Ben sighed and grumbled a bunch of curse words under his breath as he headed towards his class. Now, he was more than sure that Vought hated his guts. Years spent working for them, being America’s Golden Hero and the first supe ever to be created — only for them to give him to the Russians that tortured him for decades. And as if that wasn’t enough, now that he was back they wanted him to teach? At this point, he just dreamed about a gun to his head.

He was late. The usual. Not that he wanted to be here in the first place. At least he was getting money out of it and the pay was good enough to make him put up with this bullshit.

“Someone remind me what we did last time,” he said gruffly, flicking the rest of his joint on the floor and putting it out with his boot. Then, he marched up to his desk and sat down in the chair, propping his feet up on the dark, wooden countertop. His arms were crossed on his chest, his thick biceps straining against the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. When the only response he got was silence, he scrunched his brows, his left eye slightly twitching. “Now, do y’all have your tongues shoved up in the ass? I asked the question and I expect a fuckin’ answer,” he growled.

Yeah, his methods were a bit… unconventional. The fact that no one reported him yet was a damn miracle. But then again, the majority was probably scared and even if they did, Vought would most likely do nothing about that.

When still no one dared to say anything, Ben sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Where’s that smartass who knows everything? Anybody—”

And then, as if summoned, you barged into the class, panting heavily and your bag almost flying off of your arm. He spun around to look at you and immediately, a wolfish grin came up on his face.

There you were — his favourite student.

“Well, well, well. Took you long enough, sweetheart. Class already started a while ago,” he snorted, watching as you went to take your usual seat in the first row.