#new uni just started and i also need to work a lot

[lilis-palace]

So sorry for being quiet, but I needed to make 100 different variations of this fence. Next week you're about to get a massive fence set!!🤩

[raiiny-bay]

some WIPs from the 80s AU i never finished

[garciapimienta]

I hate being an adult with a job and responsibilities LET ME WATCH EVERY EUROS MATCH

[celestialmancer]

...

5 years or less...

That's the most time I have left to scramble everything together despite also struggling w my own health & everything I already struggle with. & That's assuming nothing happens in the time span before then that accelerates everything at a rate faster than I can maybe handle

Bc with the unpredictability I seem to live in constantly, with how common it is for me to have shit strike out of nowhere? When I've never even known stability in the first place so I can't even trust that that 5 years won't suddenly be accelerated to less than 2 years or far less than that? Esp when last year was the start of sudden "yeah so we are becoming rly unstable & idk how well we're going to be able to live here for the next x months/years" that was dropped on me out of nowhere?

...I don't know.

[kurthorton-moving]

anxiety is Hitting today like damn i just woke up lets chill

[ingydar-phan]

Ok I do want to chime in on the convo but actually this is gonna be really long because I’ve been planning to make a huge post about this since the tour trailer came out. Like genuinely I messaged some people asking for tips on how to make a big conversation post weeks ago and then just never did it. So here goes I guess.

I am a firm believer they are going to hard launch soon. In some way shape or form. Before tour starts. That is a stance I have held ever since I watched pizza mukbang 2. And I have explanations.

My main points come from the coming out parallel surrounding Dans internalized homophobia and trauma responses and fear of rejection (more on that later), and also my hypothesized “3 stages” of the gaming channel revival.

I believe that when the gaming channel was revived, starting with the Heartthrob video, they entered stage 1: experimenting with audiences desire for a return to content. This was a phase they themselves discussed in Dans Birthday Stream and in Pizza Mukbang 2. The first few months were experimenting with what a new audience would look like and how much they were wanted, in what contexts, and what kind of content. I also think this wraps into the dynamic difference between Dan and Phil as people. Note, I love them both dearly and want nothing but the best for them both. It has been made clear that they did very different things during the hiatus, with Phil initiating the gaming channel comeback. Before Dan came out, he was under an immense feeling of guilt and pressure, even by his own mind. He had the option of leaving the internet forever, and he certainly considered it. Finish off the gaming channel, go on one last tour, and leave. Never having to adress anything again. But he didn’t do that. He came back. He came out. And he was greeted with the kindest, warmest, most accepting response. And he did work! He wrote a book! He went on a solo tour! And to echo both Dan himself and all of the community, he needed this. He needed this time of healing and this era of self discovery. He wouldn’t be who he is today without it, and I’m so proud of him.

But Phil? Oh Phil was just cruising along. That’s not at all to discredit any form of hardship Phil went through, but it certainly wasn’t the same. Phil was making content before Dan was, back in 2006. In uni, Phil was comfortable in his sexuality (or some form of queerness). But he waited. He waited to come out until Dan was ready. Because he’s a wonderful partner. He was happy continuing Amazingphil regardless of hiatus, of Dans needs, because he knew he didn’t have to pressure Dan into anything he didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. And then, presumably when Dan was ready, Phil proposed a gaming channel comeback. Just try it out, just see how it feels, low commitment. And what happened? Once again, they were showered with love and adoration and support and acceptance. Was the fandom different than how it used to be? Absolutely. But it was beautiful and loving. So that’s stage 1. Experimenting with content and viewership and re-entering the branding of Dan and Phil (Games).

Then, I believe after stage 1 came stage 2. Experimenting with audience reaction to Dan and Phil as a couple. I want to stake my claim here that everything they do is meticulously curated. Sure, Phil’s toe popping out of his sock wasn’t purposeful, but it was certainly handled intentionally. They’re extremely seasoned creators, and everything they do is for a reason. (That’s why I love rpf hehe). This, my “stage 2”, is when they were dipping their toes more into phan stuff. The orange heart. The “gay” community tab. Using the “ph-“ prefix THEMSELVES a lot more. Dab and Evan comparisons. This was the middle ground. How would people react? Would they turn away because it’s too much? Would they begin stalking and creeping all over again? Or would they accept these people for what they are. As much as people like to think Dan and Phil are just silly whimsical guys who are perfect no matter what they do (which is accurate as well tbf), they also know what they’re doing. They do these things on purpose to gauge audience reaction, to see how people feel about it. As others have said, what we see publicly is just a tiny sliver of their real life. Yea, even the domestic videos. It’s curated. And it’s wonderful. It’s so endearing they choose to share these things. Even in times of uncertainty. But that uncertainty was met with absolute acceptance.

Which is how we get into stage 3. I think “stage 3” started developing around the time of Dans Birthday Stream, but really actually started when the tour trailer was posted, and then all the videos after that (pizza mukbang, dressing each other, chained together, tiktoks, etc etc). So, very recently. But something shifted. Maybe it’s in the air, maybe it’s just me, maybe we all need to go outside. But something shifted. Dan and Phil, but especially Dan, saw how they were being accepted and took that as an affirmation. An affirmation that everything is going to be okay. They can commit now. They can go full on. Full hard launch.

I think everyone has a different definition of hard launch, and even I think it varies by context. But what I mean here is not necessarily them making some video called “Dan and Phil are romantically together” and staring at the camera with a gun to their head. It doesn’t, and shouldn’t, have to be that.

Straight people get this privilege of being assumed straight without having to “come out”. They get this comfort of having relationships without having to scream it in everyone’s faces.

And I do indeed agree with what people mean when they say they have already hard launched. They’re husbands, soulmates, 4000 year old tortoises, “basically any other gay couple”, more than just romantic, yea. I get it. But people are fucking stupid. Non-queer people don’t understand nuance, and need everything handed to them on a silver platter. Dan and Phil are together. People who try to twist and turn to try and “prove” they’re anything but a committed romantic and sexual relationship are ignorant at best, but mainly using homophobic wishful thinking. However, there’s more to go. There’s a reason we’re all “terrified” for what is to come. Because everything, the past 15 years of all of our lives, of their life, is coming together. It’s genuinely beautiful.

So what do I mean by hard launch then? Well, I mean a lack of censorship (besides what’s reasonable. Though we’d all love to see them fuck on YouTube, I’m not sure that’s happening any time soon). I mean a lack of shame. A lack of hiding. And it’s already begun. That’s what I feel stage 3 to be and have been. In pizza mukbang 2, they say things such as “cheers dear”, which is intentional. The “gay uncles” and the “kneeing” is all intentional. It’s not just throwaway jokes, it’s them looking us in the eyes and saying “we see you”. I have a whole list of stage 3 things. The intentional Incohearant cards. The “my face hurts from smiling” comments. THE HANDS ON THE SHOULDER TO THE HAND ON THE KNEE. Them being so open about their secluded romantic holiday. The relentless Phil bottom jokes. The yaoi day tweet from the outfits video. The “who would jump for you like that dog jumped for that man” “you”. It’s all there. It’s all intentional. And I’m so grateful for it.

One of my mutuals who I talked about this with (not gonna name cuz idk if they want me to) talked about their theory that DNP have given barely any info about tour because it requires some form of hard launch to preface it. And honestly? I didn’t even realize that was a theory. I sort of already accepted that as fact. How open IS the door gonna be?

So yea, I hope this makes sense. Please feel free to respond with or send asks of any nuances or questions or theories you’d like to add. I don’t intend this to be shaming anyone who thinks differently. Even if I may vehemently disagree with someone in my head, I don’t think these people are evil or malicious or objectively bad or deserving of hate. These are just my thoughts. I’ll likely be adding more. Thanks for reading.

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? - Part 1

In which something magical begins.

Warnings: none, just a bit of mutual pining. but this will be an angsty one i think. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Words: 2.6k

Master List

(a/n: new series alert! friends to lovers featuring lando norris. this one will be several parts spanning from 2019 to present day. I've tried my hardest to make sure the timeline/race results are accurate but I may have adjusted something to make it work a bit better for the story line. this is a total work of fiction, purely for entertainment.)

February 2019 

Woking, Surry, England

“This is not going to be a year of partying and laziness, Chiquita.” Carlos throws you a sidelong glance as he pulls his new McLaren into a parking spot early one February morning. “You are here with me to work, not spend your gap year playing.” 

“If I’m here to work, then you can’t me ‘little girl’ while we’re here, Carlos.” You bite back, hauling your tote bag from the floor of the low slung sports car. 

Carlos chuckles, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you both begin the walk into his new workplace: the McLaren Technology Center. “Fair enough, Chiquita.” 

Last spring, you had graduated from high school and had spent one miserable semester at the University of Madrid in the fall before dropping out just a few months ago. 

Carlos dodges the swat that you aim at his bicep, taking a few quick steps ahead of you as you approach the front door of the large white building. The sprawling MTC is an intimidating building and you knew that if you hadn’t been here with Carlos, there was no way you’d be able to find your way. 

After spending a few listless months bouncing from Carlos’ couch in Monaco back to your parent’s estate in Spain, they had laid down the law. You needed to figure out what you were going to do for the foreseeable future if going back to University wasn’t in the cards for you at the moment. They were fine with you not going back to uni right away, in fact, they encouraged you to take a gap year but they expected you to do something productive with your life while you figured out what you wanted to do. 

And that had been when your older brother had entered the chat. He had finished third year as a Formula 1 driver a few months ago and would be changing teams come the new season in March. In December, he had parted ways with his long time assistant, who wanted to spend more time with her new husband and less time traveling. Carlos and you had always been the closest of the four Sainz siblings despite the six year age gap (his 25 years to your 19) so it had been the most natural thing in the world to have you be his assistant and social media manager for the 2019 F1 season. 

Up until today, Carlos had been attending pre-season meetings and putting time in at McLaren’s sim setup by himself but you had arrived at his flat five minutes from the MTC yesterday, suitcases in hand, ready to get started as your brother’s assistant. It had been ages since the two of you had spent this much time together and while you were mostly excited to spend the year traveling and reconnecting with your big brother, there was a bit of trepidation and anxiety sitting in your chest as you walked through those sliding glass doors this morning. 

You were barely 19 after all, little real world experience and you knew absolutely no one in this entire country beyond your brother. All of your friends were attending university in other countries, far away from the world you now found yourself in. Yes, you were excited but you were also insanely nervous. 

Carlos leads you down a long hallway, lined with trophy cases filled with motorsport winners trophies on one side and sleek F1 cars on the other. It was an entire shrine to McLaren history, of which there was a lot, and you were in awe as you followed after your brother. “Where are we going?” You ask as he turns down another quiet hallway, convinced you’d be utterly lost if Carlos asked you to show him how to get back to the front doors. 

“I have a little office tucked away back here next to Lando’s, I wanted to get you set up with the laptop and sync my calendar so you could get yourself ready.” 

You nod, ears perking up at the mention of your brother’s new teammate, Lando Norris. You knew a little about him from a few causal Google searches. He was 19 like you and this was his rookie season in Formula 1. From everything you read, he was a karting prodigy that had been signed by McLaren for a while and had been tapped to drive opposite of Carlos this year. Just knowing that there would be someone around the offices and on the road that was your age made the tight anxiety that sat in your chest ease just a touch, even if you two didn’t end up being more than acquaintances this year. 

Carlos hadn’t been lying about his ‘little’ office. It was barely more than a broom closet if you were being honest. Just enough room for a desk, a pair of chairs, and a bookshelf, but there was a large window that faced south so at least there’d always be sun spilling into the small space making it feel a little airier. 

You pull your MacBook out of the Dior tote Carlos had gotten you for your birthday last year as Carlos chatters away about schedules, press duties, and what he expected out of you. You listened carefully, taking notes in a little spiral bound notebook as you waited for your laptop to boot up. 

“Are you in here talking to yourself again, Carlitos?” 

Your head snaps up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and you find yourself smiling at the boy standing in the doorway. He’s a few inches taller than you, with short brown hair, and bright green eyes surrounded by thick black eyelashes. The deep tan of his skin surprises you a bit, considering its February in England and you hadn’t seen the sun since you left Spain yesterday. 

The boy’s face instantly sobers when he sees that your brother isn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He blushes, hand coming to cup the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize you had a guest.” 

Carlos laughs, “This isn’t a guest. This is my sister, the one I was telling you about Friday. She’s going to be my assistant this year.” 

“Of course, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lando.” 

You stand, crossing the small office in just 2 quick strides to shake Lando’s outstretched hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lando.” You say, polite smile playing on your lips. 

Lando turned around then, not wanting to intrude on the sibling time but also needing a moment to collect himself. He had known that you would be spending the season with your bother and that you two were around the same age but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was for how pretty you were. Your hair was even darker than your brother’s and it tumbled over your shoulders in layered waves that shined in a way that made Lando’s mouth go a little dry. Those dark eyes, round and doe eyed, threatened to swallow Lando whole and he’d barely spent more than a handful of seconds in your orbit.

He leaned against the door frame leading into his office, the sound of your laughter drifting through the walls. He had been used to the constant travel that was required of drivers of his caliber, having spent most of his teenage years on the road but all that time, he always had someone with him. His father, mother, manager. Someone that was ‘in charge’ of him and his schedule.

Now though? Now everything is different. He’s of age, a driver in the pinnacle league of his chosen sport, and totally alone. His friends are either jealous of his success or away at school and Lando often finds himself spending the entire weekend alone in his little flat down the road from the MTC. He was happy, of course, ecstatic that he had been given this chance by McLaren but the truth of the matter was, Lando Norris was quite lonely. 

As the image of your face flickered through his mind, Lando felt the tight grip of anxiety ease just a little bit. There was something so open about the way you had greeted him, something about how easy your laugh seemed to come, that told Lando that you were a good person, someone that would somehow be very important to him this year. 

“That is your teammates sister, mate.” Lando mutters to himself as he pushes off the door frame, making a beeline for the sim rig that was on the other side of the MTC, hoping that the time spent focused on racing would be enough to get your image out of his brain. 

April 2019 

Baku City Circuit 

“Lando, I swear to God if you’ve slept in again I’m ordering fish whenever I eat with you for the rest of my life.” 

Somewhere between Australia and China, you had morphed into not only Carlos’ personal assistant but also the assistant and babysitter of sorts to his stupid, idiotic, hilarious teammate. You adored the boy but most of the time he drove you to the brink of absolute madness. 

“I didn’t sleep in! My alarm didn’t go off!” Lando groans, breathless on the other end of the phone. 

“That is literally the same thing. I have one simple job here, Norris: get you and my brother to where they belong during race weekends and right now? You’re making me look like an amateur.” 

“I just got into the paddock, relax darling, no one is even remotely close to being fined by the FIA. I’ll be on the fan stage in five minutes, meet me there?” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you desperately try to will away the Landache, the term you’ve come up with when you get a headache caused by the Brit. “Fine.” You breathe. 

It’s your fourth race of the season and while Lando and your brother were seemingly hell bent on driving you to an early retirement, you had never been happier. Managing the busy schedule and life of now two Formula 1 drivers had come naturally to you. Engineers and mechanics in the garage were always a little in awe of your ability to keep the two drivers in line and where they needed to be when. The communications team at McLaren loved you because sometimes, you were the only one who would be able to get the Carlando, as the duo was coming to be known as, to behave. 

It was total chaos pretty much all of the time but you were thriving. You and Carlos were closer than ever, working tighter like a well oiled machine. But Lando and you? You two were the textbook definition of Partners In Crime. While you were the picture of professionalism on the track and during business hours, you were the other half of the chaos gremlin duo that terrorized half the grid. 

Right now though? Now the chaos gremlin was the perfect paddock princess that had to make sure her best friend and brother got to the right places on time. You round the corner of the back stage area, desperately searching for the mop of wavy brown hair covered by a papaya colored hat. 

“Lando!” You call, relieved when your dark eyes catch with a familiar pair light colored eyes. Today, they were an icy blue thanks to the bright desert sun of Baku. “I didn’t think I had to add ‘alarm’ to my list of race weekend duties.” You grouse, brushing at the dust on his team polo. 

Lando shakes his head, easy smile spreading across his face. “Am I late though?” 

You glare at him, “No.” You huff. 

“I would never make you look bad, pretty girl.” He winks and your stupid stomach does its traitorous little flip that it’s been doing lately. It’s disgusting. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“And please welcome to the stage, McLaren drivers Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris!” The presenter calls from behind Lando’s shoulder, interrupting your sparring match. 

Lando gives you a wink before spinning around following your brother up the stairs of the stage. 

July, 2019

Germany 

“That was my fifth DNF this year.” The pain in Lando’s voice sends your stomach twisting. You follow behind him, hands wringing together, as he stalks down the hallway of the hotel in Germany. The race had finished up hours ago but Lando had just been released from media duties a bit ago. Carlos had been caught up in some post-race meetings so you had hitched a ride back to the hotel with Lando instead but now, as you followed his stiff frame stalk down the hall, you wondered if that had been a good idea. 

“Lando, it wasn’t your fault. Your car lost power, it’s not like you binned it into the wall or anything.” 

Reaching his room, Lando stops and pulls out the key before letting himself in. He leaves the door open though, indicating he wanted you to follow him. “I know that.” He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. The hotel room is pretty normal where hotels are concerned, 2 queen sized beds dominate the space with a large flat screen tv on the opposite side. Lando flops down on the farthest bed, his eyes closed. 

“I’ve barely finished in the points yet this season. Haven’t had a sniffing chance at a podium. I feel like such a fucking fraud.” 

You had stopped just inside the door, wanting to give Lando some space as he had his tantrum but now, seeing how truly upset he is, you cross the carpeted floor and sit down next to your best friend. “Lan.” You coo, running your fingers through his hair, knowing how the scratches from your nails relaxes him. “Lan, it’s okay. You knew coming in, just like Carlos, that McLaren is in a bit of a rebuilding stage. This isn’t unexpected.” 

The problem with Lando is that he is utterly too hard on himself. You had clocked the fact quickly, by the time you had been landing in Australia for the first race of the season, you knew he needed to work on his confidence. 

“I know. I mean, I don’t know but I know that you know and I trust you enough to know that you know what you know is right.” 

Your head spins. “Pardon me?” 

Laughter spilling from your lips pops the bubble of tension in the room, Lando unable to keep the smile off his face either.

“You heard me.” He gripes, sitting up. “And I know -” He stops, glaring at you when you double over with laughter once again. “I know you understood me, you cheeky monkey.” 

“I’m sorry but I’m just so terrified by the fact that I did understand that whirlwind of a sentence and can’t decide how to process it.” You say, chest heaving from laughing so hard. “We’ve been spending too much time together.” 

Lando grabs the remote from your hand before turning on the movie you had both fallen asleep to last night before the race. “Are you going to be mean to me all night, or are we going to finish this movie?” 

You roll your eyes, but toe off your shoes before settling against the headboard of the bed, shoulder bumping with Lando’s as he joins you. “Pizza or sushi for dinner?” You ask, grinning because you already know the answer. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Love you too, Lan.” You counter, pulling out your phone to order some pizza. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

*as always, if you want to be added to the tag list, leave me a comment or send me a message*

[cherrynflowergarden]

could you write quite literally anything for marc guiu pleased

bf marc headcanons || marc guiu

an; hii ml thanks for the request<3 i did a headcanon bc they're honestly so fun to do hehe arda guler works in process!! I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG I MET W AN ACCIDENT 😭 POSTING MORE SOON;) we're soooo close to 500 btw;)

taglist; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-belle @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf

bf!marc who become your personal uber as soon as he got a licence.

bf!marc who facetimes you whenever he's far away.

bf!marc who will hold doors for you. be it the resturant door or the car door, he always makes sure to hold it up for you.

bf!marc who is a proper gentleman.

bf!marc who gets you flowers.

bf!marc who pulls out the chair for you.

bf!marc who always has his hand on your lower back.

bf!marc who accidentally soft launched you via his instagram stories. he just wanted to post a silly selfie; not realising your feet on his lap could seen as well.

bf!marc who mentions you in his interviews.

"well played today marc! could you let us know who the goal was for?"

"my girlfriend."

(yes that's all he's saying before moving on the next question)

bf!marc who smiles so big whenever you're mentioned in an interview.

bf!marc who doesn't want his crazy fangirls to rip you up but also doesn't want them to think he's available.

bf!marc who is a firm believer of private not secret.

bf!marc who needs you to comfort him after a loss.

bf!marc who loves cuddling with you.

bf!marc who clicks thousands of pictures of you.

bf!marc who has a picture of you in his wallet.

(he literally did the 'everywhere i go i keep a picture in my wallet' trend before it was a trend. super proud of himself for that btw)

bf!marc who appears in your tiktoks every once a while.

bf!marc who talks a lot with you and about you.

bf!marc who playfully fights you.

(will feel super guilty and go to any length if he accidentally hurts you)

bf!marc who is super affectionate. not to the point where others feel uncomfortable but he'll always have an arm around you.

bf!marc who listens to your school/uni presentations. and gives his imput on it.

bf!marc who is super supportive of your studies.

bf!marc who does face masks and skin care with you. he was a little apprehensive before but now he enjoys it.

bf!marc who takes you to a carnival date and win gifts for you.

bf!marc who enjoys the quite apartment dates more than going out.

bf!marc who starts watching a series with you but finishes it before you.

"but baby i had to know what happens next. i'm sorry :("

bf!marc who gives you the biggest puppy eyes everytime he wants something or whenever you're mad at him.

(it's so difficult to stand to the ground when he looks so cute)

bf!marc who follows you around like a puppy whenever you go for shopping.

bf!marc who lets you swatch make up products on his arms.

bf!marc who hypes you up everytime you come out the trial room wearing something new.

bf!marc who carries all your shopping bags.

bf!marc who carries your bag in general.

bf!marc who loves when you show him random things you brought.

"marc look at this kuromi pen, isn't it cute?"

"super cute baby"

bf!marc who loves to listen to you telling about your day.

bf!marc who sometimes cooks for you.

bf!marc who sends cat pictures to you and says "literally us:)"

bf!marc who pretends to be annoyed when you team up with hector to tease him.

(he loves that you get along well with his best friend)

bf!marc who is literally the sweetest boy ever.

[icallhimjoey]

no no no no no NO no NO! NO! joe can NOT get away with this! he's gonna deny us our *fun* isn't he? this absolute bastard can NOT think that this is an acceptable way to keep us around! NO!

you know what? you're right. you're so very, very right. Wordcount: 3.3K

---

All The Aces

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was wrong.

Joe was wrong, but... he wasn’t stupid, as it turned out.

So that first time, you hadn’t really fully realised what was happening, which – fine. Who could blame you? And you would argue that, the next two times after, it also wasn’t really your fault that you hadn’t caught on...

The fourth time; obvious. You would’ve been an absolute idiot had you not put the pieces together... which, you had, so, you also weren’t stupid.

And also, if it wasn’t for Izzy, maybe it would’ve all clicked into place on the third time.

It was just that... Joe went about it a little too calculated at first, the sneaky fucker. Likely because he was also testing the waters, trying to figure out what he could get away with.

And.

Well.

The answer was: A Lot, Apparently. But again; who could blame you? Joe wasn’t stupid.

Joe wasn’t stupid at all.

When he’d buzzed you up into his flat whilst he was making dinner, you’d barged in with a million things on your mind. All of them extremely negative and ultimately: unimportant.

“I know you’ve not invited me over to just rant at you for ages, but, can I just rant at you for ages?” You dropped your bags right where you were standing.

Joe, spatula and pan in hand, eyes on the food, went, “Ages?”

“Okay, fine. A minute. Can I rant at your for a minute?”

You hadn’t even said hello to each other, priorities elsewhere right now. This shit was on your mind and you needed it off your mind.

Joe’s eyes quickly found his oven timer and he reached for it to set it. To a minute. Because he was a comical genius, you see.

“All right, one minute…. And, go!”

You ignored the stupid joke and just, unleashed. There was some work shit, some small annoying things that had frustrated you throughout the day, but when you got your phone out to read a text thread between you and a childhood friend, you really got into it.

The oven timer went ignored. It beeped, but Joe just silently turned it off and put it to the side. You were in the middle of a sentence and whatever the problem was, this seemed important to you.

He knew it was all petty shit you likely already had all the answers to, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t listen.

Joe tried his best to follow along. Really, he did. But he was also finishing your dinner, peeling potatoes and cutting vegetables, and you were going a hundred miles an hour, straying off the main story every ten seconds to explain whatever was going on better. Which, it didn’t. It only confused Joe more, but he nodded along. Said things like, Oh my god, no way and what the fuck at all the right moments like a good friend would do. Like a good boyfriend would do.

“It’s not my fault we’re not as close as we used to be, she went off and had four children- four, Joe. Four.”

You’d started pacing.

“And then she went, “oh you still living with that girl?” That girl – Izzy, we’re talking my best friend since uni, Izzy. That girl. What the fuck does she think she’s even saying?”

Arms were flying, and Joe silently covered a pan with a lid for fear of your phone landing in it.

“And remember when, like, four years ago, I went to celebrate new year’s with her instead of with our group, just because she’d asked a million times, and she didn’t want to come down to join our party? And then she mixed drinks and got me so drunk, I didn’t even make it until midnight? She’s still holding that over my head, look,” you just kept going, read a text message aloud about maybe trying that again and just doing mocktails so she would actually be able to see the fireworks this time.

You sighed aggressively and turned its back end into a frustrated cry.

“Am I insane? Don’t actually answer that, but… am I insane?”

You stopped pacing to look at Joe, and... you had to take a second to take in what you were seeing.

Joe was stood leaning against the countertop where, behind him, potatoes were sizzling loudly in a frying pan. He had his arms crossed over his stomach, head cocked to the side and he was just… staring at you. Slightly biting into his lip. Smiling, a little. It was a way of looking at you that you could feel within your chest. That made you whole face heat up as you felt how the tops of your cheeks blushed.

Rude.

Had he even been listening at all?

“Be helpful, please. Am I insane?” you asked again, arms flying once more, outraged and in need of a very specific answer.

Joe let his smile grow a little wider and kindly assured you, “You’re not insane.”

He got it right.

“Thank you.” You let your shoulders visibly drop, glad to have heard Joe say what you needed him to say. But then you looked behind him.

“You’re burning the potatoes.”

Joe just kept his eyes on you and said, “I know.”

Didn’t unfold his arms. Just kept his warm eyes on you, that fondly stared a little dreamily.

“Joe,” you scolded, half laughing as you stepped closer to take the pan off the fire, but Joe was faster and turned the hob off just before you could intervene. Then he immediately took advantage of you being closer and used both of his hands to cup your cheeks. To hold you by your jaw, and to tip your head back for him.

Then he gave you that same look again.

Half-lidded, soft, adoring eyes that just stared down at you as he smiled a little.

“What?” you asked, expecting him to lean down for a kiss that didn’t come.

“Not insane.” Joe cooed.

You sensed a but coming.

“But?”

“But…” Joe leant down a little, got a little closer. “But you’re very pretty.”

“But I’m very… Joe, that has nothing to do with–”

Joe cut you off with the kiss you’d been waiting for. Soft lips brushed to yours in a funny position because he caught you in the middle of a word, strong hands holding you in place. You let your fingers wrap around his forearms and attempted to pull away, but Joe wasn’t having it. He used the very brief moment your lips parted to whisper, “So pretty.” into your mouth before he was back on you, arm now curling around the back of you to keep you from leaning back any further.

The kitchen smelled of delicious food, and you’d just spent at least ten minutes pacing around the room whilst tirading about something ultimately so very insignificant, especially to Joe, but the boy was kissing you.

Told you that you weren’t insane.

Said that you were so pretty.

Had cooked you dinner and had let you spew about an old friend trying her best to reconnect without telling you that you were being silly.

You probably were being silly.

Today just hadn’t been the best day.

And written communication had the tendency to change in meaning depending on your mood.

You could read everything again the next day and interpret all of it differently.

You were being silly.

But the boy was kissing you now, and it was just the perfect remedy to a shitty day.

Joe held you in place and kissed you until he felt you sigh into him. Until you gave in, and decided that, yea, sure, Joe could just make out with you in his kitchen for a while if he wanted to.

Joe swallowed the soft sounds you made and softly groaned in return. He loved how he could feel you grow more relaxed under his hands. Loved the way you were pulling him down to you to get more of him. Loved how you started to deny him pulling back, now more desperate for him than he was for you.

When you felt Joe’s hands start to wander down your back and round out over your bum for a squeeze, you managed to break free from Joe just long enough to say, “Should we have dinner first?”

As an answer, Joe bent through his knees a little and you felt how his grip grew stronger as he was about to lift you up. You got your arms around his neck just in time.

“Nah,” Joe murmured into your mouth, hands firmly under your thighs as he encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Dinner can wait.”

You got walked over to the bed where Joe laid you down and then just lazily kissed you for a bit longer.

Where you sunk into his mattress and tangled up into his sheets whilst dinner out in the kitchen grew cold.

Where roaming hands were heavy and wandering, pulling at the hems of shirts as palms searched for smooth, bare skin to touch.

Where you eventually grew a bit impatient and tried undoing Joe’s trousers with fumbly fingers, not breaking your kissing.

Where you slipped a hand inside and felt how hard he was.

Where Joe pretended to suddenly care about dinner until you got your mouth on him and he let himself fall back into his pillows, eyes fluttering shut.

Where the sun was setting outside, casting the room in soft warm oranges as Joe used careful, gentle hands to get you out of your clothes.

Where Joe wanted to see all of you.

Where Joe wanted to feel all of you.

Where Joe made you laugh when you bit into his shoulder, and panted, “I take it back, what I said earlier. You are insane.”

Where, after a while, when Joe burrowed his face into your neck and didn’t remove it, you knew he was in the homestretch. Mind blank. Just feeling.

And you were right.

It didn’t take long for pants to turn into groans, for rhythmic thrusting to turn into sloppy hip-clashes, and for Joe to tense up all over with a held breath before turning into a boneless collapsed man who felt like all the strength within him had just left through his dick.

It took a while for Joe to return back to earth. He just laid on top of you, face pressed into the crook of your neck, breathing so close to your ear it almost sounded like he was inside of your skull.

When Joe finally did remove his face from being pressed into your neck, there was a spit-string connecting you together still.

“Oh, ew,” you laughed, moving your face away slightly, “That’s disgusting.”

Hovering over you, cheeks flushed and hair messy, you saw how Joe looked at the spot where he’d been drooling all over you, and he grimaced.

“Oh, no, maybe,” he leant onto one elbow to get a hand into the crook there, already laughing. “Maybe don’t,” he started wiping, tried to get a bit of duvet in there which only made you feel how wet it actually was. When you moved a little more to get a look, Joe tried to stop you from seeing the wet patch of saliva he’d left behind.

“No, don’t look! Stop!” he was laughing now, and against his advice, you got a hand in there to feel.

“What the fuck, Joe, you drooled all over– Joe! There’s a fucking puddle!”

For a short moment, Joe acted like a child caught sneaking a snack he wasn’t supposed to have taken from the pantry, very cute yet very guilty. That quickly changed into a more indignant attitude, where he gave you a face for giving him a hard time about enjoying himself.

It was only a bit of spit.

“I’ve cooked you dinner!” Joe exclaimed as he climbed off of you, and he said it like the argument was meant to make your neck less wet somehow.

“Which has absolutely gone cold.”

“Come on,” Joe held out a hand. “I’ll heat it up and we’ll have it outside.”

“How about,” you started, grabbing the hand and letting him pull you up. “You go heat up dinner, I’ll wash your sheets, and, um, shower.”

Joe didn’t let go of the hand he was holding, and pulled at it until you were up on your feet where he was quick to lock his arms behind your back to keep you close.

“How about,” Joe copied your tone to make you laugh, and got his face back into the same crook of your neck where he blew a raspberry to make you squirm. “We both take a shower, and then we get the rest sorted after?”

You’d never taken a shower as long together before. No funny business - just actual washing. Except, Joe would keep kissing you places he would then wash straight after, because you clearly thought his spit was dirty now, so every press of lips got chased by a soapy shower sponge and it took for fucking ever for Joe to stop thinking the bit was hilarious.

To be fair, you hadn’t quite figured out how to not laugh every time he did it, so... partially your fault, you guessed.

But what wasn’t your fault, was how not orgasming hadn’t been weird at all. How that hadn’t consciously crossed your mind once. You’d been distracted with wet sheets and soapy kisses and then after all that, a lovely home cooked meal outside on the balcony where you had it with your hair still wet, dressed in just T-shirts and underwear.

It wasn’t your fault the first time, it wasn’t your fault the second time, and it definitely wasn’t your fault the third time, when Izzy barged in right in the middle of it.

It also wasn’t exactly her fault, though.

All Izzy had done was get home from work.

You were right in the middle of the hallway of your shared flat, pressed up against a wall, half naked, in Joe’s arms.

And then Izzy walked in.

Now… you’d seen Izzy freak out before. But to see two of your friends mid stand-up-fuck in your own hallway after a long day at the office triggered a new form of anger within your flatmate. It didn’t help that, as you were trying to get out of Joe’s grip to rush into your bedroom, that Joe’s hold on you only strengthened.

Izzy was the first to start shouting, and a fraction of a second after her first, “Oh my God!” you and Joe started shouting too.

Izzy was stood in the doorway where she was shielding her eyes, workbag sliding from her shoulder into her elbow, and she was screeching on the top of her lungs, “Oh my God, Oh my GOD, no! No! What the fuck! No!”

Joe shouted, “Leave! Leave!” right into your ear with an unmistakable urgency in his voice whilst the cutting edge left no room for argument.

And then there were panicked screams coming from you, high-pitched words tumbling over each other, all sentences unfinished, half telling Izzy to close the door behind her, half telling Joe to let you go.

Which, he didn’t do.

Joe just held on stronger and used his legs to press you against the wall like he was trying to make the two of you disappear into the brick there, and it hurt.

The chaos lasted maybe four seconds. Five tops. It was all overlapped loud voices, all frantic movements and then… to make an already awful situation even worse… Joe orgasmed.

You shrieked, “Wh– Are you coming? Are you coming right now?” as your eyes nearly bulged out of your head with shocked outrage, hands trying to push at his shoulders whilst your legs tried to find the floor.

It was the worst evening you’d had in a good while.

After everything, you sat on the foot of your bed, hugging your knees and Izzy stood on the threshold of your bedroom, asking what she’d ever done to you for you to decide that having sex in the shared hallway at twenty minutes past six in the evening was a totally normal thing to do be doing.

Joe’d quickly left after. Was out the door in a flash after the world’s most awkward apology ever.

“Sorry Izzy, for, um... yea, for making you see… and, um, hear that.”

“Fuck off Joe.”

“Yea, I’m… sorry, I’ll leave. I’ll see you Friday, yea?”

“I said, fuck off, Joe.”

“So sorry. Sorry.” Joe had paused, and then a single look of Izzy had made him go, “Yea, yea. I’m going.”

He hadn’t even dared to turn around to find you in your bedroom first. He’d just walked straight out and texted you, “Got sent home. Call me in a bit?”

Promises were made of removing clothes behind closed doors from now on – preferably locked doors, please. And if you couldn’t take four more steps to get yourselves into your bedroom first, for the love of God, please, just go over to Joe’s. He’s got a whole place to himself and you could fuck on the doormat for all Izzy cared.

You apologized too.

Said it would never happen again.

And then Izzy said she had to not look at your face for the rest of the night because she kept reliving the visuals, and – fair. That made sense.

You kind of didn’t want to see your own face for a second either.

And there was no way that Joe had planned to deny you an orgasm like this, but... it was real fucking convenient that Izzy always came home from work around the same time each day. It was real fucking convenient that he’d gotten you incredibly worked up with cute little text messages all throughout the day. Real fucking convenient that he walked in with his shirt tucked tightly into his jeans and far too many of the buttons undone for you to be normal about it.

There was no way he’d planned it.

But he’d definitely given the situation a little nudge into the direction it had eventually headed into, and no one could blame you for not having seen it then.

Not yet.

But then the fourth time happened, and Joe’d just edged you all night. Was very open about his teasing. Made you tell him if you were getting close, and then when you did, he’d just… ease off. Pull back. Let you whine and cry for it until he thought you’d pleaded enough for him to be nice again.

He’d gotten you so close.

So, so close.

But not close enough.

And then, when he came and just rolled over after, you knew.

This guy was having sex with you without letting you orgasm.

“You’re sick, you know that? Like an actual sociopath.”

“I’m just following instructions.”

Yea, all right.

Yea.

Fine.

He’d gotten away with it up until now, which, well done, Joey. This idiot really thought he held all the aces, didn’t he? Smug little bastard.

But you know what?

Good.

He could feel that way.

You were going to let him feel that way.

There were loopholes.

Easy ones too.

Joe was wrong, and clueless, and maybe, actually… he was a little stupid, after all.

And you were stubborn. Determined. Persistent.

Dead set on proving yourself right.

Which you were.

You held all the aces.

Not Joe.

Joe was wrong.

You were going to outplay the player at his own thought-up little game, and he would see. Oh, absolutely, he would see.

He’d fucking see.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[theunaestheticstudyblr]

How I prep for a new semester at uni:

I make a new time block sheet. I put all my classes in, then my commute time. From there I plan study hours, when I need to wake up to not feel rushed, work hours, etc. This plan helps to keep me from getting too overwhelmed and let me feel like I have everything under control.

I do my school shopping on prime day or after the back to school rush. You'll find those nice multi subject notebooks on sale for cheap and fun stationary and backpacks a lot cheaper like this!

I try to get a head start in classes. If I know we're reading a book or something I'll start a couple weeks before school starts. I try to take notes on as many chapters/subjects as I can and all that. This not only helps me get ahead, but it also helps me for when I inevitably fall behind.

I get all the routine maintenance done on my car. I drive over an hour to get to classes so this is very important. Oil change, tire rotation, balance, filters, etc. I save up my summer tips to get all this done.

I stock up on easy and fast foods. Instant noodles, granola bars, frozen meals, etc. Between working a lot and doing classes I don't have the energy to cook and do dishes so this saves me.

I give myself little reasons to get excited. The teacher or the campus or a friend. Whatever it may be. I HAVE to have a reason to drive that long to attend a class for an hour and come back and not get stressed.

I make a food budget. It's so easy to spend $150 a week on snacks and treats and coffees and such. So I have to set a budget and a plan for myself so I can actually pay my rent haha

I plan my walks to classes on campus. Where I'll park, how much time I have between classes, how to get there, etc.

If I have late classes, I make sure that I can call someone after every class as I walk to my car to make sure I'm safe.

Plan little treats and rewards. If I realize there's a week that's going to be super hard on me, I'll plan a little early morning walk or something special I don't do often after as a reward.

I try to be more positive to myself the closer the semester comes. I have to be proud of me and my work. I have to be confident in my abilities. So I have to have that mindset. Which is super hard as someone with severe anxiety and depression and who has been conditioned growing up to be quiet and a background character essentially. But I AM good. I AM smart. I can ace these classes. I deserve to be here and I deserve good things.

I triple check with my job to make sure they have my updated availability and will give me the flexibility I require due to my classes.

Overall, I just get my shit together once again and try and get myself excited. I have the opportunity to study at a university and that in itself is absolutely amazing and something I don't take for granted.

[jasminewalkerauthor]

So you've wrote a book, what's next?

So I recently started uni and naturally immediately joined my universities writing and book societies, last week I was sat editing my book when a couple of people approached me. Apparently through some light instagram stalking they had found out I published books and was wondering how on earth do you even do it.

Upon being on tumblr this week it turns out that this is a question that a lot of people are interested in, this being probably my most requested post ever?

ANYWAY. You've wrote a book, either you're two drafts in or fifty drafts in it doesn't entirely matter. I am going to give you the bad news that the work has only just begun.

The first choice you really need to make is whether or not you want to pursue traditional publishing or self/indie publishing. I believe the common misconception of the difference between the two is that one is 'Easier' than the other. Both are hard, just in different ways.

Traditional publishing is hard to break into, you need to convince enough of people that your book is worth selling which can be incredibly difficult and results in a lot of heartbreaking emails. However once you have that publishing deal you have those people in your corner to help with editing, cover design, and distribution among other things.

Self publishing, much like the name suggests, means that you have to do everything yourself, edit (or source an editor), design (or source a designer), marketing, the works. However the plus side of self publishing which I like is that you have a lot more creative control and freedom.

Now to be fully transparent, I am an indie author, naturally I am going to know a lot more about a process I have actually gone through rather than one I havent. However I do believe I can provide at least a rough guideline of the process so that people can get an idea of what going into it.

So starting with traditional publishing, assuming that you have a full draft that you've at least done some self editing on, your first step is finding an agent. You'll need a couple of things for this. First is make a document of the first 30 pages of your manuscript (a 'sample' if you will), and a query letter which is almost like a cover letter for your book, this is what potential agents will look at to judge whether they want to represent your manuscript.

I dont think I need to say it but your query letter is VITAL, please take time with it, some agents may not even look at your sample if your query letter is bad.

Now, searching for agents is relatively easy, there are a lot of databases online that will give you a list of agents and whether or not they are accepting submissions. Most agents will also have a kind of 'wishlist' of manuscripts they're looking to represent (e.g. sci-fi, philosophy, high fantasy), look for agents with a wishlist that includes your kind of book.

Once you have an agent they will be able to go to different publishing houses with your manuscript, hopefully leading to a book deal at some point. From there the publishers will help with editing, design, and distribution.

With self publishing the process is a bit more complicated. First is the editing process. Either you can edit your own manuscript if you feel up to it or you can source an editor. There are three different editors you can hire: Developmental editor, Line editor, and Proof reader. Almost every editor charges per word of your manuscript.

I would also recommend looking for Beta readers, these are readers who will read through an early copy of your manuscript for feedback (These are NOT editors, more reviewers). There are also ARC readers who you send an early copy to about 2-3 months before release to build interest in your book.

When it comes to the actual publishing itself, there are two main publishing platforms: kdp and ingram spark. Both of these are three besides the fact that you will need to buy an ISPN for your book to use ingram spark.

I think i'll leave it there because this is LONG, but i may turn this into a series, what do y'all want to know about?

[a-fox-studies]

With my second year starting tomorrow, I think this calls for a little reflecting back :) My first year was so eventful, most of it was spent trying to power through my disability, but even with that I made some awesome memories.

I learned a lot of new things that I didn't know before, and my knowledge has definitely increased, even though only slightly. I worked out a routine for myself, and a system of studying, note-taking and productivity that works for me, after so much of trial and error. I'm proud of myself :)

I also found solace in solitude. I didn't really vibe with my classmates much, but I found comfort in visiting my uni library, eating at the cafeteria, taking walks in the very green campus, indulging in photography because there were just way too many plants unphotographed lol. I discovered a new side of me - a peaceful one, and I made my inner child understand that hey, you don't need to be surrounded by people all the time. Your best friend is yourself.

I met so many new people through the studyblr community, both in tumblr and in discord (shoutouts to @sadiewayne @winryrockbellwannabe @guz013 @iwillsurvivecollege @sapphicacademic

@inkblotfeathers @electrolumen @montecarloedexistence @larstudy @mossfueldgoblin and others who I forgot to mention) who have directly and/or indirectly helped and motivated me to study and do the things I want to do. Thankyou to the entire community so much, and also my followers for staying with me through this dumpster of a blog lol.

Going into second year, no amount of prep is ever enough apparently. I'm still nervous, still worried about my health, but also excited for the future. New concepts, more knowledge, more experiences, more memories and just, more life. Lots of life ahead. And I'm willing to live every second of it.

Here's to a new year! 🥂

[sansaorgana]

I was wondering if I could request something for modern!gwayne. perhaps a conflicting dynamic with helaena/aegon's friend from college if you're not uncomfortable with the age gap. if you are, perhaps something with him and a friend of alicent's - just something where we have the opportunity for a gentle, slow development <33

hi, darling! sorry that you had to wait a few days but I had a migraine on the day you sent it to me (and I was after my first ever botox appointment 🙈) and yesterday I was working on my thesis and ended up with a migraine again lol I was wrapping up my thesis today but, thankfully, I feel much better this evening 💚

thank you for sending this and I am fine with such an age gap, I think, since The Reader is supposed to be in college/uni whatever (I still don't get the difference 😂 in English)

just a reminder that this modern hotd au is supposed to be something quick and fun, so mostly headcanons and ideas, not full fics! 😊

more under the cut ✂️

-> I think it has more potential if you would be a friend of Aegon. 👀 More drama, if you get me… Because when you befriend Aegon and he starts to bring you home to do projects or presentations together, everyone thinks that you are his girlfriend and when you say "no, actually, we are FRIENDS" ,they just think you two need some time to realise that you are made for each other… 🙄

-> One time after classes when Aegon takes you home, his uncle Gwayne is there. and OF COURSE Alicent whispers to him that you are Aegon's "new girl".

-> Gwayne smirks at that and he teases both you and Aegon all the time but he is meaner than other family members… and it's not because he's from the mum's side of the family but it's because he finds you attractive and he's kind of butthurt that you are Aegon's "girl".

-> He wouldn't try to flirt with his nephew's girlfriend and steal her – he wouldn't want to hurt Aegon… So, he is just bitter and he hates the fact that the more he gets to know you (against his will), the more he likes you and the more attracted he seems to be to you…

-> And you? You instantly find him attractive. A handsome, rich, older guy who looks at you LIKE THAT? (it's difficult to hide the way he's staring).

-> At first, you didn't want to tell Aegon that you had a crush on his uncle because it would be awkward. But also, you thought there was no point of mentioning it because Gwayne was mean to you anyway… Not extremely mean but you know, he was teasing a lot and making ironic comments here and there. You knew that he fancied you but you thought it was purely physical and that overall he didn't like you at all.

-> However, one time you just admit to Aegon that you… KIND OF… have a crush on Gwayne Hightower and poor Aegon nearly chokes on his energy drink when he hears that. He looks you up and down because at first he wanted to laugh at you but then he realises that hey, you would actually make a good pair???

-> Because to Aegon you have always been "one of the boys" since you liked to joke around with him and all that but now, seeing your pretty little outfit, your make-up, your hands squeezing all those important books to read before the exam… Well, he has to admit that you look pretty mature and very feminine. Something he has never noticed before. 😂

-> Aegon assures you that it's not like Gwayne doesn't like you but he just acts this way towards everyone. You are not convinced but Aegon knows that his uncle probably thinks you two are dating, so he comes up with an idea.

-> He finds himself a girlfriend (it's easy for a guy like Aegon) and he starts bringing her around. Gwayne PANICS at first and keeps asking does it mean that you will not be showing up anymore??? But Aegon says that "no, of course she's gonna keep coming, she's my friend?".

-> So you do. You keep coming but now Aegon's girlfriend is jealous and acting like a bitch because you are everywhere and you are more comfortable at her boyfriend's house than she is. Not to mention, Aegon kiiiiiinda prefers to spend time with you.

-> Next part of the plan comes up to Aegon's mind. He asks his uncle to help him and to spend more time with YOU so his girlfriend is no longer jealous. Gwayne pretends that he agrees only for the sake of his nephew.

-> Few days later there's a big barbecue party in the garden of The Targaryens' mansion and you are invited, of course. You are standing by yourself and Aegon's girlfriend is killing you with her eyes when Gwayne approaches you and starts a kind conversation. He asks about your studies and talks about his job.

-> Before you realise, you have already walked away from the rest of the people and wandered with Gwayne to the more remote part of the garden. Without witnesses, he becomes a little bolder and starts to pay you compliments here and there and to his surprise, you seem to like them.

-> He picks up a flower from the garden to give it to you!!! And he playfully makes you promise that you won't tell Alicent about it (she would kill him).

-> He asks you to have a dinner with him soon and you agree. You exchange phone numbers but you don't actually expect him to call because why would such a cool man even call you? His nephew's college friend? No, it seems unlikely.

-> But he does. On the next Monday he calls you and invites you for dinner at the restaurant and you are nervous but you agree. Aegon is no longer in his relationship (lol), so he helps you to choose a dress and all that. You both decide that it's better to keep this whole thing a secret from Alicent so far.

-> Gwayne shows up in his expensive car to pick you up and he is a gentleman but he still jokes here and there in his typical way but you no longer mind that since you already know that he actually likes you. You even tease him back a few times, which he seems to enjoy.

-> The dinner goes well and he kisses you goodnight after taking you back home! You watch him drive away and the moment his car disappears from your eyesight, you take your phone out and text Aegon: "I'M GOING TO BE YOUR FUCKING AUNT."

[kimbap-r0ll]

Could I request the Vil, Epel, Azul, and Jamil with a who's basically the "team mom" of the first years? She's known for making snacks for the group, scolding them when mess around, getting protective of her friends when they're in danger, etc.

Hi, thank you for the ask! Sorry I'm getting to these asks so late, uni's starting up again and that means I'm starting to get busy again haha. This seems like a fun idea, thank you!

Vil, Epel, Azul, Jamil x mom-friend!reader

Vil

He's glad that you're extremely responsible but at the same time feels bad for you because you're constantly having to babysit your friends haha

Vil is the type of person to notice when you get tired or stressed really quickly, so even if you aren't completely burned out he'll make you do a self-care day with him

I feel like he liked you because of how you were protective of your friends from danger and you had no problem dealing with your friends' antics. If he was in your position he knows he would've had a headache 24/7, so he admires you

I feel like a lot of students would be scared of the two of you because of how strong you seem, but what sets you apart from Vil is how you're able to still be extremely kind and caring (not saying Vil isn't, he's just bad at showing it). He likes the sweet side of you that shows up from time to time

Epel

He was at odds with you first when you told him what he was doing was dangerous and things like that. However, after you two got closer, he realized that you weren't just a "no-fun" person and rather you cared a lot about the people you cared

Definitely tried to make you do some daring things while you two go on dates. While yes being a mom-friend does mean you are prone to saying "that's dangerous you're going to lose an arm" you aren't the type to say no when it comes to something new. I feel like it's a nice balance of safe and fun

You probably saved him from Vil a few times, mainly with him asking you to talk to him with you since Vil is such a scary person haha

Overall he likes that you're super caring and that you sometimes help him adjust to Pomefiore's rules. He wants to be someone people can rely on as well, and so you're sort of a role-model to him too

Azul

I feel like he tried to recruit you into the Monstro Lounge when he found out how efficient you are and how you're super good at catching details. However, he was scared of you a little bit because of how you were able to spot his more manipulative side extremely quickly unlike most students

I feel like once you two get to know each other, he sort of finds comfort in you unlike the comfort he's ever felt after mastering spells and such. You make him feel like he doesn't have to be perfect around you, and he admires how you are able to show kindness to everyone

You two are probably the reason the lounge is extremely well-organized. Whenever something slightly goes wrong, every Octavinelle student working there will come running to you before running to Azul now haha

When he saw how you were like around the first years, I feel like he could sympathize. He's had to manage so many different kinds of people through contracts, but for you it was like you were saving them from fire 24/7

Jamil

Ace joked that you two were going to date because of how similar you two were, turns out it's not a joke anymore!

Jamil and you first got close after taking care of Kalim's antics and then his friends (which were also your friends) and their shenanigans. Jamil and you often joked about how you two were like the parents of the group

Even though he's stressed out of his mind, he goes out of his way to make sure you aren't fatigued. If you need anything from him, whether it would be a cup of tea or just some time to read, he's there to help. I feel like he would almost be a mom-friend to you too haha

Overall you two are literally nicknamed "mom" and "dad" by students because you two sort of act like that haha. I think what Jamil would admire the most about you would be how even though you're strict and aren't scared to face danger, it's because you care about your friends and want the best for them

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 1 - new year, same rivalry

a/n: hello! i’m back finally! super excited for this series, it’s definitely going to be more wholesome than my other one, and more of a slow burn! my plan is to have ten chapters, but that could change later on.. anyways enjoy and please tell me what you think! if you would like to be put on the series taglist, let me know! ♥️

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 3.8k

series masterlist

“Welcome, year twelves. It’s lovely to see you all today, I recognize some familiar faces. My name is Mrs. Chasteen, I’ll be your teacher for English studies this year.” You set your bag down and take a seat, glancing up at the woman speaking. She’s very elegant, with her grey hair pulled into a strict bun and sophisticated tiny rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. You smooth out your black pleated skirt before crossing your legs.

“As I’m sure you all know, this year is very important. You should be considering which universities you wish to apply to, how you would like to further your education…” Your attention is side tracked when a tall figure hurries into the room, his dark eyes scanning for an open seat. You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Farleigh.

His eyes eventually fall onto you after spotting the empty seat next to you. He reluctantly walks over and sits down next to you with a big sigh, like he’s just put off by your existence. At least the feeling’s mutual.

“Your grades need to be in top shape this year, as they will determine your chances of getting into university. This year is arguably the most important for grades,” Mrs. Chasteen explains, pacing around slowly. You shift uncomfortably, scooting away from Farleigh. It’s like he’s trying to take up space on purpose as he splays his books and papers across the table. You shoot him an ungrateful look which he ignores.

“Now, enough about all that. I’m going to introduce the book that we will be studying closely this term.” You perk up at her words as she goes to her desk, picking a book up off the surface.

“This book is found on many, many reading lists for universities, namely Oxford.” You raise an eyebrow and sit up at the mention of your dream school. “A classic from the Victiorian era: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.” She holds up the book briefly and you let out a relieved sigh. “One of my personal favorites,” She adds quietly, setting the book back down.

Farleigh nudges you with his shoulder and you have to stop yourself from physically recoiling. “Would’ve thought you’d already read this by now,” He mutters with a slight smirk on his face, showing his teeth like a fox. Suddenly, a question enters your mind and now you have to ask, though you might come off as insecure. “Have you?” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head. “No.”

Okay, good. That would have been bad if he had already read it. It’s always nice at the start of the year. You’re both even, and no one’s ahead of each other in anything. Yet.

“We’ll be discussing and taking assessments over the chapters, so be certain to keep up with your reading. For your final project before winter break once we finish the book, you will be writing an essay based off of it and a prompt that I will give you. I will also be pairing you up with someone to collaboratively write said paper with.” Your eyes widen at this. A group project? Well, not a group. A duo. Nevertheless, it’s weird for two people to write an essay together. You’ve never heard of it.

“You need to learn how to critique each other and work together. It’s an important skill for uni.” Mrs. Chasteen seems to notice everyone’s looks of confusion. “Hmm,” Farleigh hums. You glance over to him shortly before observing the other students in your class. You recognize a lot of them. Just accquaintances, not friends.

“Anywho. Please come and grab a copy, then sign the sheet so I know you received one.” You quickly stand up and head over to her desk. You want to make a good first impression. But Farleigh and his stupid long legs make it there before you do, charming Mrs. Chasteen with a bright smile.

“Hello. I’m Farleigh. I’m absolutely thrilled to be taking your class,” He holds out his hand, speaking with his velvety voice while your teacher shakes his hand with a curt nod. “You’re quite tall,” She remarks with an impressed expression. You roll your eyes. Why does everyone feel the need to comment on his height? Does it make him better than everyone else? It’s just one more thing that makes Farleigh stand out more than you, and you hate that. You miss what he responds with due to your bitter thoughts.

“Please, take a book.” She steps back and gives him more space. He reaches down and takes a copy off of her desk, signing the paper shortly after with his free hand, writing in flawless cursive. You’re envious of how smoothly and quickly he can connect the letters. It looks like something out of a scroll from the eighteenth century.

“Oh, wonderful cursive,” Mrs. Chasteen clasps her hands together in approval and Farleigh just glances at you with a shit-eating grin before walking off and back to your shared table.

“Hi there,” You put on your best I’m very high achieving and hard working smile and mimic Farleigh’s actions, holding out your hand as you introduce yourself. She smiles back warmly while shaking your hand. “What a beautiful name. I’ve heard many great things about you from your previous teachers.” She almost lowers her voice. You feel your face heat up and you try not to show your pride.

“Oh, well then, I hope I live up to your expectations, miss.” You say with a beaming smile. She chuckles and hands you a book. “I’m certain you will,” She replies as you sign your name on the sheet of paper in slightly sloppier cursive, looking worse underneath Farleigh’s perfect signature.

You walk back to your spot with a spring in your step, holding your head high. Hearing just those few words from your new teacher’s mouth made your day. That’s how badly you crave academic validation. Or just… validation in general.

“You hear that?” You ask, returning his grin from earlier. “Hear what?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and turning to you with a confused expression. “Nevermind.” You don’t know why you thought he would’ve heard your conversation from all the way over here. “Mmm,” He hums in response, and there’s some attitude in his tone. You debate whether you should come up with a snarky question to ask him, but you decide against it.

Once all the books are handed out, Mrs. Chasteen walks up to the whiteboard and uncaps a marker. “So, can anyone tell me something interesting about Emily Brontë?” She asks.

Both of your hands shoot up at the same time. You mentally curse at Farleigh and shoot him an annoyed side glance. He returns the favor. Mrs. Chasteen notices this and raises her eyebrows. “Eager to answer, are we?” She chuckles and then looks around. “Anyone else?”

You glance around the room. No one else is raising their hands, they’re all just looking expectantly at you and Farleigh. You look back to your teacher with wide eyes, willing her to pick you.

“Alright then..” Mrs. Chasteen clears her throat. Her eyes land on you. She’s going to pick you. Yes. Now you can prove your intelligence and superiority to the rest of the class, and to Farleigh.

“Farleigh.” Your hand drops back down to your side in defeat and he turns to look at you. He just winks. He winks. The annoying fuck, you could probably strangle him right now-

“Well, Emily wasn’t the only poet and writer in her family. Her sister, Charlotte, wrote Jane Eyre, which was hugely successful. But Wuthering Heights was critiqued for being too clumsy or, rather, not well structured.” He explains, sounding like a fucking Britannica article. It was the exact thing you were going to say, and it pisses you off. You rest your elbows against the desk and put your chin in your hands, sighing dejectedly.

Mrs. Chasteen nods and writes this on the board, summing up the information into bullet points. “Correct. Very good.” She caps the marker again and turns back to the class. You raise your hand quickly, and she calls your name.

“I think Farleigh’s forgetting to mention Anne Brontë. She was probably the least popular out of the three sisters, but her works are seriously underrated. Her last novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, was one of the first feminist novels. She paved the way for other female authors and gave women a voice.” You explain, and Mrs. Chasteen looks surprised at your level of knowledge. You can feel Farleigh’s bristling energy next to you. You smile contentedly, watching as your teacher writes what you said about Anne off to the side.

“And have you read this book?” Farleigh suddenly asks. You turn to face him, unafraid of his challenging. “No, I have not. But I did a project over the Brontë sisters last year, and my research went quite in depth.” You explain, and he does one of those Olympic winning eyerolls. “Having extra information like that comes in handy, you know,” You grin as his eyebrows furrow, glaring sharply at you. “It’s not like it matters. We’re not even talking about Anne. She asked about Emily.” It seems like you two have forgotten completely about the rest of the students in the room, the teacher, and everything else in the world as you begin to argue. It just comes naturally.

“If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned Charlotte. She asked about Emily,” You mock him. He opens his mouth to say something back, then closes it and looks down.

“Alright.. anywho, now we’re going to read a short introduction to the book to give you all an idea of what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Chasteen explains, giving you and Farleigh a stern look.

Throughout the rest of the class, you and Farleigh remain silent and refuse to speak to each other, though you were instructed to discuss with the person next to you. You look out the stained glass window, watching the raindrops patter onto the cobblestone, the puddles illuminated by the golden light shining from the lanterns, the chatter around you drowned out by your own thoughts about the rest of today.

Your overthinking is interrupted by your teacher’s voice.

“Okay everyone, that’s it for today. I will see you all tomorrow. Could you two stay for a moment, please?” She turns to you and Farleigh as you’re gathering your things, gesturing for you two to come up to her desk. You both glance at each other before nodding and heading over after you’ve swung your bag over your shoulder.

“So… you two seem very.. competitive. You’re both very intelligent, make no mistake.” You wonder where she’s going with this. “Which makes me curious– May I ask which universities you two intend on applying to?”

“Oxford.��� You both say at the same time, after which you immediately turn to each other with wide eyes. What? No. It can’t be. You’re seriously fucked if he applies to Oxford. They rarely ever take two people from the same school.

“You’re applying to Oxford?!” You both ask, once again, at the same time. He looks almost personally offended by you, with his upper lip pulled up and his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar scowl.

“Oh- Haha, well. What a coincidence,” Mrs. Chasteen chuckles nervously, glancing back and forth. “I went to Oxford. It was quite lovely there, and the professors–”

“No, you can’t. I’m applying to Oxford.” You point at yourself, and he scoffs. “Who says I can’t?” Farleigh asks, his voice dripping with sass. “Me.” You reply. He rolls his eyes and facepalms with exasperation.

“Well, the chances of you both getting in aren’t… impossible. If they see two exceptionally good students who are at the top of their class, they won’t mind if you’re from the same school. They only see the talent,” She goes on to explain, trying to stop an argument from breaking out again.

“Logically, they would pick the top student, though. Not students,” You emphasize the s at the end of students. Mrs. Chasteen continues. “You never know. And backup universities are a great option, if–”

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ll only be applying to Oxford. It’s Oxford or nothing,” You reply, your voice full of determination. “Me too. Oxford’s been my dream uni since I moved here from the states,” Farleigh adds. You turn to glare at him and he glares right back.

“Well then. That’s fine, just please try not to take up any more class time with your bickering.” She raises her eyebrows at you two. You nod. “Yes, miss.”

“And who knows,” She says, pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, “You two might work better together. Two smart brains are better than one,” You shudder at the word together. You and Farleigh working together? Absolutely not.

“Think about it.” She points a finger and you reluctantly nod, just to give her some temporary satisfaction. “You’re excused,” She dips her head and you hear Farleigh let out a little sigh of relief. “Thank you, miss. Have a good day,” He nods shortly to her before turning on his heel and heading for the door. You follow suit.

Shit. You forgot about the rain. Before English class, you had made it inside before the downpour had really started. Now the raindrops covered every inch of the ground. You have to cross the courtyard to get to your next class, which is in the west wing of the school. You awkwardly stand in the arched corridor, listening to the rain, slightly shivering as you try to make a decision. The weather is always bipolar in London. It’s September, and the other day it was sweltering. Now it’s freezing and rainy.

Farleigh turns around and raises an eyebrow at your hesitation. “What are you doing?” He asks. You glance down. He’s holding a black umbrella. How is he always prepared for everything?

“Well I don’t have an… umbrella,” You mumble, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Am I supposed to care?” He replies. Of course. Why did you think he would care?

“You asked me what I was doing,” You throw your hands up. “I was answering your question!” You exclaim angrily. He rolls his eyes. “What’s your next class?” He asks hesitantly.

You pull out the small yet important paper from your pocket with your classes on it, looking down and squinting. “Biology,” You reply, looking up and watching all the other students bustling around, chatting excitedly or holding umbrellas over their head as they walk through the courtyard. You look back to Farleigh, who seems to be thinking something over in his head.

“Alright, c’mon.” He nods to you, walking out into the open area, holding up the umbrella. You step forward without questioning it, just thankful for the rare act of kindness. “I’m headed to the west wing anyway,” He says as you walk side by side, as if he has to make it clear that this is not him being generous to you. It’s simply convenient.

You wish you didn’t have to stay so close to him, but if you want to be covered fully from the rain, you sort of have to get closer to him, your head brushing against his shoulder due to your almost embarrassing height difference and your feet almost tripping over his. You both remain silent, with only the sound of the rain pelting against the umbrella to keep you company.

You eventually reach the west corridor, and he’s quickly stepping away from you and wrapping up the umbrella. You begin walking to go find your class, before you hear his voice call after you.

“No ‘thank you’ or anything?” He asks. You turn around and groan internally. “...Thank you.” You respond, very reluctantly and quietly. “You’re welcome,” He smiles sarcastically and you roll your eyes before turning back around, quickening your pace to make it to your class on time.

A week later, your first calculus assessment of the year is already upon you. It doesn’t help that you share that class, of all classes, with Farleigh. Math has always been your most difficult subject. You’ve never been quick to understand it, it never comes naturally for you. But if you put in the time and work, you can make it seem like it’s effortless.

Apparently for Farleigh, it is effortless. He makes it clear that he never studies for tests or quizzes. While it infuriates you, you also find it hard to believe. How can he ace everything when he claims he doesn’t even try?

You sit down at your desk, fishing your pencil and calculator out from your bag. You nervously chew on the eraser, waiting for the papers to be passed out.

“First assessment of the year, good luck everyone. If you fail, there will be no corrections, so hopefully that makes you feel better,” Mr. Bailey says as he passes out the tests. His sarcasm somehow only makes the situation worse. You spent hours studying for this last evening, although he claimed this was all ‘mostly a review’ from your precalculus class last year. Right. Review. You should know this stuff by now.

As soon as the paper is on your desk, you begin working, starting with the problems you know how to solve. You get in that zone, completely unbothered by your surroundings or any distractions, just working, switching between writing down numbers and formulas to typing into the calculator.

You get stumped on a question and glance up to check the time. Your eyes wander from the clock over to Farleigh, who seems completely relaxed, one hand running through his hair and fiddling with his dark curls and the other working a problem out.

“Eyes on your own tests, please,” Mr. Bailey sternly calls out. Your eyes dart over to him, where he sits behind his desk, his gaze directly upon you. Fuck. Now he’s going to think you were cheating. But what were you actually doing? Staring at Farleigh? No. You were just… observing. You go back to your test, flipping the paper over to start the graphing section.

“That’s time. Pencils down, I’ll come by to pick up your papers.” Mr. Bailey announces, standing up and starting down the rows of desks and picking up everyone’s tests. He says something to Farleigh but you can’t make it out, but you see Farleigh grin. It seems that Mr. Bailey has already chosen his favorite student. You never even stood a chance.

Once he makes it to your row and picks up your test, you begin to pack up your things. “I’ll have these graded by tomorrow. Please don’t complain to me if you fail. That’s on you.” You scoff quietly at your teacher’s harsh remarks as you make your way to the door. Thank God that was your last class of the day. Now you can head back to your dorm.

Farleigh falls into step next to you. “So, how’d that go for you?” You stare straight ahead, focusing on the path ahead of you. “Good. Honestly, it was easier than I expected.” You reply. It’s half truth. It was slightly easier than you were preparing yourself for, but you usually prepare yourself for the worst. But you can’t let him know that you still struggled.

“Really. Hmm,” He hums, and you glare up at him. “What?” You study his expression. He must think you’re lying, based on his little smirk and raised eyebrows. “Nothing. It’s just… we both know math is not your strong suit,” He pauses and you stop next to him. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” You scowl up at him and he just grins.

“Unlike you, I actually study.” You continue walking, hoping he’ll leave you alone, but he follows you. “Aw, you actually need to study? Sad.” He pouts and you actually feel the urge to strangle him.

You turn around abruptly and he stops in his tracks. “Alright. Lovely talking with you. Bye!” You wave with a fake smile. Farleigh looks a bit surprised by your reaction. There’s only so much of his insults you can take.

“Bye,” He quietly mutters as you turn back around, walking quicker and more determined, putting some confidence into your step.

You groan and flop onto your bed once you enter your dorm. Suddenly, you realize how sleepy you are as your eyelids feel heavy You cover your face with a pillow and sigh, wishing you could rest. It sounds wonderful. But you have work to do. Reading, studying, the list goes on.

You chose this boarding school because you heard it was most similar to the Oxford experience, campus wise. It was also named the most prestigious secondary school in London. You often become very homesick, though, and you long for the comfort of your parents and your real home. At least it’s preparing you for university.

You groan once again into the pillow before sitting up and pushing the idea of sleep away. It’s time to get to work.

The next day, you wait to get your calculus test back. Mr. Bailey is handing them out while you overthink and prepare yourself for a failing grade. What would you do if you actually failed? You think you would rather be pushed off of a tall building than receive an F on a test.

Suddenly, a paper lands on your desk. You quickly glance down and see ‘97.5’ written in red ink at the top of the paper. Your eyes widen and you feel relief wash over you. Thank the Lord. You grin and pick up your test, inspecting it closer and going over your errors.

You hear someone coming up behind you. You quickly flip your paper over, hiding the grade from whoever is lurking over your shoulder. But it’s too late.

“Not bad…” A deep, American voice chuckles quietly. You turn around in your chair, and to no surprise, Farleigh is standing there with his arms crossed. He’s already seen your grade.

“Stop looking at my grades,” You hiss. “Relax, I was just curious.” He smirks at your frustration and holds up his own test. You see a ‘98’ scrawled up at the top along with a ‘good job’ next to it. You huff in response, turning back around.

“That’s not even much better than mine,” You mutter. “What’s that?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck. You shiver and remain silent, unable to repeat yourself for some reason.

“Sorry, who got the better grade?” Farleigh questions, his voice lowered. You let out a small sigh, ready to admit your defeat. “You.” You reply quietly.

“Right.” And then he’s gone, probably heading back to his own desk. What a bitch. You roll your eyes and pinch the space between your eyes, shaking your head. Yeah, he got .5 more points than you, and it doesn’t seem like much. But for Farleigh, it’s a huge win. But you’ll get him back. You always do. And you’re going to be the one who makes it into Oxford, you are sure of it.

[avatar-anna]

so just an idea. what if few years down the line when prof and h get married and he drops her to uni first time after they are married and people address her "professor styles" or "doctor styles" and she cant stop blushing and harry is just smirkingg. you can totally ignore this if this isn't something you like!

Heyyy queeeeeen, first of all HAPPY NEW YEAR! Second off all this is kinda a request/idea : how about y/n is mad at bf!Harry so she gives him the silent treatment and then out off nowhere he calls her y/n Styles and it gets her attention and then they have a talk about marriage and the end up making love?

I've given this a lot of thought, because on the one hand, I feel like Professor would be the type to keep her last name. BUT I also think she would appreciate the idea of shedding her past for good by taking a new name, Harry's name. She talks about it at length with Harry, and he holds his tongue, wanting her to come to her own decision and supporting whatever she wants to do (but he totally has an opinion and it's for her to be Mrs. Dr. Styles). And because you so graciously requested this, we're going with Mrs. Dr. Styles, so here is three times Professor was referred to as Dr. Styles!

The Professor Series

Harry often thought the way Y/n went on tangents was cute, adorable even, but right now she was being a little...unreasonable.

"Y/n, we talked about this. It happened for a moment, and security took care of it. I'm fine."

"This is not okay! Do you know how many creeps there are out there? So many. I don't need statistics because I encounter them all the time, Harry. This is serious. You could've been hurt, the band could've been hurt, anyone could've—"

"Darling, nothing happened. Come back down to earth for me. Please?" he said, standing up from the hotel bed to come near her.

"I am on earth! Where some...some freak decided it was okay to run onstage and charge you! Why aren't you taking this seriously, Harry? Anything could've happened? So many celebrities are attacked by fans who think they're in a relationship or have a right to..."

And on and on she went.

Harry knew it was scary for her. Y/n got easily spooked by this kind of thing. And he was fine with that, but honestly, hearing about all of this was freaking him out. He'd been fine after the show, but now she was making him uncomfortable.

"Y/n, love, come on. Stop," he said gently, reaching for her hand. But she wouldn't stop, she just kept going.

Harry loved her, he would never want to change a single thing about her. He loved her little quirks and all the things that made up who she was. She wouldn't be his love without them. But sometimes she didn't listen to him, and sometimes she worked herself into a frenzy when she didn't need to.

"Y/n Styles! Stop. I love you, but you need to stop," he said, voice soft but stern.

He didn't even realize what he said until she asked, "What did you just call me?"

"What?"

"Y—You called me Y/n...Styles," she said, and Harry thought she'd probably never looked so confused in her life. "Why would you do that?"

"I...I don't know," he said truthfully. "It just came out. Sorry."

He wasn't sorry, though. Not really. Harry might not have meant to, but he certainly liked the sound of it. They hadn't been together very long, but he knew what he wanted, he knew what his future was going to look like. Harry didn't care how long it took or when that future started, but he could wait.

What he didn't want was to freak his girlfriend out. Harry knew Y/n loved him, but she sometimes got squirrely about the abstract, the unknown.

"No, it's—it's okay, I—I kind of liked it," she said.

Of all the things to happen tonight, that was the most surprising.

Grinning, Harry said, "You did, did you?"

"I know that look. Don't give me that look or I'll take it back," she said, stepping away from him as he got closer.

"What look?"

"That look! Put those bedroom eyes away!"

"Bedroom eyes?" Harry asked, laughing as he cornered Y/n against a wall. In a sing-song voice, he said, "You want to be my wiiife."

"N—No, that's not what I said, I just—Hey!"

"No more talking," he said, carrying her over his shoulder. "We, Y/n Styles, are going to bed."

Y/n tried to say something, but Harry's mouth was on hers before she could make a sound. "I said no more talking," he murmured, nudging his nose against hers. "We're going to bed, and we're going to kiss for a little bit."

"Maybe a little more?"

Chuckling, Harry kissed the top of her cheekbone. "Whatever Mrs. Styles wants, she gets."

"Stop it with that. We're—mm."

"Shh. No more talking."

"It's—It's Doctor Styles," Y/n corrected, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck.

"Of course. Now, where were we?"

"Have a wonderful, wonderful day, Dr. Styles."

"It's review day. My least favorite day," Y/n huffed, slumping against the seat of the car.

"Impossible," Harry said, leaning across the middle console to kiss her temple. "Today is your first day of work as Dr. Styles, which means it is the best day."

Y/n's cheeks flushed at the sound of her name. Her new name. She loved it, of course, she wouldn't have changed her name if she didn't. But it was just so new. They'd only been...married...a few weeks. Seeing the ring on her left hand still surprised her from time to time.

"Are you going to say Dr. Styles every time you address me?" she asked him.

Harry's grin was broad as he winked and said, "Absolutely, Dr. Styles."

"Harry—"

He took her chin in his hand and kissed her long and hard. When he pulled back, her entire face was red. "Harry! Anyone could see—"

"Let them. I love my wife, and everyone should know it," he said. "I'll be by for lunch, okay?"

"Really?"

Harry kissed her forehead. "Yep. Gonna bring you flowers and embarrass you in front of all your students and make them jealous at the same time. So go, I'm looking forward to being a trophy husband."

He was being silly, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. They were married. Harry would shout it from the rooftops if he could, but he would settle for making Y/n blush every chance he got.

Grinning from ear to ear, Y/n surged forward and kissed him. "Do you have to bring the flowers?"

Chuckling, Harry pecked the bridge of her nose. "I have to bring the flowers, Dr. Styles."

Y/n, Dr. Styles, wrinkled her nose at Harry, her husband, who just wrinkled his at her and kissed her pouted lips. "You better go, Dr. Styles. You're gonna be late for class."

She nearly told Harry to drive them back home, that she didn't want to go back and teach, she just wanted to stay in all day with him. But that was impractical. She had to go.

So Y/n got out of the car and went, but not before one more kiss to Harry's lips.

All day, when students called her Dr. Styles, Y/n blushed. She got through her lectures without a hitch, but she couldn't avoid the teasing questions at the end, or the cheers and whistles when Harry came by as promised, a takeout bag in one hand and a large bouquet of her favorite flowers in the other. He ate up all the attention, then sat Y/n on his lap while they ate lunch together. And when her next class was about to start, he didn't leave like she expected. He stayed in her desk chair and minded his own business while she gave her lecture, though she could feel his gaze on her every now and again, each one more heated than the last.

Y/n could feel each one and tried not to rush through one of her lectures so they could get home. That wasn't who she was, she was a good professor who didn't let her husband's—her husband's—bedroom eyes get in the way of a lecture. She was better than that, she would be better than—

"I think that covers everything. I think you would all benefit from some free study time, so...so get studying!"

Students trickled out one by one, some of them going up to Y/n to ask her a question or congratulate her or both. She answered and accepted each graciously, but her fingers were also tapping furiously against her leg, just below the hem of her skirt. And finally, when the last student was finally gone, Y/n turned around and launched herself at Harry.

"Take me home," she mumbled against his mouth. "Take me home right now, please."

"Darling, you have one more class—"

"Now," she insisted, before going back to kissing him all over. His neck, his jaw, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth.

Harry hummed as he threaded his hand through her hair. He gripped her waist and indulged her in one more kiss before he tilted his head back. "I love you, my darling, darling wife, but no."

"No?"

"No. I know you want to now, but you'd be disappointed for letting your students down later," he said.

Y/n wanted to protest, but she knew Harry was right, so she slumped against his chest. "But I want you right now."

"Believe me, you are not alone in that department," he said, squeezing her hip. "But, we have our whole lives together, hm? So I will wait, and so will you, and when we get home..."

"Promise?"

Harry kissed his wife, loving the feel of her body pressed against his. "Promise."

"Okay, we're live in three, two, one!"

The host of The Daily Show smiled at the appropriate camera and did his normal greetings after the commercial break, then announced that Y/n was here.

"Welcome Dr. Y/l/n"

Y/n was nervous beyond all reason, but somehow she managed a small smile. "Thank you. I—It's Dr. Styles."

She wasn't used to this. She wasn't used to the cameras and the attention and the live studio audience. Well, she was, but her lectures were different. That was her safe space. This...a live television interview was not her safe space.

"Right! Of course, congratulations!" the host said. "How is married life treating you and your husband? What's his name again?"

"HARRY!" someone in the audience shouted, which caused everyone to laugh and cheer.

Y/n blushed. How long had they been married, and she still blushed at the mention of her and Harry being married? "Good. Good, I guess. We're very happy."

"I'm glad! And I'm so curious to know how the two of you met. A Cambridge professor with multiple PhDs and a world famous pop star. How does that happen?"

The host's voice wasn't condescending, merely curious, but Y/n wasn't prepared to talk about this. She didn't come to talk about her relationship.

Her mind buzzed with an answer that wouldn't be rude but would also change the subject. "We...met during the pandemic, which was when I realized how lacking schools were in...in so much. Which sounds silly, but I skipped most elementary grades and spent most of my time in higher education. But I...I realized I could help."

"Right! You became quite the internet sensation during lockdown to make educational videos, which obviously led to this. Your very own curriculum."

Grinning, Y/n nodded.

She never set out to write a series of textbooks for children. Y/n had a busy life, a fulfilling life as a professor. And yet somehow, she found herself wanting to do more. Harry had a lot of...younger family, and she liked to help them with their homework and projects and such. But her first look at their textbooks was very disappointing.

"This is what they're teaching you? This isn't even historically accurate! Where's..."

It was safe to say once something was on Y/n's mind, she couldn't let it go. Harry was amused but supportive, his usual reaction when she took on a new project.

"How can I help, love?"

"You didn't even finish school. How are you going to help me write a textbook?"

"Ouch, love."

"Well?"

"I mean you're right, but you could always say, 'Thank you husband. I love you so much.' Now you try."

"Thank you husband! I love you so much!"

"See? Not so hard."

"I started by just writing one. A comprehensive American History textbook," she said now, tapping her fingers under the desk where no one could see. " Kids have the capacity to learn so much more than what schools are currently teaching them. Leaving things out or not acknowledging certain events or painting our nation's history in a certain light is a disservice to them."

Y/n wasn't expecting applause, didn't necessarily want it. So she was surprised when the audience cheered for her answer. She smiled despite herself, then glanced to the side where Harry was standing off camera. He gave Y/n a thumbs up and blew her a kiss.

"That's amazing," the host said. "So you started with one, and it just progressed from there?"

"Yes, I—Once my mind is set on a project, I can't let it go, so I carved out time and just...wrote a bunch of textbooks, I guess. Well, I researched and got a Master's in Urban Education first. But then...then I wrote a bunch of textbooks."

"You wrote an entire elementary and middle school curriculum by yourself! That's incredible, Dr. Styles."

The audience cheered again, and when it died down, the host asked her more questions about her books, which she was happy to answer. She talked about her approach and her willingness to not shy away from or hide unsavory history. "In a way that's appropriate for each age group, obviously," she said. "But it's important for children to understand the complexity of history and that there's never just one side to a story. I tried really hard to be respectful and honor forgotten voices that have been left out for too long."

"Would you ever teach to younger pupils, yourself?" the host asked.

"Oh heavens no," Y/n said quickly. "My students at university can barely keep up with me. No, I—I wanted to do my part by providing well-rounded, unbiased material, but I'm not sure kids would want me to teach it."

And when it was all said and done, when the cameras were off, the host shook her hand and thanked her for coming to the show.

Y/n walked off the set and toward Harry, who was quick to spin her around in his arms. "You were fantastic," Harry said.

"I know! I was nervous at first, but I just am so proud of my work, you know? So it was easy to talk about. And I even managed a few jokes!"

Harry laughed because her "jokes" flew over everyone's heads. The only reason Harry got them was because Y/n practiced them on him the night before. "They were great."

She smiled, but it dimmed the longer she looked at him. "You didn't think they're funny."

"What? I didn't say that! Why would you—"

"You didn't have to. It's all over your face," she said, pouting. "You don't think I'm funny?"

"I think you're brilliant, and I think you have so many talents. Can you let the rest of us idiots be funny?"

"I suppose that's fine," she huffed. "Can we go home now?"

Kissing her temple, Harry took her hand and led her out of the studio. "We can go wherever you want, Dr. Styles."