you…live alone?”

“Completely.”

“Thank god.” She stepped out of the car and followed him up the porch steps. He fumbled with his keys before letting them inside his house. The lights were off so Caroline did not really have a chance to take in his decor and before she could comment, Klaus had her pinned to the door.

His lips were on hers the second she felt the wood of the door hit her back. His lips molded to hers and Caroline could not help but press her body into his. Klaus’s hands wandered down her body; touching each and every curve that he could find. Caroline weaved her hands through his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails as she went. Klaus hissed in pleasure.

Caroline pushed his black coat off his shoulders, hearing it hit the ground behind him. Klaus’s hands moved inside of her own leather jacket and soon enough, she felt it slip from her shoulders. She pushed off the door in order to allow Klaus to pull it from her completely. The moment it was gone from her shoulders, Caroline found herself pressed against the door again.

Their lips broke apart and Klaus started kissing his way down her neck. His hands moved up her body, cupping her breasts while Caroline arched into him. Her head tilted backwards against the door, allowing him access to her neck. The feel of his lips against her skin made Caroline shiver. Her foot moved up his leg until her entire leg was hooked around his hip.

Klaus thrusted against her; Caroline hissing at the feeling of his covered erection grinding into her core. They dry humped against Klaus’s front door while Caroline continued to dig her nails into his scalp. Klaus hissed when she pressed with slightly too much pressure.

“Do that again.” Klaus demanded and Caroline obliged, letting her nails drag through his hair. Klaus’s hands roamed upward, cupping her breast and running his thumbs over her nipples. Dissatisfied with the lack of skin showing, Klaus ripped her tank-top in two; tossing the scraps to the side.

“I liked that shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He kissed her again, his hands feeling her flat stomach. His fingertips dipped ever so slightly into the waist of her jeans. Caroline began pulling at his Henley, lifting it across his muscles. Klaus pulled away, rising his hands; allowing Caroline to pull it off of him. She tossed it somewhere into the dark house. She spied a tattoo etched into his shoulder blade. It was too dark for Caroline to really get a clear look of what the tattoo was but either way, she leaned down to place her lips against the design. “Caroline.”

Her name came out like a prayer. She looked up and locked eyes with him. The lust mixed something deeper was far too much for Caroline to process. Her hand slowly made its way up his chest, latching onto the silver chain that hung around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss set a new fire through Caroline. The slight contact of his flesh against hers was not enough.

“Your bed. I want in it.” Klaus bit gently at her bottom lip before pulling away completely. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the darken stairway. She stumbled slightly, not being able to see and they both chucked slightly. Klaus reached for a light switch at the top of the stairs and illuminated a hallway. At the top of the stairs, when she could see him clearly, Caroline reached for his left hand. She brought his wrist to her lips and kissed the long monologue that she knew he had read at least a thousand times.

Never before had she loved Degas so much.

“This way.” His voice was hoarse and filled with longing. His head tilted towards a room just shy of her left. Klaus pulled her down the hallway and into a darkened room. Instead of reaching for the light switch on the wall, he went to the bedside table and turned on the table lamp, dropping her hand as he went. He didn’t want the overhead light on, overpowering the feeling of the moment but he wanted to be able to see her.

Caroline, not being able to tear her eyes from him, reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It drooped slightly before she pulled it off completely, tossing it to some unknown part of the room. Klaus’s eyes lingered over her breasts and she could see him swallow in desire. Klaus stepped forward and reached out to touch her. His hand cupped her breasts, his thumb gracing over her nipple. She hissed at the contact. Not being able to take another second, Caroline pulled him to her, kissing him. She pressed her chest against his, feeling her erect nipples gracing his skin.

Once they broke apart, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him onto the bed. He sat down, just watching her every movement. Enjoying his eyes on her, Caroline kicked off her heels and began to unbutton her jeans. She pushed them down her legs and stepped out of them. Klaus reached out to grab her hips, feeling the lace of her blue panties in his hand.

Caroline placed one knee on the bed and lifted herself in order to straddle him. She sat on his lap and began to grind herself against him. She leaned in to kiss in on the lips before leaving a trail of caresses down his neck to his throat. She sucked on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, not caring if she left a mark. Let his students know he was taken; claimed only for her. She thrusted her hips down, pressing herself against him; the friction almost unbearable.

“I need you.” Klaus whispered as her teeth grazed his skin.

“I’m not stopping you. I’m all yours.” Not being able to handle being at her mercy a second longer, Klaus gripped her hips and flipped them. Caroline found herself underneath him, her legs spread and him grinding into her. It wasn’t enough. She reached down and unbuckled his belt before pushing the offending fabric down his legs. Klaus crawled off of her, something Caroline did not like in the slightest. “Hey! Come back.”

“Patents Sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” Klaus replied as Caroline propped herself up on her forearms. She tiled her head when she realized that he was taking off his jeans. Realizing her interest, he could not help but make a show out of it. Inch by inch, he dropped his jean and boxers; enjoying the feel of gaze on his skin. Biting her lip as she took in the sight of him. Her fingers traced a path over her pantie line as she gazed at his impressive erection. “Remove those panties love, they are in the way.”

Caroline did as she was told and lifted her hips, sliding her panties down her legs. Once they were at her ankle, she couldn’t help but kick them at him. Klaus caught them easily. He could feel the lace in his hand and the dampness from her arousal seeped into the fabric. He dropped them onto the ground before crawling between her outstretched legs. He reached towards his bedside table but Caroline grabbed his wrist.

“I have an IUD. No need for condoms.” Klaus smiled widely at that. He leaned down and kissed her. “I’m clean too. No need to worry about diseases. Completely not sexy. Diseases I mean.”

"No. Not at all.” Klaus leaned kissed her again. “No need to worry about that on my end.”

“Good.” Caroline reached down to grasp him in her hand. She stroked him slightly, enjoying how his eyes fluttered shut at the contact. She brought him close to her clit, coating his member her in arousal; moaning as she did so. The feeling of her clit pressed against his penis, Klaus’s eyes shot open and he gazed down at her. He reached down, their fingers brushing as he aligned himself with her entrance. “Please. I need you.”

Klaus slid into her, filling her as far as he could. The feel of connecting with one another was something neither was prepared for. It was more than fireworks going off behind one’s eyes as the stories foretold. It was more than coming home after a long day. It was the sense of belonging or finally understand the meaning to existence.

They were connected in a way neither expected. They just laid there together for a moment; adjusting. When it became to much for Klaus to bare, he slowly withdrew his hips and then thrusted forward. Caroline whimpers of pleasure encouraged him forward. His movements were slow at first but once they were able to develop a rhythm, his pace picked up.

“Harder. Oh god, please go harder.” Caroline cried out and Klaus obliged. His slammed into her as fast as he could. Caroline’s nails dug into his shoulders, scarping down his backs. The pain mixed with pleasure had Klaus crying out. He buried his head into her neck; his lips sucking at her neck. She had marked him earlier and he wanted nothing more than the imprint of his lips to mare her skin. “God yes! Klaus!”

The bed creaked under their weight. The headboard banged off the wall and the springs of the mattress whimpering in protest. Skin hit skin and the smell of sex lingered in the air. Their sweaty bodies continued to intertwine until Caroline’s walls clenched around Klaus’s member. Her orgasm shook her, and sent shock-waves down her body.

It wasn’t long before Klaus toppled over the edge; a few more thrusts and he was done for. He released himself inside her; his hips jerking forward as he came. Caroline leaned up and kissed his lips until he regained himself. His eyes slowly opened and Caroline smiled up at him. Seeing her happy expression peering at him made return the beam down on her.

Klaus pulled himself from her body and laid on his back, his heart still pumping as though he had run a race. It had been a long while since he had good sex; and sex with Caroline proved to be exceptional. The woman in question crawled up to align her body with his and rest her head on his chest. Klaus pulled her to him; his arms around her.

“Well damn.” Caroline muttered, not knowing what else to say. Klaus’s chest rumbled with laughter. He leaned down at kissed the top of her head in affection.

“No rambling monologue for me now? Pity. I do enjoy those.”

“How are you teasing me right now? My brain is mush! I have no comebacks! Be nice and wait until my brain is not in a sex induced fog.” Klaus couldn’t help himself. He started laughing and Caroline didn’t know if she should be insulted or join in on the laughter.

“Please, Sweetheart. Never stop scolding me or telling me off in your insane rambles. Your mind is a marvel and I cannot wait to hear what you say next.” Klaus stated, knowing full well that he liked how she often took him off guard. He could never predict what she was going to say next.

“Always…I think.” She leaned up to kiss his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be stuck with.”

[searchingforstarss]

failure’s a stranger we all dream about

febuwhump/fluff fic #5! written for the fluff prompt missing you and the whump prompts revealed secret, creators choice (i’ve gone with some classic college stress) and mental disorder. 

Summary: Peter’s college workload and anxiety makes him worry that maybe he’s not good enough for Tony.

read on ao3 here!

--

The only thing coursing through Peter’s veins is Red Bull.

May would probably go into cardiac arrest if she could see how many empty cans of the stuff Peter has littered on the desk around him. It's not like he can help it. He just burns through it so fast and he really needs to stay awake tonight - his Circuits and Electronics assignment isn’t going to write itself, as much as he wishes it would.

So, here he is, with an assignment due tomorrow and an empty word document in front of him. The questions on his laptop screen are blurring together, burning into his eyeballs in the dim late-night light of the library and he has to blink a couple of times to refocus.

Which of the following is an effect of reflective radio frequency power?

What is the frequency of the source if the capacitive reactance is 0.06?

Compared to bipolar transistors, field effect transistors are normally characterized by what?

He knows all this. He does. Or at least, he should know all this. He should be able to do it in his sleep. He’s been doing this stuff with Tony in his lab since he was fifteen. He’s had adults telling him that he’s a genius his entire life.

So why is it so hard to think?

He just has to focus. That’s all it is. He hasn’t been putting enough work in lately, letting himself get distracted.

He takes another gulp of his Red Bull determinedly as he feels his eyes start to slip shut again.

If his hands are shaking from the caffeine as he picks up his calculator then nobody needs to know.

 ---

Peter glances up wildly to a tap on his shoulder.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he’s gotten through four pages of his assignment questions and one more can of Red Bull.

At this point, he wonders whether it would be cheaper to kick the Red Bull habit and just take up drugs instead. Tony and May have been encouraging him to experiment in college. He thinks they probably just mean meeting new people, putting himself out there, maybe having a drink or two every so often. Drugs might be a bit extreme then.

Another tap on his shoulder.

The librarian is standing behind him. Her name’s Gale.

She really is very nice. Her greying hair and rounded glasses remind him of May’s mother that he only knew for a few years before she passed away when he was younger. She's always the one that has to ask him to leave night after night when the clock strikes midnight. Usually, he’s the only one left. Especially on a Thursday night like tonight, when everyone seems to be out partying to celebrate Friday’s imminent arrival.

Peter wonders whether May and Tony would be disappointed that all he’s really managed to accomplish in the way of meeting new people and putting himself out there is being on first name terms with the librarian.

Who's he kidding? Of course they would. He's been doing a lot more to disappoint them than just that. 

“Mister Parker, you know I have to tell you to leave.”

Peter sighs. He still has at least two pages of questions left to go. “Yeah, Gale. I know. Thanks.”

She watches as he gathers his things, and as he does, her eyes sweep over the cans of the Red Bull on the desk and pointedly up towards the sign on the wall reading “Strictly NO Food or Drink.” She never explicitly mentions it and Peter’s grateful because he’s not sure how he’d make it through without the pick-me-up, but he’s sure the second he goes anywhere near her library books with it rather than just his own laptop he’ll be hearing all about it. Especially if it’s her precious history section. He swears she spends half her time arranging, then rearranging it, seemingly for the hell of it - hardly anyone ever ventures into that section of the library.

Peter sheepishly gathers all of his mess into his arms and dumps it into his unzipped backpack, along with his laptop. The metal of the empty cans clink together as he slings his bag over one shoulder.

“Get out of here and get some rest,” Gale tells him pointedly, shooing him towards the exit.

“I will,” Peter says, nodding dutifully. He hopes that he isn’t lying through his teeth. Getting some rest sounds great. A faraway and unrealistic ideal maybe, but great all the same. It’s a shame all his mind can focus on is the rest of the assignment still sitting unfinished in his laptop files. “Have a good night.”

She gives him a wave as he steps out into the cool night air and as the doors shut behind him, she turns back towards the stack of books she’d been shelving behind her desk with a sad sort of smile. She always looks just a little bit sorry for him and Peter isn’t sure why.

He’s surely far from the only student at MIT who's overestimated their own skill and fallen victim to it.

---

The thing is, Peter really just didn’t expect college to be this hard.

That sounds kind of obnoxious whenever he thinks about it. Of course, he knew MIT was going to be a challenge. That was why Tony kept pushing him for it, telling him that it would extend him and allow him to ‘spread his wings’ in a way that not many colleges would.

He just didn’t exactly expect to be spending almost every night in the library.

He didn’t expect every new assignment to feel like a new weight on his chest until suddenly it’s the middle of the semester and he can’t breathe from the stress.

He didn’t expect to be falling behind.

He could keep up in high school without even having to try. He could skip studying, go out as Spider-Man and turn up to school the next day on barely a wink of sleep and with a freshly stitched up bullet wound in his side and still ace all his tests. He had Tony and May at his side, supporting him every step of the way.

Now they’re miles and miles away and he misses them. He tries not to wallow in it. He doesn’t want to look like a fool. He definitely doesn’t want to have to return to New York with his tail between his legs and have to admit to Tony and Pepper that actually they’ve made a mistake naming him as a joint heir to Stark Industries, that he can’t even handle a basic college education let alone running an entire company - especially one that’s worth billions.

It doesn't help that all of his professors seem to know Tony either. They don’t call Peter out for turning in the odd piece of homework late or getting distracted in class like they might do for anyone else. Instead, they give him pats on the back in hallways and tell him fondly that, “Tony must be so proud of you, following in his footsteps.”

Tony wouldn’t be, though. Not if he knew how much effort Peter was having to put in to keep his head above the water.

He just wants Tony to be proud of him.

He has to work harder - that’s the only way.

---

Completely disregarding his earlier resolution, Peter falls asleep in class the next morning.

He made it through the first fifteen minutes at least. Enough time to turn in his assignment as he stepped through the doors of the lecture hall (even if he did have to stay up until four am to do it, along with the Computation Structures homework he forgot about) and find a seat.

He ends up to a girl he’s fairly sure is called Angela. He’s paired up with her for one of their classes. Nanoelectronics, maybe? He’s convinced that she harbours a very strong dislike for him (he doesn’t like to admit that it’s probably because he never really gets his share of their work done in time) but it sure beats sitting through a two-hour lecture by himself. He’s always at more of a risk of nodding off if he holes away alone in a corner of the room.

But as it turns out, even sitting next to Angela and the furious tapping of her nails against the keyboard as she struggles to get down everything from the PowerPoint at the front of the room isn’t enough to keep Peter awake.

“And now we’re going to move on to…” Peter zones out the rest of the sentence just as their lecturer is just foraying into something about electrical current. He gives in to his losing battle with consciousness and falls asleep with his head in his hands.

 “... will be all for today. I’ll see you all next week.”

Peter jerks awake fifty minutes later to the sound of rustling and movement around him, hundreds of people stowing their laptops and notes away in their bags to go.

Angela is staring at him, clearly waiting for him to stow his desk back up so she can get past. He fumbles a little drowsily as he puts everything away, and as he stands she steps past him and towards the exit of the row. He stares down at his note page for today’s lecture which has nothing but the date scrawled at the top.

“Hey, wait, um, Angela?”

She turns around.

“It’s Angelica, actually.”

Peter cringes. Shit. “Sorry, I knew that, I swear,” he says, trying to sound as confident as he can. Angela (No, Angelica) cocks one eyebrow. She’s clearly seeing right through it. Peter feels his cheeks heat up. “I was just wondering whether, uh, do you reckon I could get your notes for today?”

She stares at him incredulously for a second.

“Get lost, Parker.”

--- 

Peter’s living in a single room this year, courtesy of Tony.

He wasn’t a massive fan of the idea at first, and at the moment he’s honestly not even sure why Tony’s bothering to pay for it when over the last month or so he’s been spending so much time in the library. He figures Tony would have been better off just forking out for a sleeping bag for him to set up under one of the tables instead (he doesn’t think Gale would like that all that much though).

It was their compromise. Peter let Tony pay for him to have a single room, and he got to carry on Spider-Manning when he’s needed. Sure, it’s not exactly the nightly patrols and throwing himself in the direction of danger every time his spidey sense so much as prickles like he might get up to in New York - but maybe that’s a good thing. At least he’s still in control. He can head out whenever if he needs to get involved, and return to patch himself up, however bloody he may be, without scaring one of his poor fellow already-stressed-out-enough-as-it-is undergraduate students.

Sure, maybe it means that everything seems a little quiet. There isn’t the sound of May’s soapy TV shows that she loves floating through from the living room or FRIDAY humming in the walls. He’s not used to the quiet, to being alone. Ned’s here though, so at least he doesn’t have to miss him. He lives a few floors down, rooming with a guy called Daniel - he’s cool enough and he doesn’t seem to mind Peter hanging around their room. Peter went to a few of the O-Week activities with them. Sometimes they all get together and play video games in the common lounge on a Saturday night.

So he’s not lonely. Definitely not.

He doesn’t even have time to think about being lonely.

It’s just sometimes, he needs to see a familiar face, and then he’s really glad that Ned’s here as well.

---

“Dude, I asked Angela - uh, no, Angelica, for her notes for that circuits lecture I just had and she just totally refused to help me. That’s like, uncalled for, right?”

Ned doesn’t even turn around at the sound of Peter’s voice as he walks straight in the door of the dorm room.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Yeah, yeah, I will next time, promise. But I need validation.”

Ned shrugs and spins around in his chair to face Peter. He looks well-rested, no dark circles under his eyes like Peter caught on himself in the reflection of the glass doors as he stepped into his lecture this morning. He kicks his feet up onto the bed. “Okay. Well, I need context."

Peter grimaces a little and Ned stares at him accusingly. Peter groans, taking a seat heavily at the end of Ned’s bed and throwing his head back against the wall petulantly. “She literally straight up just looked at me and was like no.”

Ned doesn’t look all that sympathetic. “Did you fall asleep in class again?”

Peter nods reluctantly. Ned thinks it over.

“I mean, it’s shit, but it’s also kinda your fault. Sorry to break it to you, but you really gotta stop doing that, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.” He groans. “Why did nobody tell us that college was going to be this hard?”

Ned’s forehead creases as if he’s trying to work something out. When he speaks, it’s slowly. “I don’t think it’s been too bad so far…”

Great. Peter’s just the stupid one then.

“Is everything going okay with you?”

Peter nods out of reflex. He’s never found anything academic difficult in his life. He can’t admit it now. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “Oh yeah, course. Just a little stressed. I keep leaving homework until the last minute, shit like that.”

Ned nods like he understands. Peter’s not sure he does.

---

“Mister Parker, could I speak to you for a minute?”

Peter’s heart begins thumping unnecessarily forcefully when his biological engineering professor calls this out as he’s leaving class a few days later.

He’s more than a little bit intimidated, to be honest. Not only is the man singling him out of the hundreds of students flooding out of their lecture hall right now, but he’s friends with Bruce. Bruce was the one who suggested he take this Ethics for Engineers paper back when he was course planning with Tony. Tony insisted that if he was going to be granted an exception to take five courses in his first semester then one of them had to be an elective - something he could kick back in a cruise through a little.

Bruce had suggested something like this, no matter how much Tony protested that he was absolutely not going to lose Peter to anything to do with biology. But Bruce said that William Nicholson was the bioengineering professor to learn from, and now here Peter is, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans before shoving them into his pockets altogether, standing in front of the man himself.

“I - uh, yes, Professor Nicholson?”

The man smiles kindly. “Call me William, Peter.”

Peter just nods stiffly. “Is everything okay?”

“I just wanted to have a quick chat with you about your grades so far. I know the first semester of college can be tricky to navigate and I’m just a little concerned about how you’re faring.”

“I’m fine,” Peter blurts, nodding his head furiously. “I’m fine, honest.”

His professor looks unconvinced. “I have to say, when Bruce Banner got into contact with me before the year started, and he told me that he knew this brilliant kid starting college and taking one of my papers, I-”

“I get it,” Peter breaks in. He doesn’t need to hear the rest. He knows he’s a disappointment. “Turns out I’m not as brilliant as everyone thinks I am.”

Professor Nicholson raises his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. “That’s not what I was going to say at all Peter. What I was going to say is that I don’t think he was wrong, not in the slightest. I think you just need to keep your head screwed on straight and maybe just pull your socks up a little, put a bit more work in.”

Put a bit more work in.

Peter doesn’t know how much he has left in him. He doesn’t know how he could physically be doing more in a day.

“I - I, um,” Peter stumbles, trying to wrap his head around the words. “Uh, okay. What can I do, how do I put more work in?”

I can’t.

He’s already spending practically every waking minute either studying, or performing the basic functions necessary for human life like eating and showering, whilst simultaneously worrying about not studying.

I can’t put any more work in. I might drown.

“I don’t know how to put this lightly. You’re getting grades for attendance but everything else so far has been handed in late, or otherwise, may I say, completed fairly mediocrely. I don’t know if others are willing to let that slide, but I for one, am not. I understand this class isn’t worth as many units as others, and you may not view it as equally important, but if you carry along this projected path you’re setting for yourself, you’ll fail this class, Peter.”

Fail.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

Peter’s never failed a class before. He’s never even failed a test (apart from once when he was in a medically induced coma after nearly drowning in the Hudson the night before but he really thinks he should have been given a make-up opportunity for that).

He can’t fail.

Peter Parker doesn’t fail. Peter Parker is a genius - that’s what everyone’s always told him. Has he been fooling the people around him for years? Tricking them into thinking he’s smarter than he is?

Starks’ definitely don’t fail. That’s a fact. Peter’s expected to run Stark Industries one day. He can’t do that with a failed class imprinted onto his college manuscript forever.

Tony will be so disappointed in him.

“I can’t - I, no. I can’t fail, s-sir. I really can’t.”

Professor Nicholson’s mouth settles into a regretful line. “You won’t, necessarily. I just thought it would be wise to warn you. I can assign you a few pieces of extra-credit work if you wish, but mostly I just need to see better work. Get a few Bs, maybe an A, and that should pull you up over the line.”

“O-Okay, I can do that.”

Can I?

“Thanks for chatting with me, Peter. I just thought you should know.”

Peter nods dumbly. He thinks maybe he stumbles out a goodbye but he’s not too sure, his breathing stuttering and catching in his throat as he hastily turns to exit the room as quickly as he can.

He’s a failure.

The hallway outside the lecture hall is full of students waiting for their next class to start. They’re all unfamiliar faces, he doesn’t recognise any of them, and he pushes his way through people. His heart is still racing in his chest.

He’s failing.

He just needs to get away, but he can’t remember where he’s going or what class he has next. His phone screen blurs in front of him when he tugs it out of his pocket, and he hopes he’s not crying because god that would be embarrassing.

His breathing quickens again. He’s panicking, he knows he is. He’s well acquainted with this feeling, the way his chest contracts and his mouth dries out and the world spins around him. The way his limbs tingle and his mind narrows in on one specific thing.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

He shoves open the door to the first bathrooms he stumbles upon, keeping his head down and hoping that he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself. He nearly knocks someone over in his rush to hide himself away inside one of the stalls, and he bumbles out a stupid sounding apology before he slumps down on a toilet seat and locks the door firmly behind him.

Nothing seems to be working as Peter screws his eyes closed and tries to force his breathing back down to a semi-normal rate and ease the ache in his chest. The word failure keeps floating around in his head, emblazoned to the front of his mind. He may as well have it tattooed on his forehead.

The only semi-coherent thought he can conjure up in his panic-addled mind is that maybe he isn’t cut out for this after all.

He has to admit, that when he finally unlocks the toilet stall half an hour later and gets a good look at himself in the mirror, he’s a certified mess. Red blotchy cheeks, puffy eyes standing out against the dark circles underneath them, his hair manic from tugging it in his grip.

He even looks like a failure.

---

The only reason Peter leaves his room for the dining hall later that night is because he’s run out of ramen and microwave burritos.

He’s had a reminder scrawled on his whiteboard since last week to pencil in time to go grocery shopping, but he’s spent day after day ignoring said reminder so he’s landed himself in this situation. Out of venturing down the road to the grocery store or just across the quad to the dining hall, this seemed like the lesser of two evils.

It would be kind of nice to not be alone right now, but Ned and Daniel ate earlier - or at least that’s what Ned said when Peter had sent him a text to ask half an hour ago. The two of them did used to invite Peter to the dining hall with them. They’d all meet at the front doors of the hall and go together, but they stopped a while ago when Peter started declining the invitations more than he was accepting them. He doesn’t blame them, really.

He’s just pushing the doors open, the smell of buffet chicken tenders hitting his nose when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, hoping that maybe it’s the email with his extra-credit assignments from Professor Nicholson. He could add that to his already extensive to-do list for tonight.

Instead, it’s just a text from Tony.

Is now an okay time to call?

An emotion that Peter can’t quite figure out settles heavily at the pit of his stomach. Maybe it’s something akin to dread. Either way, he’s suddenly not all that hungry. Tony can read him like an open book - even over the phone. Speaking to him is an absolute no go.

I’m having dinner. Talk later, he types out in reply, before glancing back over it and adding a :) for good measure at the end. He hits send and turns his phone off. He tells himself he has too much work to do tonight to afford being distracted, anyway.

---

His phone rings again the next morning as he’s walking to class, interrupting the music he’s got blaring from his headphones.

He’s running on an hour of sleep. He got a head start on the coding for his algorithms class and finished half of the extra-credit work that Professor Nicholson emailed through to him. It would have been easier if Peter could concentrate without the pen he was gripping trembling the whole time with his pent-up nerves, but he thinks he managed to do an okay job.

He glances down at the screen blearily and isn’t at all surprised to see Tony’s name flashing across the top. The man didn’t even bother to text first this time.

Peter hits decline and types out another text.

Heading into class rn, sorry

He presses play on his music again and wonders how he’s going to stay awake in class without it.

---

Tony calls for the third time when Peter’s lying in bed a couple of nights later.

He has a pile of work waiting for him on his desk, but he’s so beyond tired at this point that he figured a quick nap can’t hurt before he sits down and starts to work through it all. He might even head down to the library. He hasn’t seen Gale in a few days, and the guy in the room next door to his has been arguing with his girlfriend on the phone for an hour now.

He doesn’t even have an excuse to text Tony tonight.

Friday nights are the one night he left wide open - when he doesn’t have night labs or study groups or some extracurricular that he signed up for at activities fair but hasn’t found time to attend in weeks. He did that on purpose, so that Friday’s were the night that he could let loose and have fun.

He misses the days when he’d been optimistic enough to think that would even be a possibility.

Peter knows that Tony knows that he’s free right now. Pepper texted him a photo a few weeks ago of a copy of his own college timetable taped to the fridge at the lake house.

He wants so badly to talk to Tony - to pick up the phone and hear that comforting voice that he’s been missing. But he can’t.

He’s a failure. Tony wouldn’t even want to talk to him if he knew that the kid he’s entrusting his entire company - the one he’s completely turned around with his bare hands and sheer will - can’t even handle one of the most necessary of human experiences: college.

He hits decline and shoves his phone under his pillow.

---

“You need to call Tony.”

Peter groans. It was a refreshing change when his phone rang this morning and it was May’s name instead of Tony’s, and he picked it up because Ned’s gone home for the weekend and honestly he’s just really starting to miss human contact. The last he had was ten hours ago when Gale ushered him out of the library with a warm pat on the shoulder and a warning that Red Bull will rot his teeth before he hits twenty-one.

Now, once he realises what the call is about, he’s kind of regretting picking it up in the first place.

“Morning to you too,” Peter grumbles as he paces impatiently back and forth in front of his microwave waiting for his breakfast burrito to be done. He finally made a trip to the grocery store yesterday.

“I’m serious Peter,” May says. “Why am I getting agitated texts from Tony every hour telling me that you’re ignoring him and asking if I’ve heard from you yet? You know I love him but there’s only so much Tony I can handle at a time. I have no idea how Pepper does it.”

“I’m not ignoring him… I just haven’t had the time.”

May hums a sort of disapproving sound like she doesn’t quite believe him.

“I’m not! Seriously,” Peter protests. “I’m busy, that’s all it is. Tony’s just reading too much into things. You know what he’s like.”

“Well, you need to find time in your incredibly busy college student schedule of partying and studying to call him, okay? I’m worried he’s constantly about one step away from getting in the car and kidnapping you to bring you back here himself.”

Peter groans.

“Not that I would mind that at all,” May continues. “I haven’t seen you since when, your birthday?”

“I’ll be home soon, I promise. I just gotta get all my work done first.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” May tells him. Peter can practically hear the smile on her face and he misses her so much. “Call Tony. And I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I will. Love you too.”

---

Conveniently, Peter’s much too busy to get around to calling Tony for the rest of the day - or at least that’s what he tells himself. He turns his phone off anyway, just in case. Distractions are extremely unwelcome right now.

He ends up holed in the library by two in the afternoon, attempting to finish his extra-credit work and study for his nanoelectronics quiz.

He has a panic attack at seven when he realises that there’s no way he’s going to get any of this done in time. He can barely even read the words in front of him in his textbook, his brain jumbling them together, unable to sort the information into anything vaguely coherent.

Gale brings him out a cup of tea from the staffroom at eleven, despite her own ‘no food or drink’ signs she enjoys pointing out to Peter. It’s warm and comforting, and for a second Peter can almost pretend that he’s at home instead of sitting in the corner of a soulless college library.

By the time she has to send him back to his dorm at midnight, the cup of tea is empty in front of him and his eyes are drooping but his list of work he still has to get done seems just as long as when he started.

---

Peter feels like his entire life is just stuck on loop.

He gets up, drags himself to lectures and labs, sits in class and tries not to fall asleep, takes notes, does homework, studies for tests, steals as much sleep as he can in-between all that and then does it all again.

Sometimes, he catches himself thinking about Muffin, the pet hamster his elementary class used to have. Shy and quiet Peter would always end up by himself sitting at the table at the back of the classroom no one else wanted to sit at. It was next to Muffin’s cage though, and whenever he inevitably finished his work early he’d just sit, enthralled and watch the hamster run around and around on its neon green running wheel.

He feels a bit like that at the moment. Always running, not really getting anywhere. Except, he keeps tripping, struggling, can’t quite manage to pull himself back up onto his feet.

He’s leaving a lab that afternoon, still feeling like poor old Muffin on the running wheel because he can barely remember anything that was said and he knows he’s going to have to go back and re-read the entire chapter later tonight, when he hears excited murmuring around him.

He pays it no mind at first. The only thing he’s focused on is heading back to his dorm to grab a granola bar as a late breakfast. He didn’t have time to eat anything before he rushed out the door this morning.

Then, he hears a familiar name.

“Dude! My roommate just texted me, he said they saw Tony Stark walking across the quad.”

Peter freezes. His brain short-circuits a little bit but he snaps himself out of his thoughts to try and rejoin the physical world around him to hear what’s going on. The chattering continues.

“No way. Do you reckon he’s doing a lecture?”

“Someone else I know said they saw him getting out of a car like an hour ago.”

If he shows up to one of his lectures this afternoon and Tony’s standing up there, guest lecturing or some shit, like he always threatened to when he was wallowing on about how much he was going to miss Peter when he left for college, Peter might actually die.

When May mentioned that Tony was on the verge of coming up here himself, Peter didn’t think she was being serious.

Someone nudges him in the side as he grabs for the door handle, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get out of the building - but also cautious of venturing anywhere he could run into Tony.

“Hey, Parker. You know Tony Stark, right?”

Peter glances around. He doesn’t even recognise the guy that’s asking him. He wonders whether he should know his name as well.

“I, uh, yeah I do,” he manages to get out as eloquently as he can manage. “No idea what he’s doing here though,” he adds.

Secretly, as much as he doesn't want to think about it, he thinks he might have a fair idea.

Tony must know Peter's failing.

Professor Nicholson could have spoken to Bruce. Bruce probably would have told Tony. That's the only possible reason.

What if Tony’s only been trying to get hold of him to tell him how disappointed he is in him, how he knows now that he’s made a mistake naming Peter as one of his heirs? What if he wants Peter gone, never wants to be associated with someone who doesn’t even have the brains to pass his first-year college elective?

Somewhere in the back of his brain, Peter knows he must be overthinking. Tony loves him. He shouldn't be feeling this insecure about their relationship at this point. But even knowing this, it doesn't help the fact that Peter really doesn’t want to have to face him. If he could go forever not having to see Tony and own up to his horrifically embarrassing failures then he would. But somehow, he’s pretty certain that Tony will never let that happen.

Tony’s always been able to smell his mistakes from a mile off.

It used to be a good thing. It used to keep him safe. Now though, as he makes the first few tentative steps along the pavement that will eventually lead him straight to his dorm it just makes Peter feel like he’s headed off to the gallows.

The inevitable death of Tony’s pride in him.

---

He’s expecting it, knows what’s waiting for him behind his door when he makes it back to his dorm, but it still shocks him back a little, jarring to see Tony perched on the edge of his stupidly uncomfortable single bed. He’s in jeans and a sweater, nothing ostentatious, baseball cap and sunglasses he’d obviously had on resting on top of the nightstand. Clearly, he still managed to get recognised anyway and Peter’s sort of glad. It gave him a bit of a heads up even if he still feels woefully prepared to face the man that he’s been dodging calls from all week.

“W-What? Tony, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter stammers. He tears his eyes away from Tony and he can’t bear to look back, focusing on the ground instead, how the fraying carpet scuffs beneath his shoes.

Tony makes a small sort of surprised noise. “That’s not exactly the greeting I was hoping for, but I guess I can't exactly expect much when you’ve been ignoring me all week.”

“M’not ignoring you,” Peter mumbles in reply. He wishes Tony would just cut to the chase. They both know why he’s here. The longer he stands here in the doorway the more he feels like his heart’s about to explode out of his chest from how rapidly it’s beating. He knows Tony’s disappointed in him. He just needs to hear it so he can start forcing himself to come to terms with it.

He hopes he doesn’t cry. His eyes are already aching whenever he blinks from all the late nights and time staring at his laptop.

“You blowing off every one of my calls kinda sent me a different message,” Tony says, clearly trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “I was a little worried. Thought I better get up here, see how my favourite college student is going. Make sure you hadn’t gotten too carried away with Spidey and bled out on the floor of your dorm by yourself. Oh no - wait. I didn’t have to worry about that, because you picked up May’s calls. Just not mine.”

Peter’s cheeks heat up at being so blatantly called out. Tony still doesn’t sound mad yet. Just confused. A little hurt, maybe. He didn’t mean to hurt Tony.

“I just couldn’t… I dunno. Couldn’t speak to you. Not right now.”

The confusion on Tony’s face deepens. “Any reason why?”

Peter takes a closer look at Tony’s face. How can he not know? Why else would Tony be here if he genuinely doesn’t know about Peter’s college fuck ups, if he’s not here to break the news that Stark Industries can’t ever be linked with someone like him?

If Tony doesn’t know, somehow, then he can’t find out. “I can’t tell you. I can’t,” Peter stammers out.

Tony stares at him, eyes studying him carefully. Peter squirms under his gaze, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He still hasn’t stepped forward out of the doorway, but when a few people walk through the hall outside and crane their heads to peer in, he takes the smallest step forward he can manage and closes the door behind him with a thud.

He feels a lot more closed in now, just him and Tony in his tiny shoebox of a dorm.

“I thought we weren’t doing secrets anymore?” Tony asks. “Open communication, healthy family relationships? All the shit my therapist said to me after the snap. I know yours said the same.”

Peter worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He hopes Tony can’t see the way he’s shaking. For a split second, he toys with the idea of just telling him. Taking a deep breath and spilling everything, the fact that he’s failing his biological engineering class and that he can’t handle college. That he misses everyone at home like crazy, he’s lonely all the time and he feels like his mental health has taken a dramatic nosedive off a cliff.

But he doesn’t. The words feel heavy in his dry mouth. Instead, all that comes out is a sharp, “can we not do this?”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words leave his mouth, but Tony doesn’t push harder or demand that he spill. Instead, the man just shrugs. “Okay. If that’s what you want. I didn’t drive all this way to argue, so if you don’t want to talk about it then we won’t.”

Peter practically reels back in surprise. He suddenly feels bad for losing his cool. “Um, okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just-”

“But you know what we do have to talk about?” Tony cuts in, waving off Peter’s awkward apology. “The state of this room. I thought I was paying for a single room, not for you to make the place so filthy that you could adopt a herd of cockroaches and rodents as roommates. I hope you’re charging them rent.”

“I’ve been busy,” is all Peter has to offer. Then, frowning, he adds, “and there aren’t rodents in here.” He takes another tentative step forward into the room just as Tony leans down to toe an empty ramen cup out from under the bed. His nose wrinkles in disgust.

“What, too busy to take the two seconds to put your trash where it belongs?” he says, leaning over to his right to toss the cup into the garbage can by the door. “See? Didn’t even need to get off the bed.”

“Show off,” Peter mutters.

Tony grins at the snark. “Seriously, when was the last time you actually opened your eyes and looked at this place, Pete?”

Peter’s not sure. Usually, he’s far too preoccupied to be concerned with something as mundane as what sort of living standard he’s upholding in his dorm room. But when he does look around, there are more ramen cups everywhere, stacked on top of rare free surfaces, peeking out from under furniture. Scattered graphing paper screwed up into tight balls litter the carpet. His duvet is scrunched up in the corner of the room after he spilt coffee on it the other night and never got round to washing it. It’s been a bit cold the past few nights but whatever.

“Did you come all the way here to pick apart my room? Because we could have just video called for that.”

“You wouldn’t have picked up,” Tony says plainly.

“Wait, no, I-”

“Nope. No excuses. I came to see what was going on, whether I could help with anything,” he explains. “And I have found my calling - elevating you up out of this filth.”

“I don’t know if I have time for this, Tony. I have things to do. Assignments, lots of assignments.”

“You can spare half an hour, kid.”

Peter relents.

---

It doesn’t actually even end up taking them that long. They clear out the mess of granola bar and burrito wrappers, ramen cups, old receipts and scrap paper that he’s let accumulate on the floor. Vacuum the carpet. Tidy the explosion of books and worksheets covering his desk. Make the bed - something Peter isn’t even sure he’s done since he first took the sheets out of their pack and put them on the mattress on his first night.

In the end, all it takes the two of them is twenty minutes and a couple of trips down to the trash chute at the end of the hall.

It puts Peter’s racing mind at ease a little bit, the monotony of it all, and as he tugs a final stray sock out from the bottom of his wardrobe to chuck into his laundry hamper, everything slips out and he reveals what he was so sure he desperately wanted to keep a secret.

It's probably been Tony’s plan this whole time, honestly.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this, Tony.”

Tony looks up from where he’s shoving one of Peter’s windows open to let some air in. The hinges on it squeak as he does. “Cut out for what exactly? You mean cleaning? Because I’m with you on that one, bud, but this place really needed-”

“No, not that,” Peter says. He might laugh if he wasn’t so nervous. “This whole, um, this college thing.”

“What makes you say that?” Tony’s turned to face him now, leaning up against Peter’s desk in a fashion that Peter suspects is entirely faux-nonchalance.

“I just can’t do it. I suck at it.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony holds his hands up. “Slow it down there a little, kid. You don’t suck at it. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to not be able to do absolutely anything you put your mind to.”

Peter hates that. That is entirely his problem. So he tells Tony so. “That’s the whole thing though. Everyone thinks I’m super smart, like I’m meant to be flying through college, just like you did but I’m not. I can’t get anything right. I’m failing, Tony. Failing.”

Confusion is written all over Tony’s face. “Failing, what exactly?” he asks carefully. Peter bites down on his lip again. It’s already feeling kind of ragged. This was probably a mistake.

“My bioengineering paper. The ethics one.”

Tony furrows his eyebrows. His head cocks to one side a little as he thinks and Peter wonders whether he even realises he’s doing it. “Okay…” he sinks down back onto the newly-made bed, creasing the covers a little bit. “You wanna come sit down here for a minute? Have a chat?”

“I, uh, I think I’m good here.” Peter can’t bear the thought of letting himself get close only to be pushed away.

Tony shakes his head. There’s disappointment on his face, but not the kind that Peter was expecting. More like disappointment that Peter had even thought Tony would be mad in the first place, but he doesn’t quite understand that. How could Tony not be upset? He’s trying his best to live up to everything wonderful about Tony Stark but he keeps falling short. He’s still just unlucky old Peter Parker.

“Get over here,” Tony says, but his words aren’t commanding. They’re reassuring. He pats the space beside him, and Peter makes the few short steps to perch himself next to Tony. The man wraps a steady arm around his shoulders. Peter tries to force himself to stay upright, back stiff. He can’t just lean into every touch that he gets from Tony, no matter how much he’s missed having him close. He’s not a kid anymore, after all. He’s a college student.

“Is this why you were ignoring me?”

“I dunno,” Peter mumbles. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

Tony squeezes the nape of his neck gently and all of Peter’s resolve disappears. He crumbles against Tony’s side.

“I can’t do it, Tony. I can’t. I’m trying so hard, I promise. I spend like, every night in the library and I barely even sleep anymore trying to keep up but I just can’t. Every time I sit down it’s like I just freak out and I can’t concentrate.”

“Can’t concentrate how?”

“I’m just worried about everything all the time. Worried I won’t get things done on time. Worried I’m not smart enough to even do the work. Worried about impressing my professors… worried about impressing you,” Peter adds finally, under his breath.

Tony’s arm tightens around his shoulder at this, and he stares down at him with a sort of understanding dawning across his face that Peter can’t quite make sense of. “Have you been taking your meds?”

That throws Peter a little. Taking his meds? He’s not sick.

“It’s not like, the flu or something,” he says blatantly, not quite sure how Tony got it this wrong. “It’s all the time. I’m not sick, I don’t have an excuse. I’m just not smart enough for this.”

“No, no, no. Not like that, sorry,” Tony says gently. “Has it occurred to you that maybe your anxiety might be acting up?”

Peter frowns, shaking his head. They sorted out all the issues he was having with his anxiety a few months after the reversal of the snap. He took the medication that Tony and Bruce synthesized for him for a while and that was that. Nothing overly traumatic in his life has happened since then. He shouldn’t need them anymore. He’s better.

“No, no, that was just when I got back from the snap. This is just college. Everyone does college.”

Tony takes a second to consider his words. When he speaks, it's careful and calm. “I’m no expert, bud, but your anxiety isn’t just going to disappear like that. It’ll come and go. Plus, sure, you’re right. Everyone does college-” Peter’s stomach knots nervously as Tony says that. He can’t help but feel that any moment now will be the moment that Tony turns around and tells him that he should be better. “-But, not everyone does college with as much pressure on their shoulders as you put on yourself. That’s a Peter Parker exclusive. You don’t have to be the best at everything all the time.”

“I do. You were. How am I ever going to take over Stark Industries one day like you want me to if I can’t even pass Ethics in Engineering? Bruce told me to take that as a fun paper.”

Tony winces at that. They really should have phrased it better.

“You don’t want to know how many classes I failed because I was too constantly hungover for even Rhodey to force me out of bed, Pete. The real world isn’t dependent on passing or failing. One class isn’t going to matter, even if I’ve got total faith in your ability to turn it all around before the end of the semester,” Tony says. Then he pauses. He looks over at Peter again and Peter can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Unless college isn’t something you want to do? Because it isn’t for everyone. You don’t need a degree, not really. You can already outrun me in the lab and Pep could teach you double the stuff you'd need to know about the business side in half the time, probably.”

“No, I want to do this. I do,” Peter says after a moment. He’s telling the truth. He wants a degree, he wants to see this through and come out the other side - just preferably not feeling like he does now. “I just wanted to make you proud of me at the same time. I... I've really messed that part up. How can you be proud of a failure?”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath at Peter’s words. His face twists like they've physically hurt him. “See, now I can see where we’ve gone wrong here. I’m always proud of you. Completely unconditionally and unequivocally. You don’t need to graduate as valedictorian to make me proud. All I want you to do is grow up into the best man you’re capable of being and you’re already doing that, buddy - far too quickly for my liking, I might add. You’ll be taller than me soon.”

“That’s not hard,” Peter murmurs before he can help himself and Tony snorts.

“There he is. Hijacking my sappy dad speech to make a cheap joke about my height. I see how it is.”

---

Peter sits cross-legged on his neatly-made bed later that night.

Tony’s sitting on the desk chair on the other side of the room, thumbing through his phone. “I’m ordering pizza. I’m not braving a college dining hall, I’ve been there, done that, and you need a proper meal. You want pepperoni?”

“I’m kinda feeling a Hawaiian tonight, to be honest.”

“You disgust me,” Tony retorts immediately but he returns his attention to his phone anyway, likely doing exactly as Peter’s asked.

He reaches over to grab the nanoelectronics textbook from his bedside table where he’d left it last night, all his unfinished work still piling up in the front of his mind, despite Tony’s reassuring presence. Before he can draw it off the nightstand and into his lap though, Tony’s hand closes around his wrist and shoves it away. He gathers the textbook up into his own arms and adds it to the neat pile they formed on his desk while they were cleaning.

“I kinda need those,” Peter protests. All he gets in response from Tony is a stern shake of the head.

“Not right now you don’t. Not a chance. What you need is a nap. I’m gonna sort through this and figure out a game plan for us to tackle all of this tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter protests, no matter how appealing it sounds to have someone by his side to help him sort through the slog of his schoolwork. He wonders whether this is what it would have been like if he didn’t inadvertently shut Ned out in favour of desperately trying to get everything done.

“What? You think I’m just gonna sit around and watch you flail about and try to sort it yourself? What sort of parent would that make me?”

Once upon a time, maybe that word would have made the two of them freeze uncomfortably. Even now, they just stare at each other for a long moment. They’re family, indisputably, but even then the whole 'parent' word doesn’t get thrown around a whole lot. Peter thinks Tony’s still scared of stepping on the toes of dead people. Personally, he’s sure his parents would be glad that he’s got people in his corner apart from just May looking out for him. Especially Tony. Tony does a good job of it. 

“I guess you’re right,” Peter offers. “That would probably make you a pretty shitty parent.”

Tony grins, tinted with relief. “You got that right. So I wanna see that head on that uncomfortable looking pillow of yours for a little while, okay?” Tony commands, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Peter’s temple. “Just sleep.”

Peter does.

---

By the time Peter’s woken up by the smell of takeaway pizza filling the small space, Tony’s used his class planner and assignment schedule to organise his workbooks into piles of urgency on his desk - what needs to be completed right now and what can wait. He’s also listed everything on the whiteboard and is in the middle of removing every single can of Red Bull from Peter’s minifridge.

“Hey,” Peter grumbles blearily. “Mine.”

“Nope. Not anymore. They’ll rot your teeth. If you need your caffeine fix then just drink coffee like a real man. None of this sugary rubbish.” Tony tosses the four cans he has in his hands into the trash and reaches back in to grab the last few.

Peter snickers. “You sound like Gale.”

“Who the hell is Gale?”

“Our elderly librarian. She’s very nice.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re on a first-name basis with the librarian?" Tony asks incredulously.  "And second of all, I entirely resent being compared to someone you labelled as elderly, thank you very much.”

Peter grins. “I mean, if the shoe fits.”

“I’ve changed my mind all of a sudden. I haven’t missed you at all.” Tony's words are punctuated with an affectionate ruffle of Peter’s hair, and Peter knows that he doesn’t actually mean a word of it.

For the first time since this tiny little dorm room has become his home, he can breathe. Tony’s here.

Everything is always okay when Tony’s here.

[cherryyharryy]

Burning Words

Chapter Three: I’m the one who grades you

WC: 6.4k

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The air is sticky, humid, suffocating. The sun barely crosses the horizon, but it feels like it’s been on duty for hours. I tug at the collar of my sweatshirt to circulate some air between my skin and clothes, but I think it just makes things worse. 

My apartment isn’t too far from class. Technically off campus, but close enough that I don’t have to worry about owning a car. But days like these make me wish I had one. I run my sleeve over my forehead and slow my gait once I’m in view of all the early risers who are scrambling to get to class on time. 

I reach the English building, rounding the corner once I’m inside to see Harry and Danielle arguing beside the door to our class. I swallow past a dry throat and take a few steps back so I’m out of sight, checking the time on my phone. It’s two ‘til eight. My nerves prickle with the idea of being late, but each time I think about walking by those two, my legs refuse to move. 

He’s animated, gesticulating with purpose, brows knitted together, ascetic, defeated. Despite the empty halls, I cannot decipher a single word, only strings of half-bitten syllables coming from the both of them. Something about manipulation and did you seriously think and you owe me. Danielle remains calm, at least from what I can tell of the back of her head, while Harry’s face grows red. 

I only watch for a few minutes until someone exits a room opposite our class. Harry and Danielle separate on impulse. She’s the first to leave, storming off down the hall with her hair flowing behind her. Harry stays put, his head bent at the neck, staring at the ceiling. He’s frozen for a moment or two, and then he shakes out his shoulders, sucks in a breath, and heads into class. 

I slip inside, and take my usual seat not long after, and fan myself discreetly with the note cards I made last night. Dr. Pierce begins class today, straying off topic as I’ve found he’s keen on doing, until Harry redirects the discussion by clearing his throat. 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Styles has your graded reports to hand back.” 

“Most everyone did exceptionally well.” Harry steps back to the desk and gathers a stack of papers. I gulp. “Some of you however, didn’t seem to grasp the instructions...I hope you can learn from this mistake before any future assignments.”

Was he looking at me? Was he talking to me? Surely the shake of his head was intended for someone else. Maybe the guy in the back who falls asleep each class, or the girl who’s missed three weeks in a row. Maybe—

“As I was saying, if you have any questions or concerns, drop by my office sometime this week.”

He straightens his posture and begins reciting the names of everyone in the room. One by one, students shuffle to the front. When my name is called, I might as well be marching up to a guillotine. 

I know I did well. Jessie read it, my mom, Ms. Bortnick, the student writing center...other than a handful of grammar mistakes...this was just a book report after all. Why am I so nervous?

“Remember, if you’d like to discuss your grade you can see me during my office hours. And my office hours only.”

Don’t expect a perfect score, don’t expect a perfect score...

Fuck. Red marks are everywhere, between the lines, in the margins, and topping it all off is a giant 27 circled at the top. No. Fuck no.

I look up and Harry is already pulling up a powerpoint, ready to continue the discussion on The Catcher in the Rye, but I can barely make it back to my seat. Where is my seat? What planet am I on? What the hell is happening? Hypothermia, suffocation, immolation...which one, pick one, it doesn’t matter anyway.

I find my chair and sink down. He’s cruel, possibly morbid, because this is a sick joke. And I don’t want to hear him or see him or feel his movements through the vibrations when he’ll undoubtedly find his way to my row and tap on the desk, so I pull out my headphones like the kind of student my grade represents and pretend the last five minutes did not just happen.

*** 

It’s the guy who chews his gum unreasonably loud that nudges me awake as he’s leaving. He looks back over his shoulder, smacking away, to see that I get up. Everyone’s just an ass today. And there to greet me upon knuckling away the fogginess in my eyes is Harry’s handwriting in what might as well be my blood. I don’t even want to know what horrible thing I did to deserve this.

“Excuse me, Dr. Pierce?” 

He’s cleaning up his desk, smiling when he looks up to me. “What can I help you with?”

I look down at my report, and hold it out between pinched fingers like it’s toxic. “M—my grade. It’s...bad. Really bad,” I dry laugh. “I’ve never done this...bad.”

“Well, Mr. Styles graded these reports so you’re better off asking him. You can leave it with me, but it’ll be awhile before I get a chance to look at it. I still have last week’s quizzes to finish up for you all.” He’s still smiling. This is just a joke for all of them, isn’t it? “But he’ll have whatever answers you’re looking for.”

I turn, slowly, like a child in trouble, to see Harry standing by the door. His shoulders slouch unusually low and rigid, and his nose is a hot red. He’s toeing at the ground while students file out of the room. 

I’ve only ever approached him one other time, and it was just because Dr. Pierce had to step out for a phone call. A couple of weeks ago, we had to partner up for a writing assignment, and to no one’s surprise, our uneven numbered class left me standing alone by my desk, flashbacks from middle school invading my brain. 

With great reluctance, I inched my way to the front where Harry was sat at Pierce’s desk, busy grading some of our work. I cleared my throat which earned his attention, and bitterly told him of my dilemma, and how I had no problem in working alone. 

“No, that’s not necessary. We can find you a pair to work with. You can just divide the work up between three people.” 

He wore a smile as he led the way back towards the class, clapping his hands to silence the chatter. 

“We’re going to have one group of three, any volunteers?”

If a meteor had been headed for Earth in the very place I was standing, I wouldn’t have moved. 

“Anyone?” He asked, when not a single pair made a move to accept me. “It’ll be less work on you individually,” he bargained. 

He had turned to me, keeping his smile up as best he could and motioned for me to follow him. If I was someone else, someone who didn’t fight off a panic attack each time I had to type out an email or place my order at a restaurant, I would have spoken up. I would have told Harry—Mr. Styles—that I didn’t need his help. That I was fine by myself. Or that I could have found my own group. That I really, really didn’t want to work with Danielle, despite not having a reason. 

But I am me, unfortunately, so in a blur of a memory I want to forget, the next thing I remember is sliding in a desk beside the girl who kissed Harry on the cheek when he bent down to pick up her pencil. 

He blushed and told her to stop. She didn’t, going in for another before he could say anything else. The other girl just cooed at them like they were puppies, and for once I was thankful no one pays attention to me, or else my eye roll might have rubbed them the wrong way. 

“This is due before class is over, so get to work.”

And, as expected, as my life typically turns out, I was responsible for the entire assignment. I wrote nearly three pages worth of quotes from To Kill a Mockingbird while Danielle talked about Harry and how cute he is, and how good of a grade she’s gonna get, and how he’s just too sweet for his own good.

“Do you need anything, y/n?” Harry’s voice shakes me from my thoughts. 

I look around to see we’re the only two left. He’s closing out of the powerpoint, raising his brows at me from behind the desk. 

I shake my head. No. This is not what I want. Fuck. I’m back at my seat, shoving this wretched report into my bag. He says my name as I’m leaving but I don’t bother looking back. 

•••

I stuff my change into my purse and bid the cashier a soft goodbye. My steps heading out of the grocer’s are timid, avoiding slick spots of water that customers drag in from the rain. A woman steps through the door, the bell shrieking in her presence as she shakes the rain off her coat. I brush what I can off my arm. She sees me but doesn’t say a word. 

A clap of thunder greets me once I’m outside. It’s chilly, and yet I still feel like it’s summer. And here I thought that Georgia weather was crazy. 

Bustlings of mothers and their small children, college kids, and an elderly man hurry past me while I secure myself under the green and white striped awning. Curtains of water pour down from all four sides; it disrupts my view. I have four plastic grocery bags gripped in my hands, a headache looming at the base of my neck, and the growing acceptance that there is no way I am going to make it to the student lounge unscathed by Mother Nature: I had forgotten  my umbrella. 

With a grumble I’ll share with Jessie tomorrow, I burst through the shroud of freezing rain, only to plow right into a hard body. 

“M’so sorry, sorry,” I throw out. I earn a slew of curse words from the old man, and with nothing more in return, I am left to scramble along the sidewalk for the contents of my bags alone. Thick, icy drops hammer onto me. 

Until they’re not. 

A veil of rain encloses around me. When I look up the clouds are gone, but a large, leopard print umbrella has taken their place.  

What pains me more than the source itself, is the tingling electric shocks pricking me from the inside-out at the sound of a deep, British accent. It vibrates, I conclude, and I feel it in my ribs, strumming, burning, like making a snowball with your bare hands. The sound is conflicting. I don’t know if his voice is noise or not. I swallow and yank a box of tampons off the gritty sidewalk. He says my name. 

And I don’t bother to look up, hoping he’ll carry on and leave me to endure the rest of this embarrassing moment by myself. I’ve had practice. I’m good at it. But then he’s reciting my name once again, and I don’t know how I feel about a man using what is mine to get my attention. I sigh roughly, and peer up to Harry hovering over me. 

He’s in nice clothes, hair plastered to his face, translucent skin, red nose. His mouth moves, but all I hear is rain. Lightning strikes off in the distance and I wonder what his eyes would look like in the heat. I’m still kneeling on the ground when he crouches down. 

“I’m busy, so if you don’t—”

“Do you need help?”

“No.” I have to crawl and stretch my arms in different directions to gather the rest of my things. He does the best he can to follow me with the umbrella, and once I’m back on my feet with my arms full, he steps forward so I’m protected once again. I want to cry. 

“Do you—would you like a ride home?”

“No.” I make it three steps before he’s back by my side and shielding me again. 

“It looks like you do.”

“Then you’re obviously not looking hard enough. I don’t need your help.” I linger for a second, my face scorched with a black heat, realizing those are the words I chose, before attempting to step away. 

His cologne persists even through the downpour, growing stronger as he repeats his actions and brings the two of us together once more, only this time he cradles my elbow with his free hand and urges me to move out of the way of two teenage girls. “We’re blocking traffic.”

“You are. I need to go, so if you don’t mind…” I wriggle my arm and he slips his hand off my skin. 

“The walk back to the dorms will take you twenty minutes.”

“That would be a problem if I was going to the dorms. I have my own apartment.”

“Where—wait��Stone Bridge? By that small park? That’s even farther.” His accent is thicker, ellipsed and coated in syrup. I blame the rain. “Let me drive you over there.”

I’m soaked, so much so that my bones are getting wet. No one looks good in the rain. But he does and I know I do not. And he teaches literature, I do not. He has a car and I do not. He is something and I am... I’m backing up now. I’m confident that my soul has left my body and is hovering over me, shaking her head, not wanting to associate herself with me any longer. I wonder who he would pick to protect from the rain now? Me or her? I can only hope the mascara dragging down my face will be enough to scare him off. Go help her, she’s innocent and I am not. 

“There is no way in hell that you’re doing me any favors, okay. I’d rather lightning burn me to a crisp. At least I wouldn’t have to see you in class ever again.”

“Is this about your grade?”

“No! It is not about my grade! It’s about you—”

I lose my footing, scrambling to catch myself, but I fail triumphantly when my entire backside collides with the sidewalk. I wish a flaming bolt of lightning had struck me right there on the sidewalk outside of Jo’s Market; it’d be more convenient. But instead of sizzling away on the pavement, I am holding back tears with every ounce of strength I can summon while Harry abandons his umbrella to fall to his knees beside me. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme help you up.”

I don’t have the energy to push away his hands as they find appropriate places to support my body. I rise at an angle, partially because all my things are back on the ground and now I have to start all over, and the more presiding reason is the stifling pain in my ankle. His fingers dig into my arm and my side, somehow strong but not terribly so. Why did the image of small fingerprint bruises cross my mind? Hopefully the rain will cleanse my thoughts.

“Can you stand?” He asks. I haven’t added weight to my leg, and he gets his answer before I can respond. “Your ankle—here.” Smoothly, he maneuvers himself so my arm is draped over his shoulder, his arm wrapping around my back as a crutch. We are stuck together, forming our own three-legged race towards the parking lot. All that big talk I did moments ago, and now I’m not sure if I’m allowed to protest. I forget how to speak anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

The seats of his car are leather, and I am glued to them. It smells like him and I find myself taking deeper breaths, ushering his perfume as deep into my lungs as they allow. It makes my eyes flutter and my cheeks warm. My soul is missing out. The air is a sedative, and she could use the rest.  

“I’m goin’ to get your stuff. Wait here.”

I’m not sure if he is trying to be funny, but I don’t laugh. He returns a minute later and tosses my bags into the trunk, folds his umbrella and shakes it out as if that would cut down on the flood the both of us are bringing into his car, and slides into the driver’s seat. He slips his glasses off and uses his shirt to clean the lenses. 

“I think I’m okay. I mean I think I can walk.” I try not to wince. 

His eyes are different in the car than they were outside, and even more different than in class. “You can’t even put your foot down in here.” He rolls his eyes and suddenly I don’t want his scent in my body any longer. “I’m—just let me take you. It’s a ten minute drive.”

“Not to my apartment.”

“What?” He puts the car back in park after having backed up an inch. 

“My roommate’s boyfriend is visiting. He lives in Wyoming.” I pause, but realize it’s not enough information. “I promised to stay out for a bit tonight so they could...y’know...catch up.”

“Well what were you planning on doing then?”

“Was just gonna, I don’t know, hang around campus. There’s a rec room.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t go sit, soaking wet in a cold ass lounge for hours with a busted ankle.”

“It’s just twisted, it’ll ease up fine by morning.”

“Is there somewhere else you can stay? A friend’s room?” He starts the car again and I squirm to face him, changing my mind immediately. His eyes are swollen, beaten, a criminal red. I’ve only been high a few times, but I’ve cried enough to hold a record. 

“No I’ll be fine, just take me back to school, please. The library is fine, it’s closer.”

“I’m not—I can’t,” he sighs, “Okay, what about the hospital? They can take a look at you.”

“No. No thanks.”

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you all alone. What if something happens? You can’t even walk, love.”

I ignore the flush of heat making its way from the top of my head to the twinging pain down below. In fact, I ignore a lot of things, like how drops of water take their time crawling down his neck, or how his shirt adheres to his body like a second skin. His knuckles swivel and pulse with each turn he makes. And then I remember I’m moving.

“What um,” he clears his throat and his fingers tighten around the wheel, knuckles no longer dancing. “My—I could take you to my apartment. S’not far from yours.”

I keep my gaze trained on his hands. I need to look at him but his eyes would be too much, his face would be too much. It’s odd, the shift in everything but my focus. He is no longer the man that stands tall in front of a group of people and speaks with purpose. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and before I utter a response, he’s offering up more of his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, of course. I’m not trying—I don’t wanna pressure you, given our...dynamic.”

“Our dynamic?”

“Yeah...you’re my—I mean we’re...fuck. I don’t want you to think I’m implying anything, or that our relationship inside the classroom will be affected either way. My roommate’s out of town with family, so, there’s a spare room. That’s what I’m saying.”

We are at a red light. The wipers squeal and squelch against the glass, back and forth, rhythmic. I grow tired, drowsy in the warmth of his car, and then he starts driving again. We’re moving along below the speed limit, and when he stops at a crosswalk, he turns the heat up. 

It no longer feels like we are in New York, everything is so slow. It feels like I’m in a movie, only I have to come up with my lines all on my own and Harry is actually sad, not acting, and tomorrow I’ll wake up and remember the way he looked under an umbrella. 

“Um, I guess that would be okay.” My voice barely presides over the wipers. His fingers relax, and his knuckles swim again. “As long as I’m not bothering you.”

“No, not at all. Like I said, roommate’s gone, so it’s just me.”

***

His apartment is foreign. Metallic and earthy, a serene jungle, much more aesthetically pleasing than mine. I feel a syringe filled with tree bark and old books and mint shoot into my veins when he looks at me. This is his territory, and I feel intrusive. 

It is dark and navy, indigo, washed woods. Copper pots hang from a rack over the sink. The rugs all match one another, and a painting of a mermaid hangs on one wall. The outdoors are brought inside, almost like a fairy god from a damp forest had decorated this space. The splash of color is a mustard gold. 

A secretary’s desk sits under the window, abruptly capturing a 1940’s moment. Books and papers litter the top. It is the messiest part of the room, and I wonder how untamed he might be with early morning light striking his unwashed face while he makes notes in a book we’d be discussing in class. I wonder if he jots down the questions he fires at me in class, scribbles my name in red ink and underlines it three times, bulleting a list of possible things I’ll say. 

The rain beats against the window, and yet somehow I can still see with my eyes closed.

He stands at the sink in nothing but boxers, sipping on coffee much too strong for me while thumbing through a newspaper.

He sits poised in the navy armchair, reading 18th century literature I never would be able to digest. 

He leans against the bookcase, strumming the guitar, and only stopping to sip on wine more expensive than me and adding notes to a music sheet I can’t understand.

“You okay?”

My thoughts blurr away and Harry is back in focus. He drips all over the floor, and as I follow a drop of rain down his jaw—it had come from his hair, and landed on his left hand—I remember that I am a mess.

“Yeah, m’good.”

“Let me get you a towel. I know you probably want a shower, but I’d feel better if you didn’t. You’re still pretty wobbly and I’m not the best in emergencies.” He speaks over his shoulder with his back to me while he rummages through a small closet. I imagine myself arguing with him, because he appears to be the exact kind of person you’d want in an emergency, but figure we’ve done enough of that already. 

“Thanks.” The towel is soft and green. He leaves me to dry off in peace, rounding a neck-high bookcase that works as a divider between the front entryway and the kitchen. 

I shuffle closer to the living room and rub down my body, although it does little good. My clothes are suctioned to me. I pick at the fabric and pry it off my skin, which only erupts another round of chills. 

I take a moment, while I’m unattended, to scan my eyes over his home. It’s cozy and lived in. If I take a few steps I can see around the bookcase. Harry’s hunched over the sink, his hands gripping the counter’s edge. His shoulders shake slightly, which reinforces the cold I feel on my own. Head bowed, I see him suck in a deep breath before straightening his form, sighing at his phone. He starts to move and I jump back out of sight. 

“Ow—shit!”

“Y/n?” He hurries around to see me in all my fine glory. “What happened?”

I look up at him from the floor, sighing defeatedly. “I—I just tripped. I’m fine.”

“Okay, your ankle is worse than I thought. I’m taking you to the h—”

“No, really. It wasn’t my ankle, just, I’m a klutz.”

“The student clinic is still open. I can have them take a look at you.” He grabs his keys off the counter and pauses, tossing them back. “Sorry,” he sighs, “I—I don’t know where my head’s at today.” He bends down and hooks his arm under my back and lifts me up so I’m standing, well, leaning into him. “I’ve got some clothes for you to change into.”

“No I’m fine.”

“You want to stay in your wet clothes?”

He doesn’t sound accusatory. Sad, he almost sounds sad. I shake my head, my mouth fumbling over silent words as I scream at myself from the inside. “I, I just mean, I don’t wanna be a bother and—”

“I wouldn’t have offered.”

I gulp and nod, our conversation ending there as he helps me sit in one of two chairs at a small metal table that divides the kitchen and living room. He disappears behind me, and I’m left alone to summon whatever force I’m capable of to prevent any tears from escaping. 

My efforts are distracted when his phone vibrates on the counter. Again and again it goes off, working its way to the edge. I’m sure it won’t fall, but with each round of movement, that seems increasingly untrue. I grip the seat of my chair and shuffle over the foot or so I need to be able to reach up and push his phone further back, but then I pause, and peer over my shoulder, still no sign of Harry, and selfishly slip his phone into my hand. 

His screen is filled with Danielle’s name. It’s enough to make me force the phone away, back on the counter where another message rolls in. I didn’t see much, only the most recent of texts—you're being a dick about this!!! 

“Here, think this might fit you. And I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer.” Harry returns, having changed himself, and sets a hoodie with our school’s name on it and a pair of grey sweats on the table. 

“Thanks,” I mutter. 

He helps me up, but as soon as we turn around he freezes. “Uh, why don’t you change here. In the kitchen. That’s where my dryer is anyway.” He nods to a little alcove homing twin laundry appliances. “I’ll wait in my room. Once you’re done we can head out.”

After assuring him I’m capable of dressing myself, he leaves. It feels wonderful to finally get my soaked clothes off, but once they are, the panic starts to creep it’s way up my spine. Despite his eyes not being on me, I feel exposed. And inappropriate, perhaps, for me to be standing stark naked in my TA’s kitchen. 

I scramble to get dressed, thankful for the loose clothing since my bra and underwear will have to be dried too. I shove my things into his dryer and set the timer, holding my breath while I call for Harry. 

“Don’t—I’ll come get you,” he rushes over to me and takes what is now the usual position of his arm around my back to help me walk. “Go slow, we don’t have to hurry.”

Without a layer of wet fabric drawing my attention, his touch feels that much more warm. I tentatively raise my arm to rest right below his neck, my hand using his shoulder for support. 

And if I said I was able to ignore how his muscles felt beneath my fingers or how his rough voice sounded in my ear, I’d be a liar. But I try anyway, and lie to myself the whole way back to campus. 

***

“You guys are cutting it close,” I hear the nurse tell Harry. He looks over his shoulder at me and turns back. I’m slumped in one of the waiting chairs while he signs me in. “We close in about ten minutes.”

“You’re still gonna see her though, right? She’s...in a lot of pain. Please.”

The nurse sighs and gives Harry a tempered look. “Have her fill these out. Quickly.”

“If we’re too late it’s fine,” I tell him when he sits down beside me. “And since we’re here, I can just go to the library like I planned.”

He turns to face me, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “Let me think about that...no.”

“Excuse me?”

“How do you plan on getting there?”

“Well, you.”

“Nope. My services are for trips to my apartment. Or yours. If you wanna hobble your way, allll the way to the other side of campus, to wait in a cold, dark library all by yourself and—”

“Okay, okay. I—”

“Are you filling out your paperwork or chatting?” The nurse interrupts. 

I’m filled with heat at being caught, but stifle my laugh nonetheless  when Harry rolls his eyes. “Fill that out before we get in trouble.”

My name is called minutes after Harry turns in my clipboard, and we’re led to a small room in the back. I refuse the exam table, knowing he’d have to help lift me to get me up there, and opt for one of the chairs in the room instead. 

In less than a breath, a tall woman donned in a white coat comes in. Her demeanor serves opposite places with the nurse up front, smiling big and wide as she shuts the door and shakes both mine and Harry’s hand. 

“I’m Dr. Reynolds,” she introduces herself before taking a seat on a rolling stool, eyeing the paperwork I filled out earlier. “So, looks like you’ve twisted your ankle.” 

“I tripped and fell on the sidewalk...I’m not even sure what I did to hurt it.”

“Can you put weight on it?”

I look to Harry, for whatever reason, as if he has the answer. “Uh,” I clear my throat, “not really. It hurts to do so.”

“Okay, well—do you mind?” Dr. Reynolds rolls over to me and reaches down, waiting for my nod before she slowly pulls up the leg of Harry’s sweat pants to the middle of my calf. “Yeah,” she sighs knowingly, “you’re pretty swollen.”

“Could it be broken?” Harry chimes in from beside me, his voice thick and rough. 

“How did you fall exactly?”

I blink a few times, recalling the memory, but I have to force my way through images of Harry in the rain with red eyes and an umbrella. “I kinda fell backwards. On the edge of the sidewalk, like I lost my footing.”

Dr. Reynolds hums and wheels back to the computer. “I’m leaning more towards a sprain or strain—but we can’t rule out a break until we get you x-rayed.”

“But, aren’t you about to close for the day? Do I have time?”

“We’ll run over a bit today, but it’s not a problem,” she smiles. “We have a wheelchair in another room I can get you. Then we’ll take the x-ray, and hopefully send you home without a broken diagnoses.”

***

“Lemme get you a towel.”

I don’t have time to protest before Harry dashes out of the bedroom. My knees pinch and sting when I lean over my legs to adjust the bag of ice sitting on my ankle. The cold burns already, and I’m not sure if I’ll make the full twenty minutes of icing before ripping the bag off my skin. 

Harry stays silent when he returns, folding a dish towel and placing it between my ankle and the bag. 

“Thank you.” I start to shift on the bed, but regret it immediately when Harry jumps in place and then bends over me to straighten the pillows behind me. 

“This alright?”

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m good.”

“Okay—” he stops his own sentence, pinching the air before he’s out of the room again. 

I sigh and try to move my attention away from my ankle. It’s only a sprain, and a minor one at that, but the swelling hasn’t ceased any, and the weight I put on it after Harry got me back into his apartment earned me a sharp twinge of pain and a disapproving glare. 

I scan my eyes over the room. It’s a little too dark to make heads or tails out of anything other than the furniture. I hiss when I try to shift again, and yank the ice off my skin. I wrap the bag in the towel to keep the water from dripping anywhere, and set it on the nightstand, nudging a copy of 1984 out of the way. 

Harry bustles through the door a moment later, kicking it closed behind him. He looks down at the drink in his hands, chewing on his lip. “All I have is lemonade.”

“Thank you.” I hold back the smile I am supposed to offer. He looks relieved when I take the glass and a sip, nodding and relaxing his shoulders. “I uh...I did want to ask you…” I test the words, wait for the line to appear between his brows before finishing, “about my grade.” He does nothing more than narrow his eyes. I swallow and push my thoughts out. “You failed me.”

He blinks, rolling his lips in. “I did. But we can discuss this later. I—you need to rest.”

“O—okay.” I clear my throat and change the subject. “You play the guitar?”

“A bit.” His lips curl a little like he wants to smile, but they don’t quite make it. 

I hum and bring the covers close to my nose.

“Can I get you anything?”

He stands over me as I sink further into the bed. I shake my head.

“Okay, well—why is this not on your ankle?” He picks the ice up and tries to return it back to my leg, but I move too quickly, letting my foot hang over the bed. “Intervals of twenty minutes,” he hums. “C’mon.” He nods to my leg. 

I manage to hold back any sounds when I settle my foot back on the bed, but judging by Harry’s tsk, I know my face is a dead giveaway to my pain. 

“See? Gotta keep this on here,” he’s particular when adjusting the towel and bag, “you won’t get better, love, if you don’t take care of yourself.”

My mouth fills with heat, so all I’m capable of doing is nodding. He makes a show of setting a twenty minute alarm on a clock by the bed, clearing his throat as he quickly scoops up the contents of the nightstand; the book, nail polish, and a cherry chapstick, shoving them into a drawer in a dresser across the room. 

“You can, well you can stay as long as you’d like. Overnight I mean.” He coughs into his fist. “Just yell for me if you need anything. I’m listening, always. I’ll be...I’ll be in my room. Stay off that ankle.”

I nod, but make plans to wobble out of here as soon as I can. I’m not exactly an invited guest, and for all I know, I could be ruining his schedule...working or studying. A date. He clearly wasn’t in the best mood when we ran into each other this afternoon, and I’m sure having to babysit me doesn’t help any. My skin crawls; how could I have been so careless to not see when I’m being a burden? I’m usually pretty perceptive, or at least, I assume the worst anyway just as a precaution. You idiot. 

He looks over his shoulder, his glasses reflecting what little light fought through the clouds and rain. “Okay, well, I’ll let you be.” he faces the door again, but when he looks back his lip does curl this time. “I’d offer you a book...but I know where that’ll get us.”

***

My ankle stings, but not enough to where I can’t stand on it. I still make sure to occupy my weight on the opposite leg as I crack the door open and peer into Harry's living room. It is early, still dark, and the quiet has me kicking myself for falling asleep last night, forcing me into this twisted walk of shame I am about to endure.

Would he be awake? Dressed? Annoyed that I am still here? His courtesy had been offered out of pity, this I am sure of, and I have foolishly overstayed my welcome. All that is missing is the bed sheet draped over my naked body while he asks me to step out so he can put his clothes back on.

“Harry?”

I can taste the silence. It is unnerving. A few more utterances of his name yield the same result, and I find myself standing in the middle of his living room, dropping the imaginary sheet because he is not there to scrutinize my morning appearance.

There is only one other door beside the one I have just came from, and I press my ear against it for any sign of his presence. Again, there is nothing but the sound of my own pulse.

“Harry?”

I tap my knuckles against the wood...still nothing, and when I yank the courage from the bottom of my gut to open it, I am met with a clean bathroom, still humid and smelling of soap. My face twists and it’s not until I spin around to see a thick blanket covering the couch cushions that my brain finally pieces everything together...but surely he didn’t...fabricate a roommate?

What little energy I woke up with escapes my body. I feel weighed down while making my way to the kitchen. My things are sat neatly on the counter. He’s moved my groceries into a canvas tote and laid out a bottle of water and aspirin beside my folded clothes. 

When I sling the bag over my shoulder a slip of paper floats off the counter and flutters to the ground. I grab it and smooth it against my thigh. 

I was running late this morning, but there's cereal in the cabinet beside the fridge. Please don’t try to walk back. I can reimburse you for an Uber later—remember, I’m the one who grades you. 

I’ll be in the library today around 2. 

Bring your report. 

Harry

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

Thank you @aileenacoustic @fromyourstrulyh and @bathrobesinparadise for beta reading for me!!!!!

[ourooboroos]

(you make me) dizzy in my head

Read on my ao3 or continue under the cut!

You make me dance like a fool Forget how to breathe Shine like gold, buzz like a bee Just the thought of you can drive me wild Oh, you make me smile

-Uncle Kracker, "Smile"

Magnus knows he should’ve put his TikTok account on private.

It’s too late now, he supposes, sitting in his car in the school parking lot, watching students file into the building. The damage is done. Thousands of people have seen the video he made in his bathroom at nearly one in the morning, too hyped up to sleep, too impatient for Catarina to text him back, and too impulsive for his own good. He had to voice his thoughts somewhere .

It wasn’t even the first time he’d made a video like this -- this one is just the most embarrassing. He remembers recording it and being so, absolutely sure of his own words.

“So I have a problem,” Magnus said, floating into the bathroom and aiming the camera at his reflection in the mirror. He spoke slowly, words drawn out. “I don’t know how to ask him out. I want to ask him out. He’s so fucking cute, guys, and he’s so kind and funny and -- well, you’ve seen my other videos. I just want him to love me!”

The worst part isn’t even that thousands of people have seen it, after it having appeared on a bunch of their front pages, apparently. It’s that, at exactly 6:45 in the morning, he woke up to a text from one Isabelle Lightwood that just said, “Fucking cute, huh?”

Fuck.

She’d seen it. She’d seen them . And she’d pieced it together.

Now he has to go to school knowing that his crush’s sister absolutely knows about his crush. And Izzy isn’t exactly the subtle, hands-off type. He wouldn’t even be surprised if she’d already told Alec. Magnus buries his head in his hands and groans.

There are three of them -- four including the new one -- and each one is a little more embarrassing.  

* The first video happens in early October. Alec is over at Magnus’s house, and they’re sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a project for Latin class. Magnus is trying to conjugate a list of words into perfect indicative, while Alec searches for something in his textbook. When Magnus lets out a grown of frustration, Alec snorts, and shuffles quickly and quietly in his seat so that his knee is pressed against Magnus. Magnus freezes for a moment before letting his knee press back, and Alec doesn’t shift again.

So of course Magnus posts soon after Alec leaves his house. Apparently he’s supposed to meet his family for dinner; his grandparents are in town. Magnus waves as Alec backs out of his driveway. He’s trying not to grin like a doofus, but he’s not sure that it’s working. When Alec’s car disappears around the block, Magnus runs to his bathroom.

“Guys,” he says, out of breath, into the mirror and his phone. “Guys, the guy I like just came over to work on school stuff and he sat so close to me our knees touched on purpose and I know that sounds stupid but holy shit, he’s so wonderful. He said I was the best project partner he’s ever had. Also, he smelled really good -- like lemongrass and pine and -- I just!” He runs a hand down his face and his video runs out of time. Alight with nervous energy, he posts it, hashtag free.

* Magnus makes the second video on Halloween.

This video is recorded in Magnus’s car; he’s sitting in his driveway, mind racing even as he tries to somewhat coherently narrate what has just happened, the night he’s just had. He plays it back even as he speaks about it.

He drives to Andrew’s house, windows down and letting the crisp fall air in. His hat nearly flies off his head and he holds it on as he turns down Andrew’s road, parks down the street. His makeshift pirate costume is immaculate, he has to admit; as he walks to Andrew’s he adjusts his clothes -- tight black pants and tall boots, a ruffled white shirt, and a red sash tied around his waist. He carries a plastic cutlass, and a tricorn hat sits on his carefully tousled hair.

Andrew’s house is loud, party in full swing by the time he gets there. He lets himself in, says hi to Andrew, and grabs a drink -- a soda since he’s driving himself. He’s just settled into a corner with Cat and Dot when a tall Spider-Man appears, skin tight suit leaving little to the imagination. The costumed man gives a friendly wave to Cat and Dot but turns to Magnus. Magnus tries not to stare at the obvious planes of his chest, or the muscles of his thighs, or the way his biceps stretch the lycra of his suit, but hell, it’s hard.

“Nice hat,” Spider-Man says, voice muffled behind his mask. He points to the top of his head as if to clarify. It sounds as though he’s smiling.

Magnus raises an eyebrow, amused. He peers at the eyes of the costume, but can’t see through the dark, dense mesh. This costumed classmate will remain a mystery, apparently. “Thank you, o glorious web-slinger.”

Spider-Man laughs. “Nice sword, too. Looks like you could kill a man.”

“If only it weren’t plastic.” He thumps the sword in his hand.

Spider-Man hums in response and shifts his weight, leaning a little too far and almost falling. He places a hand on the wall to balance himself. For the first time, Magnus notices that he’s holding a near-empty cup.

“How much have you had to drink tonight, Spidey?”

“A couple cups of… whatever this is.” His head tilts down and he sloshes the liquid in the cup around. “Punch, I guess?”

“You should be careful; Andrew uses an obscene amount of vodka in his punch.”

Spider-Man makes an odd noise, then. Magnus stares at him. “I thought it tasted funny.”

“You… you didn’t know it had alcohol in it?”

“I don’t really drink.” And with that, he sets what’s his cup on a bookshelf nearby. He wrings his gloved hands. “I guess it figures though -- I needed a bit of courage to come talk to you.”

Magnus scoffs. “Why?”

He pauses, stills his movements. Magnus is about to just ask him who he is when Spider-Man says, quietly, “Because you’re stunning,” and quickly turns and walks away. Magnus watches him go, mouth parted in confusion.

It isn’t until Magnus is hugging Cat and Dot, saying goodbye, and turning to leave, that he sees it; Alec, sitting on Andrew’s couch, eyes lit up in laughter, wearing a blue and red Spider-Man suit.

* The third video comes a week into November.

Magnus is in class, his mind drifting as Mrs. Penhallow flips through a powerpoint about the Cold War. He’s nearly fallen asleep when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Frowning, he pulls it out, dims the screen, and hides it under his desk.

It’s a text from Alec. Who’s sitting just across the room. Magnus glances at him, but Alec’s staring intently at Mrs. Penhallow, though there’s a small smile threatening his concentrated expression. Magnus looks back to the text.

A: What happens to a frog’s car when it breaks down? It gets toad away!

Magnus snorts, and covers it with a cough, but luckily Mrs. Penhallow ignores him and keeps plowing through her presentation. Magnus quickly writes back.

M: Why did the team of witches lose their baseball game? Their bats flew away.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Alec subtly reads the text and grins broadly. His own phone vibrates a second later.

A: Did you know a kangaroo can jump higher than the Empire State Building? It makes sense, since the Empire State Building can’t jump.

M: Why did the can crusher quit his job? It was soda pressing.

A: Why did Adele cross the road? To sing Hello from the other side. M: Humpty Dumpty loves autumn. Every year he has a great fall.

They trade jokes back and forth for the rest of class, each of them hiding their smirks in their palms and their phones on their laps. It makes the period go by quickly, and Mrs. Penhallow has just finished her powerpoint and the bell rings when Magnus’s phone vibrates one more time:

A: If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.

Magnus pauses as his classmates quickly throw their books in their bags and rise from their desks. He reads the text again. And again, just to make sure he’d read it right. He looks up, eyes searching for Alec, only to see that he’s already left.

He posts the new TikTok that afternoon. It ends with him just about yelling, “A stupid pick up line shouldn’t make my heart race like that!” into his mirror.

*

The fourth one, the final one, the one that apparently breaks the camel’s back, is inspired by a text. Not even a particularly riveting or important one. Magnus is laying in bed the Sunday after Thanksgiving, dreading going to school the next day. There’s something about going back to a regular schedule after holidays and breaks -- even a break as short as this one -- that fills him with anxiety. He rolls over, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, when his phone lights up.

I hope you had a good Thanksgiving, Magnus! I’ll see you tomorrow.

It’s from Alec.

And Magnus keeps reading it, over and over. He hasn’t spoken to Alec since the Tuesday before break when they had Latin together and Alec had dropped his pen. Magnus had grabbed it for him so he didn’t have to lean awkwardly over this desk to grab it, and Alec had said thank you and grinned and Magnus had nodded and tried to regulate his breathing.

But apparently Alec thought of him just now, before they went back to school, and at 12:37 at night, when he probably thought Magnus was asleep. Magnus makes a sound he would be embarrassed about if anyone was around to hear it. He knows that Cat’s asleep by now -- she always goes to bed at ten on school nights -- so he gets up and stumbles through the dark room to his bathroom mirror.

*

Magnus is still in his car, waiting until the absolute last second he can before he’ll be late to run into the school, when someone knocks on the passenger side window.

He startles and whips his head around to see Alec, leaning over to peer into Magnus’s sedan. Magnus’s eyes widen and he slowly unlocks the car.

Alec opens the door and slides into the seat, dropping his bag in the footwell. “Hey,” he says quietly. Magnus fiddles with the keychains hanging off of his keys, still in the ignition, but he can feel Alec watching him.

“Hi,” he replies, smiling weakly.

There’s quiet, and Magnus wants to bang his head into the steering wheel. He has never once felt this awkward around Alec before. But what is he supposed to say? He can’t deny making the videos, and he certainly can’t deny that they’re about Alec. For fuck’s sake, he had gone into detail about his thighs in his Spider-Man costume.

“So,” Alec says. Magnus glances at him for a second, but Alec immediately meets his eyes, and Magnus can feel the heat rising up his neck. He turns away. “So, uh.” He pauses and Magnus can hear him curse, exhale loudly. “Sorry, I don’t have any vodka this time.”

That gets a snort from Magnus, even as he focuses his gaze on the dashboard.

Alec’s voice is soft, hesitant, when he speaks. “Did you mean it?”

Magnus finally turns, shifting in his seat. Alec’s staring at his hands now, wringing them in his lap. “You think I embarrassed myself online just for some meager views?”

The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks. “Not embarrassing.” Magnus snorts again, turning back to the dashboard, but Alec stops fiddling and reaches a warm hand out. It covers Magnus’s where he toys with the keychains hanging from the ignition, and Magnus pauses. “Really. Not embarrassing.”

Magnus swallows thickly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Alec’s smile grows. He nods, one eyebrow raised. “I’d like to hear more of your opinions on my Halloween costume, actually.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Magnus’s voice is without heat, and Alec laughs. Magnus smiles back at him. “Yes. I meant it.”

And Alec’s smile is radiant. His hazel eyes crinkle at the corners and now Magnus can’t stop looking at him, can’t not look at him when he looks like actual, literal sunshine. “Good.”

* “Hey guys,” Magnus says, twisting into the bathroom and aiming the camera at the mirror. “Too many of you watched my last video, so unfortunately--” He breaks off as a cackle sounds from the doorway. “Shush, I’m making a video!”

Alec sticks his head into the room, slides into frame, grin wide on his face. Magnus thinks he’ll never get sick of that smile. “So unfortunately he has to deal with me now,” Alec says, wrapping his arm around Magnus’s waist and tugging him close.

“Okay, maybe it’s not so unfortunate.”

The sixty-seconds timer ends just as Magnus turns and pulls Alec into a kiss.

[thesnowinthemountains]

NCT 127 helping you study

(a/n: i did my best but i apologize in advance if there are inaccuracies in certain fields of study, i also acknowledge that the lengths of these are hella inconsistent. oops.)

Taeil

He thought it would be a good idea to have music playing in the background while you tried to study. Tried. You kept getting distracted by a particularly good lyric or interesting instrumental arrangement until you were eventually about to crawl out of your skin. He was sitting across from you at the dinner table, your papers scattered everywhere, scrolling through his phone.

“Taeil, turn that off please.” You said it softly.

“No.”

You look up at him now.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes. Turn that off,” you laugh it off, but you’re the slightest bit annoyed. This is one of the biggest exams you’ll have this semester, and if you don’t straight up ace it, you’ll be struggling for the next few weeks. He shakes his head.

“Taeil-”

“I read somewhere that if you can associate sounds or music to words, it helps to memorize them. I’m trying to help.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Well, maybe try it again later, for now I don’t even have my definitions down.”

He finally looks at you.

“Fine.” The music stops and you fall back into a peaceful silence.

Johnny

“Alright, who painted ‘Composition with Red, Blue and Yellow’?”

“Mondrian. Come on, at least give me something difficult, I’m trying to pass this final,” you whine, head hanging over the side of your bed. Johnny sits at your desk across the room.

“Okay, how about some added incentive?” Your study sheet falls from his face and you realize you haven’t actually looked at him in about a half hour.

“Yes?” You lean up onto your elbows.

“Every answer you get right now is a kiss you’ll get later.” He cocks his head. You don’t even have to think about it.

“Deal! Come on, next question.” You plop back down. A few minutes later, after a lightning round of names and dates, colours and details, you sit up to find him writing on your notes.

“What are you doing? Those are important.” You frown.

“I’m keeping a tally so I don’t forget one later. We are at...” He smirks without looking up and counts his marks on the page. “Seven, so far.”

“Ah,” you blush, “carry on, then.” You think to yourself there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be able to focus on that particular page of notes again.

Taeyong

You were supposed to memorize the entire periodic table and you were absolutely overwhelmed at the prospect. This was one of those moments you wished you had some superhuman photographic memory that would require minimal effort on your end. Taeyong had you study piece by piece over a long period of time. At first, you hadn’t even noticed he was doing it - he was being sneaky.

“Hey, what’s the first row of the periodic table?”

“That’s a weird question.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just had a weird flashback to science class in high school, it was up on a wall next to my desk. I think it starts with helium, right?”

“Hydrogen and helium, technically, yeah, but that’s not really how they’re grouped.” You explained.

“Oh? So how are they grouped?”

“Well, you’ve got your metals, halogens, stuff like that.”

“Huh. And what are they?”

That’s when you started to catch on. You cocked your head at him.

“Which ones? There are a few different types of metals.”

“Well, whichever.” He shrugged, still playing his part perfectly.

Yuta

It wasn’t an exam, per se, but you had to put together a final portfolio for an art class, one you hated. It was supposed to be basic drawing techniques, but the professor was all over the place; not all that surprising for an art professor, but still annoying to follow. You were sitting on your living room floor, papers strewn everywhere, barely knowing where to begin. You had a drawing of a flower that was nice and simple, you had gotten the shading right, you liked it enough. One was of a hallway; same deal, the technique was alright, you set it aside, but you had to pick a total of ten drawings. You had dozens, some of the same thing over and over again because you, or the professor, were never satisfied. When Yuta walked into the apartment and found you in that state, he started by sitting quietly beside you on the floor.

“What are we doing?” He murmured after a minute.

“Freaking out.”

“I see. Anything I can help with?”

You didn’t answer, but held up a decent-enough drawing of a hand.

“Do you think the details on this are okay?” You asked. He looked at you and then the drawing. He liked pretty much anything you did, but he knew you needed brutal honesty if you were ever going to be finished with this. He took a long, deep breath.

“So, the index finger on this one looks a little wonky, I think this one,” he reached for another drawing of a hand, “has better lines, better dimensions. All the fingers are good.”

“Oh, I hate the thumb on that one, though…”

He shrugged.

“This one?” He picked a drawing of a desk under a window. “The light looks really cool.”

Doyoung

For your final assignment, you were to make a long, detailed marketing proposal to your class. If it was picked up, you passed, if not, you had an opportunity for a do-over, and a private presentation to the professor alone. You didn’t want the second option, you had other things to do after passing this class that did not include a one-on-one meeting with your middle-aged professor some time after the end of classes. You had been reciting the whole thing to yourself for days, you had prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a ton of visuals to aid you, but you needed a second opinion. You had gone out with Doyoung a handful of times, you both figured it was a matter of time before things between you were made official, so you had him over, sat him down, and launched into your presentation. At the end, you took a breath, then asked:

“How was that?”

He gaped at you.

“Well, hot, we’ll start there.”

“No, Doyoung, I meant would you go for this idea if you were the CEO of something?”

“Honestly, yeah. You made some good points, you had valid, real reasons for what you wanted to do and how you wanted to market this thing. I think it works.” He shrugged.

“You’re a business major, you better not be bullshitting me.”

“You’re a marketing major, you could probably tell if I was.”

Jaehyun

You had given Jaehyun a key to your apartment months ago. He let himself in regularly, and a lot of the time, he was there when you got home from school or work. This time, though, he walked in to you sitting on your living room floor, laptop on the coffee table, facing the couch. There was paper all over the floor, some crumpled, some ripped, some simply abandoned. He had to tiptoe and side-step all the way to you. Your hair was a mess, which he would’ve found endearing if your eyes hadn’t been bloodshot.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped out of skin, startled.

“Fuck, when did you get here?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Just now. You know you have a desk.” He nodded to the wooden furniture in the far corner of the room. You sighed.

“I couldn’t sit there anymore, I was going out of my mind.”

“Well, what are you doing?” He asked again, picking up notes on the couch to sit, facing you.

“My final portfolio for my fiction class is due tomorrow and I haven’t worked on anything in weeks.”

“You’re always writing.”

“Yeah, I’m always writing, but I had two of these stories workshopped months ago and I hadn’t looked at them since. God, they needed so much work, Jaehyun, I can’t believe I actually submitted that. Plus, I was missing a good ten pages for the portfolio, which I’ve written now, thank god, but I have so many drafted versions, I don’t know which one I want. I wrote seven different endings. I’m not even sure about my characters’ names. Or if I want them to be named, nothing’s coming out like I want it, I don’t know what I’m going to do-”

“Okay, slow down, slow down,” he moved to sit on the floor now, facing you at eye level. “How long have you been writing?”

You looked down at the time on your laptop. You frowned, confused.

“That can’t be right.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“There’s no way-”

“Alright, go take a nap, I’ll order some food.”

Winwin

“I need you to play judge.” You told Sicheng.

“Judge?”

“Yeah, sit,” you placed him at the center of the couch, and looked around before handing him a spoon. “Tap that on the table if you need to interrupt me.”

He stared at the spoon.

“Isn’t that for weddings?”

“So, I’m basically defending a client accused of theft and-”

“Don’t I get, like, case notes or something?”

“So demanding.” You rolled your eyes but went for your notes. He looked them over for a few minutes before leaning back comfortably.

“Proceed.” He declared, voice loud and clear. You smiled before launching into everything you prepared for your final. He did a fine job of rebutting if possible and interrupting when necessary, though you had to stop him from objecting! about anything he disagreed with.

Jungwoo

As an education major in your first year, your big final assignment was to prepare an elementary-level language class to teach your fellow university-level education major peers. To prepare, you had Jungwoo come over and told him he’d be playing the role of a seven year old, which pleased him.

“I’m a baby, you know that. This is perfect,” he grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

“Yes, now shut up, we’re learning vowels.” You said in your regular voice before switching to the over-enunciated, slightly higher-pitched voice of a first or second-grade teacher.

Mark

“How’s the essay going?” Mark asked, coming into your dorm room. He plopped down on your bed behind you.

“Well, so… get this,” you swiveled around in your chair to face him, leaving behind you a handful of novels, two different notebooks, and your phone open to pictures of your friends’ notes. “I’m supposed to write a compare-and-contrast essay about James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, of all people.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Mark, have you ever read Beckett? It’s like an acid trip in slow motion. You finish it, you have straight up no clue what you just read, but now you have to write about it.”

He frowns.

“And that other guy?”

“Joyce? He’s okay, I’m just glad writing about Ulysses isn’t a requirement. There are just certain things I’m not willing to put myself through.”

“Well, mind if I keep you company?” He leans back on your bed.

“Go ahead, just try not to distract me too much, I want to get this done today.”

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He puts his headphones in and lies back against your pillow. 

Haechan

This boy had arranged a whole game night just for you. He had friends over, set up a whole tournament bracket in which he was, of course, your partner, and he made sure even if you didn’t end up winning, you would end up learning, memorizing, and having fun getting ready for your most dreaded final. Food was ordered, drinks were made, and finally everyone involved in this evening was sat around the dinner table, in a heated trivia competition.

Some days later when your exam came around and you saw the first questions, your mind flashed back to Haechan shouting the answer at the top of his lungs and standing up so fast his chair fell backwards. It had been a ridiculous, slightly stupid idea, but damn if it hadn’t worked like a charm.

[onyxxxxxxxxxxx]

Little Miss Perfect

This is my submission for SongFicFeb Week 1: Romance. I used the song Little Miss Perfect if you couldn’t tell from the title. I don’t write much so I’m sorry if this is bad or the grammar is awful, I’m not good at grammar. Oh and it’s a Julie x reader. I’m sorry in advance if this is bad

TW: Swearing

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward

Straight path, I don't cut corners I make a point to be on time Head of the student council

“Y/N, hi!” Carrie waved

“Hey Carrie.” I said. She walked up to me and grabbed my arm, “Follow me.” She told me. I pulled my arm out of her grasp

“I’d love to but I can’t” I apologized

“Well why not?” She asked me “Julie, Flynn and I wanted to talk to you.”

“I have a student council meeting to get to.” I told her, turning around. She grabbed my arm again and I gave her a pointed look.

“Bobby and Reggie are both in student council and they’re in a band practice right now.” Carrie pointed out

“I know but I need to set stuff up for the meeting.” I told her, yanking my arm out of her grasp and going to the student council room.

I don't black out at parties I jam to Paul McCartney If you ask me how I'm doing I'll say…

Well, hmm

“Lexie, can we leave yet?” I asked him, looking at my phone “I need to finish the powerpoint for Ms Garcia’s class."

“Just one more band before ours performs and the powerpoint is due in two weeks.” Alex told me, ruffling my hair. I slapped his hand away

“You’re gonna mess up my hair.” I told him

“That’s fine I like seeing it curly anyways.” He told me

“It’s loud and the music is…” I trailed off, not knowing how to state my opinion without sounding bitchy or stuck-up or mean

“Not your style?” He asked

“Yea.” I agreed.

“Give me a minute” He told me. He walked over to Reggie and Luke, explaining something. Luke handed him something and he walked back over. He dropped the earphones he got from Luke into my hand. The volume button had a purple J drawn on it.

“I’m confused.” I told him

“Wow you’re not bright.” Alex told me. I playfully shoved him

“What are these for?” I asked him

“Luke agreed to loan you Julie’s earphones, listen to whatever you want but you owe her a favour.” Alex told me. I nodded and plugged the earphones into my phone and put them in my ears, calming slightly.

I was adopted when I was two My parents spoiled me rotten Often I ask myself, "What did I do?" To get as far as I've gotten

Luke knocked on my door. I took off my headsets, “Come in!” I yelled

“Hey asshole.” He told me

“Shut it bitch.” I told him “What the fuck do you want, dear brother of mine.” I asked him

“For you to stop working and come down for dinner. Mom and Dad sent me up to get you.” He told me

“Tell them their quote en quote perfect child, is working” I told Luke

“Oh is that what you’re doing.” Luke asked, looking at what I was sketching. I was sketching a poster for Julie. She asked me to make one for her band. I put her front and centre and the four phantoms behind her.

“Yes it is.”

“Can I see your work?” Luke asked, looking over my shoulder. “That looks an awful lot like Julie.” He told me

“Ok and?” I questioned

“Nothing, have fun ‘working’.” He told me. “Fuck you too!” I yelled as he closed the door

“Y/N! LANGUAGE!” Emily yelled from downstairs

“Sorry mom!”

A pretty girl walks by my locker My heart gives a flutter But I don't dare utter a word 'Cause that would be absurd behaviour For little miss perfect

I opened my locker and put my books away.

“Ready for chemistry?” Julie asked appearing behind me.

“Uhh yea no definitely ready.” I told her

“Great! I can’t wait to start the group project with you.” She told me

“Group project?” I asked, curiously, grabbing my books.

“Yeah… I assumed you’d be my partner,  because we sit next to each other. Also, can I see the poster before class?” Julie asked me

“Uhh yea sure no problem.” I told her

“Thanks y/n.” She told me, hugging me. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as she hugged me. She let go of me and waved bye, before going to her locker.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, I can't risk falling off my throne La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something I don't even know Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward, straight girl Little miss perfect That's me

“No.” I said cooly “I don’t like anyone least of all Julie.” I told Luke, Alex, Reggie and Bobby.

“Everyone can see the way you look at her.” Alex told me

“Yea you guys ooze chemistry.” Reggie said

“Yea well we do have chemistry together.” I told them

“Oh really?” Luke asked

“She meant the class you idiots.” Bobby said “I sit behind them. They blush like mad whenever Julie talks to them.”

“I don’t like her!” I yelled at the four of them

“Y/n, get your ass over here right now!” Flynn yelled at me.

“Bye dipshits.” I told them, going over to Flynn.

“Hey, Julie wanted to know if you wanted to come over tomorrow night, it’s gonna be me, you, Carrie, Julie and Kayla.” Flynn explained.

“Oh okay… I’d love to, thanks Flynn.” I told her “I should get to chemistry”

“Alright, have fun with Julie.” Flynn told me.  I waved bye.

One night, my friend stayed over We laughed, and drank and order Something about her drew me in What? It's totally platonic

“Alright, why don’t we play truth or dare?” Carrie asked

“What are we? In high-school?” I asked, jokingly. Julie rolled her eyes

“Ok, Carrie, truth or dare?” Kayla asked

“Truth.” Carrie asked

“Okay… are the rumours true that you’re lesbian?” Kayla asked Carrie.

“Yea… don’t tell my dad though.” Carrie said

“Well now that I have that conformation.” Flynn trailed off and pulled Carrie into a kiss.

“Ok ignoring that, Julie truth or dare?” I asked her

“Dare” She told me

“Uhh sing one of your new songs.” I came up with

“Alright.” Julie said and proceeded to do so. The night continued on and on.

That night was so exciting Her smirks were so enticing Hours speed by like seconds Then, what happens is iconic She takes a sip, I bite my lip She tells a joke, I nearly choke She braids my hair, I sit there Blacking out for the first time Next thing I know, I lose control I finally kiss her, but oh no I see a face in my window Then my brain starts to go

“Let me braid your hair please?” Julie asked me softly, the other girls were asleep, we were the only two still up.

“Alright.” I told Julie and sat with my back towards her. Julie was silent for a few minutes.

“Done” She finally said and I turned around to face her. I took a sip of my water and absentmindedly put my head on her shoulder.

“You tired?” She asked me. I nodded. In a sudden burst of confidence, I blame my sleep-deprived mind, I looked up at Julie and kissed her. I quickly drew back when I realized what I had done and stood up.

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na No, you can't risk falling off your throne La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love is something you don't even know Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na You can't risk falling off your throne La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la Love You don't even know

Julie looked at me, concerned “What was that?” She asked, softly.

“That was nothing.” I scoffed, turning away.

“What do you mean that was nothing?” Julie asked

“Bye Jules.” I told her, grabbing my stuff and leaving, her house.

Rewind, induce amnesia Deny the truth, that's easier You're just confused, believe her When she says there's nothing there

I walked into my house and was met with Luke’s familiar face. “Move.” I told him. “Why were you so late? Mom and dad freaked.” Luke told me

“I’m not in the mood, Lukinald.” I scoffed, walked inside and hanging up my coat.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Luke asked, his tone softening. I shook my head.

“I need to finish homework.” I told him, walking upstairs

“You can’t stay in your room forever” Luke told me.

“Watch me!” I told him. I sat down on my bed and flopped backwards, screaming into a pillow. I should do something to apologize, shouldn’t I? I sat up and looked over at the locket on my desk. Julie gave it to me last year after I won a writing competition. It had a picture of the two of us, I was doing finger guns at the camera and Julie was doing a peace sign. I picked up the locket and decided I’d give it to Julie tomorrow at school

It's never worth it When you're little miss perfect

I walked to Julie’s locker and gave her the locket.

“Here. I figured I’d need to make up for what I did so take the locket.” I told her, shoving it in her hand

“Please, can we talk

“Y/n wait!” Julie called out, grabbing my hand. I yanked my hand out of hers and ran. I ran from my problems like I always do.

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Sorry I submitted this after week 1 but like I spent a while working on it because I forgot my idea halfway through writing and had to rewrite. 

@jatpsongficfeb  

[kingyeoms]

neuroscience TA! joshua

pairing: joshua hong x reader (n)  genre: it’s all fluff sorry warnings(?): swearing and just really casual writing in bullet points lol word count: 2,044 a/n: i barely proofread this and this is nothing like what i usually write but i’ve been thinking about this since the start of the new semester and welp here we are. a/a/n: i just realized.. people might not really know what a TA/teaching assistant is! usually someone who is working towards their doctoral degree and are obligated to assist teaching a course in their department, usually in charge of teaching discussion/supplemental sections~ ♡ best read on desktop, use mobile browser if you can’t read under the cut ♡

3rd year phd candidate

does research on neural circuit mechanisms in aging adults

big geek about brains, shows a thirty minute long video of a sheep brain dissection for the first day of section

people fell asleep but it’s fine bc josh is so excited about the video and everyone finds it endearing

always dresses so casually!! comes to class wearing sweats and plain black t-shirts (probably buys them in packs for $3)

but he still has the reputation among the undergraduate students as the “hot neuro TA”

cracks jokes w/ his students all the time

literally everyone wants to take the class that joshua hong is TAing

“joshua what are you teaching next semester??” “topics in advanced neuroimaging, you gonna take it?” “never mind, good luck”

brings his dog named peanut to class all the time

peanut is a giant ass st. bernard who likes to walk around the class and sleep next to people’s feet

super adorable but also a big Drooler

you’re the other teaching assistant for the same neuroanatomy class, but in the psychology department

you’re super down to earth!! honestly you treat your students like friends, talking to them super casually

but when class starts, you know how to get down to business and you’re super passionate about what you’re talking about

the psych undergrads have a ton of respect for you, because not only were you chill but you were mad smart too!!

your kids walking into class: “y/n guess what fucking happened in lecture”

you: “listen, you probably shouldn’t say the f word in front of me but tell me what the fuck happened”

anyways, here’s a funny coincidence: your lab and joshua’s lab are on the same floor

so it’s not a surprise that you and josh have this ongoing “feud” of which is more superior: psych vs neuro

“psych is for people who can’t handle neuro” “neuro is for people who hate themselves”

your office is opposite of his, so he’s always stopping by your room to annoy you or steal something from the jar of candy on your desk.

you: “why am i constantly out of kit-kats?”

josh, fistfuls of kit-kats behind his back: “damn, you should probably buy some more”

he’ll mess with your powerpoint slides, swapping photos of the cerebellum for photos of him and peanut

which SUCKS when you’re teaching,, and josh’s dumb face pops up on the projector,, 

your kids: “nice one josh”

when you’re holding office hours for your students, he stops by and says some dumb shit to your kids like “come to my office instead, y/n doesn’t know what they’re talking about” 

“fuck off, joshua” “oooooh you curse in front of your students? i’m telling the professor”

you just roll your eyes and the two of you just laugh at each other

the students who come to your office hours swear you two have a thing going on

and honestly? you wish

you’ve always thought josh was pretty cute

being a phd student was stressful, especially with research and teaching, but he never failed to put a smile on your face!!

you two were often the last ones on the floor, in charge of locking up rooms and cleaning equipment

he always insists on walking you to your car at night because “the raccoons might attack you”

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about kissing him in your office but shhh

during lecture, you guys share a google doc to take notes on what to teach your students

he thinks it’s funny to delete everything you write

you, sitting next to him in the front row: “joshua hong if you don’t press ctrl + z right now i swear to god i’ll change the lock code to the EEG room”

josh: “wait don’t i have a study tomorrow”

proctoring exams with josh: “i can pass out tests faster than you” “are we five???? but no you can’t”

he’s really good… at catching people cheating? the dude has eyes like a hawk lmao and you don’t even notice honestly

“see the kid with the blue baseball cap on? give him a 0″

anyways the professor asks you and joshua to come in on a weekend to grade midterms

you: but i made plans

josh: i’m not ?? even getting paid ??

but you guys do it anyways because it’s not like you have a choice lmao rip

he brings peanut and he’s just drooling all over your bag

peanut not josh

i guess josh is metaphorically drooling because… you looked really good today

not the usual jeans and college sweatshirt you wear during the week

you had originally made plans with your friends to go to the farmer’s market

it was a really nice day :( sunny outside and you actually tried to not look like a mess for once!! you actually brushed your hair today lol

anyways, peanut is still drooling and you look at josh, confused but also a little grossed out

“why is peanut drooling?” “do you have food in your bag?” “i don’t think so?” “oh. maybe he just likes you”

peanut: pulls out a granola bar out of your bag

anyways… you two are grading exams, checking over the answer key for any mistakes

you furrow your brows as you look over the answer choices, so you ask josh to take a look at question 23

“yeah, what about it?” “look at the answer choices, there are two possible answers.” “ah fuck.”

turns out… a lot of the questions are like that..

you and josh just look at each other and groan, realizing you two have to redo the entire answer key

you call your friends to cancel your plans, saying you were stuck at school

joshua feels really bad so he reaches over to grab your stack of tests

“you can go if you want! i’ll finish it, no worries”

you shake your head, pulling out a box of red pens from your bag

“no thanks, my boyfriend would miss me” 

a confused josh: “no i wouldn’t?”

“… i was talking about peanut?” but you’re giggling because josh’s face is beet red at this point

joshua: “anyways, question 40 right?”

truth is, joshua has always found you cute and he liked the fact that when he teased you, you weren’t afraid to tease him back

he just felt.. really comfortable around you

and seeing you smile after he cracked a joke?? best thing in the world to him besides peanut

even when you roll your eyes at him, he thinks it’s so cute!!

cliché moment where you two reach for the answer key at the same time and your hands touch

but neither of you let go wow so cute and you guys kind of just !! grade tests in silence, holding hands

joshua’s the type to rub your the back of your hand with his thumb i’m lowkey crying thinking about it

anyways, you guys end up finishing grading and the sun is starting to set

josh realizes that you two spent the entire day stuck inside the office, so he offers to take you to the farmer’s market

but you don’t wanna be a bother or anything so you shake your head, “no it’s okay!!”

josh insists that he takes you, saying “i gotta take peanut on a walk, come on let’s go”

so you two go to the farmer’s market, the crowds starting to die down a little bit since it’s the end of the day

josh holds your hand and peanut’s leash in the other

peanut keeps dragging you guys to all the booths that sell homemade peanut butter and he’s never been happier, he keeps getting free samples and head scratches

you’re looking at a booth that sells homemade jewelry, think leather bracelets and dainty finger rings

“josh, what do you think about th-” you turn to your side, but josh and peanut are nowhere to be found

and you look through the crowds and the booths next to you, but you can’t find them anywhere

you kind of panic,, because you didn’t think josh was the type to ditch someone? on a date?

was this even a date you weren’t sure to be honest,, but still :( you were kind of upset 

but you finally see peanut dragging joshua back to you, a small bouquet of sunflowers in his hand

joshua’s cheeks and ears are tinged a slight pink when he gives the flowers to you, “i saw a stand selling these and they just looked really pretty, so i bought them for you”

and the flowers are so beautiful and your jaw literally aches from smiling so big and josh thinks you’re so beautiful!!

you two walk around a bit more, hand!! in!! hand!! 

josh: trying to pull peanut away from all the friendly people willing to give him free beef jerky

tired from all the walking, you two buy ice cream, sitting on a bench in front of the tiny shop

peanut eats josh’s ice cream when he’s not looking

josh: peanut what the fuck

you offer to buy him another one, but he shakes his head, taking the cone from your hand, biting into the soft pink scoop

“let’s just share, strawberry is my second favorite anyways”

your jaw just drops because,, who bites into ice cream?

but it’s cute, you two talk about how much you hate the professor and which students you think are annoying

you two don’t even realize how dark it is until you hear peanut snoring, curled up at the bottom of your feet

josh is the first to stand up, his hand reaching out to yours, “it’s getting a little late, i’ll take you home?”

and so that’s how you and joshua ended up at the front door of your apartment

your hand clutching the sunflowers, the other intertwined in his fingers

and when he leans in, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you two

kissing joshua? definitely better than you expected, the taste of strawberry ice cream still slightly lingering on his lips

your lips move in perfect harmony with his, joshua placing his hand on the small of your back

as soon as you feel josh pull you in closer, you feel a... wet.. tongue on your foot? you both break away to find peanut,, asleep,, drooling,, on your toes

“damn it, peanut” josh groans as you giggle, resting your forehead against his

“i’ll see you on monday, yeah?” you grinned, kissing him on the cheek

"yeah i really,, gotta take this kiddo home,,” and he sighs, waking Big ol’ peanut up “but i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it again sometime”

“as long as we don’t have to grade 600 midterms again, it’s a date”

the both of you blush because,, was this even a date??

yes, it was

but seriously, what a super cute start to your relationship with josh

you don’t even get mad when you find out it’s josh stealing all of your kit kats

he leaves a giant bag of them on your desk one day to make up for it

but also joshua is the Worst

joshua: “how does it feel to be dating the hot neuro TA on campus?”

you: “shut up before you become the hot single neuro TA”

sometimes josh stops by your class when you’re teaching to give you a kiss on your cheek before he goes to do research,,, embarrassing you in front of all your students (even though pda is probably something that shouldn’t be happening in front of them)

literally Everyone: “we fucking called it”

definitely still makes fun of you 24/7,, just with more kissing

friday nights with joshua: skimming academic papers and talking shit on faculty LOL

going to the farmer’s market becomes a weekly thing for you guys!! mainly because the peanut butter booth would be devastated if they didn’t get to see Mister peanut

sooo,, you may or may not have done it on your desk in the lab LOL

josh in lecture: hey i think you’re pretty cute, maybe we should get dinner tonight?

you: josh can you pls stop flirting with me on google docs you’re LAME

[comparativelyinternal]

26 May, 2020

I haven’t done a diary entry for a while, but here’s basically what’s been going on:

The semester, so far, has been a different sort of rough on me. Usually it would be rough because I’d have to be in Berlin three days a week, one after the other, but since this semester is online I don’t have to deal with that. On the one hand that’s nice. I can spend more time studying, and have more time to do things I like to do (writing, working on my conlang, playing videogames, reading, etc.). On the other hand... it’s really weird not leaving the city this semester, and the whole online platform is causing difficulties of a different sort.

I think Lithuanian is probably my hardest class, and not just because I otherwise have nothing to do with that language family (though at first I thought maybe that was the case until I realized that I’m also learning Scottish Gaelic on my own and also have nothing else to do with that language family, either). The professor is still having difficulty making the class one that works for online, and has only just started changing the assignments to reflect the fact that none of us can go to the library to do our homework. We have to translate a text before each class and while she had been going through and telling us which words came from which (i.e., if the text had a word in the locative she would have a note telling us what the nominative is to look it up), we had to look up every. single. word. and I think because of that a lot of people just didn’t do the translation because no one wants to order a €30 dictionary for just one class that will never be used again, and online resources for Lithuanian are awful. This week when I downloaded the text for translation she had a second document with the definitions of all the words so there’s no question.

Finally.

If it were Old Norse or Old English or Latin I could bullshit my way through it, and have done so on more than one occasion, but I literally cannot bullshit my way through a Lithuanian translation no thank you. At any rate, today I did the translation and went over half the powerpoint from last week’s class. I’ll do the other half tomorrow and see if I can grind through some forms after Latin and before the Lithuanian-Zoom.

I’m a little overwhelmed with Latin simply because we’ve gotten so many new declensions and verb forms that I really, really need to find time to sit down and study before the test in two weeks, but it’s Latin so I don’t feel as swamped -- I just know I have to sit down with it. I’ve already started trying to learn the forms, of course, and since Pfingstmontag is coming up I’ll have an extra day to study which I plan to devote entirely to Latin. Today I made an Überblickstabelle for all the noun declensions we’ve learned and almost got caught up entirely on learning the vocab -- I’m one Quizlet set away from being caught up entirely.

You know, for a Germanist I really am coming to enjoy it.

Spätlatein is the typical organized chaos that I’ve come to expect from Dr F’s classes. It’s really rather nice that this class in particular is online. I feel like since it is, people are asking less questions (she devotes entirely too much class time to answering everything and as a result we often don’t get to everything we should -- which sucks, considering on more than one occasion the entire class has just been background and buildup with no meat and ugh.) and we’re actually getting to the good stuff. I’m a little worried because I still haven’t gotten my term paper grade from the first class I took with her, and I don’t want to try to start my second term paper for her (i.e., the one for the class I took with her last semester) until I get feedback on the first, not to mention the fact that the libraries still aren’t open for normal business... At least at the end of this semester I know I won’t have to get a job at the factory since my 450-Job is doing just fine for my purposes, meaning I’ll have an entire extra month to sacrifice on the altar of research and term paper writing.

Also haven’t gotten a grade for my morphology paper yet, but it’s only been turned in for about a month and a half.

Otherwise, I’m still going. I’ve been having a lot of meltdowns recently from all the stress and weirdness. Sometimes I feel like the only time I can get away from it is when I’m at the warehouse because the work is so mindless and follows such a strict pattern. Bossman told me the other day that they might train me to work at the packing tables so I don’t have to spend all four hours of my shift doing the same thing, unless, of course, that doesn’t bother me. I told him it didn’t bother me at all (I almost mentioned that I’m autistic so I rather enjoy knowing exactly what to expect every time I come in for my shift), and he said they wouldn’t train me then, at least for a while. There’s enough people to work the packing tables, anyway.