#like i’ve been trying to be the bigger person this semester and it’s not working

[lovevalley45]

so i might have to finally go to my RA abt my roommate and it makes me feel like such a bitch but like. is it really worse than wanting to throw smth at her

like it’s gotten to the point where i have to wear earbuds to bed because she talks so loud. keep in mind this isn’t even who i share am actual room with, and i can hear her. i’m at my breaking point

[captainsophiestark]

Seasons of Love

Dick Grayson x Reader

Materlist - Taglist

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out, and please pretend I actually posted this in April and not a month late lmao! Final semester of college is a hell of a time

Fandom: DC

Prompt: Demeter; The Seasons, Pigs, Cornucopia, Nature, Poppies

Summary: A LaLaLand-style series of glimpses into the lives of Dick Grayson and Y/N (without the LaLaLand angst).

Word Count: 4,678

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This is my first time writing any DC, Dick Grayson included, so hopefully it’s good and true to character! He’s been one of my absolute faves for a long time, but I’ve just recently gotten the courage to write for him :)

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

LATE SUMMER

I smiled at the kids running around the various animal pens at the fair, smiles on their faces as they got up close and personal with all kinds of different creatures they'd never seen before. Working at the fair outside of Gotham every August was never a walk in the park–and usually included more than one instance of vomit-cleanup–but moments like this made it worth it.

Of course, my coworkers and I were keeping a close eye on everything to make sure the animals and kids were both safe. I was in the pen with the goats helping the kids feed them alfalfa, one of my favorite posts of all time. My reprieve in paradise was interrupted, however, when I heard someone frantically shouting my name.

I turned around to find one of my coworkers coming towards me, waving his hands in the air. He'd originally signed up to be on ticket duty, but had gotten moved to working with the animals thanks to some short-staffing issues. He'd made it clear multiple times he was well outside of his comfort zone, and although he'd been doing a fair job of rising to the occasion, this wasn't the first time he'd come running over in a panic.

I made eye contact and nodded at another coworker who came over to monitor the kids (both goats and humans), then stepped out of the pen to meet Andrew, panic still written all over his face. I took a deep breath and prepared to give him a calming speech, but he spoke again before I could.

"The Wayne kids just let the pigs out of the pen!" he cried.

I just stared at him blankly, trying to process, blinking stupidly.

"The who did what?"

"The Wayne kids!" he continued, still a little breathless. "Well, one or two of them at least. I was standing by the pen with the piglets that are racing in twenty minutes, and the little one managed to let them all out! I didn't notice until it was too late!"

"Okay, uh... I guess stay here."

With that, I started marching towards the pig pen, keeping an eye out for any sign of rampaging piglets. My brain screamed at me to process the "Wayne" part of Andrew's story, but I refused to let it. I needed to deal with the piglets first, regardless of whether the ones who'd let them out were part of the famous billionaire Gotham family.

When I got to the piglet pen, which was nestled just behind the bleachers where people would be able to watch the piglets run around a dirt track later, I found chaos. People were running and shouting all over the place, but the piglets were nowhere to be seen.

"Dami, you go around the left and I'll circle this way-"

"I am not helping you recapture them, Grayson."

"Dami-"

I started to turn to see who was shouting at the same time the shouting cut off, because the shouter ran straight into me like a freight train. We went tumbling to the ground in a heap, and suddenly I found myself staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Gotham's golden boy, Dick Grayson. He smiled at me, and I scowled in response.

"What were you thinking?" I demanded, rolling over and pushing him off me as I moved to stand up. He leapt to his feet and held a hand out to help me, but I ignored it. "Why on Earth would you let the piglets out?"

"I didn't!" he insisted, holding his hands up and looking at me with wide eyes. "My little brother saw them sitting in their pen and decided they needed to be liberated. I've never seen anyone successfully stand in the way of him helping an animal before."

I huffed, continuing to ignore Grayson's gorgeous, charming, easy smile.

"I know you probably don't have a lot of experience with it, but those pigs are treated perfectly well, and they were safe in their pen. Letting them out to run amok in the crowd is putting their well being at risk more than anything else in their lives."

"Tt."

I turned at the sound of an angry, disapproving noise from behind me, then had to do a double-take when I didn't immediately see the person responsible for it. Then, I looked down, and found the youngest Wayne child staring at me with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Father has spent enough time working to end the poor treatment of horses at race tracks for me to be unaware of how animals to be raced are treated."

I blinked a few times, honestly not sure how to react to this ten year old staring me down. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dick Grayson step closer to stand next to me, but I ignored him. Instead, I crouched down to make myself eye level with Damian, the younger one.

"You're right," I said simply. He harrumphed in triumph, but then I continued. "About the horses, I mean. The way they're treated... it's unforgivable. My family and I have rescued any and all of them that we can, and the ones we've managed to save are actually over by the barn right now, being fed all the apples and oats they can eat by the adoring fairgoers."

Damian Wayne's left eyebrow ticked up, the only sign of surprise or approval at my words.

"These piglets, on the other hand, I can promise you are treated perfectly well. They only 'race' at the fair so people can cheer for cute animals. All they know is they're going for a run and then getting all kinds of food and treats afterwards. And honestly, letting them out in the middle of an inexperienced crowd of people is putting them in more danger than anything else in their normal, daily life."

Damian frowned a little, and he opened his mouth and closed it again a few times before finally speaking.

"I... did not intend for them to be in danger. I will return them to their pen."

"It's alright. You were trying to do a good thing for some animals, I could never fault you for that. C'mon, I'll help you get them back."

He nodded, then turned sharply on his heel and set off with purpose in the direction of commotion from fairgoers. I paused to straighten and smiled after him.

"That was really sweet, how you handled that." I turned to see Dick Grayson looking at me, the first serious expression I'd seen from him on his face. "Dami's a good kid, but he's hard on himself about mistakes. Thank you for handling that the way you did."

I gave him a small smile. "Of course. Any animal lover is a friend of mine. I know I literally just met him, but... I could tell he's a good kid."

We shared a smile at that, a more honest and genuine one than the million-watt grin I'd seen from him before. I held his gaze for a second, then sighed and turned back to look at the rest of the fair.

"Alright, enough talking. Let's go catch some piglets."

To my surprise, Grayson actually wasn't half bad at wrangling piglets. He, Damian, and I managed to work well as a team to get each of the little escapees safely back into their pens, and once the task was complete, I left Damian in charge of giving the piglets some treats for their ordeals.

"That was harder than I thought it was going to be," said Dick, coming to stand beside me at the edge of the pen as we watched Damian and the piglets together.

"Yeah, they're quick little buggers. Makes them good racers though."

Dick shot me a smile, and this time, I couldn't help another one spreading across my face too.

"So... this is kind of a subject change, but what are the odds you'd say yes if I asked you to dinner sometime?"

I turned to face him fully now, eyebrows raised. He just grinned back at me.

"You're asking me on a date?"

"Sure am."

"...Alright, sure. You owe me dinner anyway after showing up at my fair and releasing all my piglets."

He laughed. "Fair enough. How does seven o'clock the first night after the end of the fair sound?"

I smiled. "Sounds perfect."

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

FALL

"You okay? You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

I snapped myself out of my death stare with the cornucopia in the center of the table to face my boyfriend with a vague smile.

"I'm fine," I insisted, waving off his concerns. Dick and I had been dating for a few months now, after meeting at the county fair. It had been absolutely amazing, and I'd gotten to meet a few more of his family members besides Damian since then, all of whom had been just as lovely. Now, however, we were sitting at the dinner table in Wayne Manor for Thanksgiving, and any minute now I'd be thrown into the full Wayne family craziness for the first time.

To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century.

"Don't worry," said Dick, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "They're going to love you."

I didn't respond, instead taking a second for a deep breath and a last attempt at calming my nerves. Then, the door to the dining room flew open, and the room devolved into chaos.

I got momentarily swept under in the sudden noise, excitement, and energy as the rest of the Wayne kids moved into the room. A second later, Alfred bustled in carrying armfuls of dishes. A few of the kids moved to help him carry in the rest, but only Cassandra and Duke, neither of whom I'd gotten to know very well yet, were actually trusted and allowed to go help in the kitchen.

Dick gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze as he sank into the seat beside mine. I turned to smile at him, but a sudden commotion to my left ripped my attention away.

"Jason, I'M sitting next to her, you already know her well enough!"

"Too late Brown, I'm already sitting."

"Then move-"

Stephanie, who I'd only met briefly a few times in passing, tried to bodily shove Jason out of the chair next to me, but he refused to budge.

"Why are you so heavy Todd-"

"It's called muscle."

"Or it's called-"

"Stephanie, here, why don't you sit across from me?" I suggested, jumping in before things could really escalate. "It'll be easier to eat and talk to you at the same time from there anyway, which means we can keep up our conversation with fewer interruptions."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly aware of what I was doing, but I just kept looking at her with a beaming smile on my face (and thankfully Jason didn't interject). After a second, she huffed a dramatic sigh and started to move around the table.

"Fine. But only because Alfred would be upset if I tipped Jason backwards out of his chair before Thanksgiving dinner even started."

I grinned at her, quickly passing some food over to Jason, too, so he wouldn't take the opportunity to rub in his victory. Once we were safely out of the danger zone, Dick leaned over to whisper in my ear and give me a sly high five.

"Impressive," he said. "If you can pull that off, you'll be fine for the rest of the night."

I turned to give him a more forced smile than I'd given Stephanie. I appreciated the vote of confidence, but nothing that had happened over the past few minutes had done much to calm my nerves.

"Alright, is that all the food?" asked Bruce, clapping his hands and surveying the table as everyone at last settled into their seats. We'd almost had another disaster when Dami tried to bump Jason out of the seat next to me after Stephanie failed, but thankfully we'd managed to avert that crisis, too, with a promised trip to my family's farm tomorrow, just me, him, and Dick.

"Yeah, I think that's everything B," said Dick, looking over the table the same way his dad did. Bruce sighed, then sank into his seat and clapped his hands.

"Alright, then let's eat," he said.

"Don't forget, Master Bruce," started Alfred, at last sinking into his seat at the opposite head of the table from Bruce. "We still need to say the things we're thankful for."

"You're right, Alfred. Thank you for reminding me." He finished scooping a serving of stuffing onto his plate, then looked up. "I'll start.

"I'm thankful for all of you, safe and sitting around the table for dinner. And I'm also thankful that Y/N could join us. I think we're all looking forward to getting to know her better."

He gave me a kind smile and tipped his wine glass in my direction, and I tried to smile back despite the fact that my heart was pounding in my chest. I'd met Bruce a few times before, but he was still my boyfriend's dad AND Gotham's favorite son (other than maybe Dick). I couldn't help being nervous, since his approval was one of the ones that mattered most to me.

"Alright, that's great," said Jason, bowling right through the moment of silence that hung after Bruce's words–my hero. "I'm thankful for Alfred's cooking."

Every single one of us around the table cheered our agreement at that, and Alfred smiled. The turns moved quickly around the table after that. I had a brief moment of panic when it became my turn, but thankfully, it only lasted for a second before I managed to pull it together.

"I'm thankful for Dick, and for all of you letting me join your family holiday celebrations. I can't wait to get to know you guys better."

Everyone smiled at my answer, and as soon as the spotlight was off me, Dick took my hand under the table to give me a little reassurance. The conversation moved on from Thanksgiving gratitudes, and slowly, I gained confidnence and comfort participating as a member of the group.

I asked Dami about his pets and was honestly happy to listen for the better part of an hour. Jason and I ranted like the biggest nerds on the planet over our favorite books and our TBR piles, and Tim and I connected over a mutual childhood love of Nancy Drew computer games. Duke was the easiest person in the world to talk to, and he made a point of including me in conversations when I started to feel a little lost. Stephanie was so bubbly and friendly, even when she was not-so-subtly grilling me on my entire life, and although Cassandra seemed a little less eager to loudly jump into conversations with me, Stephanie helped bridge the gap and we got along wonderfully. Although they made me a little more nervous, Bruce and Alfred were also nothing but welcoming and kind. It wasn't too long before I was completely at ease, laughing and joking along with the whole table without a doubt about whether I belonged there.

Even when it came to the most ridiculous debates I'd ever been a part of.

"I'm just saying, capes look cheesy," said Jason. "It's fine for a little kid, but grown adults running around in capes look ridiculous."

Stephanie scowled like he'd just insulted her mother. "Oh yeah, because all the vigilantes running around in vests look so incredibly cool."

"No kidding," Tim jumped in. "Red Hood, for example. We all remember that terrible red pill helmet he wore when he first showed up. Or Nightwing's Discowing suit?"

Stephanie snorted into her drink, and Dick's mouth dropped open in shock. Jason started going a little red in the face.

"Brown and Drake are right," said Dami, his tone conveying he meant for this to be the final word on the matter. "The capes can serve a number of different purposes, and would be ridiculous to remove."

He turned to give Dick a pointed look, but I decided not to try to decipher it. I had more important things on-hand.

"Honestly, I say this with nothing but love for the three of you, but I have to agree with Jason," I started, finally jumping in. Everyone perked up at that, turning their attention to me, but I didn't let it deter me. "I mean, haven't any of you seen The Incredibles? No capes! There's like a whole minute-long thing on why capes are generally a bad idea for superheroes.

"And granted, we haven't seen anything like that happen in real life, at least as far as I know," I continued. "And maybe it doesn't matter as much for the indestructible heroes–Superman could probably get chewed up by a jet and survive, I guess. But other heroes, I don't know what they're doing! Somebody really outta show Batman that clip, make sure he knows the danger he and his Robins and everybody might be in."

Everybody stared at me for a second, faces blank, and I started to sweat thinking I'd said something wrong. Then, people broke out into variations of grins, laughs, and agreement with my point that Batman really needed to be more aware.

"I don't know if I remember that clip very well," mused Dick, grinning at Bruce and then the rest of the table as he slid an arm around my shoulder. "Could you pull it up?"

"Sure!"

"Hey Dick?" called Stephanie across the table, her voice dancing with laughter as I searched for the video. "I think I speak for all of us when I say, I love her."

Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table, and my face warmed. I glanced up to give an appreciative smile before going back to my video hunt.

"You better marry her, or we'll have to make Todd do it to keep her in the family," Stephanie continued.

My heart stopped dead in my chest for a second at the idea of marriage as everyone around the table laughed or agreed with her. Then, I couldn't help smiling and laughing too, especially as Jason faked a yawn and stretched his arm around my shoulders before having it playfully smacked away by Dick. My boyfriend pulled me a little closer into his side and gave me a soft smile.

"Alright, let's see this clip," he said, addressing the group as they kept snickering together. "B, lean in here, I think you'll really like this one."

Bruce sighed heavily, but leaned in anyway as the rest of the group shifted too. Edna Mode launched into her speech as I held out my phone screen, Dick and his family gathered around me, and my heart absolutely swelled with love for every one of them. Dick and I really hadn't been dating long enough to be seriously thinking about marriage, but still- in this moment, I could start to picture it.

And I really liked the picture.

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

WINTER

Whap!

Dick, my boyfriend of a little over two years, whirled around with a betrayed look on his face after I nailed him in the back with a snowball.

"Babe," he whined, his tone wounded. I just shrugged.

"It's training. You need to be aware of your surroundings. CONSTANT VIGILANCE and all that."

Dick raised his eyebrows and took a step towards me as a mischievous grin took over my face. A few months ago, when Dick and I had first seriously started talking about the possibility of marriage being the result of our relationship, he'd finally let me in on the Wayne family secret: not only was I dating the famous Dick Grayson, I was also dating Nightwing the vigilante. The Wayne family was one in the same as Batman and his extended vigilante posse. The few conspiracy weirdos on the internet insisting Bruce Wayne Is The Batman were right.

When he'd started to tell me, I'd first thought he was proposing. He'd been so serious and dramatic, and he'd done it at the end of a romantic, candlelit dinner we'd made together in my apartment. Then, once I realized what he was actually saying, my second thought had been oh, so that's why everyone loses their minds whenever I voice an opinion on a superhero.

At first, it had been a little hard to cope with the new worry that came with knowing my boyfriend put his life on the line every single night. News reports about the Bats and their enemies raised my anxiety WAY more than they ever had before. But Dick had been wonderful, reassuring me and helping me understand all the ways he'd found to stay safe and come back to me. And when that wasn't quite enough, the rest of his family stepped up to support me like one of their own.

Now, a few months after learning their secret, Dick and I were taking a rare full weekend for ourselves. We'd headed up to the mountains for some skiing, hot chocolate, and cuddling by the fire at his family's cabin, just the two of us. After a morning on the slopes and a delicious lunch, we'd decided to go on some of our favorite snowy hiking trails to take in the fresh mountain air.

Hence, my start of the snowball fight.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be training you," said Dick, closing the distance between us further. He and his family had been giving me self-defense training at my request, but we'd decided to take a break for the weekend.

"Mmm I'm not sure," I said, shifting backwards a bit to get out of Dick's reach. "I think I'm right."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then you probably have the better reflexes out of the two of us, right?"

I knew exactly where this was going. I grinned and tried to get my head in the zone before I answered, overconfident to the last.

"Definitely."

"Hm." Dick smiled at me, and then the next thing I knew, he'd wrapped his arms tightly around my waist before I had a second to react. I half-heartedly tried to wiggle free, but before I could, Dick picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I held on to him as tightly as I could, ready for him to dump me in a snow bank and ready to drag him down with me when he did. But the flip into the snow never came. Instead, Dick started walking with me still slung over his shoulder.

"Babe? What are you doing?" I asked, trying to push myself up enough to see where we were going. "I was all ready to wrestle you down into the snow with me."

"Just trust me," he said. Even though I couldn't see it, I could hear the smile on his face. I huffed.

"This isn't exactly comfortable, you know."

Dick just chuckled. We walked a few more steps, then at last, Dick set me down again, keeping his hands around my waist as we stood chest to chest.

"I may have lured you out into the woods under false pretenses," he said, a brilliant smile on his face. I raised an eyebrow.

"If I didn't trust you so much, I might be a little worried."

He smiled, then looked at a point over my shoulder before nodding for me to turn around. I did as his hands dropped from my waist, and I came face to face with his whole family standing around the gorgeous snowy clearing. Each of them held candles or roses in their hands, and they were absolutely beaming at me. I looked at each of them, waiting for some hint or answer about what was happening, but no one gave me anything. Then, I heard Dick's voice from behind me.

"Y/N?"

When I turned, I found my lovely, wonderful boyfriend down on one knee before me, an open ring box in his hands.

My hands flew to my mouth and I started to tear up a little as the situation sank in. Dick smiled, his own eyes a little wet as he continued.

"You are the love of my life. I had no idea when I first accidentally tackled you that you would become the most important person in the world to me, but you have. You make me a better version of myself, and every day I can hardly believe I'm really with you. You not only match me and love me, but you do the same with my family, which truly not many people can do. I can't think of a better person or partner I'd want to go through life with. So will you please do me the honor... of marrying me?"

"Baby... of course! Absolutely yes!" I cried, the tears fully flowing now as I dropped to my knees in the snow to join Dick. I threw my arms around him and held him tight, and both of us stayed like that for a few long moments before Dick pulled back, tears glistening on his cheeks and a smile on his face. He pulled me tightly to him and kissed me. I kissed back, running my hands through his hair as we got lost in each for a few moments before we pulled apart again. I held out my hand, shaking just a little, and Dick slipped the ring on my finger.

Cheers sounded from behind us, and I came back to reality as Dick's family came over to congratulate us. I wrapped each of them in my best bone-crushing hug, making sure they knew how happy I was to be joining them as family in the near future now, too.

After we'd all exchanged hugs (reluctantly or otherwise), I found Dick at my side again, wrapping his arm around my waist. I tucked into his side and it felt like I'd always belonged there.

I couldn't wait to spend the rest of my life just like this.

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

LATE SPRING

I took a deep breath and stared at the double doors in front of me, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't wipe the biggest, cheesiest smile off my face, no matter how hard I tried. Today was my wedding day, and I couldn't be happier.

Steph and Cass had helped me find the perfect dress. My bouquet was filled with red poppies, my favorite flower. Dick and I had worked together to plan a dream wedding for the both of us, and now everyone we loved was gathered here to celebrate with us.

Everything was perfect.

I heard music start up, then a second later, the doors swung open. It didn't quite feel real as I took my first steps down the isle, towards Dick Grayson and the rest of my life.

It started to feel more real when I finally reached him, standing in front of so many people with eyes only for the man before me. We stood together, hand in hand and eyes locked on each other as the ceremony went on. We read our vows, said "I do", and before I knew it, we were married.

Dick swept me off my feet in a kiss as the crowd cheered. We laced our hands together and ran down the isle together, deliriously happy as our friends and family sent us off. We climbed into the waiting car as the door shut behind us, and I snuggled up against Dick's side before leaning up to give him a kiss. Finally, it felt real.

"I love you, Dick Grayson," I said, smiling up at him. "I can't wait to throw around the phrase 'my husband' until every single person we know is sick of it."

Dick laughed. "I love you too, Mrs. Grayson. And I can't wait to see who breaks first."

"My money's on Jason, unless anyone else says it's annoying first. Then I think he'll back us to mess with everyone else."

Dick laughed, then leaned in to give me a soft, tender kiss.

"I love how well you know them."

"Well... they're my family now, too."

We shared a smile, then settled into comfortable silence together, leaning against each other for support while we rested for the little bit of time we had now before the reception got into full swing. Tonight would be a long night for both of us, but I absolutely couldn't wait. I loved Dick with my whole heart, and going through every part of our futures together–good, bad, and crazy–was the best thing I could possibly think of.

[sab-teraa]

Tye Talks: A Diary Entry

(22/02/24 || 22:58 pm)

Good evening friends, I hope you are all well and having a lovely Thursday! Just one more day till the weekend! Yay <3

Inspired by the lovely @the-winds-of-destiny-xxx , I've decided to start blogging about my day. Hopefully, I will be able to stay up to date lol.

Work

Ugh, I've been up since 5am prepping myself to deliver my second lecture of the semester. It went well, kinda. The students were super interactive which is great. Application + practicality > regurgitating information. They did super well. Also, we have a new HoD, and while I really liked our previous heads, the new HoD is a breath of fresh air and I really enjoy their approach towards education.

My full-time job is actually soooo … atm. My colleague has resigned which is all cool and I wish her the best.

But, there’s a trend I’ve noticed recently within our organization … and I hope it does not present any problems in the future. Tbh, I think it has presented a problem before … but idk. Anyway, constructive criticism goes a long long way … only if you’re keen and willing to learn …. which this person defo is NOT.

Enough about my colleagues, the CEO presented me with an opportunity but I'm lowkey nervous .. bc I prefer being a private + somewhat anonymous person lol, but I obviously said yes. Let's see how it goes, anything can happen and this whole project might fall through. Especially in this economy.

All in all, I really love my job and the career path I’ve taken. I hope it does not backfire on me later on in life.

Uni

Gosh. Uni is the bane of my existence atm. Tho, i did make a bit of progress on my thesis today. I know exactly what I need to do, but I just don't have the motivation to it. But, I think I've finally got myself together .. so let's see what happens.

Also, I'm so grateful for my thesis supervisor <3 she is so understanding and supportive.

Health

Is this tmi? Maybe? Apologies if so?

But, my nose and throat have been KILLING me recently? Idk if it’s bc of the fan or what … but yup. Thank god for cloves! They’ve helped wayyyy more than anything else I’ve tried lol. Also, my pms is really starting to hit 😭😭 I’ve been in soooo much pain since I got back home.

My mentally, I’m doing okay … there’s obvs moments in the day where I’m like shit?? I’m an adult adult?? Yet my life feels so stagnant 😂 but then I try to keep it moving and not think so much about what I want … and I try to focus on what I do have…. bc I’ve done my best.

Fun and mundane

I finally got to go to my first gym class of the week - I really needed that! The housewives from my class invited me for smoothies afterwards … and they are so fun! Are they my mums age mates? Yes 😂😂 but I loved hanging out with them .. they truly live in their own bubble .. I wanna be exactly like them when I’m older lol.

Oh Oh! And I finally finished the second season of Al Rawabi School for Girls ... flip, it truly broke my heart. What an amazing show.

I really wanted to start the new season of Real Housewives of Durban … but the new Showmax app is truly YUCK! I have the ick 🫠🫠 but, I love the show waaaaay too much, so I’d probs get over it soon lol.

Other than gym and catching up on tv, I made a delicious lasagna for dinner. I'm convinced that my homemade meat sauce and cheese sauce remains undefeated, or maybe that's just me being cocky lol. If I had more space, I would have defo attempted to make the pasta too.

I'm super excited for this weekend bc my friends and I are going to this art and music event and getting food afterwards. I also really wanna buy that duvet set I saw online ... since I'm no longer purchasing an apartment (recession boo boo boo 🍅🍅🍅), I may as well just re-do my current apartment lol. It already looks great, but I've been putting off getting a new duvet set bc I presumed I was gonna buy a bigger bed lol... so I've just been rotating between the two sets I have ... and damn they've seen better days lol.

Relationships

After all he has been through, my brother finally has some great things happening. I am so proud of him. I know he will achieve everything he aspires to <3 This has also done wonders for his self-confidence, he truly needed this, and I hope ... I really hope that it stays on this positive track.

Positive family news aside, idk if anyone saw the post about my uncle? But god damn I'm annoyed af. (Side note: He is my mums cousin btw; but my entire family is close). Anyway, my uncle called my mum to rant … and according to my mum he was sooooo proud of what he said to his wife??? I’m just disgusted. Idk how. His wife could forgive him for this. I’m so glad my mum put him in his place ✋🏽✋🏽✋🏽

I know its not about me and I have no right to speak on other people's relationships, but I hate seeing people put their all into a relationship and even go against their own family to be with someone ... only for their partner to treat them like this. His wife deserves soooooo much better and its sooo heartbreaking that she has to go through. My heart truly breaks for her. I pray everything works out for her.

Conclusion

Anywho … if you made it this far! Thank you for reading my ramblings <3 wishing you a lovely day! Stay safe babes 😘

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Connection: Logan

Read on Ao3

Warnings: uh, calculus? other than that none

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 2502

Out of all the decisions he's made for this semester, the one he's the most pleased with is the hybrid studying/tutoring arrangement he's come to with the attractive jock who sits next to him in his Intro to Calculus class.

He's one of those students who gets easily intimidated by the formulas and vocabulary necessary for the subject, but he's persistent and determined in a way that many wouldn't be and so he's quite capable of doing the work, which is a relief. Logan can count on one hand the number of students he's tutored that have shown as much interest and passion as Roman.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's very pretty, either.

Roman's already at their table—yes, it is their table, Logan's had an arrangement with the librarians since the first semester and Roman is the only person that is permitted to sit at it aside from him, not that Roman knows that—when he arrives, typing madly on his laptop with just the tip of his tongue poking out. He must be incredibly focused; typically, he only does that when he's forgotten Logan's there. Careful not to startle him, Logan eases into the seat across from him, getting out his own textbooks and materials to the rhythmic click-clack of Roman's typing. Every so often, he sees him glance at something on the corner of his screen—the clock, most likely—and resume typing at a faster rate.

Ah. He must be trying to finish before our time starts.

Sure enough, one minute before their scheduled slot, Roman clicks the last button with a flourish and slumps into his hands, letting out a low groan.

"That seemed productive."

Logan chuckles as Roman startles, a light pink flush touching the tips of his ears as he flails.

"Careful."

"For—how long have you been there?"

"Not long, only a few minutes."

"I didn't even notice you."

"I know." He nods to the laptop. "You seemed intent on finishing your work, it was hardly my place to disturb you. Did you finish?"

"Yeah, sent the draft along to my editors. Hopefully, that clears my weekend."

"Ah, of course. When does the next issue release?"

"Next Wednesday. They want to do a bigger piece covering the rise of generative text technology and how it's affecting the creative community at large, so I've got a larger word count to work with. Which is nice, 'cause then I can actually express some of the more complex concepts, but also…more words."

"I see."

"Sorry, I don't mean to go off-topic. Math, right." Logan chuckles, watching him put away his laptop and get out the books and his calculator. "Okay. So."

"So?"

"What the fuck," he mumbles in a tone so exasperated, Logan has to hide a smile behind his hand, "why—I think I got as far as 'area underneath a curve' before I lost it."

"You're referring to the applications of derivatives." When Roman just blinks at him, he shakes his head. "Do you remember the difference between definite integration and indefinite integration?"

"There's two?" he asks weakly.

"Yes, there are two. It'll help you understand the 'area underneath a curve' business if you understand those first."

Roman huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before he nods and starts flipping through his notebook again. "Okay. I, uh, do I remember that? Well, I definitely wrote down and underlined 'definite integration' so I must. Let's see…oh, is this the thing with c?"

"If by 'the thing with c,' you mean performing the integration between limits where c's value becomes irrelevant, then yes, this is the thing with c."

"Great." Roman claps his hands. "I definitely understood some of the words you just used."

"We all start somewhere." Logan sets aside his textbook and reaches for a blank piece of paper, writing down the integration formula with limits and turning it so Roman can see. "So. This is the formula for definite integration, do you recognize it?"

"Uh, sort of? This is just the normal integration formula, isn't it? It's just got…extra bits." He points to the square brackets and the limits. "These. Why did you put more letters in front of me, Logan, are there not enough already?"

"Those 'extra letters' are the limits."

"So…the bounds? Like—we're only integrating part of the curve?"

"Yes, precisely. The upper one is 'b,' the lower one is 'a.'"

"Will there ever be a case where 'b' is the lower one?"

"No."

"What happens if I write them the other way around?"

"Well, you'll probably get the wrong answer, unless you correct for that in your calculations."

"Okay, but like, sirens aren't gonna go off, I'm not gonna get arrested for writing them the wrong way."

Logan chuckles. "No, darling, you won't be arrested."

"Great!" A sharp nod. punctuated by a light pink on his cheeks. "So. Limits. And then on the other side, that's just the fancy way of writing the 'between these two numbers,' right?"

"Correct. And then what this comes out looking like when we actually integrate—" he rotates the paper to write down the factorized version and spins it back— "is this. So as you can see, this c will cancel out and we'll be left with g(b)-g(a)."

"Wait, why does it cancel out?"

Logan pauses, tilting his head, before he offers the pencil to Roman. Roman looks at it as though it were radioactive and he chuckles. "Can you show me why?"

"If I'm asking you why, why would I—you know what, sure, fine, I'll try."

He takes the pencil and pulls the sheet of paper towards him, frowning as he starts to write. Logan takes a moment to appreciate the way his fingers wrap around his pencil, the other hand splayed out to balance him as he leans forward. He must be incredible to watch as he plays or acts; if this is how he moves when he's uncomfortable, what would it be like to see him fully confident? Perhaps he'll have to go to the next game, it's only a few hours, he can spare that. A single lock of hair flops in front of his ear as the pencil scratches against the paper.

"Wait, what?"

Logan blinks, looking back at Roman's work. He's gotten most of the way through it, except he's ended up with +2c instead. He looks up, confused. Logan reaches for the pencil and takes it, carefully drawing a circle around the subtract sign and setting the pencil down. Roman's brow furrows harder, before realization flickers across his features and he fixes his mistake. He puts the pencil back down and leans back in his chair, one hand covering his face.

"Don't be embarrassed," Logan chides, "I've made that mistake too."

"Sure."

"Believe me, when it's something you do in front of the entire class, you tend to remember it." He pulls the piece of paper back. "Now, let's try it with an…"

He trails off when he notices Roman hasn't moved. He frowns.

"Roman?"

Roman's hand drags slowly down his nose, revealing his eyes. Oh. Oh, dear.

"Darling—"

"Sorry," Roman interrupts before Logan can finish, sitting forward and summoning an energy he clearly doesn't have, "let's try it with a what, now?"

When Logan doesn't say anything, he glances up.

"A what?" he repeats, more forcefully. Logan heeds the silent get on with it and focuses back on the paper.

"Let's try it with an example." He writes down a simple integration problem. "Do you want to walk through it together, or do you want to try it on your own first?"

"Can I try it with my notes first?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." He pulls the piece of paper towards himself and starts glancing between it and his notes. "Oh, shit, I stole your pencil. Here—"

"It's alright, I've got another."

Try as he might, however, Logan cannot focus on doing his own work, not when Roman's utterly defeated gaze still lingers in his mind. He's noticing it in the slump of his shoulders now, too, in the way his pencil almost flops out of his hands a few times as he tries to do the problem. He's taken his bottom lip between his teeth. It looks painful.

Logan glances towards Roman's backpack where he'd packed away his laptop. Roman is able to write articles that don't require much editing before they're approved to be published. He has a successful job as a writer while he's still in school. He's clever, frighteningly insightful, and clearly has the work ethic to match it. And yet, in the same breath, Roman will say that he's not smart.

As much as Logan enjoys this time with Roman, he wishes it didn't come at the expense of Roman's own self-esteem.

"What the fuck does that even say," Roman mumbles, bringing a small smile to his face, "you know what? No, we're making shit up now."

He pushes his notebook to the side and concentrates on the problem, adjusting his grip on the pencil and scribbling something down. Logan watches as he squints at what he's written a few times, erasing one number and changing it, before he reaches for his calculator. He types a few things in and writes down the answer.

"Okay, that's my best guess."

Logan takes it, looking down and picking up his own pencil. He has to brush a few stray eraser bits out of the way, but when he sees what Roman's done, he can't stop himself from smiling.

"So?"

"Well done."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes, darling. You did it. That's correct."

The relief that hits Roman is enough to make him sag against the table, slumping down with a groan. Logan chuckles, barely resisting the urge to reach out a ruffle his hair. "I'm so gonna fail this class."

"I've just told you that you've done it correctly and now you think you're failing?"

He props his chin on his folded arms and Loren has to clench his fist under the table when he pouts. "This was an easy question and it felt like I was climbing up a gravel hill. How'm I supposed to do a whole test on this?"

"By taking it one question at a time." Roman huffs and he taps his nose with the eraser of his pencil. "Chin up, darling, you'll get there."

But Roman doesn't move, staring morosely at the paper. "I have to, don't I?"

"What do you mean, 'have to?'"

"Professor Weiss isn't gonna cut me any slack if I don't get at least 80% on this next assignment, so…"

Logan frowns. "I'm sure if you talked to him—"

"I did. I do. All the time. He just doesn't like me."

"I'm sure that's not true—"

"Yeah, it is," and that horribly defeated look is back, "he thinks I shouldn't be in an intro class when I'm a junior. He thinks I'm slacking off and he said he's not gonna let me just skate by."

Anger flares in Logan's chest and he sets his pencil down carefully. "He said that to you?"

"And I mean, I get it. Intro classes are reserved mainly for freshmen and people who transfer in, but like—math is hard for me, okay? It's not like I'm not trying, it's just really hard."

"I'm also in this class," Logan points out gently.

"Yeah, but you're taking this as your fun class. You're doing high-level math and physics and super complicated stuff in all your other classes and this one's just to help you round out your skillset. That's not the same thing."

Logan opens his mouth to say something else when Roman jerks up and shakes himself hard.

"Sorry, sorry, I got carried away. Let's get back to work. What should we do next—is it different when one of the limits is a negative number or something?"

Before he can think better of it, Logan reaches out and covers Roman's hand. The poor thing startles, but doesn't pull away.

"Listen to me for a moment, okay?" Roman nods. "Don't base your intelligence off of whether or not you can do calculus. Calculus is hard, infamously so, even for people who are proficient in other forms of math. Your grades are fine. I've seen your test results, you're not anywhere near the bottom third of the students in our class. It's alright that it's a bit of a struggle for you, the important thing is that you're struggling through it. And if the professor is being obnoxious, we'll report him for it."

Roman splutters. "I'm sorry, we'll what?"

"You said it feels as if he's targeting you specifically, yes? We can report him for that. It's unfair to single you out for any reason when you're performing decently in his class."

"You just want to fight him, don't you?"

"Perhaps."

"Is this because he refused to let you use the shortcut you used in physics because it's not 'technically' how you're supposed to do it?"

"Perhaps."

Roman laughs and Logan smiles, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Logan. I, um…I really, really appreciate you being willing to sit and explain things to me over and over again. I wouldn't…I wouldn't have the grades I do if it weren't for you."

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine."

"Really? What do you even get out of this?"

"Aside from the fact that teaching someone else helps me understand it better, I enjoy spending time with you."

He snorts. "Fair enough. And here I thought you'd ask me out to dinner like everyone else does."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

Oh. Oh, no, too cruel—Roman wilts, his expression flickering a few times before it settles on quiet acceptance. He takes his perceived rejection with a silent nod, going to pull away.

Logan quickly tightens his grip.

"What—"

"You've said in the past," he says before Roman can finish, "that you find some of my behaviors…distracting. For the sake of helping us remain focused on our work, I've attempted to tone them down. If we went out to dinner, however…"

He reaches forward and tucks that lock of hair behind Roman's ear.

"…I wouldn't exactly have much of an incentive to do that, now would I?"

Roman's eyes widen and Logan chuckles, letting the poor thing breathe as he pulls away. Roman sits there for a few more seconds, blinking before he shakes his head.

"You're the worst," he manages weakly and Logan laughs again.

"You're blushing."

"Shut up." He shakes his head. "No. Integration. Calculus. More numbers. We can talk about dinner later."

"Is that a yes, then?"

"I was never actually asked, so—no, no," he says quickly when Logan raises an eyebrow and leans in again, "that was not a complaint. Shut up."

"So?"

"Depends on whether or not someone else asked before you did."

"Oh? You have a lot of people asking you out?"

"What, you want a list?"

"Yes, actually."

"Oh my god, you're unbelievable."

Very pretty. Very, very pretty.

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[whentherewerebicycles]

2022: a year in review

all right all right let’s do some REFLECTIVE JOURNALING about this year!! this has been a year of major life upheavals for me, some of them chosen and some not, and to be honest i still feel like i’m in the middle-to-late stages of a major transition rather than comfortably settled & looking back on it all! but that’s okay, that’s okay. it’s still good to pause, take a breath, and reflect on this year.

i decided to do a separate post about what i want to prioritize or focus on changing in the coming year... so this long journal entry is just about what was hardest about this year, what was most joyful, and what some of my favorite memories were looking back on 2022.

what was hardest or most challenging about this year?

changing careers was by far the toughest thing i’ve had to weather in a while, and that includes the pandemic year(s). every part of that change felt so disruptive to my life, my relationships, and my routines. it really shook my understanding of myself, and if i’m being honest i still have a hard time seeing any silver lining to this experience apart from the financial flexibility my new job has afforded me. which isn’t nothing (more on that later), but also doesn’t totally feel like it makes up for the cost.

sigh ok let’s reflect. the drawn-out process of trying to get my old program extended was so disheartening, especially with all the pushing and prodding i had to do to get the deans to even care enough to send the requisite emails. then the very positive meeting we had with the foundation followed by the swift, no-explanation rejection of our proposal a couple months later was such a disappointment. like, i built that program from the ground up! i believed so much in the work i was doing with kids and i loved going to my job every single day. i had a clear sense of purpose & i felt professionally competent in my role. it wasn’t a perfect job (i still had too much unstructured time and too little real demands on my time/energy) but in terms of the blend of teaching, mentoring, and program design work, it was the closest to my ideal i’ve ever gotten. watching it all just get flushed down the drain because people didn’t care enough to send in the right paperwork at the right time, or because institutional priorities at the foundation had shifted and they wanted to clean house of old projects, or whatever, just sucked. blehhh. i’m no longer actively grieving it, and i DO feel like i was thoughtful and deliberate about giving myself good emotional closure in the final weeks of that last semester. but some part of me still feels pretty bad and sad about how it all went down, and even though i loved my time in that job the ending soured the experience a little. so yeah: that sucked.

and then of course... as you know if you’ve been reading along with my public diary this fall... the job change itself has been pretty depressing. my hope was that even if i had to work in a field i didn’t care about as much, i could at least gain professional experience in a new role that might push me in different ways and challenge me to learn new things. that hasn’t been the case. let me pause here and say that i understand how fortunate i am to have a flexible job that requires very little of me & compensates me really well for it. the change in my financial situation has changed my entire future. it’s now financially feasible for me to pay for IUI cycles and raise a kid on my own. plus i’ve been able to finance a cross-country move, get a bigger place in an area i love, and replace basically all of the slowly-falling-to-pieces stuff (furniture, clothes, appliances) i’ve had since i graduated college over a decade ago. that’s all good! and i’ve now gotten through the phase of the transition where i cried every night after work (and sometimes at work lol) because i felt such despair over what i’d done. so that’s… good. that’s fine.

but hoo boy. i really hate my job. and more disappointingly: i hate the person i am in this job. in my old job i got to think about other people all the time—what they liked and what made them anxious, how best to motivate and connect with them, how to tap into their strengths and help them develop their weaknesses, etc etc. i thought about myself a lot too, but largely in the context of my relationships to other people. i thought about how to be a better listener, or how to slow my knee-jerk jump to judgment, or how to manage my own insecurities in ways that would help me more effectively build connections with kids. i thought about my values and how i could enact those values in my daily interactions with others. i was people-focused! and now i’m self-focused. all the time. like, i still have interactions with friends and family, but at work i’m just by myself 95% of the time. by myself and, because I don’t have enough to do, thinking about myself-my priorities, my needs and desires, my little plans, etc etc. me, me, me. i do feel way more connected to family since the move and that’s providing me with some interpersonal joy and meaning. but i just. bleh. if i sit with it for too long, i have to confront the fact that i don’t like myself very much right now. or I guess like, i don’t like a person who would be content living like this. but i also feel kind of stuck, for reasons i don’t fully understand. i keep dragging my feet on putting together this teaching letter and i don’t know why. i feel like the longer i stay in this really me-focused space the harder it is for me to jolt myself out of it. sigh okay more on this later, when i move onto thinking about things i want to change or prioritize moving forward.

phew! that was a real downer! let me talk about a more positive change in 2022!

what was best and most joyful about this year?

i’ll do two: one big life change and one big perspective change.

first, the big life change. i left texas after ten years and moved to washington state. it was a big scary decision and it felt like it happened very fast. there were lots of logistical headaches involved (including some very costly lease-breaking and moving stresses), but on the whole it’s been such a positive change and i’m so happy i did it. i’ve said it here before but: this was the year i learned that you can just up and change your whole life. you can just do that. anytime you want. i think that is valuable knowledge that i really want to hold onto in the future. you’re not stuck where you are, and if you’re not happy or you need a change, chances are that you can figure out a way to make that happen for yourself. i love the area i live -- it’s further outside of seattle than i was expecting, but i love being so close to the water, i love being able to afford a big place, and i love living in a beautiful area where i’m within walking distance of at least four parks or trails and within easy driving distance of probably a dozen more. the natural beauty is stunning and even after four months i still gasp quietly to myself every single time i walk to the crosswalk across from my complex and see the mountains (they’re just right there). the rain doesn’t bother me nearly as much as i expected (it turns out that if you have the right clothes you’re just... fine? it’s fine?) and so far i’m handling the short, often overcast winter days pretty well.

but obviously, the best part of ALL is just being closer to family, especially my sister. i get to just casually hang out with my sister multiple times a month, something that we NEVER thought would happen (or at least not for many many years to come). i get to have my siblings and SIL over for dinner & just hang out with them all evening. plus i have somehow lucked into having a hockey-going fandom friend here (la) AND one of my best college friends + her girlfriend here... and i’ve somehow convinced my best friend and her partner to move here this summer, so then my life will just be, like... the best. i’m so happy about it. i mean i’d like to eventually make new friends too haha but for now it’s just really, really nice to have a small but very loving built-in social network to cushion the transition.

as i’ve been reflecting on it... i think i was a lot lonelier in austin those last couple years than i realized. and it was mostly my own fault! i just wasn’t as good or diligent about re-investing in my relationships after the pandemic, and i just kind of got used to other people periodically reaching out instead of me taking the steps to really strengthen the friendships that were important to me. i regret that!! and it makes me sad because i love my austin friend group, especially my grad school friends, and i was really, really happy there for such a long time. but idk, i just let things slide! i maybe derived a little bit too much of my social energy from my job and kinda counted on habit to maintain my out-of-work relationships. and re: the city itself, i think i just kinda let myself slip in a post-pandemic funk where i was so stuck in my routines i stopped trying new things or going new places. i really needed to change my whole life. and i did it.

i haven’t fixed everything yet. i still think some things in my social life & in the way i’ve been acting in my friendships is a little out of whack. i feel like i’m not doing a good job of reciprocating thoughtfully and lovingly in my relationships with others, or of communicating to people (through actions, not just words) how much i value my friendships with them. i think that’s partly, again, because this year has just been such an obsessively self-focused year for me.. due to the job search, the move, the lingering pandemic emotional funk, the bleh feelings about the new job and that disconnection-from-core-self i’ve been feeling, etc etc. but i think patterns of behavior that started out as situational (‘i’m thinking obsessively about me, me, me because i’m dealing with big life transitions’) can all too easily become habitual if i’m not thoughtful about interrupting them. so: that’s another thing i want to think about as i look forward to the new year.

okay and then the second best/most joyful thing about this year was the perspective shift i’ve experienced around parenting. i think even as recently as the late spring and summer, i was still feeling really really unsure about having a kid. i never doubted that i wanted to parent someday, but i felt all this uncertainty and reluctance around actually taking the necessary steps. i feel like i was really focused on what i’d be giving up (free time, flexibility, ease of travel, energy for creative pursuits, whatever) and it was hard to weigh those against an uncertain future. from that vantage point, all i could see with any clarity and certainty was what i’d be losing, and i could only very hazily imagine the kinds of things i might be gaining. so i felt like i was dragging my feet a lot, moving forward without feeling ready, still going back and forth on timelines, etc etc.

and then... i don’t know. something shifted. i can’t pinpoint how or where—maybe during liz’s wedding week? maybe as i was settling into the new place & delighting in being so close to my siblings? but suddenly i was just... ready. i’m ready. i’m one hundred percent ready. i mean i know you can’t ever be ready for the realities of parenting, but i do think that you can have that moment where things just click, and you’re like, yeah, i want to do this. i’m all in. i have never in my entire life experienced ‘baby fever�� and i’m certainly not experiencing it now lol. but at some point this fall, something crystallized for me. i want my life to include motherhood (whether i get there by giving birth to a child, by fostering, or by adopting). i want that to be part of my human experience. that’s been unexpectedly joyful for me—that click, and the sense of clarity and purpose that comes with it. it’s kind of funny to me that i spent so long dragging my feet... and now i’m literally counting down the days (13!) till my next cycle starts and calculating out how many IUI tries i can fit in this spring with my travel plans. but you know what?? i’m glad i waited for the click. i feel really good about it.

favorite memories from this year: 

finishing a 50k story that i think is the highest quality thing i’ve ever written and feeling so proud of both the product & the incredible amount of work that went into the process. flying to kansas & driving to iowa to surprise my sister on her residency match day. the incredible symposium my kids put together, including the panel that was so moving and so lovingly done it made multiple audience members cry. that beautiful goodbye luncheon with my kids, where i got to listen to them talk about what they were proudest of and what they most admired most about each other. getting to experience the beautiful, beautiful dream week that was liz’s camp wedding... god that was just the most joyful, life-affirming, soul-expanding experience imaginable. fourth of july at K & N’s place with all my grad school friends, spending spent the afternoon drinking lukewarm beer and pressing bags of melting ice to our faces in a futile effort to cool off. some truly incredible summer sunsets. my favorite hockey guy re-signing with the team in the most dramatic way possible. walking the neighborhood loop i’d walked for six years with the dogs one last time, and then just standing there in the dark, looking out at the lights of the big fields with the moon over them, feeling excited but also feeling the bittersweet grief of losing a familiar place. starting a silly delightful little hockey podcast with two of my favorite fandom friends. visiting my sister in seattle to look at apartments and floating for hours with her on the lake. finding the secret woods with my brother. driving to my new house shortly after moving in and hearing the gps say ‘welcome home.’ getting to host lots of beloved friends and visitors in my spacious new place. wandering costco with my brother sometime in that first week, both of us cracking up and making up bits. being in the same time zone as my best friend and getting to see her every single month. playing twenty questions with liz on a long road trip except all of the things we were guessing were deep cut inside jokes from ten years of friendship. obsessing over greens and then at last finding the right one. my parents coming for thanksgiving and changing all the lights without me asking them, meaning i had to change them back lol, which i understand & accept as a gesture of love aha it’s very very them. going to the fertility clinic with my sister and spending our whole lunch afterwards looking through sperm donor profiles and laughing about it. hosting christmas eve dinner at my house for my siblings and SIL, then driving to my sister’s after her shift on christmas day and just getting to lie around on her couch eating indian takeout and talking about our dream gardens. picking a donor. feeling the click. walking out of my complex on a clear day, looking up, and holy shit: mountains.

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn,

I’ve been writing and illustrating published books for couple of decades, and while I’ve been happy with how my career is progressing (bigger publishers now, more frequent contracts, royalties!), I’ve never been able to make a living wage as an author-illustrator. Some part of me wants to believe I still have it in me to be financially successful as a writer-artist but it’s hard after so long. So I’ve been interviewing for a full-time art teacher job which would pay somewhat well (better than the $20K I made last year!) and provide benefits. I’m afraid, though, that I won’t have time to make books anymore, or to really focus on my craft like I do now. Do any of your clients have full-time non-writing jobs and are still able to make books? I know this is such a case-by-case scenario but maybe you could shed some light on this subject. Some part of me is like “just hold out a little longer and you’ll make it over the hump! Keep throwing yourself into your book work and focus like a laser!” and another part of me says “you’re 45 years old with no savings!”

I hesitate to ever give, like, actual financial advice to strangers on here. Everyone's situation is different! So take this as more general thoughts, and if any of it resonates with you, great, and if not, ignore me. :-)

To address some of the not-actual-questions: Listen, a steady paycheck and benefits is nothing to sneeze at. I don't know about you, but we are of a similar age, and I went from having Nothing Wrong with me to having Everything Wrong with me, health-wise, VERY suddenly. If I didn't have insurance, I'd be screwed. I don't have benefits at my job and luckily I can afford the $900+ a month it costs me to stay alive with private insurance, but if I was still on a bookseller's salary or something, I honestly don't know what I would do. So... if you are American and a good insurance plan is not something you currently have, that is an important thing to think about, IMO, as you (gracefully!) age.

Can you re-frame the problem into something positive? Instead of thinking of this as "a day job will stall my creative ambitions" -- perhaps a day job will actually PROP UP your creative ambitions?

Thought experiment: You take this job, and you like it. It's a challenge, but it also feels good to know you are having a positive impact, and perhaps your students even give you a boost of creativity. You do absolutely still work on your books, but now it's a couple hours in the morning or at night on weekdays, and one weekend day. You KNOW you have a paycheck coming and you don't have to rely on sporadic book income to get by, and you know that god forbid should you need it, you have decent insurance. Perhaps you are even able to get by entirely or mostly on job-money and put all or most of your book-money after taxes into savings to start building a nest-egg.

How does that make you feel? Does thinking about that bit of financial freedom and the idea of actually saving for the future relieve some stress? If you are less stressed and don't have to worry about hustling quite so hard at the book stuff -- might you actually feel able to take more risks with your artistic work and try things that you might have never felt you were in a position to experiment with before? If you KNOW you have limited time to work on your book stuff, are you the type of person who could buckle down and do it and make it work, or no? Does the idea of having having more of a strict schedule make you feel safe, or panicky?

I don't know the answers to these questions, obviously, but I do think they are worth considering. And of course: Nothing has to be forever. If you get the job and decide to try it and realize a semester in that it's not for you... for whatever reason! -- you can always stop!

To answer your actual question: I do rep illustrators who also teach or have other kinds of demanding full or part-time jobs and/or tiny children at home, or who work freelance doing things like animation jobs or magazine work or merchandise or other illustration-adjacent things that aren't strictly books. (Authors, too, of course!) Some of these folks are still quite prolific, and some not so much -- I have to think this is just up to their individual priorities and time management skills. Nobody is "like Kate Messner" of course, but for what it's worth, Kate did teach middle school full time and have school-age kids of her own when she signed with me, and still managed to write and publish and promote dozens of books before she quit teaching! So, yes, absolutely, it physically CAN be done, it just might mean a shift in your schedule and mindset. And that might or might not be right for YOU.

(My most recent podcast episode is with the lovely illustrator Cindy Derby, who has an infant -- we talk about how her time-management landscape has changed! And I have spoken to Kate on the pod before too. Maybe it would be helpful to give those eps a listen if you haven't?)

GOOD LUCK!

[ukiiyo-e]

Strategies to Help Pass Classes

I just finished my first semester as a graduate student with all As and these are some of the strategies that have helped me. I was one of those “naturally gifted” kids growing up and started to face burnout come college. I passed with a nice GPA, but there were many things I could have done to improve that I’ve used for this semester I’d like to share what can help people in similar situations.

See a therapist: 

Easier said than done, I know, but the help they provide is invaluable. I wasn’t diagnosed with some stuff for a while, and once I was and we worked on ways to deal with it in different areas of life. Since then life became more manageable. DO NOT USE BETTERHELP! For people based in the USA Psychology Today is great, you can slim down the searches to your needs and always look up reviews of the person. Some campuses offer therapy as well; you could always try it out.

Annotating: 

I thought I was too good for it in college and I have been uncomfortable with writing in books since I was young, even more so with ones I’m renting. I’ve tried using more sticky notes, underlining text lightly in pencil, and sticky tabs. It’s been such a huge game-changer! Sure you’ll have to remove all of those when it’s time to return the books, but it’s so worth it!

Grammarly or an alternative of your choice:

Yeah, the commercials are annoying, but it does a good job of cleaning up the little mistakes. I make so many spelling mistakes when quickly typing so I always put it through Grammarly. After that, for bigger assignments, I’ll print it out, take out the red pen and give it one more check over. It has saved me on so many projects and papers.

Map out your writing & Restate the question/items in the rubric in the writing:

I first tried this when completing my certification tests and it helped me to always score high on the essay portions. I tried applying it to my grad papers and I’ve experienced the same effect. Mapping out the writing, jotting down quotes/sources you want to use, as well as points you want to make in each paragraph helps to keep you on track. This prevents you from losing points and makes it easier to compare your paper to the rubric.

Write down a your due dates everywhere: 

I mix up dates frequently so writing them down in my notes, on sticky notes, in my planner, and on my phone aids me in not thinking on top of my game and then gets jumpscared by a close due date I had forgotten. You can’t forget what’s constantly in front of your face. 

Organize your files and save everything your professors give you:

In undergrad I didn’t organize anything, I didn’t receive too many handouts or PowerPoints but I still look back on some of the ones I have to this day to help me. Not to mention college is getting more and more expensive so take everything they give you without remorse. My advisor told me for my program to save everything and that was the plan. I try not to use Google Docs too much, I only use it for smaller drafts and then delete them once they’re transferred and completed. I recommend saving them to a hard drive, and organizing your files by Uni, Semester, then class. It makes me happy knowing I have a myriad of pdfs and links (even very recently written academic articles) that I can use and talk to my colleagues about. Being able to share this with coworkers makes me come across as a stronger and more valuable addition to the team which is a wonderful bonus!

Don’t be afraid to talk to your professors:

The name of the game is networking. You don’t have to be a teacher's pet but show some initiative. Actually read their comments! I know so many people who passed and don’t give a shit what notes the professor leaves. When I noticed a lower grade I talked to my professor about it and found out there was a formatting issue due to the program the uni used, it took a while to figure out but going forward I didn’t lose any more points.  In a different course certain pieces of information the professor gave us on the final project didn’t match so I reached out to ask which was correct as well as some others given it was my first time writing this type of paper. They responded so fast and then sent an email to the rest of my peers addressing the inconsistencies.  That saved me a lot of work and stress!

Rewards and relaxation:

There needs to be a balance between work and relaxation. I would get so worked up and be so hard on myself since this was my first semester and look at all my actions through a microscope to make sure I was doing enough. As I got more accustomed to my schedule I made more time for myself. Do things that make you happy when you can. Now rewards on the other hand acted as motivation. I am unfortunately a procrastinator, especially once I learn how long it takes me to do an assignment. I’m proud of myself for not doing papers last minute like in undergrad and that’s because I would break up certain tasks into days and create small rewards for myself. Example: I have assigned readings I have to do (highlight, annotate, and write a summary of main points and important page numbers in my notebook). Depending on how much reading there is I could either A. Get it all done and reward myself or B. Do about half of it, reward myself, then finish the other half. Rewards to me were like new episodes of a tv show or some time to play a video game. This now makes me feel more comfortable about doing more things when it’s time for summer classes.

Color coding: 

To me, this means using a variety of colors when taking my notes.  If I just take them in one color I find I have a harder time focusing when studying as well as recalling the information when I need it. 

Don’t worry about writing a paper in order:

I struggle with introductions on papers so instead I get all of my body done so I don’t waste time and then work on the introduction. Even with topic sentences I make a note like [TOPIC SENTENCE] and highlight it so I know to go back to it once I finish the paragraph. Probably weird and niche but still figured I should include it lol

[dreamsofyexiao]

Hey friend I'm seeing your posts and they're a bit concerning? Please consider talking to a professional or trusted one about your feelings; u deserve much better quality of life instead of constant depression

Hiiii… thank you for caring. Thank you for saying all this, thank you so much..

Please don't be so concerned 💗💗 i have tried to seek help, and I've known i needed to! Because you care, i will let you know. I sought out therapy back in late January, but i couldn't get an appointment until mid-April, so I'm still awaiting it. There's help ahead, and i just have to wait a bit longer. I've known for a while that i have no way of coping or self-regulating. Even in these months, I keep trying to find some peace, and it never works. If it works, it doesn’t stay for very long, not at all, it gets much worse the very next day. Feelings that i thought i could let pass keep lingering within me. But in this time, I’ve gone into my heart a lot, and I’m learning a lot about myself. I’ve seen more of myself than i ever thought i could see. It’s been hurting a lot, and it is nonstop, but it’s unveiling so much truth.

I did tell a friend a bit about my feelings, and she responded to me with so much compassion and understanding. She was so immediately validating of everything I felt, and it was a relief i did need. I did not even tell her very much, just a little bit. And she’s a really good friend, and her girlfriend always greets me warmly too. This friend gave me a card for my birthday! She wrote me a really sweet note and her gf drew a pangolin on it. I am happy when i am with her, just as i am happy when i am in class or talking to a professor, or when i am with another friend who i met this semester, or when i go to the farmers market and see the fresh foods, or when I’m eating lunch beneath a magnolia tree, or watching birds while sitting on swings, or singing in my parents’ garden. These brings me a lot of comfort in the moment, maybe they give me peace for a few hours, but it's never really enough. Because left on my own (and i do keep myself alone), all i do i self-destruct. I feel stressed and anxious, and i keep ruminating on the worst things. And even if these sweet things bring me calmness, i don’t do them often, and i don’t do anything else of my enjoyment…. there are so many lingering feelings that prevent me

Thank you so much for your ask. Seeing it really grounded me.. because... I feel all the time like I'm floating everywhere. And i am reaching for things that are so much bigger, and finding answers that are so far away from this grounded world. I still talk on here with the feeling it's me as the only person here but not alone. I don't know why i do that still when that is what has ended up hurting me.. a whole year. So it's grounding when you speak to me. And you're right and my quality of life is not good.. Thank you so much for caring.... i get a little emotional to see you care when i have not cared for myself at all. But you can see.. i’ve done a few things to give myself care. You don’t have to be concerned!

[hareefaree]

Journal - 2022 Fall Reflections - Game Design

Over the past semester, I’ve made a number of works - and even though I’m not happy with how I took care of myself this semester I can safely say that this semester of my college experience has been the most productive and creative yet. I have made works that I am incredibly proud of in close succession and have laid the foundation for multiple projects that I will be expanding on in the future! I kinda wanted to review my favorite/most exciting projects and detail why I loved them so much and where I want to take them next.

A project-by-project look under the read me, my animation work will be in a different post! :)

Personally I feel like most of my artistic work in the past few years have been stemming from a sense of grief and longing, which I feel like I’m finally starting to process both in therapy and in work (wow, working from your worst emotions unhealed actually hurts your creative process! Who knew.)  Working from these emotions raw was a good way to get them out, but I can’t say that I wanted to revisit and complete the projects I made prior to this year because they were just that - catharsis, for me. So now I’m trying to build distance again. And while the work I’m creating is still deeply personal (anything you spend hours on is), I feel safe presenting it to others now. 

I’ve also just been kinda… reconnecting with my heritage. I’m starting the process of properly learning Malayalam to help me solidify my ideas for my thesis film, and a few of the projects have just been me going through old family photos and trying to recreate the vibe of the memories I’m trying to capture (stiff and showy brown parties, photos and movies from 70s bombay, family dynamics that are exhausting and complicated but still important). I came out to myself as a lesbian this year and had the opportunity to properly explore my attraction and lesbian culture as myself, which was a long time coming. All the while I feel as through the world has suddenly become more and more reactionary, and I can’t help but emphasize the political dimension of myself and my art. 

All that to say is, I think I’m figuring out why I’m making art. So with the boring background out of the way, let’s get into what I’ve actually been working on!

GAME DESIGN

I had the amazing fortune to take a narrative design course this semester under the guidance of the creator of Twine Chris Klimas (if you’re interested in game design and storytelling just download it! It’s free, open source, and pretty versatile for text-based projects). I’d been struggling with game design prior, I wasn’t connecting with how I was being taught and I severely lacked (and continue to lack) the technical skills to make the games I want to make. But this class reminded me why I loved games so much and did a lot to reestablish my confidence.

Brown Party

Brown Party is a simple twine game and the first game design project of the semester. This was still more catharsis than art to me, if I’m being honest. I think going in there were a lot of ideas floating around - my relationship with my lesbian/desi identity, my issues with brain drain/Indian immigrant community culture, classism, and the overdone anti-artist prejudice trope. This shows in the writing - the narrative structure is a bit of a mess and I was so ambitious in terms of scope. But I made a game! 

I think, over the course of editing and revising this project that I actually stumbled upon some gems, stuff that I want to flesh out. I think it's a game that deserves to be bigger, that deserves more critical thought and cohesion put into it.

I want to genre bend this thing a ton- I kind of realized I was remembering this uncanny sense of space when I went to brown parties when I was younger. I may play with magical realism and whatever the fuck was going on in the RPG-maker horror game genre in the mid 2000s.

I also just want to hone in on the main characters, make them feel more like people and less like I’m ragging on the girls in my community. I have a lot of compassion for desi-american girls! I wish we as a community thought more about the world beyond our families but like. I grew up as that in that environment. It was grueling.

So yeah! I’m gonna be sharpening my unity skills and trying to see what sort of system would best serve this story…but its gonna be tabled for a while.

Ephemera/Your Mother Is Dead

Ahhhhh this game! I made this when I realized I desperately needed to be in therapy and it did me all the better. I had a pretty traumatic incident with my family and channelled all the fear and anxiety I was feeling at the time into this project.

This game, and I struggled a LOT with the technical aspects, ended up very different from my initial conception. The main narrative thread I was playing with was ‘packing up your mothers things after she died,’ and that vision stayed strong.

Game play wise, I was trying to build an inventory system in which you would stack things on top of other things and possibly break the things your mother had (the second person here refers to the player character! I feel like a lot of the aspects of this game were based in my heritage, upbringing specifically), revealing your own complex relationship with her. That didn’t work. I actually almost didn’t submit this because the system didn’t work. But the box packing wasn’t the important part, it was the relationship with your mother.

I think by channelling and solidifying my ideas in the writing, I was able to create a proper roadmap for where I want to take this. I will make the box stacking situation because I think it will help create closure, but I also wanted to incorporate dialogue with people, to have the gameplay be more about learning, knowing, and trying to understand how you feel about your parent.

I want to finish this game. I wanna rework the graphics so that it feels more homey and I want to create something I can properly cry my way through. 

And I will. :)

The Visitor

This was a collaboration with my good friends @addersmire (who led the charge on coding and designing the game) and Moss (I’m not sure if he has a tumblr so. hi moss, they did the sound design). I built the dialogue system (using yarn, they did the bulk of the legwork), wrote the most of the dialogue, and created the intro animation! 

It’s very different from the rest of my work this semester (probs because I was collaborating) and ended up being pretty fucking sick actually! I feel a lot more comfortable with Unity after this (especially bc addersmire is kind of a unity god? they have magical powers I think).

I’ll probs be incorporating yarn more into my work from now on since its such a good system (that needs more people to do forum answers for bc guys these hyper specific problems need answering)

The visitor is just an intro/prototype to a game we spent some time concepting. Not sure if it’ll ever be finished but it was a great experiment - you can play the intro on itch!

[vxnillite]

some untitled oc backstory

POV: It's 2148 and you're a high school teacher on Earth checking in on your students

not the most riveting concept, but i thought i'd play around with a 2nd-person POV narration style for a little Noah and Kevin backstory in preparation for a bigger, angstier backstory fic :D Also Noah is referred to here as 'Maxine', which is their first name and what they would've gone by during their days on Earth

Constructive criticism would be super appreciated :D

Characters: Kevin and Noah Siazon © me!

Word Count: 4832

The sound of metal grinding on concrete made your temples throb in pain for a few seconds, but you took the accompanying noise of students chit-chatting as they left the room as a sort of compensation. Yet another long day of teaching back-to-back lectures was finally over. It was a Saturday, too. All the more reason to celebrate as you had one full day ahead of you where you didn't have to face such disinterested and disrespectful students at this C-level institution.

However, you didn't leave your spot at the front of the class just yet. As the last of the students were filing out of the room, you cleared your throat. Of the 7 kids that were yet to leave, only one of them stopped in their tracks, visibly wincing at your voice. In the back of your mind, you took note of how the other students now shuffled out of the room quicker, whispering and snickering amongst each other.

"Maxine," you said. "Come over for a bit."

The kid quietly turned on their heel and approached you, their eyes glued to their feet as they moved. Their shoulders were as tight as the hands that gripped the sling of their messenger bag that seemed too big for the small and only 12-year-old in your 12th grade class.

Maxine Noah Siazon. They were, by far, the youngest 12th grader in the whole school—butting academic heads with a bunch of 18-year-olds that were almost twice their size. It was that, and the fact that they were actually smarter than most of those 18-year-olds, which gave you enough reason to give them more considerate treatment than average.

But you had to draw the line at some point.

“I assume you know why I kept you back,” you said in a tone that was both parts soft and professional.

They nodded, eyes still cast downward. You’ve grown accustomed to this, thanks to their brother’s friendly note about Maxine’s behavior.

So you continued, “You and Kevin have incurred several absences this semester, Maxine, and as your advisor, I’ve notified you time and time again to rectify this.”

The hand on their bag sling tightened, but Maxine showed no hostile reaction.

“3 more absences for each of you, and you and your brother won’t be able to graduate.”

Unexpectedly, there was a tiny, nervous shift in their shoulders. Then, they actually spoke.

“We’re aware of this, Mx,” they answered flatly, “We’ll try not to skip classes anymore.”

Something about that answer felt… off. The tone was quite expected of them, actually. But, somehow, your instincts were ringing some alarms in your head. Out of concern, you decided to prod just a bit.

“May I know why the two of you have been skipping classes lately?”

The answer came much quicker than you thought it would—almost as if it was on cue. “Kevin works on the side, Mx,” they said in one breath.

“He gave me his word that his job only starts after school hours.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you talked to him about his work directly?”

“Of course. And, what about you?”

“Fever and coughing fits,” they said. Again, a bit too fast than normal. “I’ve submitted medical certificates to the system for verification.”

You sighed, but it wasn’t out of annoyance. A star pupil like Maxine was one in a million these days, especially considering the school you were at. Out of good conscience, you were not turning a blind eye any longer.

“You know policy states that there are no excused absences, Maxine. The certificates only allow you to take tests that you’ve missed. And, yes, I know you’ve taken all the tests you missed, and so has your brother.” You sighed heavily as your gut bothered you again to press them further. “Look, I’ll give you this one chance, so tell me the truth, alright?”

You paused just a bit to look out for a response, but the kid was holding on to your breath, it seemed.

“You’ve been absent a lot because you were sick. There is 0% chance that it is not because of any other reason?”

“Yes.”

You took a mental note, then nodded. “Alright. You may go now.”

Maxine walked out as quietly as a feather, their stride longer than usual. You took another mental note as you noticed them hurriedly looking at the heavy watch on their wrist as they left.

You fixed your bag as quickly as you could. Then, on your phone, you pulled up the younger Siazon’s student profile and copied their address to your notes app. Wellness checks weren’t a common thing among your colleagues. Usually, you always just thought you weren’t paid enough to go to such lengths when all this school was to you was a stepping stone for the career of a fresh education graduate who was quick to learn that none of the better-paying schools were interested in short CVs. But this time, you thought, you’d start doing your job the right way. The only way you should’ve been working this whole time.

The area the siblings lived in wasn’t one you were familiar with. So you looked it up on your mobile map.

“Huh, I thought Kevin said they usually walked to school,” you thought out loud as you exited the campus, “This borough is 30 minutes away on foot.”

Your concern began to grow at a disturbing rate. You booked a subway ticket and walked as fast as you could to get to the station. The PA lady was making final calls for your trip just as you arrived. The cars looked full, given it was rush hour, but you managed to squeeze into one of the cars in the nick of time.

20 minutes later, you alighted at the third stop. Immediately, the air around you smelled different, and as you breathed it in, it was like you were breathing right in front of a heavy smoker. That’s when you noticed all the people around you wearing face masks. Worse, breather packs. In the capital, you could usually go about on a stroll without needing the pack. But right now, it was like every breath was siphoned straight from a smoke-belching van’s exhaust pipe right to your face. You figured the face masks you had wouldn’t do much to help. Luckily, you found a store right there at the station. For your sake, you chose to ignore the insane markup they had on the standard breather pack.

While walking, you plugged your earbuds in and turned on audio directions so you could keep your phone in your bag as you walked the dimly lit and very dangerous-looking sidewalk. Your new surroundings were a far cry from the loud and bright metropolis you were walking through just minutes ago. It was almost too hard to believe that you were still in the same city. Most of the street lamps were broken. The WIFI towers were offline—you had to turn on your data which, thankfully, still had load from last month. The streetside buildings were about half as tall as the skyscrapers at the capital, but just a single turn into an alley had put you right at the mouth of a network of winding streets with smaller, dilapidated residential buildings and even fewer streetlights. Instead, there were lines of paper lanterns illuminating pop-up vendor stalls and hole-in-the-wall stores and diners. Somehow, between all the warm light and bustling night crowd, these cramped backstreets seemed a lot more… human.

It had been 5 minutes of just walking and weaving through the cacophony of the night market, and your AI had just informed you that you were still quite a ways from your destination.

You took a left, a right, then another left. Another left was due, but there was no Anchilletas St. where it should’ve been, according to your phone. What stood there was, instead, a busy little mom-and-pop diner whose entrance was lit up with retro neon signs—the kind you only saw in old movies. The windows had printed tarpaulins of product ads draped over decommissioned display TVs. But through the gaps, you could clearly see into the place, and you spotted a familiar face.

There was an empty spot farther into the diner, and you were comfortable enough to wait for a server to come by, especially because it was safe enough to take the breather pack off now. You have not had to wear one in a long while ever since the capital installed giant filters in their streets. 

Four servers were working the very busy floor right now. For a diner this size, you’d think they would hire more. Lucky for you, the exact server you needed came right to your table after noticing you.

Kevin instantly recognized you and skipped the scripted customer service greeting. “Teach, what a surprise,” he beamed, “I have never seen you in this part of the city! But I ain’t judging ‘cause you picked the perfect spot to grab a bite! What can I get you?”

He doesn’t look like a student at all, you thought. He looked quite different in his oil-stained, blue-and-white, striped server uniform than when he had a crisp and plain white school polo shirt. His hair was quite tousled. It made you wonder how long he’d been running around the shop that day. All of that made Kevin, one of your liveliest students, look much older now and wearier. But you thought it would be rude to comment like that.

“I’d like a chocolate shake,” you said, smiling, “And a conversation from teacher to student.”

Unlike his younger sibling, Kevin was a lot more sociable and charismatic. You assumed he was aware that you weren’t just here for a spontaneous dinner at some obscure diner, but it appeared he wasn’t at all fazed by the sudden teacher’s visit. Instead, he flashed a charming, friendly smile as he punched in your order on the tab.

“A choc-shake and a check-in,” he grinned. “Anything else?”

“Top it with sprinkles.”

“Gotcha. Comin’ right up~”

Kevin disappeared into the kitchen, then came out mere seconds later with two trays of food on each arm, none of which had your orders. So you waited, watching as your student would go in and out of the kitchen, and each time he would be bringing no less than two trays at a time. Still, you noticed the way his smile never faltered or twitched. Not once.

When he came back on the floor for the 4th time, Kevin did not have the server apron on. Still, he professionally brought over your chocolate shake with the same smile on his face. In the light of the room, beads of sweat shone like little diamonds on his forehead before he wiped them away with a towel, which he slung over his shoulder.

“The boss gave me 5 minutes,” Kevin said urgently as he sat across from you, “With all due respect, Mx, I’d like to not have her deduct a cent from my pay tonight.”

It would’ve sounded crude had it not come from a teenager who was obviously just strapped for cash. Lucky for him, you had a thing a lot of your colleagues didn’t have much of for him. Empathy.

“And, Max texted me already,” he quickly added. “I understand the whole absence policy.”

“Yet, you’re down to three permitted absences, Kevin.”

His shoulder slumped as he laughed sheepishly, an odd gesture considering what he said next. “Family emergency, teach. I’ve been taking more shifts and odd jobs to get through it, honestly. But Max has been making sure I’ve made up for as much of the schoolwork that I’ve missed.”

A twinge of guilt settled in your chest at that point. But you were yet to realize that it would not leave anytime soon.

“I’ll do my best to talk to your other teachers about giving you consideration, Kevin,” you said.

The boy’s face lit up in what seemed to be genuine relief. “Aw, seriously, Mx? Thank you, really!”

“Mhm. But, I must ask about Maxine.”

The relief disappeared like water into a vacuum drain. “Did something happen today at school?”

“They’re doing fine at school, as usual. I am actually more curious about what happens at your home.” You paused to check his reaction—nothing raised alarms, so far. So, you asked, “How is Maxine’s health faring?”

Oddly, Kevin looked more confused than concerned at the question. “Max’s lungs are a concern, but it’s nothing a breather pack can’t make up for. I don’t remember them getting sick in the last 6 months.”

Well, that’s definitely intriguing.

When you spoke, the firmness in your voice disappeared, which wasn’t originally intended. Maybe it was instinctive.

“Maxine has 3 absences left in the semester, same as you, Kevin,” you said, trying as delicately as possible to not alarm him. But it wasn’t working. The confident facade had completely disappeared from Kevin’s face, now lit up by the ghostly blue screen of his phone. He punched only two buttons. Speed dial.

While he held his phone to his ear, waiting for the other person to pick up, you continued, “They told me it was because they’ve been getting sick a lot, and the medical certificates seem to back that up.”

“They’re not picking up,” he grunted.

“Try calling home,” you suggested.

Kevin speed-dialled again. His fingers nervously tapped on the table as he waited for the person to pick up. You saw him muttering the words ‘come on’ over and over until, finally, the receiver answered. Kevin’s voice sounded unlike any way you’ve ever heard it before. Even if he was talking in a foreign language, you could clearly sense the grave urgency in his tone. Honestly, he sounded more like a father than a brother. 

“‘La, nasa’n si Max?” [Lola, where’s Max?]

The receiver responded, and Kevin replied, “‘Di pa ba siya umuuwi?” [Did they not come home yet?]

It sucked, but all you could do was helplessly watch from the other side of the table, unable to understand anything but the growing concern on his face.

Kevin exchanged a few more words with the other person until he ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Max isn’t home,” he said, getting up, “I’ll go find them.”

“What about your shift?”

“I can work overtime tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you.” This was a no-brainer for you, really.

A soft smile brought back the youth to Kevin’s features. “Thanks, Teach.”

One thought ran through your mind at that reply and as you silently watched Kevin disappear into the kitchen for the last time that night. 

These kids are going through so much. 

When he came out, Kevin had his backpack slung over his shoulder, a worn-out letterman jacket, and a determined look on his face. Also, he had a paper bag that he handed over to you.

“It’s a good thing we serve our drinks ready to go, huh,” he said, cracking a wider smile.

You hummed affirmatively as you took the bag. As soon as you had your drink all packed up, the two of you left the diner. As you stepped out of the door, you popped on your breather pack. To your surprise, Kevin remained bare-faced. He didn’t even have a mask on.

“Kevin, don’t you need a mask,” you asked. “Or a pack, perhaps?”

He raised his brows, wrinkling his forehead a bit. “Oh,” he mused, “Well, the air right now ain’t as bad as it usually is, so I’m all good.”

You noted how hazier his face looked now that you were outside. Then, you dug into your bag and grabbed two spare masks. It was all you could offer him.

“Teach, it’s fine, re—”

“I can practically feel the smoke pricking my skin, Kevin,” you interjected, “Kindly take the masks.”

The teacher tone worked. 5 seconds later, Kevin was standing next to you with half his face covered up. The two of you were looking out into the street, which seemed to have gotten even more crowded, though you thought it couldn’t have been possible. Kevin towered over it, his neck craning every which way for what you chalked up to be some preliminary search of sorts. It looked to be futile, however, as his shoulders drooped with a sigh.

“They usually just hang around outside while I work,” he said. Then, he checked his phone. “No reply yet.”

“We could split up,” you suggested.

He hummed, mulling it over. “I don’t think you’d be able to find your way around here, teach. No offense.”

“None taken.” You pulled out your own phone and opened the maps app. “And, I can just use this to navigate.”

“Oh, teach, uh, the app doesn’t really have an accurate read of the roads here, not since two years ago.” Kevin sounded apologetic, as if he were the lazy developers behind the app. “But maybe you could stay here and search the main market street? I’ll go around the back and check out the neighborhood.”

You hadn’t seen Kevin exercise this much agency in class. You were surprised but quite impressed. Of course, you nodded to his idea.

“Let’s meet up back here when you’ve found Maxine,” you said, pocketing your phone again. “And I’ll call you when I find them.”

“Damn, teach, you’re doing all this for us, huh?”

It was said like a joke, but you threw back at him a genuine smile, which—though you wouldn’t admit it—actually made you feel bad about all the times you didn’t go to such lengths for a student.

“It’s my job,” you asserted.

His eyes softly smiled at you before he went off, jogging away into the crowd. He was tall enough that you could still spot him all the way until he turned a corner. You felt positive he’d be alright. This was his home turf, after all, which then brought your mind back to your mission in all this. It was your first time in one of the smaller boroughs of the city, and it wasn’t at all what you had expected. Rather than some quaint, homely residential streets, you’ve been met with a buzz that was louder than most shopping centers you’ve been to at the capital.

But that was enough dilly-dallying. You started trekking the sidewalk, keeping your head to the side as you looked through the shop windows while trying your best to avoid potholes and other people. But, every now and then, you’d stop to scan the crowd to your other side—as much as you could see of it anyway. Sadly, the diners, clothing stores, general merchandise, and other shops you passed by all had one thing in common: No Maxine. Meanwhile, Kevin was yet to report back, so you assumed he had no progress either.

You stopped to sit on a bench to catch your breath. The breather pack was still beyond uncomfortable now that you’ve had it on for a while. The air you were inhaling smelled even more synthetic than what you were used to in the capital. Normally, the instinct was to take the breather pack off to try and smell the more organic air around you, but when you saw the hazy scene before you, it didn’t seem to be much of a choice.

Your mind drifted off once more to the siblings. In class, you’ve come to know them as this iconic duo. After all, it wasn’t every school year you got to meet an 18-year-old who was classmates with his 12-year-old sibling. Anecdotes from their past advisor had nothing but good things to say about them, except for Kevin’s proclivity to often be missing from class and Maxine’s vulnerability to social exclusion. For the latter, you assumed it was because of the age gap. When you met your class at the start of the school year though, you noticed how Maxine never really strayed from their brother. But even with all that timidness, you saw how bright they were in class discussions. Their endless curiosity would let you find them spending vacant hours just sitting at their desk with their nose buried in a textbook, usually about zoology which was their strongest subject. Meanwhile, their older brother, a towering bundle of life and laughter, would be sitting right next to them, either chatting with his friends or reviewing for a test. When it was the latter, you’d spot him occasionally tapping Maxine on the shoulder, and the two looked as if the younger kid was tutoring the older one.

The two gave off a very warm energy together, and it always felt like you were looking at an incomplete puzzle when you saw one without the other. Unfortunately, this did happen a lot. You were aware Kevin was a working student, so you were giving him considerations and even talking some of the stricter teachers into letting the kid have breathing room, too. It only worked sometimes, though. Still, you saw how Kevin was just as determined as everyone else to graduate. Even a high school diploma would get any 18-year-old a better-paying job than part-time shifts at a local restaurant, so you thought that was the motivation.

You were aware of the situation the Siazons were in, in terms of how much they actually told you, and you never sensed that they were lying when they said they were getting by well enough. But seeing how dog-tired Kevin looked at the diner earlier, you were more than disappointed in yourself for just taking that claim at face value.

“When the kids say they’re fine, there’s no need to look into it further. It’s a waste of time and money,” the top brass had told you during your orientation. If that’s what they tell every teacher they hire, then no wonder the school was so mediocre.

“Alright, (Y/N), you’ve rested enough,” you said as you stood up, “Let’s get back to it.”

You readjusted the breather pack and turned back to the sidewalk. Then, two stores over, you were standing in front of a butcher’s shop. Its sign was flipped to show that it was closed, but, through its still-open windows, you saw the manager talking to an employee who looked way too young to be working there. They were both looking at their phones, the manager tapping away until he held the device up for Maxine to look at the screen. They stared quizzically.

“What? You expectin’ more, huh,” the beefy-looking manager barked, “Well, you emptied trash cans and scrubbed blood off the floor. Ain’t nothing to break a sweat over, plus you ain’t a real employee, so quit complaining and beat it, kid.”

You watched as Maxine stood there for a second longer. You thought they would’ve argued back. Instead, they made their way to the back of the shop. They were probably heading out to leave. So you quickly shot Kevin a text, telling him the name of the store. Then, you walked over to the other end of the storefront. It seemed the backdoor opened into an alley lined with dumpsters that were either filled to the brim or overflowing. You almost stepped out to call Maxine, but your gut told you to keep observing just a little bit longer.

They were now standing next to a utility bike that seemed too tall for them, and they were still in their school uniform. But, on top of their black slacks and white school polo shirt, Maxine wore an apron sullied with grime and dried blood. Their jet-black hair, which they usually wore in braided twin-tails, was tied up in a messy bun. Like Kevin and a lot of other people in the area, they weren’t wearing a breather pack or a mask. Most striking, though, was the stress on their face that made them look almost 10 years older than they were.

It took a while for the realization to hit you. Maxine is only 12 years old. The city’s minimum working age is 16, with no exceptions.

You should’ve stopped them right there and then, but you had to watch, out of curiosity, when Noah took their dirty apron off and stuffed it in the bike basket from which they pulled out a green delivery courier cap.

“Maxine,” you called out as you stepped into the alley.

The kid jumped and almost stumbled as they turned around towards you. “Mx. (Y/SN)? What are you doing here?”

“I was really worried about you, Maxine,” you said as you approached. “When you said you were only absent because you keep getting sick, well, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that point-blank—gut feelings, y’know.”

You saw them bite their lip. “But I was, Mx.”

“I talked to Kevin about it, and he said you’ve never been sick at all recently.” At that, Maxine’s eyes widened, then their gaze fell to the side guiltily. You softened your voice. “I’m not mad, Maxine. But now I’m even more concerned to know the real reason you’ve been absent.”

They sighed and began to answer, only to be cut off by heavy footsteps coming in fast from the other end of the alley. There were no lights apart from the one over the two of you, and all you could briefly make out at the dark end was a hulking figure running towards you. So, instinctively, you stepped in front of Maxine and pushed them behind you protectively.

Turns out, it was just Kevin, panting heavily through his mask before he ripped it off, sweat dripping down his face. He must’ve been running the entire way here from wherever he was in the borough. Still, as exhausted as he looked, his face erupted into a relieved smile as he saw Maxine.

The kid stepped out from behind you. “Kuya, I—”

They were interrupted again as their brother pulled them in for a tight hug. You stepped away to give them space and listened quietly.

“Jusko, Maxine,” Kevin exasperated, “Alalang-ala kami ni Lola! What are you even doing here, ha?”

Maxine said, sounding both defeated and stubborn, “I overheard you and Lola talking about the bills two weeks ago.”

Kevin sighed. “You’ve been skipping class to work, haven’t you?”

Maxine didn’t answer.

“I told you, ako nang bahala, Max,” their brother continued, “You don’t have to—”

“But I just wanted to help!”

“And, what about school, ha? Teach here said we’re in the same boat now,” Kevin fumed. “You can’t not graduate, Max. What would Lola say?”

“Ikaw rin naman,” Maxine contested, “If the two of us were both working, you wouldn’t have to keep skipping classes!”

“Max—”

The younger Siazon kept on reasoning. You’ve never seen them so stubborn before.

“Sasabihan na nga kita sana mamaya, eh. I just wanted to make enough money to buy Lola’s meds this month.” They turned their phone on and opened what you assumed was a payment service app. Then, Maxine shoved their phone into Kevin’s hand. “And I did. So, you don’t have to work during weekdays next week.”

Kevin stared at the screen for a moment, handed back Maxine’s phone, then peeled his jacket off to drape it over his sibling. It looked like a blanket on the latter.

“You should’ve told me,” Kevin said. There was no trace of anger in his voice.

“I was going to. Tonight,” Maxine asserted, “Sabi nga ni Lola, ‘di ba? Tulungan tayo.”

At that moment, you were reminded of a similar argument you once had with your dad back in your college days. What you thought was a responsible decision, your dad thought should not have even been considered in the first place. He told you to keep focusing on your studies and to let him worry about the money. As a parent, it was his responsibility to provide for you, no matter what it took.

That’s how Kevin sounded, and what he’d been acting like the entire night. A parent.

But it was clear that Maxine wanted a brother.

Kevin let out what sounded like half a chuckle and half a sigh as he draped his arm around Maxine’s shoulder. He turned them around so they were both facing you.

“Sorry about that, Teach,” he said. “And, sorry you had to go out all this way.”

Beside him, Maxine nodded. “And, I’m sorry for lying about the absences.”

You’d almost forgotten about that, to be honest. So you said, “The medical certificates were validated, so there’s no disciplinary issues to incur here.”

While Maxine looked rather confused, Kevin was grateful. “Thank you, Mx. (Y/SN),” he smiled, “We’ve got it from here.”

“Oh, not so fast, Siazons.”

Concern flashed over their faces. The resemblance had never been stronger. Then, you felt bad for worrying them.

“What would you recommend around here,” you asked. “We’ll grab dinner, and you can take some home for your grandmother, too.”

[temporary-screaming]

Highschool I was driven on the adrenaline of ambition and anxiety and then tripped,fell and laid their in college. I spent I think almost 2 years maybe more failing going to school hours early only to cry before I could make it to class and rot in bed without caring about work. I felt no more passion no wants I could barely feel my needs. I felt scared to try so hard once again in fear of falling flat or hitting the same depressive wall I sat at. Last few days have been a lot emotionally, and I feel the new medications picking me up. Instead of my brain melting away and mixing dreams with reality, my heart is pounding and my chest is tight and I’m reminded of the world around me is so much bigger than wallowing in self pity. I feel like I’m going to have a heart palpitation. I’ve reached out to someone I haven’t talked to in years and hung out and let go of fear. I feel the passion for art and biology again and I think next semester I’m ready to fight and climb that wall. I want to be more active, more out going, try to confront my issues and improve as a person and more importantly try to live life and contribute something to society. I’ve been to scared to seriously try to pursue the field of study I want to go into because I was scared of people and failure and rejection but I think I’m ready to try again. I think I’m ready to make an honest attempt. I will talk to advisors and see a therapist again and try to make it to class and do my work and I’m ready to revolve my life around me amd my wants instead of my fears and people around me. I don’t want guilty for succeeding like I don’t deserve it because if I want my friends to do the same why am I any different? I don’t care if my family think it’s the wrong path and I should just do Manuel labour for the money, as much as I care for them I’m tired of being both a burden and a maid, a parent but a child.I want to try again even if it makes my heart ache so bad and it makes me cry because I’ve learned that avoiding that means I can’t feel happiness either. I have always known this but after slowly sinking into a hole of complacency and ignoring the world around me, this intense past few days had made me feel something again and reminded me I’m human. I’ve felt hurt I haven’t felt in a long time, not a depressive numbness but blood pulsing through my veins. Anger, sadness, embarrassment, love, fear, pain and maybe a bit of mania as bad as it is feels like it adds to my resolve. I think I’m ready to try again and push hard after slacking off

[genshinluvr]

Obsessed with You

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: All you wanted was the Rex Lapis jumbo-sized plushie, but did you know what else you got aside from the colossal Rex Lapis plushie? A stalker.

Note: This was posted later than I have intended for it to because of how busy I'm starting to get with the semester in school ;v; This story is a little bit rushed because of how busy I've been with school, so it's probably not my best work. I'm going to try to continue to get some things posted even if I have a lot of school work to do. They might be short stories/one-shots, but we'll have to wait and see about that! I know this gets really annoying because I post it in every single one of my posts, but to my new readers or returning readers, please understand that I post on AO3 as well, so, if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it’s me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of torture and violence. This is sort of angsty, but at the same time, it's not as angsty as my Xiao angst.

Word Count: 6.6k Read Part 2 of Obsessed with You [here]!

Have you ever wondered what fifteen men following one person around the city looks like? It looks quite comical. Picture this: you’re walking around Liyue, trying food stands here and there while fifteen men follow you around like a bunch of lost puppies. The way they stared at you as if you hung the moon up in the sky. That is what the people of Liyue are witnessing as of now. You were nibbling on the Zhongyuan chop suey that Zhongli had handed over to you; you hummed in delight as a burst of flavor flooded your mouth.

Looking at Zhongli with wide eyes, “Oh my gosh, this is so good!” You exclaimed.

The stars in your eyes not only made the men around you swoon, but it made their hearts soar at the sight of you in awe. The citizens of Liyue swore they could see floating hearts all around the fifteen men around you as you mindlessly munched on the Liyuen dish. Completely unaware of how infatuated these men are when it comes to you.

Your eyes roam the scenery around you before your eyes fall on a particular store, your eyes shining brightly. Before the men could blink, you were standing in front of the store already, staring at what seemed to have caught your attention. A giant Rex Lapis exuvia plushie; it was bigger than you for sure. Perhaps almost the size of Itto himself.

“It seems like this Rex Lapis stuffed animal has gotten your attention.” The store clerk comments, smiling at you.

You smile sheepishly and nod your head. “It’s the biggest plushie I’ve ever seen.” You reply, feeling giddy as you approach the Rex Lapis plushie. You finished the Zhongyuan chop suey moments later; the plate ended up in the trashcan outside of the shop. You held your hand out forward and petted the plushie.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so soft!” You gasped in awe, continuing to pet the Rex Lapis exuvia plush. It felt like a puppy, almost. It’s the softest thing you have ever felt ever since you have arrived at Teyvat. Although, the men also have soft hair as well! As you were distracted by the colossal plushie, the fifteen men were arguing five feet away from where you stood.

Diluc was reaching into his pockets to pull out a bag of mora, but Childe quickly swats Diluc’s hands away with a scowl on his face, “Oi! I’m going to get [Y/N] that plushie!” Childe argues.

“What! No way! I’m going to get [Y/N] that plushie instead!” Diluc glares at the ginger in front of him.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! I, Arataki Itto, the one and oni, will be the one to buy that giant dragon plush for [Y/N],” Itto says smugly. Diluc and Childe stare at Itto blankly; they give each other a look.

“With what money, you oaf?” Scaramouche snickers, raising an eyebrow at the oni in front of him. Itto scoffs and pulls out a bag of mora, much to the other’s surprise.

Thoma blinks at the bag of mora in shock, “Oh, you actually have mora on you this time.” Itto flexes his biceps and poses with the bag of mora, a big smile on his face.

“How could I forget a bag of mora when I’m out with my precious [Y/N]?” Itto scoffs playfully; everyone raises their eyebrows at Itto’s comment.

“Your precious [Y/N]?” Kaeya asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Itto nods his head happily before putting the bag of mora back into his pockets.

Ayato lets out a huff before fanning himself with the hand fan, “I believe that [Y/N] is actually my precious [Y/N], not any of you buffoons.” He rolls his eyes with an amused smile. “And I shall express my love for them by buying them the Rex Lapis plush that they are admiring up close.” Ayato and the others look over to where you stood, only to see a strange man standing near you. The two of you seem to be having a conversation; the man seemed eager to talk to you. A little bit too eager, might I add.

“Who is that strange man?” Xiao asks, his hands clenching into a fist. Venti shrugs his shoulders in response.

“Maybe he’s the store clerk talking to [Y/N] about the price of the Rex Lapis plush that they were admiring,” Venti says, manifesting his lyre out and gently strumming it mindlessly.

Zhongli shakes his head, “The store clerk is an older gentleman. The gentleman talking to [Y/N] right now is young and is a little bit too eager to talk to [Y/N] about a plush.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he examines the man closely.

“Let’s get closer so we can hear what they’re talking about!” Gorou suggests, his tail swaying with irritation as he watches the man give you a lovey-dovey smile. It seems like the man has an eye for you; I mean, who can blame him? After all, you do have fifteen other men wrapped around your pretty little fingers. The fourteen men agree to Gorou’s suggestion, and all crept closer to where you and the strange man stood. Fifteen men are now attempting to look inconspicuous behind the large wooden box near the toy shop. From where they stood, they have the perfect view of you. And the strange man who appeared out of nowhere. Who was standing right beside you, a little bit too close for their liking, might I add.

“What do you like about the stuffed dragon?” The man asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the wall beside you.

You stared at the man blankly before innocently replied, “It’s a big Rex Lapis exuvia plushie! Who wouldn’t want it?” The man smirks before saying, “Well, I have something much bigger than that ugly thing. Wanna see?” Your eyes widened.

Kazuha scoffs; the look of disgust is evident on his face, “What a tasteless remark, truly disgusting.” Dainsleif and Zhongli were restraining Childe by his arm; Childe was thrashing around in their grasp.

“Calm down, or else you’ll blow our cover!” Dainsleif scowls, tightening his grip around Childe’s arm.

“Oh? Is it the mountain east of Qingce village?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, batting your eyelashes at the strange man in front of you.

He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes. I was definitely talking about the mountain that is east of Qingce village.” His tone was dripping in sarcasm, making you frown. You opened your mouth to retort, only to be cut off by the strange man brushing a stray hair away from your face, catching you and the other fifteen men off guard.

“I’m Yifan, your future lover.” The man jokes, grabbing your right hand from your side, lifting your hand, and pressing a slow kiss on your knuckle.

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline at the man’s bold comment, “Future lover?” You gave him a skeptical look. You couldn’t help but feel creeped out by his presence as you slowly pulled your hands away from his grasp.

Popping out from the shrubbery, Baizhu approaches you and Yifan with a fake smile on his face. “I believe that it’s time to go home, [Y/N],” Baizhu says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

The strange man Yifan gives Baizhu a questioning look. You looked up at Baizhu and pointed at the Rex Lapis plush with a frown on your face, “I’m still waiting for the store clerk to come back so I can buy it!”

“No need to worry, dear. I shall get this Rex Lapis exuvia plush for you.” Zhongli says, appearing out of thin air. The thirteen men look at Zhongli in disbelief. Not only did Zhongli offer to buy you the Rex Lapis exuvia plushie, but it seems like he actually has mora on him this time!

“I will be taking you back home, [Y/N]. While we’re on our way home, is there anything you would like to try out on our way home?” Albedo asks, guiding you away from the creep that wouldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“I don’t think so! But I would like to have some mochi. I’ve been craving for something sweet.” You reply. The thirteen men followed after you, throwing out suggestions on what you should try on your way back to the abode. Zhongli and Childe stayed behind, their arms crossed over their chest as they stared at the man in front of them. The man that dared to touch you without your consent, the same man who made a sexual innuendo. The very same man that made you feel uncomfortable after hearing what he was trying to imply. Childe and Zhongli’s blood was boiling.

“I would advise you to stay away from them. Your comment was not needed, and it evidently made them feel uncomfortable.” Zhongli says, his amber eyes beginning to glow. Yifan scoffs and rolls his eyes at Zhongli’s warning. Childe clenched his jaws at Yifan’s blasé attitude.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you their parents by any chance?” Yifan asks, cocking his eyebrow at both Childe and Zhongli.

Before Childe and Zhongli can say something, the store clerk returns from the back of the store and stare at Childe, Zhongli, and Yifan in confusion. It seems like the store clerk can sense some tension between the three men. He then notices that you weren’t present, despite telling him how much you liked the Rex Lapis jumbo plushie while gazing at it with stars in your eyes.

Without hesitation, Zhongli drops a bag of mora on the counter. “We’ll take the Rex Lapis exuvia plush,” Zhongli states, pointing at the Rex Lapis exuvia plush that was lying on the counter.

It didn’t take long for both Childe and Zhongli to catch up with you and the thirteen other men; Zhongli was carrying the Rex Lapis exuvia plush while Childe was grumbling curse words that were aimed towards the strange man that claims to be your future lover.

“Future lover, my ass! I’m [Y/N]’s future lover, not him!” Childe scowls, Zhongli rolls his eyes as the both of them approach the group. “How can someone like him be so bold around someone he barely knows!?” Childe continues to mumble incoherent words under his breath.

When your eyes land on the jumbo Rex Lapis, your eyes light up. You pushed through the thirteen men and launched yourself towards the plushie. You hugged the Rex Lapis plushie tightly with the biggest smile on your face.

“Oh my gosh! You actually got it for me!” You squealed, looking at Childe and Zhongli with wonder in your eyes. “Although, I would’ve been okay with buying it with my own mora.” You said sheepishly, cheeks turning bright red as you hugged the giant Rex Lapix plush to your chest.

Zhongli smiles and shakes his head, “Please, [Y/N]. I wanted to buy you the Rex Lapis plush because I wanted to do so!”

You pout slightly at Zhongli’s comment. “But I feel bad! The Rex Lapis plushie must’ve cost a lot of mora!” You hug the plush tightly against your chest.

Clearing his throat, Diluc speaks up, “It’s quite generous of Mister Zhongli for offering to buy you the Rex Lapis stuffed animal. Although, I wouldn’t mind paying it for you either.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a faint frown on his face.

Kaeya comments, “I wouldn’t mind it either! You looked so happy when you first spotted the Rex Lapis stuffed animal; who could resist that cute face of yours?” He pokes your cheeks teasingly.

“Kaeya!!” You whined, burying your face into the Rex Lapis plush to hide your red face from everyone else. If you hadn’t hid your face from them, you would’ve witnessed fifteen men simultaneously blush at your reaction to Kaeya’s teasing.

Venti giggles and throws his arms around your shoulders, “How about we head back to the abode and relax? Today was an eventful day, and I believe that the Rex Lapis plush would love to have a tour around the abode!” You peeked from the plush and nodded your head at Venti’s suggestion.

As the sixteen of you walked out of the city of Liyue, Albedo pauses and glances over at you curiously. “You never gave us an explanation as to why you wanted the Rex Lapis jumbo stuffed animal.” He tilts his head to the side slightly; you couldn’t help but picture him as a curious little puppy.

“I wanted a cuddle buddy.” You reply shyly, avoiding their stares. Smiling sheepishly, you hugged the Rex Lapis plush much tighter to your chest.

Thoma approaches you, slinging his arms around your shoulders, “You know, you don’t need to cuddle a plushie! You have us!” Thoma says, throwing a charming smile towards your direction.

“How can I cuddle fifteen people?” You narrowed your eyes at Thoma.

Scaramouche scoffs and rolls his eyes, “You don’t. You’re only allowed to cuddle me, not any of these oafs.” Small collective gasps and scoffs rang throughout the group.

Xiao crosses his arms over his chest, clenching his jaws. “As if I would allow [Y/N] cuddle up close and personal with a Fatui Harbinger.” Xiao scowls, shooting a glare towards Scaramouche’s direction.

“I’m right behind with him on that one,” Said Dainsleif, looking over at Scaramouche and Childe’s direction. Childe rolls his eyes at Dainsleif’s comment while Scaramouche lets out a sarcastic laugh.

“And what are you going to do about it, Dainsleif?” Scaramouche challenges, his clenched fist starts to crackle with electricity.

“Oh, dear archons.” Baizhu sighs, shaking his head in disapproval while Zhongli shields you behind him, away from the trio as tension begins to rise. You hugged the Rex Lapis plush tightly against your chest and peeked from behind Zhongli.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! Shouldn’t we be heading back to the abode?” Kazuha speaks up, attempting to break up the tension between Scaramouche, Childe, and Dainsleif.

Gorou nods his head rapidly, his ear twitching nervously. “R-Right! We should head back to the abode!” Gorou squeaks. “P-Plus, [Y/N] must be feeling tired from today! They need to get some rest!” Gorou adds, glancing over at you anxiously. You immediately knew what Gorou was trying to imply and immediately nodded your head at Gorou’s comment.

“Oh, definitely! All of the explorings has tired me out.” You giggled nervously. “Plus, I’m pretty sure all of this tension and event has also tired out Rex Lapis.” You patted the plush’s head lightly.

“I want a head pat too.” Itto pouts, giving you the puppy dog eyes. You left Zhongli’s side and approached the oni. He squats and looks at you with anticipation. You pat Itto’s head with a small smile on your face; Itto’s eyes lit up with excitement, a big smile stretching across his cheeks.

“Oh? Are we giving out head pats now?” Kaeya chuckles; you blinked at Kaeya and the other men around you. It seems like they’re anticipating some head pats as well. Gorou’s tail was wagging so fast that you were worried that he might sprain his tail. You shrugged your shoulders and started patting their heads; Dainsleif, Zhongli, Diluc, Xiao, and Scaramouche were the ones that seemed a little bit hesitant on receiving head pats at the beginning. But once you were standing in front of them, they hesitantly leaned forward and let you pat their heads.

“They’re so red.” Ayato snickers with Baizhu; Baizhu covers his mouth with his hands to prevent himself from laughing out loud at the red faces.

Nodding his head, “I’ve never seen Mister Zhongli this red before.” Baizhu chuckles; Zhongli huffs silently and looks off to the side; the tips of his ears are just as red as the apples of his cheeks.

Diluc cleared his throat and adjusted his clothes, trying to act casual, “I believe that it is time to head back to the abode now.” Diluc says, avoiding the stares that he was receiving from the others.

Once the sixteen of you had entered the abode, you sighed in relief. You took your shoes off and walked over to the couch, plopping on it with the jumbo Rex Lapis plushie at your side.

“Oh, thank the archons! We’re finally back home!” You snuggled up against the plush happily and closed your eyes in contentment. “At least I don’t have to deal with that creep ever again. What a relief!” You yawned, cracking your eyes open.

Albedo turns towards Zhongi’s direction, “Speaking of the creep, what did you and Childe say to him?” He looks at Zhongli and Childe curiously.

“Yeah! What did the two of you say to him?” Venti pipes up, plopping down on the couch right beside you. “Did you threaten to throw boulders at him, blockhead?” Venti asks jokingly; Zhongli glares at the nickname Venti gave him.

“Blockhead?” Dainsleif asks, cocking an eyebrow at the nickname Venti has dubbed Zhongli. Dainsleif pressed his lips together to prevent himself from snickering at the nickname.

“We tried telling him to back off and stay away from [Y/N], but it seems like he didn’t care at all.” Childe rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How strange,” Xiao mutters, furrowing his eyebrows at Childe’s explanation. “He didn’t say anything strange, did he?” Xiao asks; Childe and Zhongli shake their heads.

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s not like we’ll run into him ever again.” Kazuha says, patting your head lightly. You smile in contentment and nod your head in response. “Plus, if we do run into him again— which is highly unlikely, we’ll always be by [Y/N]’s side,” Kazuha adds.

“I sure hope we don’t run into him again.” Thoma sighs, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “If he’s bold enough to touch someone he doesn’t even know, who knows what he’s capable of.” Thoma frowns.

“Guys, relax!” You sit up, almost falling over because of the Rex Lapis plushie. Venti and Xiao quickly steady you before you could tip over. “Liyue is quite big, so I’m pretty sure that the chance of running into Yifan again is slim to none.” You gave them a reassuring smile.

“Sorry, sweetcheeks. Can you blame us for being worried?” Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile. You blushed at the pet name and huffed in response. “Again, no need to worry! I have you guys with me! It’s not like he’ll be randomly popping up in our lives.” You shrugged your shoulders, plopping back down on the couch.

Oh, how you were wrong.

At first, running into Yifan again was a coincidence. You were out with Xiao and Scaramouche, buying some ingredients to cook dinner for the night when the three of you came across Yifan. Well, he came across the three of you.

You held the red tomato up and stared down at it, examining it closely. “Do you guys think that the appearance of a tomato matter?” You ask, looking over at Scaramouche and Xiao. Both Xiao and Scaramouche cocked their eyebrows at your question.

“What do you mean by that exactly?” Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest.

“There are people who are picky with their vegetables. If a tomato is slightly brown on one side or isn’t as red as it usually is, they won’t eat it or buy it.” You explained, examining the tomato much closer.

Xiao huffs, “I don’t think anyone would care about the tomato’s appearance. Just as long as the tomato isn’t expired.” You nod your head in agreement. You placed the tomato into the basket before moving on to the next ingredient that is needed.

“Onions, onions. Where are the onions?” You muttered, scanning through the produce aisle. When your eyes land on the purple onions, you reach out to grab the purplest onion you’ve ever seen. As you were about to grab the onion, someone’s hand intercepted yours. Your hands ended up meeting halfway; you were about to pull away, but that person grabbed your hands. Your head shot up towards the person’s direction, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, [Y/N]! I didn’t think I’d run into you at the market.” Yifan says, smiling down at you. You quickly glance over at Scaramouche and Xiao with wide eyes before looking back at Yifan with a fake smile.

“Yifan! I… I uh… did not expect to run into you at the market either!” You laugh nervously, attempting to pull your hands away from his grasp, but he tightens his grip around your hands. Your smile slips off your face immediately as you try to pull your hands away from his grasp, only to fail once more.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, the tip of Xiao’s polearm was pointing at Yifan’s neck. Yifan raises his eyebrow at Xiao, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly. It seems like Yifan was more amused than scared. Your heart was beating against your chest rapidly; fear was beginning to kick in.

Yifan grabs Xiao’s polearm and pushes it to the side with a small smirk on his face, knowing that Xiao cannot openly attack him in public. Yifan continues to hold onto your hand tightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Said Yifan, looking back over at you. The look on his face scared you. He seems almost deranged.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “O-Oh? And what did you want to ask me?” You ask anxiously. You feel Scaramouche grab your left arm subtly as if he’s preparing to snatch you away from Yifan if he tries to do something out of line. As if he was sensing a challenge, Yifan yanks you forward. You gasped loudly, the basket falling out of your grasp as he pulled you into his arms. Tomatoes, radishes, carrots, and cabbages fall out from the basket and scatter around the four of you.

Ignoring the shouts and curses from both Scaramouche and Xiao, Yifan gazes down at you. “I was wondering if you would want to go out and have dinner with me some time.” Yifan brushes a stray hair away from your face with a fake charming smile on his face.

You laugh nervously and pull away from Yifan, backing up from him slowly. Xiao and Scaramouche immediately stood in front of you, blocking Yifan’s view of you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to decline it.” You said nervously, grabbing onto the back of Xiao and Scaramouche’s shirt. “I don’t intend on going out to dinner with someone I’m not familiar with.” You added, avoiding Yifan’s burning gaze.

Yifan scoffs loudly, “That’s why people go on dates! To get to know the person more before getting into a relationship with one another!” Yifan clenches his jaws.

“They’re not interested in you, you idiot. Can’t you take a hint? Or are you just too stupid to understand what they’re trying to imply?” Scaramouche scowls, electricity crackling in his clenched fists. Before Yifan could say something, Xiao and Scaramouche quickly drag you away from the scene without a second thought.

After the encounter with Yifan, you were antsy. You were constantly looking around your surroundings, jumping at every little sound. It’s gotten to the point where you couldn’t sleep at night, fearing that Yifan could be watching you sleep in your bedroom. The fifteen men couldn’t help but worry about you. The dark bags under your eyes were prominent; you were sleep-deprived and paranoid. Not even the giant Rex Lapis plushie can comfort you or help you fall asleep at night, so the men have come up with having night shifts. They would take turns cuddling you to sleep, watch over you to make sure that you didn’t stay up all night to keep an eye out on Yifan.

Needless to say, it was pretty effective. You were able to get at least six hours of sleep, the dark bags under your eyes gradually going away, and your paranoia has come to a stop. Although small noises would startle you here and there, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time. You didn’t leave the abode for days due to your fear of running into Yifan again, but now that your nerves weren’t all over the place, you were finally out of the abode. You sat at the large table at the Liuli Pavilion with the fifteen men; they were conversing loudly with one another. Itto attempted to challenge Zhongli to an eating competition, but Zhongli politely declined Itto’s challenge, much to Itto’s disappointment.

“I wouldn’t recommend having an eating competition,” Baizhu says, blowing lightly on his steaming hot tea. “You can get indigestion from overeating,” Baizhu adds, taking a sip of his tea.

“Oh, come on! I’ve eaten over thirty-two bowls of ramen noodles before! I felt fine afterward!” Itto exclaims, letting out boisterous laughter.

Gorou, Ayato, and Thoma shot looks at one another after hearing Itto’s comment. Gorou clears his throat, “You also did fall ill afterward and was bedridden for more than a month after the eating competition with Yae Miko.”

“While I was looking forward to the eating competition, I think we should save that for next time. Perhaps not when we’re at the Liuli Pavilion while Childe has offered to pay for dinner.” Ayato speaks up, quirking up an eyebrow at Itto.

You couldn’t help but space off while eating. One minute you were feeling okay and content, but the feeling of unease suddenly started to creep up on you. Subconsciously, your eyes begin to dart around the room of the Liuli Pavilion.

“[Y/N]?” Diluc spoke up, pulling you out from your thoughts. You looked up and saw Diluc looking at you worriedly. You didn’t realize that you were holding on to the chopsticks so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

Dainsleif placed his chopsticks down and gently put his hands over yours. He slips his fingers through your clenched fist, making you release your chopsticks. Your chopsticks clatter on the fine china loudly, grabbing the others' attention. “Are you alright? You seem really tense.” Dainslief asks softly, his eyebrows furrowing with worry.

You sighed weakly, leaning back in your seat and covered your face with your hands. You took a deep, shaky breath before rubbing your temples. “I don’t know. I thought I would be okay with going outside again, but I can’t help but feel on edge.” You whisper.

Albedo places a gentle hand on your shoulders, “Perhaps we should head back to the abode. If it makes you feel more comfortable.” Albedo suggests, gently rubbing your tensed shoulders.

You quickly shook your head, “No, no, no! It’s okay! I’m just a little bit paranoid, that’s all. I-I’ll be okay.” You gave them a weak smile. Everyone couldn’t help but feel hesitant about continuing the brunch with you feeling on edge. Every now and then, as they were eating, they would glance over at you to make sure you were feeling okay. Soon enough, you began to loosen up a little bit and join in on the conversation with them.

“So, when will you be trying alcohol from Teyvat?” Kaeya asks, taking a sip from the osmanthus wine that was poured into his cup by the server.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try some alcohol later in the future. I’m still cautious about drinking alcohol.” You reply, taking a sip from your teacup. The warmth from the tea soothes your nerves and your tensed muscles.

“If you do decide to drink alcohol, please be careful,” Kazuha murmurs, dabbing his lips with the cloth napkin. You smile and nod your head, “Don’t worry, Kazuha! I promise I’ll be careful if I ever decide on trying some alcohol from Teyvat.”

“If you end up getting intoxicated, I can always take care of you,” Childe suggests, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. Dainsleif, Diluc, Xiao, and Scaramouche scoff at Childe’s comment. Xiao was tempted to throw something at Childe while Scaramouche reached over to Childe’s side, shocking Childe with the tip of his finger. Childe jolts and scowls at Scaramouche, who smirks widely before sipping his tea as if he didn’t send a small zap of electricity to Childe’s side just a few seconds ago.

The entire time during brunch at the Liuli Pavilion, the men decided to get your mind off of your worries by asking you random things. Anything to keep your mind off of your fears. Itto mentions adopting a dog or a cat to help ease your anxiousness, but Diluc and Zhongli seemed to be against it. Why? Because the dog or cat will take your attention away from them. After hearing Diluc and Zhongli’s explanation, the others agreed that adopting a dog or a cat would be a distraction to you because you wouldn’t pay attention to them (the fifteen men) if a dog or a cat were present.

“What about an attack pigeon?” Venti asks, stroking his chin, clearly buzzed from the alcohol he has ingested. Speaking of alcohol, Venti drank so much that you couldn’t help but feel concerned for his liver.

“Are archons immune to illnesses and diseases?” You ask yourself internally, squinting your eyes at Venti and Zhongli. Venti blinks at you while Zhongli looks at you curiously. You blinked, realizing what had happened.

“Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You laugh sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. Everyone nodded their heads in response to your question.

Ever since having brunch at the Liuli Pavilion, the feeling of uneasiness soon went away, and everything seemed to be going back to normal! The men didn’t have to do nightly checkups on you to make sure that you were asleep, and they didn’t seem to be on high alert for Yifan. Neither were you because, thankfully, you didn’t run into him after that incident at the marketplace in Liyue Harbor.

Ayato, Thoma, Itto, Gorou, and Kazuha offered to take you to Inazuma to get a sense of a new environment. Since the vision hunt decree has come to a complete stop, it’s safe to say that Inazuma is now open to those visiting from outside of Inazuma. Needless to say, you had a great time! You met Ayaka, who told you that Thoma and Ayato wouldn’t shut up about you, much to Ayato and Thom’s dismay. Thoma’s face was red while Ayato was trying to get Ayaka to be quiet, but Ayaka felt a little mischievous and would spill the littlest details to you now and then when the boys weren’t around.

Everything was great! You love being in Inazuma and experiencing their culture; you even watched Itto play with the little kids that adore him so much. Until Yoimiya came along, and then Itto’s competitive side came out, challenging her to a competition on whether the kids prefer Itto or Yoimiya herself. It was a tie, much to Itto’s disappointment.

“It’s okay, Itto! Don’t be upset!” You comforted the oni, gently rubbing his arms while he was sulking into his bowl of ramen noodles.

“It’s not cool! I was supposed to come out as the victor! There wasn’t supposed to be a tie at all!” Itto sulks, leaning his head on your shoulders with a small pout on his face.

Gorou laughs and pats Itto’s shoulders, “It’s okay, Itto! I’m sure the kids like you more!” Gorou slurps his ramen.

“If they liked me more, then why was there a tie between Yoimiya and me?” Itto sulks, crossing his arms over his muscular chest with a huff.

Ayato shrugs his shoulders, “Children are quite indecisive! Maybe they’ll choose you over Yoimiya one day. But for now, it’ll be a tie.” He takes a sip from his drink.

Just when you were finally feeling content, the sudden uneasiness hit you. Feeling goosebumps appear on your arms, you look around. You felt like you were being watched once again. As if someone’s eyes were drilling holes into your skull. Not wanting to ruin the mood, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you sat much closer to Itto as he continued to complain about how Yoimiya won the kids over with fireworks.

That night, you lay in your bed, wide awake. You hugged the Rex Lapis plush close to your chest while snuggled underneath the blanket. No matter how exhausted you felt, you couldn’t get yourself to fall asleep. Not when your mind is racing. The unsettling feeling was still there. You sat up in your bed and stared off into the darkness of your bedroom, still hugging the Rex Lapis plush close to your chest.

As much as you wanted to go into someone’s bed and sleep beside them, you couldn’t do that because the men claimed that they wanted a “guys' night out.” And because you couldn’t join them, you’re all alone in the abode. All alone in the dark abode, no one to watch over you and protect you from the potential harm that could happen any time soon. You laid back in bed and closed your eyes, slowly letting sleep consume you.

You didn’t know how long you’d fallen asleep, but when you woke up, something felt wrong. As if your body knew before you did, your heartbeat began to pick up, and so did your breath. You hesitantly look at the end of your bed. There stood a figure, watching you sleep. You closed your eyes and bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a whimper. Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach when you feel your bed dip. The figure got closer and closer to where you lay. You tighten your grip around the Rex Lapis plushie, feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt the figure’s hand caress your face.

The figure leans down close to your face before whispering into your ears, “I know you’re awake.” Your eyes shot open. How did Yifan get into the abode? How was he able to sneak in without being detected? No one should have access to the abode but you and the other fifteen men.

“Oh, [Y/N]. Did you know that you’re such a cute sleeper?” Yifan chuckles, grabbing onto your wrist and pinning them above your head. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.” He purrs, brushing the tip of his thumb over your bottom lip.

“W-What do you want!?” You whimper, struggling beneath him. You couldn’t see the facial expression on Yifan’s face, but you knew that he felt some kind of satisfaction as he was watching you struggle to free yourself.

Yifan laughs bitterly, “It’s interesting that you live in a house with fifteen men who you’re not related to.” He shakes his head. “You belong to me, and only me. Not any of them.” Yifan’s right hand reached down to your neck and wrapped his hand around your throat.

“I find it amusing that you think you can get away from me so easily. Just because you live in a strange house doesn’t mean you can escape from me, darling.” Yifan coos, you continuously thrash around beneath him.

You forcefully lift your right knee, kneeing him hard in the balls. Yifan lets out a choked groan before backing off of you, letting out incoherent curses. You jumped out of your bed and ran out of your bedroom. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, your blood pounding in your ears. Both yours and Yifan’s footsteps can be heard throughout the mansion as you try to get away from him. You need to leave the abode immediately! How in the world did he get into the abode in the first place? How long has he planned on sneaking into the abode? How long has he been watching you? So many questions run through your head as you dash to the front door of the mansion. You grabbed onto the door handle, but before you could even open the door, arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you away from the door.

You clawed at Yifan’s arms and threw your elbow back at his face over and over until he released you. Unfortunately, that only made him tighten his grip around you more. You were so caught up in trying to get Yifan to release you that you didn’t hear the door open, and the once loud chatter came to a halt.

Childe and Itto launched themselves towards your and Yifan’s direction without thinking. The four of you fall to the marble floor with a loud thump. If your night couldn’t get any worse, you hit your head on the floor pretty hard. You nearly blacked out and stumbled into Kaeya’s arm when you got up from the ground. A wave of dizziness hits you; you winced when Baizhu felt around your head for any bumps.

“How did he get into the abode?! I thought that no one else could access it except for us!” Diluc exclaims, ignoring the sounds of Childe and Itto yelling at Yifan. Your head was pounding, and you were exhausted.

You felt someone pat your cheeks, but your eyelids felt heavy. The person continues to pat your cheeks, “Don’t fall asleep on us. We need to make sure you don’t have any concussions.” Albedo says. You blinked up at Albedo with bleary eyes, trying your best to keep your eyes open. Lights soon flood your vision, making you wince at the sudden brightness.

Childe roars. “Come on, let me kill him! He’s been stalking [Y/N] for who knows how long! He deserves nothing but death for making them feel unsafe!”

Zhongli and Dainsleif were holding Childe back, as per usual. Thoma and Xiao had the tip of their polearms pointed at Yifan’s neck while Itto was pinning him to the ground by sitting on his back.

“For someone who hardly knows a person, you are weirdly obsessed with [Y/N].” Thoma glowers at the Liyuen male. Yifan smirks and tries to break out from under Itto, only for Xiao to press the blade of the polearm up against Yifan’s neck, drawing blood.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t end you right now,” Xiao demands, his eyes glowing ominously.

“He was watching me sleep the entire time.” You whispered, tears blurring your vision as your lips quivered. Kaeya pulls you tighter into his arms as Baizhu and Albedo check up on you. So far, there wasn’t any concussion, thankfully. “I knew something felt off before I fell asleep.” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you held onto Kaeya’s hand tightly. Small whimpers escape your lips as you bury your face into Kaeya’s chest.

Zhongli approaches Yifan and yanks him by the shirt collar, throwing him against the wall. Zhongli’s eyes glow as his grip tightens around the collar. “How long have you been watching [Y/N]?” Zhongli demands.

Yifan smirks, “I’ve been watching [Y/N] since the very beginning. I follow them everywhere they go and watch their every move.” Yifan boasted. Yifan lets out a grunt when Dainsleif punches him in the face.

“If you ever come near them again, I will make sure that the Harbinger kills you.” Dainsleif states.

Childe and Scaramouch rolled their eyes at Dainsleif’s comment. “Hey, I can make sure that there won’t be a next time.” Childe comments, his bow appearing out of thin air.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, Yifan. You’ve treaded into dangerous territory.” Gorou says, approaching towards where Zhongli had Yifan pinned. While Kaeya, Baizhu, and Albedo were making sure that you were okay, the other twelve dealt with Yifan. Maybe once the men were done with torturing teaching Yifan a lesson, he’ll learn not to tread on dangerous grounds.

Note: I stayed up to almost 2 AM to get this typed out and posted ;v; is it worth it? I'm not sure! I liked how it turned out, I think I typed out something pretty decent for someone that's sleep-deprived LMAO! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one-shot. I didn't want to make it too angsty because I'm saving the angst for the second part of the Xiao angst that will hopefully be made and posted soon! Again, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for "Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader" and my overall taglist: @plumpkie, @urcatbf, @patata52, @xxkatsusjinsux, @crazyrichdaughter, @jgydeservedbetter, @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff

Taglist Google Forms [here], Masterlist [here]

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh��� Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[bettsfic]

Hi betts! I hope you’re doing alright and that your semester is wrapping up smoothly. I have a question about genre, I guess? I’ll preface this with the fact that I am not a writer or lit person, but just an enthusiastic reader. But as I’ve been on Tumblr and TikTok (in this case BookTok), I’ve noticed that it’s a lot of the same kinds of books that people get obsessed over. Largely, SFF written by women and often in “new adult.” I’m thinking of V. E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, etc. I’ve read a number of these books and enjoyed some of them quite a lot, but they’ve never captivated me the way they do some. That’s fine, people have different tastes. But after being served yet another TikTok about this same category of book, I kinda realized that for some reason they just don’t feel that adult to me. Which is weird because they typically deal with very adult themes. Some are super sexual or violent and the like, but the way they’re written doesn’t feel mature to me. Even The Poppy Wars, which is very adult, falls into this category for me (I did enjoy this one, though). I’ve tried to interrogate this for bias, especially since I know a lot of people like them because they are written by women, (mostly) feature more diversity, and have large female audiences. But then I think about which books did feel adult, but fall in similar genres: N. K. Jesimin and Ursula Le Guin come to mind (even her youth fiction feels more adult to me). So I guess I’m curious what you feel makes a writing style more mature versus simply the content? Why is it that SFF, while often depicting adult events, doesn’t come across as mature? I guess my frustration is that it’s one of my favorite genres, but the recommendations I’m getting across many folks just...isn’t the SFF I want. How does one distinguish between these? Idk if I’ve expressed this well and I definitely am not trying to judge people. I’m just looking for a certain atmosphere in my reading that I find rarely.

i’m so excited i have an answer to this. so first i want to say, i experience this also and it’s why i struggle to get through a lot of books. it’s why i love the secret history but couldn’t get twenty pages into if we were villains, even though everyone told me they had a lot in common. even if the description of a book is compelling and the story is very much to my taste, and even if the writing is totally competent, i’ve found that sometimes there’s just something lacking that makes me set a book down and never pick it back up. 

i was thrilled to find there’s term for this: the implied author.

the implied author was coined by wayne c. booth in his book the rhetoric of fiction which, while dense, is a really fantastic read (if you’ve been keeping up with my newsletter you know how feral i am for this book). as a blanket definition, the implied author is the space that exists between the narrator and the writer. when you read something, you can’t make any factual conclusions about the writer (the author is dead and all that), but the narration often tips you off to the idea that the consciousness behind the writing is wiser and knows more than the narrator. 

that’s a very condensed version of booth’s definition, which takes up like 40 pages. here forward are some conclusions i’ve drawn based on it. 

when the space between the narrator and implied author is narrow, some of us as readers tend to get bored pretty quickly. it’s what you’re referring to as maturity. however, when that space is wide, when it’s clear that the implied author is much, much bigger than the narration, that’s when i’m willing to sink my teeth into something. the wider that distance, the more i’m happy to ignore things like syntactical clumsiness or poor grammar. i would follow a good implied author into hell. 

for example, i could write a story from the point of view of a violent abuser. if you were to read it, you wouldn’t be able to say for certain that i, the writer, was not a violent abuser also. but you would be able to tell via the implied author whether or not there is an awareness of the abuse, whether it’s being written with intentionality. not morality, mind you, but artistic purpose. 

the implied author has an idiosyncratic relationship to the reader. sometimes depending on the complexity of the work and the critical reading skills of the reader, the presence of the implied author can be invisible. this is the catalyst, imo, to a significant amount of the present morality discourse. many (if not all) purity officers and antis don’t have the reading skills to be able to see the implied author, or that the moral trespasses that occur in fiction are written intentionally and for a purpose. they believe that anything depicted in fiction is advocating for or promoting that which it’s depicting. 

lolita is kind of the ultimate classic example of the inability of some readers to see the implied author. nabokov even has a fictional preface from the pov of a scholar doing research, flat-out telling us that humbert is a bad guy and Do Not Trust Him. and yet, lolita has been misinterpreted and vilified for decades now.

in that same vein, the implied author is the reason that some stories put a bad taste in our mouths. it’s how we reach the conclusion that a story is racist or sexist or homophobic outside the literal depictions of racism, sexism, and homophobia. how can you witness racism taking place in a story and know that it’s speaking to the experience of racism and not advocating for racism? that’s the presence of the implied author. sometimes, though, you can’t tell. sometimes a writer tries to speak to the experience of something and fails at making clear their own awareness. or sometimes, they’re just not aware at all. 

in fanfiction, the implied author takes place, in part, in the tags. i remember stumbling upon a fic written by a purity officer which depicted an extremely unhealthy, non-negotiated power dynamic. and none of it was tagged. i had no evidence the author was aware that they were even writing something “problematic.” obviously i support their right to depict whatever kind of relationship they want for whatever reason they want, but i did find it a bit off-putting, that this person who was a known harasser in fandom had no seeming understanding that they were writing the very kind of fic they were rallying against.

but, you know, my hands aren’t clean either. until the MFA, i was a very poor reader. for example, in 2010 i read the hunger games for the first time. in 2020 i re-read the series on my kindle, where all my annotations from 2010 had been saved, and so i got to see all my glaring misinterpretations of the text. every time katniss has to get dolled up in the capitol and made beautiful, i left a note like “ugh,” because i thought all depictions of performative femininity were Bad. even though thg is a YA book and i was an honors student in college, i was still unable to see that katniss’s beautifying was commentary on consumerism. i was oblivious to collins’ implied author, the presence in the book that is shaking you by the shoulders and going, THIS IS WHAT’S WRONG WITH SOCIETY. 

but sometimes, like in your case, the opposite situation occurs: you the reader are wider than the implied author, and so some books have little to offer you in terms of depth or insight into the human experience. i don’t mean that to sound pretentious or anything; what i mean is, we all read at different skill levels and for different reasons, and we all get different things out of the stories we read. we’re all at different places in our reading lives, and we all have room to grow.

i hope i explained this clearly enough! hopefully one day i’ll be able to write a formal essay on this, because booth wrote about it in the 60s and a lot has happened in fiction since then. 

[secretsandwriting]

So I’m testing some new things out with this so you guys will have to tell me what you think!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that while Timothee isn’t my favorte celebrity I like writing for him.

Also, I have no idea how movie premieres work so this is really just a guess and could be completely wrong.

Word Count - 1609

Beta Read - by google docs

Navigating through the crowded streets of New York was getting to be something you were good at. Moving there had definitely been a culture shock but after getting used to it, it was pretty nice. But now, you needed to get coffee and work on your French for one of your classes.

Ordering and setting yourself up, you started the assigned video and prayed it would make sense and you wouldn’t have to add another hour or two of study to your already full schedule. But as fate would have it, it sounded like gibberish.

Restarting the video to try again, you were pulled out of your studies by a burning sensation going down your arm. Pulling out your headphones you looked down at your arm to brown soaking into the sleeve.

“I’m so sorry!” The guy in front of you looked familiar but due to his mask it took a moment for it to sink in. Timothee Chalamet. He was an actor, but that wasn’t important. What was important? He knew french.

“That’s not important. Do you have any free time right now? I know you know french and I need to learn it and this makes no sense and it’s due in two hours.” You definitely caught him off guard, but he checked his phone.

“I have an hour.” He pulled a chair over and you handed him one of your earbuds. For the next hour he helped you, he was a lot better than the video your teacher had given you.

“Here,” he handed you a slip of paper. “If you need more help just text me and I’ll help when I can.”

“Thank you! With your help, I’ll at least pass.” He laughed and you said your goodbyes before he went on his way and you worked on finishing the rest of your homework.

While you worked, you didn’t notice the girls in the corner watching you with their phones out and slightly pointed at you.

The next day, you almost regretted asking Timothee for help when you woke up to your phone being blown up by friends and social media. There were multiple pictures of you and Timothee as well as multiple dating theories. One of the notifications stood out, Timothee had messaged you on Instagram.

You didn’t really talk until your next assignment came and you texted him about it. Together you decided to meet at one of the libraries. This time you knew that you would be spending time with a celebrity and people would notice so you made sure you at least looked alive. That way if there were pictures posted online at least you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Apparently Timothee noticed.

“You look nice.”

“Well, the chances of pictures being taken are pretty big so I at least want to look alive and not like I just rolled out of bed.” He snorted and you chatted for a few minutes before getting to work.

This time it was a bigger assignment so it took a few hours instead of one. But it didn’t seem to be so long, it felt like time had flown by and it was finished immediately. Timothee was interesting, you two could have fun but when needed it could be serious.

So when you split ways and Timothee started texting you an hour later, you didn’t feel like he was trying anything. It just felt like you were talking to a friend you had known for years. Then, you had plans to hang out two days later when he was free. The plan was to got to a park and play with kids and act like a kid, simply to feel like you didn’t have so much on your plate and could just have fun for an afternoon.

The interview he asked you about, was before you were meeting to go to a park and act like you were children, not adults who had jobs and college. But that was the plan, and exactly what you did.

The two of you ended up chasing each other until all the other kids at the park wanted to play with the two of you. The parents watched the two of you close when you played with them but that was to be expected.

Timothee was good with kids. Not just good, amazing. All the little girls were absolutely in love with him while all the boys were amazed by how strong he was.

However, as most people know. Kids have no filter, therefore they ask any question that comes to their brain. Hence the 30 different times you had to tell them that you weren’t dating and you were just friends having fun. Some of the parents seemed to think so too, one of them basically told you.

“Thank you for playing with Maggie, she had a blast and she’ll probably sleep well tonight.” The lady looked relieved at the thought. “You and your boyfriend would be good with kids if you decide to have them.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just met a month ago and we just came here to have some fun.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. Trying to ignore what she said you turned and went back to playing with the kids.

It was after two hours of playing different games, the two of you decided that you were out of energy. Timothee offered getting a meal and you agreed. And that’s how you ended up in a Mcdonalds.

For the next few months, you would meet up for assignments or just to hang out. The press had a hayday with it but after a while it was easy to ignore and then it became more fun to do funny poses every once in a while.

Then he had to go work on a movie so your contact was left to text, phone calls, and facetime. It worked but it wasn’t as good as meeting in person. He still helped with your french until the semester was over part way through his movie.

“Timmy!!! I passed!!!” You held up your phone to the camera on your computer so he could see through his screen. It was amazing and you owed it all to him. Last semester you had barely passed and that had been with 4 times the amount of studying then you had done today. Timothee was godsent.

“Yes! You did it!” You celebrated for a little bit before he got serious. “Y/n, since you passed I know what we can do to celebrate. When this is over, you should come as my plus one to the movie premiere.”

“The movie premiere?!” He nodded, you could see how nervous he was in his eyes. “I have one question.” He nodded, waiting for you to ask. “What am I supposed to wear.” He snorted.

“I’ll talk with my manager and see what he says.” So that was the plan. You kept talking with him, but now it was less about school and more for the fun of it.

When the movie premiere came close Timothee got an answer to your question. Though he almost seemed hesitant to tell you.

“You just have to go get measured and go to a few fittings. The brand making my suit is making you a matching dress.” You would be matching with Timothee sure, you were going as his plus one, or date depending on who you ask. But brand? This dress sounded like it was going to cost more than your college tuition.

“Ok, when and where do I need to go?” He gave you his manager’s private number so you talk straight with him and get all the details. Little did you know, that that was the beginning of the storm.

Somehow it got out that you were going with Timothee and even getting matching outfits. Soon, your phone was being blown up by people trying to get details and even shows asking you to come on and talk about it. Timothee’s manager called you and offered to be your manager until this all calmed down, mostly because this affected Timothee but the offer was still appreciated and accepted.

He texted you a link and told you to post it in all of your public social media bios titled ‘Manager’s contact’. While it wasn’t something most celebrities did, you had just been dragged into this. It would start as a base line until things were figured out.

Through this mess, Timothee kept apologizing even when you said it was ok and it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. You thought the manager would be enough but then you ended up sharing Timothee’s booking agent too. Apparently everyone wanted to talk with you.

A few days after agreeing, you learned that the episode would be realised a week before the premiere, but hopefully it would go well. You were also told that Timothee would be doing the interview with you which made you feel a lot better.

Timothee came back the day before you had to fly to California so you were going to let him take the day to rest because frankly it was a lot, but he showed up at your door with his suitcase. He hadn’t even gone home.

“Timmy! What are you doing he-” He cut you off.

“Can I kiss you?” What? That wasn’t what you expected. While you stood there staring at him completely confused, he started shifting around a little bit and playing with his hands.

“Yeah.” That’s all it took for him to get his confidence back.

Request:

Hey, I really love your writing.

Can I request something with Thimothée Chalamet? Maybe like they meet at a coffee shop and he accidentally spills his coffee on her and then they become friends and they progressively fall in love with each other? If you can’t I understand.

Thank you 🤍

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor... - c.1

Summary: Penny Townsend is going to attend her first criminology class. What she didn’t expect was professor Walter Marshall.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Professor!AU -- can you imagine? Walter Marshall as a professor? 🤤

Masterlist // But professor... masterlist // Next chapter

✎ ✎ ✎

My parents hoped that I would become a doctor. I get it—being friends with a lot of successful parents with equally successful children, must’ve raised their standard for me. They however must’ve known that medicine wasn’t it for me and going to law school isn’t my forte either. It must’ve been hard on them, knowing I wasn’t that intellectually gifted, though they tried their best for me to be.

They did a lot for me. At the ripe age of two to five hours, I was placed at the entrance of a church in Maryland. The pastor and his wife discovered me and brought me to the hospital, only to found out I wasn’t just a couple weeks premature, but also had a lot of heroin in my system.

My birth parents barely gave me a chance the second I was born (probably when I was conceived, but okay) and that is why I am so grateful that my adoptive parents care so much about me.

And that’s why I want to make them proud and studying psychology is my best chance at being the successful daughter they deserve, but man does it feel wrong to be here. I know there is another student out there who deserves to be here, who actually wants to do this, yet here I am taking their place.

Psychology wasn’t the greatest choice already, but having to take criminology was an even bigger mistake. I walk into the lecture hall for the first criminology class. My hands shake because of the nerves, they’re even clammy. I’m not good at making friends, so seeing those cliques that has formed after only two weeks of university, makes me slightly jealous and really alone.

I never really fitted in. My teachers would describe me as a sweet young girl, who is painfully shy.

That, of course, is if they even noticed me at all.

It can be hard to fit in, especially when you feel out of place the second you enter a room, like I have felt since I can remember.

‘Take a seat,’ I hear a deep voice say and I look up, to meet the eyes of the professor. He is unlike all of my other professors. He isn’t in a suit or at least some decent slacks. His denim jeans hugs his thick thighs, as he wears a sweater on top. His curls are disheveled and slightly frizzy and his beard is asymmetrical. A deep frown in between his brows.

‘Me?’ I ask in a soft tone.

He nods. ‘You,’ he confirms.

I walk passed him to choose a seat in the back. I take place and look around me, only to meet the eyes of the professor again. While I wonder what made him choose teaching, since he doesn’t look like someone who was born to teach, I also ponder about the fact he is looking at me again.

Why would he do that?

I grab my laptop and open it, opening a new document. I’ve been going to NYU for two weeks now, yet this is my first criminology class. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing up the glasses on my nose bridge.

‘Okay everyone,’ I hear the professor say, when it’s time for the class to start. ‘There is a sheet going around. Find the spot you’re sitting now and write down your name. If I find out you are messing with me, you have failed your class immediately.’

He is not beating around the bush.

‘I’m detective Walter Marshall. I have worked for the MPD, the Minneapolis Police Department. For this semester there are three subjects we’ll cover. Victimology, crime analysis and the psychology of criminal behavior.’

This is not at all what I want to learn. This is too gore for me. I should’ve stood up to my parents and go to cosmetology school like I originally wanted. It’s better for me anyways.

I’m so stupid.

The paper ends up on my table and I try to find my place on it. I write down ‘Penelope Townsend’ and slide it to the person two tables over. Professor Marshall explains how we have a weekly lecture of two hours and how he is available for questions every Friday, since he’ll be in his office.

‘Does anyone have any questions?’

A guy raises his hand. ‘Why aren’t you working for the MPD anymore, sir?’

Professor Marshall sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. ‘I was put on leave.’

‘Why?’

‘There were some issues,’ he says. ‘Between me and suspects.’

I have no idea what he is implying, but the silence in the classroom is so thick, that I have a clue what types of issues came with said suspects.

‘Really?’ the guy asks.

The professor only raises his eyebrows, which obviously means he isn’t joking. You don’t need to have studied Psychology to figure that out. ‘Any more questions?

‘Do we work in pairs for the assignment?’ a girl asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No, individual works only.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars, I don’t want to work with others. Really, I don’t.

‘Okay, if that’s all, let me start right away. What do these women have in common?’ He presses a button on his presenter and the screen behind him changes. Three pictures of women appear on the screen. It’s their driver’s license photo.

‘They’re women,’ a guy says, causing a few to laugh.

Professor Marshall grabs the paper with names and says: ‘Does anyone have something less obvious to comment than mister Fitzgerald?’ He seems not amused at all by the words of Fitzgerald.

‘Brown hair, blue eyes,’ a girl says.

He nods. ‘And?’

‘They’re pretty,’ another girl says.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he notes. His eyes scan the paper and he looks up. ‘Miss Townsend, do you have something to add?’

Our eyes meet again and I realize that I’m the only miss Townsend in the class. I clear my throat and look at the pictures. Say something smart, Penny. Say something intelligent. Really intelligent.

The obvious things have already been said, so I should stay away from those things.

I swallow hard, press my glasses better on my nose and say: ‘Their left eyelid is slightly droopy.’

I hear some people chuckle a bit, making me feel everything but intelligent.

‘Quiet,’ professor Marshall says and the chuckles die down instantly. ‘Their droopy left eyelid is what made them appealing to the killer.’ He looks up from the other side of class, right at me. His slightly annoyed gaze dissolves for a few moments into a soft one. ‘Miss Townsend made an excellent point here. It took an entire police department to come to that conclusion over the course of two months.’

Oh my goodness, I made an excellent point.

The slides change and I see another picture. This time it’s of a man. It’s a mugshot. I bet he is the killer.

‘Miss Townsend, since you are on a roll,’ the professor continues and I nearly groan. Really? He wants me to answer another questions? ‘What’s do you notice about this man?’

I scan his entire face. He has a crooked nose, blemishes on his forehead and thin lips. He looks like a killer. This would be the type of man I would avoid if I came across him.

‘His left eyelid is also droopy,’ I say.

Is that a tiny smirk on his lips? ‘Correct.’ While professor Marshall continues to explain about how his own appearance is unknowingly influencing his choice of victims, I can’t help but beam a little with pride. ‘Because,’ he continues, ‘if you understand your victims, you can understand your killer.’ The slideshow changes to one word. ‘Welcome to victimology.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Time spend in a lecture hall while professor Marshall teaches flies by. Though he is a bit grumpy and not very welcoming, he is interesting and smart. Much better than my other teachers. I put everything in my backpack, before I get up from my seat. I’m one of the last students to leave the place, mostly because I don’t want to be swarmed by the cliques.

‘Miss Townsend,’ professor Marshall says, causing me to stop misstep as I already passed him.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look up from his notes. ‘You did well in class today.’

Is this man giving me a compliment? He might be the first one in a teacher like position to ever notice me, let alone give me a compliment. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, now looking up from his notes. ‘Don’t hesitate to say something in class next time. You have great insight.’

‘Or just luck,’ I say.

Professor Marshall shakes his head. ‘No, this isn’t about luck, this is good insight. So, can you promise me to raise your hand next class?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘What I said: this was luck and it probably won’t happen again. I have to go. I reserved a spot at the library. If that is all, sir?’

He doesn’t say anything, simply looks at me. It takes a second, maybe two before he nods. ‘If you have questions,’ he says, ‘you know how to contact me.’

I nod, before I walk out of the hall. I see students gathering in front of the door and I quickly slip through them and make my way to the library. I’ve been going to classes for around two weeks now and I’m still up to date as we speak. I decide to at least make a beginning with the assignments of my criminology class, because the sooner I start, the less work and stress I’ll experience later on, because I most definitely will stress about it.

It’s been quite awhile since I opened a book for school for assignments or preparing for exams. After high school, I decided to take a gap year, which ended in two. I’ve traveled with all sorts of groups to different countries, worked at an international cafe in Japan for awhile. It did help me with my social skills. I was happy, social and totally in my element. Those wonderful skills were all forgotten the second I stepped foot back in the USA again.

It was my parents that pushed for going back to college and once they figured out that medicine or law wasn’t up my alley, they agreed psychology, though it wasn’t my thing either.

It’s okay, sure, but… Gosh, I miss the freedom I had during the gap years. I’m not stupid, but is the academical life for me? I have looked at cosmetology school and boy do I wish I was there at the moment.

And not here.

✎ ✎ ✎

I don’t know how long I have been at the library, but my eyes are tired by the time I close my laptop. Besides working on my assignment, I also texted my parents to tell them everything is going fine and checked out multiple cosmetology schools here in the area.

Originally I’m from Maryland, meaning it’s only a three hour drive to see my parents and for them to check in on me. I considered lying about my major, about attending NYU and just go to cosmetology school, but mom and dad are paying my tuition, which is another loophole in my plan.

I put the laptop in my backpack and walk out of the library. Every second my mind wasn’t occupied with university related things, it went straight back to my first criminology class, more specifically my professor. His words. It’s one thing he said those things to me, but another that he looked so handsome while saying it.

‘There she is,’ I hear from behind me as I walk through the hallways to the exit. I turn around to discover it’s Fitzgerald. I forgot his first name, which is weird since we share a lot of the same classes together. He isn’t easy to miss. Pleasant on the eyes, that’s for sure, but he is loud, thinks he is hilarious and that makes him kinda annoying. ‘Miss Townsend,’ he says in a mocking tone.

Okay, change kinda annoying to absolutely insufferable.

‘Hm?’

Fitzgerald walks next to me and he comes a lot closer than I prefer. ‘You’re already the teacher’s pet,’ he continues. ‘Bet the man has a thing for Asian chicks.’

I have no idea how to respond to that implication. My instinct says to get out of here, but the exit is right ahead of me and from the looks of it, Fitzgerald is going there as well. So there is no escape.

‘But let’s say it’s beginners luck,’ he says, ‘because it was actually the first time I heard you speak.’

‘You mind leaving me alone?’ I ask.

‘Why is that, sugar boo?’

Okay, now I’m gonna vomit. Goosebumps run over my spine and the hairs in my neck are standing straight up. I bet this guy’s dad is rich, therefore the only reason he is here. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘You don’t want me here?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, everyone wants me here.’

Not me.

‘Fitzgerald, are you deaf?’

It’s professor Marshall.

His eyes enlarge when he realizes that too. ‘No, sir,’ he quickly says.

‘She said she doesn’t want you here.’ He stands in front of the two of us, looking everything but amused. ‘You know, back when I was working, I encountered a lot of guys like you. Did you know they usually peak in high school, do okay in college, but the second they end up locked up in jail—and I promise you, they most often will—they aren’t so tough anymore. They usually end up as someone’s bitch.’

To hear this entire monologue and the word bitch from a professor, was not at all what I was expecting. Fitzgerald’s face is drained from all its color. While Fitzgerald looks like he shat himself, I am utterly amazed. I wish I was this intimidating, I think to myself.

Fitzgerald clears his throat, eyes darting around the hallway, almost as if he is trying to find the closest exit. He shoots out of this place very quickly, meaning I’m left with only our professor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I say.

Professor Marshall simply nods. ‘You know, if you lowered your shoulders, you’d appear more confident.’

Why do I feel so offended? ‘Oh…’

‘It’s advice, miss Townsend, not criticism.’

‘Oh,’ I say again, this time in a whisper like tone. He could’ve brought it up a bit nicer though. No need to hurt my feelings like that.

Professor Marshall and I both walk towards the exit and I notice it’s raining. Great, guess who didn’t bring her umbrella and also isn’t wearing a jacket with a hood?

Absolutely fantastic.

‘Here,’ the professor says, holding out his umbrella for me.

Is this truly happening? ‘Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.’

‘I insist.’

With some hesitation I grab the umbrella from him and smile. ‘Thank you, professor.’

He politely nods and walks off, leaving me with the umbrella and a little bit confused. Though he looks so handsome and slightly intimidating, he still is nice to me. The only teacher ever. Maybe Fitzgerald is right and—

No, no, no, don’t think like that. It’s not that every man who is nice to me all of the sudden has this fetish. That can’t be it, right?

Maybe, despite my aversion, I am actually good at the whole criminology thing and isn’t it a one time thing. Luck. Maybe I do have something I am good at.

✎ ✎ ✎

That Friday I am still on campus after I spend my entire afternoon in the library. Since I have a question about the criminology assignment, I decide walk to the office of professor Marshall. To kill two birds with one stone, I brought his umbrella with me so I can give it back. I knock on the door and hear a low: ‘Come in.’

I open the door and am met with the professor, who is sitting behind is desk. ‘Sir, I have a question about the assignment.’

He leans back in his chair and gestures me to come in. I close the door behind me and expect to sit, until I notice there isn’t a chair anywhere for me to sit on. How unwelcome of him, I think to myself. Does that mean I have to remain standing?

‘What’s your question, miss Townsend?’

‘I didn’t know which format I had to use for the entire assignment. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was here in the building and I thought that I could…’ Nice way of getting off track, Penny. As they said in high school musical: ‘Get’cha your head in the game’ and this is  not the game. ‘Never mind. Which format should I use?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he says.

That’s it? That’s the answer he is gonna give me?

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘Other questions, miss Townsend?’

Yes. I let out a deep sigh. ‘The assignment is just harder than I thought,’ I admit. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Professor Marshall stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Sit, I’ll try to explain it.’

‘In your chair?’

He simply nods and I walk around the desk, to take a seat, while he leans against the windowsill. Oh, the leather is warm… What a body heat does this man produce. ‘Okay, the point of the assignment is to use some of the example files of—staged—murders. Based on the file you choose, you choose a format. You write out the victimology, try to narrate who the killer is, writing down all your findings and there are things I’m gonna talk about in next classes.’

I nod. ‘That makes it easier, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re already working on the assignment?’ he asks. Why does he sound genuinely surprised?

I nod again. ‘I am. I find it easier to work a bit every day, than to cram it all in one day.’ I realize how that sounds. ‘That sounds dorky.’

‘It doesn’t really. It’s a whole lot better than what I did back in the days,’ he says. ‘What did you think of the class?’

Is he asking for my opinion? ‘Your class was very interesting. Slightly morbid though, but fascinating.’

‘Morbid?’ the professor asks. ‘There was nothing morbid about my class.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘It was kinda scary. With the blood patterns and all. The peek into the murderer’s mind?’ I shiver. ‘Don’t know, felt too personal and too much into the killer’s brain.’

‘The class you’re taking is criminology,’ he says, ‘you should’ve known.’

I shrug, not knowing what to say to him. He is right…

‘Miss Townsend—’

‘Penny,’ I say. ‘It’s Penny. Penelope officially, but people barely call me that.’ People barely call out for me ever, but that’s a different topic. Total different topic.

‘Penny,’ he says, ‘could’ve known.’

I don’t know what he is implying, but I realize I am totally overstaying. ‘I’m sorry, I should go. Thanks for helping me out. Oh, I brought you back your umbrella. I don’t need it anyways.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I should go. It’s getting kinda dark already.’

‘Let me guess, you don’t do well in the dark.’

I smile almost out of guilt. ‘That obvious?’

For a brief moment I spot a smirk on his face. ‘I’m a detective, I spot these things.’

Okay, not gonna lie, but that’s pretty funny. ‘See you next class, professor,’ I say, standing up from his chair and I walk towards the door.

‘See you next class, Penny.’