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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

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

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

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

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

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strawberry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

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

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

Victor: I do.

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

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

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

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Long time no see.”

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Let her go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

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

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

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

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

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

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

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

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

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

“What book?”

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

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

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

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

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what do you do in the band?”

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

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

“How come?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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okageshadowkingfannovel · 4 years ago

Text

Book 1. The Boy Meets the King

Chapter 1.

In a normal unsuspecting kitchen, a former adventurer stands before a stove, stirring the contents of a pot and humming to herself. In her early forties, she’s a warm, pleasant looking woman with pony-tailed reddish brown hair and soft brown eyes. She might have been the hero of this story about two decades ago, but her adventures are long since passed. The only adventures for her today are those of being a devoted wife and mother, and that means preparing dinner.

It’s just after lunch and suddenly, the younger of the woman’s two children bursts into the kitchen. She is a slender pretty girl with strawberry blond pigtails and vibrant green eyes. She is Annie, a teenager, but also, not the hero of this story. In fact, she has very little interest outside of keeping herself popular amongst the teenagers of Tenel village and finding a satisfactory boyfriend.

“Hey Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“Oh Annie,” Mom starts while casting a smile over her shoulder, “you just had lunch not too long ago and you’re already thinking about dinner?”

Annie twists a dainty finger into the strands of one pigtail. “I was just asking. It smells so good. Tell me, Mom. I wanna know.”

At this moment, the woman’s eldest child enters the kitchen, but it takes her and Annie a too long moment to notice him.

“Well, I’ll say that- Oh! Ari!”

“See? Ari’s come to find out too.”

The boy called Ari is 16 years old. He has a sapling like frame - slender, scrawny, almost seeming bendy. Shaggy red hair falls in long locks around his face and across his forehead, and his large eyes are emerald green. He’s wearing a blue striped sleeveless shirt, a black vest with gold clasps and a skull patch on the chest, and long khaki trousers. He doesn’t speak up much for himself and the whole town of Tenel agrees that his most notable quality is how unremarkable he is.

That being said, this quiet ordinary boy is the hero for this peculiar tale.

“Come on, Mom! What is it? It smells like stew … or steak?” Annie carries on.

“Well, what do you think it might be, Ari?”

Ari courteously sniffs the air, shrugs, and answers. “I don’t know.”

Mom looks slightly disappointed that her son gave no guess, but she smiles anyway and says, “well, tonight’s dinner is … a secret!”

Annie rolls her eyes. “Mom! That’s so unfair.”

“Oh! That reminds me, Ari. Your dad found a funny bottle on his way home last night. It’s right there on the table.”

She gestures towards the kitchen table where, seeming very out of place upon the normal white table cloth and next to the three branched candelabra, there indeed sits a strange looking bottle. It is a gaudy purple with an intricate green pattern necklacing the thinly tapering opening. Two handles spring out and curve down to the bottom to make for easy carrying. Four large, candy like turquoise gemstones are embedded into the bottle’s curves.

“We can’t get the cap off,” his mother admits, “don’t you think it’s strange?”

Observing more closely, Ari notices the cork very firmly shoved into the opening.

He reaches out a finger and pokes it.

A low muffled moan sounds from deep within the bottle.

Ari leans in and sniffs at the cork.

All he catches is an overwhelming waft of mold.

Finally, he firmly grasps the neck of the bottle and pulls at the cork.

But it won’t budge, not even a wiggle.

“See?” says his mother, abandoning the stove to draw closer to the bottle, “I wonder what’s in there.”

There’s a sparkle in her eyes, a far off wandering look, a hint of the curious adventurer she used to be.

“Mom!” Annie breaks her mother’s reverie, “it’s pointless to keep a bottle we can’t open. Throw it away.”

To strike her point, Annie flips a pigtail on the last word.

“Ah! Well, let’s see … What should we do?”

Their mother hesitates a moment in thought. And then, she lights up with realization.

“Oh! That reminds me! I forgot to pick up bread! But I can’t leave the stove. What should I do?”

Before Ari can make any sort of suggestion, his sister steps over him.

“Oh darn, I wish I could help you out, Mom, but I have a test tomorrow and I really need to study. My future is on the line!”

With that, Annie turns around and makes a dash out of the kitchen.

Unsurprisingly, Ari notices the sounds of her footsteps are heading out the front door instead of up the stairs to her room where her school books lay waiting.

“Well then, Ari,” says his mother, “go down to the bakery in the village and pick up a loaf of bread for me. They’ll just put it on our tab, so you can just run in and grab it. Thank you, dear.”

His mother turns back to her stove and her humming. Ari is about to leave the kitchen when she whips around again.

“Oh! While you’re out, why don’t you stop by Town Hall and see your father.” She turns back to her cooking, wistfully, “ah, my love, hard at work. If only I could see your father in action. Such rapture …” she trails off to herself.

Feeling repulsed and uncomfortable with his mother’s personal musings, as teenagers ordinarily do, Ari finally leaves the kitchen.

The family home is a mansion that lays like a sprawled out reptile just south-east of the village of Tenel. It sits fatly in a clearing of pine trees, just a stone’s throw from the village road. It wears jagged stones in various states of grey, reaches tall, dizzying pointed towers up to mingle with the tree tops, and caps itself with crooked blue shingles. It keeps itself company with a dried up fountain in the front courtyard, a tiny, but ancient ancestral graveyard, and a huge, thick, wooden gate at the entrance to keep all of it in.

Ari steps out into the courtyard, shielding his eyes from the sunlight already beginning to sharpen through the trees as afternoon slips into evening. He notices Annie waiting for him at the top of the stone steps that snake down to the front gate.

“So, did she tell you what’s for dinner?” she asks, blocking his path, “come on, tell me.”

“What happened to your homework?”

Annie starts to tease her pigtail with a wiggling finger.

“Well! I’m going out on a twilight date with Morris before dinner. To polish my feminine airs, I have to build up experience while I’m young. My book says so too …”

“What kind of book says that?”

“It’s one of Mom’s old books. What was the name again? … Oh! ‘Controlling Guys Made Easy.’”

Before Ari can protest, Annie spins around and skips on down the stairs.

“Anyway, enjoy your errand, Ari!” she calls before disappearing through the wooden gate.

Ari sighs, figuring there was little he could have said or done to make things play out differently.

With hands in pockets, he lazily makes his way over to the small graveyard by the pathway. He likes to say hello upon passing the three residents. The stones are so old that most of the lettering has been worn away, but Ari makes out what he can and makes up the rest:

‘RIP Nameless Hero - Well, we think he must have a name, but nobody asked him.’

‘Man who drank, gambled, and died from poisonous fish - just as he planned. RIP’

‘Person who touched the knowledge of the Library.’

After 16 years, Ari still knows nothing beyond these half-deciphered inscriptions, but he gives his regards all the same. When satisfied, he heads on through the big wooden gate that leads him to a meandering dirt path. It winds through the grass, between rotted logs and small rocky hills, untangling Ari from the clusters of trees until it finds the main road. A nearby sign helpfully points out to any casually passing tourist:

‘North: Tenel Village/Church

West: Tenel Field & Madril

East: Nameless Dwelling’

Ari wonders if his family will ever decide to name their house so the sign could be a bit more specific.

“Hmmm, Nancy? Or Connie?”

At the crossroads stand two boys about Ari’s age, Levi and Nathan. Dark haired Nathan is the pudgier fellow, while Levi is lanky and alight with flaming orange hair.

“Huh?”

“Whoa!” Nathan exclaims, his fat frame jumping, “Oh! It’s you. You scared me, Ari! When did you get here? I didn’t even notice.”

“Ari, you look real gloomy,” says Levi, “hey, you know what? The circus is coming to the field over there tomorrow night!” He gestures vaguely in the direction of Tenel Field.

“Really?” Ari replies noncommittally.

“I, I, I’m definitely gonna ask Julia out this time! I, I, I will do it! And me and Julia are gonna go out on a romantic date!”

“I wonder who I should ask out,” Nathan muses in the face of his friend’s determination, “Ari, why don’t you ask somebody out too? It’s the circus!”

Ari chuckles and shrugs his shoulders in what he hopes is a ‘cool, but not caring too much’ display. “Sure, I’ll just narrow down my list a bit and ask one out.”

It doesn’t come off as cool as he hoped.

“Ha!” Levi bursts, “I bet he doesn’t have the guts to ask a girl out! Ha ha ha! Chicken!”

The skinny boy goes the extra mile and begins flapping his arms and clucking.

“Anyway, I better get on over to the village,” says Ari before the soul crushing embarrassment can descend, “got an errand to run.”

“You’d better go quick then,” says Nathan, “they’re closing the town gates earlier and earlier. The ghosts and monsters from Tenel field have been wandering closer to town, I heard.”

The hauntings and prowlings of Tenel Field are nothing new to Ari’s ears. All his life, he’s heard the townspeople complaining about the beasts and deadly things that roam wild and how it’s getting worse every year. Ari hears most people, especially the older ones, blaming it on something evil going on out West in Madril that’s driving the wild things nutty. It’s gotten to the point where Tenel’s posted a sentry on the path between Tenel and the field to keep kids and the like in town and to warn everyone if something should wander in. Ari never gives the matter much thought, reasoning that interesting things like monster encounters only happen to interesting people. And it’s so rare to see ghosts come floating in out of the field.

But the sun does seem ever so slightly lower than it was when he first stepped out of the house.

“Right, I’ll be quick.”

With that, Ari leaves them to their great girl debate and heads toward the main gates of Tenel. For now, the entrance is wide open, yawning its welcome to any passerby bored enough to visit the little town. But later, as it gets darker, the gates will eventually be shut and locked, as Tenel residents cling to the illogical belief that doors and locks can keep out ghosts.

As he enters, he notices a pretty blond girl in a white dress standing by the inn and looking absentmindedly off into the distance. Further putting his errand on hold, Ari walks up to her.

“Hey Julia.”

She doesn’t respond.

Ari waits patiently.

It’s alright. I’m used to being ignored.

Julia looks on for another moment or two. Ari continues waiting.

Any day now …

“Huh? Oh, Ari!” she says, her gaze finally shifting onto him, “I was daydreaming. Sorry about that. Hey, did you know the circus is coming tomorrow night?”

Julia and Ari have been friends since childhood, and though time and puberty have pulled them in different directions, they still consider themselves at the very least good friends. Typically, Julia isn’t so spacey - it’s just an ‘Ari thing.’

“Yeah, Nathan and Levi mentioned it.”

“Isn’t it great? It’s the circus!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

She looks at him, blue eyes wide and expectant.

“I mean,” he continues, “really great. Very exciting.”

She still says nothing. He waves a hand in front of her eyes, wondering if she’s sunk into another daydream. He does have that effect on people sometimes.

“So, aren’t you gonna ask me to go to the circus with you?” she says suddenly.

“Oh! Well, yeah,” Ari stumbles, “um, I mean, I need to check in with my folks, but … would you … would you like to …”

Before Ari can finish his bare minimum of a question, Julia takes a step back and giggles.

“Sorry, Ari.”

Without even knowing the rest of the sentence, Ari can tell she doesn’t seem very sorry.

“Somebody else already asked me. If you’d have asked me earlier …”

Ari thinks about maybe saying something in protest or in his own defense, but decides it’s not worth it as she makes her way past him.

“Um,” she says, pausing before she walks away completely, “Some time soon, Ari, I … I need to tell you something important … so … see you.”

She takes off running, disappearing fast into the town - an impressive feat given its small size and even smaller populace. Ari isn’t sure what to make of Julia. Teenagerdom is difficult enough to navigate for himself without the complex enigma of teenage girls thrown into the mix. As with most problems, puzzles, and peculiarities, Ari shrugs and carries on with his business.

As he passes it, Ari notices the sign on the Parm Inn door:

‘CLOSED due to water shortage - not that we get any guests anyway. Ha! - Parm Inn Landlord.’

The posting has been there for several weeks. Similar notices decorate the doors of ‘Tinkers,’ the blacksmith and ‘Gulp,’ the bar:

‘Can’t do business without water. I’ll be sleeping. - Tinkers Owner’

‘Closed due to shortage! And for those who owe me money, PAY UP QUICK! - Gulp Hostess.’

Ari can only wonder how much longer before these places will have to close for good. Tenel is already pretty small. Any smaller and they’d have to start calling themselves ‘a small cluster of houses and shops’ instead of a town.

“Ah! Ari!” someone suddenly exclaims.

Ari turns to see the butcher standing outside his shop, just across from the inn. A man with an egg like figure and neatly parted brown hair, the butcher breathes out a heavy sigh as he clutches at his chest.

“You gave me a fright, Ari. I didn’t notice ya standing there at first.”

“Sorry, Mr. Kellogg.”

“Shame about the water shortage, isn’t it? Thankfully, we’ve got some stored up for emergencies like this, but we’re getting mighty low. Can’t say how much longer we’ll be able to stay open.”

“Yeah, I wonder what’s caus-”

“You like beef, Ari?”

He is a little startled by the question.

“Oh, well, I don’t dislike it, sir.”

“I’ve got a great deal on ground beef. One pound, 20 sukel. Figure you might not be able to get any tomorrow - if we can’t open, I mean.”

A few minutes later, Ari walks out of the butcher shop with a wrapped up pound of ground beef under his arm and his wallet 20 sukel lighter.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” calls Mr. Kellogg as he locks the door to his shop to leave for the day, “get home safe.”

Ari waves as the butcher turns to make his way home. He doubts he’ll have business there, but Ari hopes the butcher is open tomorrow. As he makes his way towards the bakery, he passes by two men deep in conversation and nervousness.

“Oh dear, this just won’t do. The water supply has stopped and almost all the stores are closed. It’s under investigation now … do you think it might be related to ghosts?”

“All I know is they’re saying there are tons of ghost problems in Madril. And they’re a big, machine town. Totally different class than Tenel. If they can’t handle the ghosts and monsters, we don’t stand a chance.”

The other man nods weakly, looking very pale. “We’ll be in big trouble.”

Ari remembers his mother’s suggestion couched in wifely affection and decides to go visit his father. He passes Gulp, Tinkers, the miscellaneous shop known as ‘The Other One’, and several homes. All the way in the back of town, atop a small hill, is the church and right beside it the Tenel Village Office. The church sits quietly and patiently, having been unused and unvisited for several weeks now. Ari thinks the cream color of the tall rounded church towers is starting to look like spoiled milk. Green stains are creeping up the sides and the forest surrounding Tenel is starting to reclaim it.

A sign before the tightly shut door reads:

‘Until further notice, please do not enter the church. - Tenel Village Office’

Feeling helpless in the face of such a polite, pathetic notice, Ari walks over to the Tenel Village Office.

Inside, the village office is busy and hectic. Immediately, Ari spots his father sitting behind his usual desk at the front, but all around him, people rush and run and flitter about like a swarm of frustrated, inconvenienced bees. Even their talk sounds like buzzing.

Ari carefully navigates his way towards that front desk. Ari’s father is a short, stringy sort of man. He parts his dark brown hair straight and neat down the middle, and he looks at the world through thick, soda bottle glasses. He has the look of a man who believes in aliens and psychic phenomenon. If one were to ask him about such things, he could easily go on for hours. Ari can attest to it. His father stares intently into a stack of pages in the middle of his desk. He stares as if staring hard enough will burst the pages into flames or cast them into an alternate dimension where he doesn’t have to look at them anymore. Ari is sorry to see these efforts aren’t working.

“Oh! Hello there, Ari. Here to see your cool father at work?”

Ari rolls his eyes, but still smiles.

“What d’ya think? Too cool for words, huh? I redefine ‘cool.’ Ha!”

Now the smile is starting to fade. Ari’s father has perfected the art of being too corny.

“Sorry, sorry,” his father chuckles, “as you can see, the office is in a bit of a panic over the water shortage. We’re doing everything we can to find the cause, but …”

As his father trails off, Ari sees his shoulders slump and behind the happy-go-luck dork that is his father, Ari can see the exhausted Assistant Manager.

“On top of that, the Classification Tables will be arriving soon from the Royal City. That always puts the office on edge.”

Ari knows vaguely about the Classification Tables. His father has cursed it multiple times throughout the year. Supposedly, the village office sends a character report of each Tenel resident to the Royal City and then the city sends back a huge packet of tables that identify and categorize each and every citizen. Ari frequently asks his father how he is ‘classified,’ but his father usually responds with some corny joke.

‘The Assistant Manager’s son.’ ‘The eldest child at the Nameless Dwelling.’ ‘Some Shady Guy.’

So, Ari doesn’t really ask about it anymore. He just accepts that the Classification Table causes his father a lot of headache and woe. Once, Ari tried asking one of his father’s coworkers what the purpose was of the Classification Tables. Her response was unsatisfactory.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there! You’re the assistant manager’s son, aren’t you? Well, the Classification Tables, they … well, they … they maintain order of course! They help the town run smoothly. Why else would the Royal City have us do all this? Now, please leave me alone. I’m quite busy.”

So, Ari understands the weight when, on top of the water shortage problem, his father says he also has to deal with the Royal City’s Classification Tables.

“Anyway, what’s for dinner?” his father asks suddenly, the joy lifting his shoulders back up from their slump, “Ah, I wanna go home. I miss your mom.”

Ari chuckles. “No idea. She wouldn’t tell me. Says it’s a surprise.”

“Ha, yeah, that sounds like your mother.”

“She asked me to pick up bread.”

“Oh! Well, you better get moving, son. It’s getting dark out. The town will be closing soon.”

“Great seeing you, Dad,” says Ari as he turns to leave, nearly crashing into a speeding intern.

Ari steps back outside and, just as his dad said, the dark is noticeably beginning to descend on the town. He rushes down the hill to the Bakery, hoping the owner hasn’t decided to close doors early due to the dark looming in. The bell above the door clangs to life as he rushes in. Despite that, the husband and wife who run the Bakery carry on with their personal business, not seeming to notice Ari standing in the doorway. He steps up to the main counter where the wife stands, her back to Ari as she sorts through the baked goods on the back shelf.

The smell of freshly baked bread is intoxicating, filling Ari with warmth until the harsh pang of hunger in his stomach drives it away.

“Excuse me,” he says.

The portly Mrs. Bakster is singing to herself as she counts and pokes at the remaining pastries. It’s not a very good song and Mrs. Bakster isn’t very good at singing it.

“Hello? Mrs. Bakster?”

“Huh?” Finally, she whips around. “Oh! It’s you, Ari! Don’t I always tell you? A boy should speak up!”

These types of reprimands are nothing new. Mrs. Bakster has many opinions and is very keen on sharing them.

“Now, now, don’t harangue the boy, dear,” calls Mr. Bakster from across the shop, “don’t mind her too much, Ari. She’s got a sharp tongue, but a soft heart really.”

Ari smiles good humoredly, simply wanting to get the bread and get home for dinner.

“You’ve come to pick up bread for your mother, right?” says Mrs. Bakster as she reaches over to a shelf and pulls off a fine, golden colored loaf. With speed and finesse, she neatly wraps the loaf in paper and then, gently hands it to Ari. “Here you are. Don’t squeeze it too much. Don’t want to crush it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bakster, thank you.”

“By the way, Ari, before you go, I wanted to ask - anything bothering you?”

“Now, dear!” chides Mr. Bakster.

“Come on! Keep your chin up, boy!” Mrs. Bakster carries on, ignoring her husband, “girls like the assertive ones, you know? And I know you’ve got a lot of potential, Ari. You can be anything you want. You just got to assert yourself, and girls will be all over you.”

Ari smiles and nods, backing away slowly.

“Alright, alright. Get on home and get that to your mother. I’ve got a dinner to get ready and a husband to feed, you know.”

“Yes … thank you, Mrs. Bakster. You too, Mr. Bakster. Have a good evening.”

Ari turns and whips out the door before the baker can be inspired with another round of opinions. Once outside, Ari is surprised to find Annie waiting.

“Ari, you done with your errands? You’ve been gone forever.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m done.”

“What’s the matter?” she asks, and then eyes the bakery, “oh, did she lecture you again?”

Yeah, sure, make me relive it, why don’t ya?

The thought translates into a shrug.

“Let me guess,” says Annie playfully, “Oh, Ari, you’ve got to speak up for yourself more. You practically blend into someone else’s shadow.”

Ari gives her a brotherly glare.

“Oh well, at least there are some people around here who see some good in you … Julie, for instance.” Annie giggles mercilessly. “You lucky guy.”

All the way home, Annie teases her brother about the baker woman’s “advice” and Julie’s “affections.” But Ari takes it all without a word, wondering to himself about lots of different topics from that busy afternoon. He thinks about the water shortage and about his classification from the Royal City and about Julie picking someone else over him and about what it actually means to ‘blend into someone else’s shadow.’

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • Chapter 12 • Chapter 13 • Chapter 14 • Chapter 15 • Chapter 16 - Finale

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

#okage shadow king #osk #playstation 2 #video games #novelization #boku to maō

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renaerys · 5 years ago

Text

PPG One-Shot: “Girlfriend Material.” (Brick/Blossom)

February Fic Prompt #21 - Author’s Choice

For the wonderful @carriedreamerx, a fellow Reds die-hard and all-around A+ lady. Also can be read as kind of a part 2 to an earlier one-shot called Shook.

Summary: Blossom is having a bad day. Brick accidentally makes her feel better.

xxx

The four most dreaded words in the English language haunted Blossom after Julie’s party on Friday. They’d ruined the night, causing her to leave at nine p.m. alone, she didn’t want to drag Bubbles home early just because of her. They’d ruined her weekend plans—movie night with her sisters and Robin, studying at her favorite table at the public library, and Sunday family brunch. Through it all, Blossom was quiet and morose, and no one could get her to talk about why.

Why.

Those four stupid, little words.

They were just words, sticks and stones, as she often would tell Bubbles whenever she got upset about teasing that went too far.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four words.

xxx

Monday’s alarm went off at six a.m. sharp, and Blossom rose on autopilot to brush her teeth and get ready for school. She was halfway through applying a bit of mascara when she realized Bubbles wasn’t awake, and the Professor hadn’t called up to announce breakfast. And then she remembered.

Fall Break.

Blossom slumped over the sink, heavy and lethargic, the tube of mascara limp in her hand. How could she forget they had a whole week off from classes? Where was her head?

Her reflection was washed out and pale in the morning gloom through the bathroom window, and she looked ridiculous with only one eye made up. Sighing, she hastily did the other one, put the mascara away, and went to get dressed. Bubbles slept like a rock on her stomach even through Blossom’s alarm. The girl could have slept through an earthquake, no doubt. Buttercup, however, shifted in her bed.

“Going somewhere?” she called in a raspy, sleep-addled voice.

Blossom smiled and smoothed her sister’s mussed bangs. Even though there was no longer any visible trace of the many injuries she had sustained fighting Butch on Friday, Buttercup would need a couple more days of rest to get back to her regular shape. The IV drip next to her bed held a bag of Chemical X, nearly drained as it fed her through the night little by little.

“I forgot we’re on break,” Blossom said softly so as not to wake Bubbles.

“You nerd.”

Buttercup’s eyes drooped, but a smile tugged at her chapped lips. Blossom grabbed her half empty glass from the nightstand and refilled it in the bathroom sink.

“Go back to sleep,” Blossom said, leaving the fresh glass of water on the nightstand.

Buttercup turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head. “Way ahead of you.”

That was that. Blossom floated to the window and quietly unhooked the latch. The Professor was moving around downstairs, but she didn’t much feel like talking to him right now. No doubt he would press her about Friday again, as he’d tried several times this weekend. The sun was rising steadily in the distance, casting the suburbs in a strange, dewy glow.

“Hey,” Buttercup called.

Blossom paused.

“Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you. You’re a badass.”

Blossom bit her trembling lip. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She glanced back at Buttercup, but she was under the covers with her back to her. Even so, Blossom could not bring herself to speak. If she did, she might say too much.

She slipped out of the window, pulled it closed behind her, and flew towards Townsville.

xxx

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Blossom flew over Townsville waking up. It had rained last night, and the fog was thick over the bay as it battled the encroaching sun. She’d read a short story once about monsters in the mist. Gruesome, Lovecraftian horror, the type she never sought out but couldn’t refuse when it was a recommendation from her English teacher. There were no monsters in the mists shrouding Townsville of course, but she imagined them all the same, lurking voyeurs.

One day, she wouldn’t even remember this morning, this feeling, the quiet so high up insulating her from the city sounds far below, tires screeching and jackhammers crunching and a thousand feet scuttling. Logically speaking, none of it mattered.

But it still hurt.

She wasn’t hungry, and she wasn’t cold. She was rarely cold, being a block of ice herself. The ice queen. An unoriginal and lazy moniker, but one that stuck among her peers. Smart, studious Blossom. Commander and the leader, it’s lonely at the top. Come down from your snowcapped throne now and again to walk among us poor plebeians, why don’t you?

They weren’t all like that. The ones who mattered, mattered. Usually it didn’t bother her anyway. Sticks and stones, as they said, but they also said the pen is mightier than the sword. So which is it?

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Logically speaking, people told themselves what they needed to hear to make themselves believe everything was fine.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four paper-thin words.

“You’re not girlfriend material.”

Just four soul-crushing, little words.

xxx

Logically speaking, there were no monsters in the mist.

xxx

Brick wasn’t sure why he went.

Up at the ass-crack of dawn because his alarm was set to repeat and he’d forgotten to turn it off for the Fall Break week, there was no going back to sleep now that the damage was done. Boomer flung his pillow at Brick’s bed to try to kill that screeching alarm, hit him in the face, and suffered a very hard, very warranted shove off the sofa.

“Dude, what the fuuuuuuck?” Boomer whined from the floor in his boxers.

“What the fuck do you mean, what the fuck?” Brick demanded. “Why are you sleeping on my couch?”

Boomer rubbed his tired eyes. “Butch’s snoring is so loud since he started that X drip and I can’t take it anymore!”

“Not my problem.” Brick went to his closet to pull on a fresh shirt. Fuck, it was cold this morning. He grabbed a hoodie from a hanger.

“Briiiiiick,” Boomer whined. “I’m so tired.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I’m going out. You better not be in here when I get back.”

Boomer was already crawling back onto his couch as he left his room to use the bathroom though. Whatever, it was too early to deal with Boomer’s crap. The two-bedroom apartment was claustrophobic this morning, like the walls were closing in on Brick, and he had the immediate urge to get out.

After he cleaned up, threw on his cap, and grabbed his keys, he took off into the early morning sky with no destination in mind as long as it wasn’t home.

Fall Break. What was he supposed to do for an entire week? At least Butch was out of commission paying for the consequences of his hormonal jack-assery. Boomer had his friends to hang with, but he could get clingy when the brothers were confined to home without a schedule. And Brick was pretty sure he remembered Wes saying he was going to be out of town with his folks, so that left Boomer best friend-less for the foreseeable future.

Hence, Brick wasn’t sure why he went to the ruined Shankaplex lot. Only, his head was full of all these useless thoughts and he wasn’t thinking straight and anyway it was hard to miss with that enormous fucking crane they’d brought in to help clear up the remains of the movie theater parking lot Butch and Blossom had completely demolished in their fight.

She was already there.

Her red hair cut through the grey of the broken asphalt and concrete like the sun through the rain-cold fog, but little about Blossom was warm. Brick frowned at the thought. He hadn’t seen her since Julie’s party, and even then only for a few minutes. She’d left really early.

She sat alone on the roof of the neighboring Cooper’s Market watching a team of construction workers in orange vests slowly working to clear the mess of tree trunks forcibly uprooted during the fight. They were scattered like dominoes on the asphalt. Brick’s eyes traveled from the back of Blossom’s head to a particularly deep crater where she’d stood towering over Butch, cowed like Brick had hardly ever seen him before, her eyes red with power as they lifted to meet his.

He barely touched down when she sensed him and turned. Her eyes were red, like before, but not with power.

Blossom hastily wiped her puffy eyes and the few tears wetting her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

Brick froze where he stood. Every instinct in him told him to flee, get the fuck out of there, her tears were not for him to see. Heart pounding in his ears, he clenched his suddenly clammy fists because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with them. “Nothing,” he said, like a total idiot.

Fuck, she’s fucking crying, what the fuck?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still in full-on idiot mode.

Oh thank god, she’d turned away. He couldn’t see her crying anymore, but that little sniffle sent a chilling pang down his spine that was almost painful. He suppressed a growl at the sensation.

“My alarm woke me up,” she said glumly. “I forgot to turn it off for the week.”

Brick stood petrified behind her, and it was a wonder that she couldn’t hear his heart hammering loud enough to give him a headache. Her banal words were a lifeline he clung to through the noise, and he swallowed hard.

“Me too,” he said. “Habit.”

She nodded, as if the effort to respond was too great, and it was the respite he needed to calm the fuck down. He considered just leaving, but she’d acknowledged him, and leaving now would look like running. Brick didn’t run, especially not from her.

Feet leaden, he shuffled to the edge of the roof and sank down a respectable arm’s length away from her. She said nothing, and their legs dangled over the edge overlooking the red and white striped awning. A big, neon sign advertising the grocery store buzzed and glowed yellow at the other end of the roof. Brick took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and put it back on. Still, she said nothing, so he glanced at her.

She was in jeans and a plain, white tank top, no frills and not even her usual pearl studs she always wore. Her hair was long and loose, draping her shoulders. Brick shivered just looking at her. Wasn’t she cold?

“How’s Butch?” she asked.

It took Brick a moment to comprehend her question. She was looking right at him. Despite a little residual puffiness, her eyes were dry as a bone.

“Sleeping it off,” Brick said.

She nodded and went back to watching the construction workers.

Brick racked his brain for something to say to her. “It’s actually kind of nice having him out of commission. Everything’s quieter.”

She hugged one knee to her chest and shrank in on herself, and he bit his tongue.

Great.

He’d never had a problem talking to Blossom before. She was just Blossom, the uptight, annoying, micromanager he had to put up with in all his classes and at some social functions where their friend circles overlapped. She was just always there, always shrewd, always ready to shut him down if he so much as breathed at her funny. But this was like pulling teeth. What had changed?

Well, he knew exactly what had changed. Right there in that crater, in fact. He could picture it so clearly, could hear the pride in her voice as she exuded her total and absolute control like she’d been born to do it, and he’d never quite noticed before. How had he never noticed before? She was always right there.

“Can I ask you something?” She tugged on her hair. Nervous habit.

Why is she nervous?

Brick dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Am I girlfriend material?”

He stared, waiting for her to crack, but Blossom never cracked.

Oh.

She was serious.

“Girlfriend material?” he repeated. It took every ounce of his incredible self-control to keep his voice neutral as he studied her impassive face.

“Girlfriend material,” she confirmed.

And damn, could she be cold when she wanted to be. Not even her tears could shake her now as she watched him, waiting on his answer like they were at war and it was go or get out of the way.

“To a specific person?”

“Objectively speaking.”

“That’s not an objective question.”

“Sure it is.”

He frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“Western beauty standards would suggest otherwise.”

“So you want to know if you’re hot?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“But it’s the standard you’re basing your question on.”

She wrung her fingers in her hair. “I guess it’s related. But that’s entirely my point. There are certain traits or standards that inform what makes someone girlfriend material.”

“Objectively speaking.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Brick considered her. She was nervous, fucking crying when he’d found her. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what had probably happened, even though he was, in fact, a genius and she was completely transparent right now, besides.

Is she messing with me?

If she was, the crying was some Olympic level acting he’d never known her capable of. Blossom was many things, but she wasn’t duplicitous.

How was this nervous, self-conscious girl the same one who had completely dominated Butch in a fight and loved every minute of being seen doing it?

Brick cleared his very dry throat and sat cross-legged to face her. “You mentioned traits and standards. What are the others?”

“Others?”

“That make someone girlfriend material. We already established that number one, she has to be hot.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say super model hot, but probably conventionally attractive.”

He waved her off. “Fine, whatever. Next?”

Blossom thought about that. “Well, I guess she should be nice.”

“Fine, but she can’t be boring.”

“Being nice doesn’t mean you’re boring.”

“It does if that’s all you are.”

“Of course that’s not all I am.”

Brick snorted. “No, you’re a hell of a lot more than that.”

Blossom narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. She should be smart.”

Blossom looked like she wanted to press him, but she refrained. “I agree. Intelligence is attractive.”

“But not too smart.”

“Excuse me?”

“And social, but not annoying about it. She should be able to keep up and complement you in any situation, but not overshadow or steal the spotlight.”

Blossom flushed in anger. “You realize how incredibly misogynistic that is, don’t you?”

Brick shrugged. “You said objectively speaking.”

“Oh, and you think all guys want is a party girl with above average looks and below average brains to stroke their egos?”

“No, I think your premise itself is flawed and I was proving my point. There’s no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend. That’s bullshit, and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.” He watched her avert her gaze like a timid little bird. “Anyone who tries to meet such a bullshit standard is also an idiot.”

That got her attention, and she turned angry, pink eyes on him. “I’m the last person on the planet you should be calling an idiot.”

“I was speaking objectively,” he sneered.

Okay, that was petty, he could admit that to himself. But it was worth it to see the indignation on her pretty face. She got up in a blaze of pink. He was not far behind.

“This was a mistake. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you of all people.” She began to walk away.

He followed. “That makes two of us.”

The sun was up now, and more construction workers had shown up to operate the crane. Even up on the roof, it was beginning to get a little noisy for anyone with sensitive Super hearing.

Nonetheless, they remained on the roof.

xxx

Conceited jerk, Blossom fumed on the other side of the roof with her arms crossed. Why do I even bother?

The conceited jerk didn’t know how to take a hint.

“You’re not actually upset,” Brick said.

Blossom glared back at him. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you get to dictate my feelings?”

“No, obviously. I meant why are you upset?”

Her lip trembled, but she bit down on it hard enough to hurt. No way was she going to cry in front of him again. Bad enough that he’d surprised her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like you care.”

Red sparks crackled on his skin. Blossom felt the sudden push of his choleric power like a punch to the gut, but she held her ground. It was over so fast that it left her breathless.

He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “This is so fucking stupid.”

For once, Blossom was inclined to agree with him.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“At Julie’s party. Whoever told you that you’re not girlfriend material. Who was it?”

Blossom shook her head, stunned. “That’s not… You weren’t even there—”

“You ran outta there like the place was on fire right after I got there,” he interrupted her. “So who was it?”

Blossom continued to stare at him. Angry Brick she could handle. Smarmy, arrogant, crass Brick she was used to brushing aside, loudly challenging, or ignoring completely depending on the mood. But this—no, not concerned, certainly not, more like curious Brick—was a subtle beast.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“Just tell me.”

Without Blossom realizing how or when, something had shifted between them. She had never been afraid of Brick, not even when they were kids and literally trying to destroy each other to no avail, and she wasn’t afraid now. But something in his countenance, in the casual way he rested his hands in his hoodie pockets, the power to crush mountains kept at bay with frightening ease, gave her pause.

Logically speaking, there are no monsters in the mist.

None that could hurt her, anyway.

“Just…some girls,” Blossom said in a voice she hardly recognized. “Just some mean girls.”

Just four little words that hit like bullets.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

Blossom could not begin to understand why, but standing there on the roof with him as the construction workers hammered away below, she was struck with an overwhelming sadness as bleak as the fog that settled in the streets. If he were anyone else, his pity would have shamed her. But Brick had never once pitied her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. She was bullet proof. She’d faced monsters and demons and nightmares alike. Buttercup may be the toughest, and Bubbles may be light in the darkness, but Blossom was always in control, and control was power. It was everything. She could even face Brick’s chaotic brother on a Chemical X bender, and it felt good. She’d felt good. But this, these four damning words, hit her where she was weakest and most vulnerable, and she just couldn’t help it.

For all her power and control, she was just a seventeen-year-old girl who wanted to fit in.

She hugged herself close, wishing someone else would. “I don’t get it all.”

“I know.”

Blossom looked up. She’d forgotten Brick was even still there, but there he remained, stock still and staring off into the distance, his jaw set.

“You…”

“I mean, I get it,” he snapped. He scowled, but not at her.

Bewildered, Blossom could only stare as Brick became even more uncomfortable than she was. And then, it hit her.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“I’m just saying.”

She stepped closer, unsure if she was hallucinating. “Why?”

He took off his cap and roughly carded his fingers through his short hair. “Because it’s fucking stupid. Not you, but you being so upset. Not like that—” he preempted her protest that never came, “—just that they could make you feel so shitty when you’re so…” He gestured to her.

“So what?”

His face flushed in anger. “You know, you.”

Blossom frowned. “I don’t understand—”

“You’re you. Class president, smart as fuck, you know, future Time Person of the Year type of shit—”

“That’s not—”

“—so beautiful and you know it. Hey, don’t make that innocent face. You’ve always known you’re gorgeous, you’re just too busy being nice to the morons in this city who couldn’t tie their goddamned shoes without whining for help to make a big deal out of it—”

Blossom matched his flush. “Just because people need my help sometimes doesn’t make them morons—”

“—and it just pisses me the fuck off because you’re this force of nature who can make my psychotic brother eat a dick one minute—”

“Oh my god—”

“—but then you fall apart because of what a bunch of obnoxious high school girls say to you drunk at a party? Jesus fucking Christ, Blossom.”

Blossom was so livid that she didn’t hesitate even a second to get in his face. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

Brick leaned down so close their noses nearly touched. “Like what?”

“Like you’re so above it all when you just admitted to me that you’re not.” Pink sparks materialized upon her skin as her temper flared to match his. How dare he try to play her for a fool? He of all people knew better.

Brick’s fingers on her cheek were the last thing she expected, and she recoiled with a gasp. Her power danced between his fingers, caught and mingling with his, and he made a slow fist one finger at a time. Blossom watched, mesmerized and unable to fathom why, but her eyes were blown wide and her lips parted.

Brick’s gaze flickered from his fist back to her, and she bit her lip. He had never looked at her like that before, except…

Except when she shoved Butch into the ground, exhausted and sore, and found Brick watching her like she was all that was worth looking at in this world. Shock and awe, she’d chalked it up to surprise at her actually beating Butch. Of course he’d underestimate her just like his brother, like everyone else. But no, that wasn’t right. This close to him, that heated look was unmistakable now.

The moment passed like the sun dipping behind a cloud, and he pulled back. He slipped his hand back into his hoodie pocket and smiled in that subtle, diabolical way he’d perfected years ago. “Much better.”

Blossom swallowed hard. Had she… Had she imagined it?

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her stomach growled, excruciatingly loud to her Super hearing and his.

Brick burst out laughing.

Mortified, Blossom blanched and covered her mouth and wished she could just disappear. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And she would have flown right out of there if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist. Still grinning, he tugged her back. “No, don’t leave.”

Blossom squeezed her eyes shut and wondered why the universe hated her so much. “We’re really done here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

The initial embarrassment faded, and she was left to wonder at his very odd choice of words. “What?”

“There’s a 1950s style diner I like a few blocks from here. I skipped breakfast too.”

He wasn’t laughing at her anymore as he waited on her acquiescence.

His hand was fire around her wrist. For the first time that morning, she started to feel the chill.

“All right,” she said.

“All right.” He let her go and began to float. “This way.”

Logically speaking, the sun rises in the east, days turn to weeks, and nothing lasts forever. Not thunderstorms, not youth, and not even pain.

Especially not pain.

Blossom sipped on the best vanilla milkshake she’d ever tasted as Brick rattled off dish after dish to the flabbergasted waitress who could not be blamed for not knowing the curse of Chemical X-induced inhumanly high metabolism.

“Hey, Brick?”

Brick looked up from their feast of eggs and bacon and pancakes. “What?”

Logically speaking, he’d only called her gorgeous and smart and amazing because she was those things, objectively. But there was no such thing as the objectively perfect girlfriend.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He flushed and played it off like it meant nothing. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Logically speaking, nothing lasts forever, but they took their time anyway. What was the rush?

#Blossick #Reds #carriedreamerx #Blossom #Brick #Powerpuff Girls #Powerpuff Girls fanfiction #PPG #PPG fic #February Fic Prompts #shooketh not stirred #i love them more than words can say #thanks for the request!!#ppg shook

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msfangirlgonewild · 5 years ago

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Prescence (post-TROS fanfiction/Post Canon)

Before I’m posting on Archives, this is my first DamereyDaily2020 during pandemic week, and this is the second after Healing or ‘possibly the third’ series of ‘It's Like Poetry, Sort Of. They Rhymes.’

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker

Word count: 4,650

Prompt: ’Two hearts and one home.’ Plus a bonus from late March ‘If You Lived to Be A Hundred’

Summary: Three months later...Poe had faith that his dauntless ally, his best friend, his ray of sunshine, his beloved Jedi...had returned for him.

Once the Death Star’s latest target and the site of the Rebel base during the final battle. Yavin 4 was a vast and most affluent planet of the Outer Rim Territories, and its large and sprawling tropical jungles teemed with an abundance of exotic beauty.

Following a long hyperspeed, T-70 X-wing Black One had reached Yavin 4. Similar to Ajan Kloss, this tropical moon planet was where Poe Dameron was born. He was glad, relieved to have finally returned from Coruscant and the third meeting of the Galactic Senate’s restoration.

Poe thought about the peace that had ensued after the war, and the friends that he had made along the way. He missed them so much out there, but it was time to come home, take a breath, and rejoin his father. Nonetheless, he was reflected on Finn and the journey with his fellow former stormtrooper Jannah, along with Rose Tico, Chewbacca and Lando Carlissian in search of their families. Larma D’Acy was now in the Senate’s seat while Beaumont Kim as her aide. Caluan Ematt had retired and returned to his home planet with his family. Kaydel Ko Connix had been promoted to Major and continued to serve in the military. And Jessika Pava, the fearless sole member of the Black Squadron was taking over Poe’s command.

He had visited some time with Maz Kanata at her restored castle at Takodana where she had her new cantina, and with Zorii Bliss and Babu Frik who were still running spices like in the days when Poe had worked them long ago. Zorii would keep in touch with him until if she needed hand otherwise.

The giant red planet was covered in clouds as Black One dropped from the atmosphere and flew over the grassy fields to landed perfectly just as near from his father’s homestead.

He pulled off his flight helmet and climbed down from the cockpit. As General Dameron’s temporary side droid while Beebee-Ate was away with Rey, Artoo-Detoo popped up from the astromech socket behind the cockpit, and maneuvered himself with his two small rockets to land slowly onto the ground. Finally, the droid and his maker-pilot were strolling toward the stable next to the farmhouse.

They walked past his mother’s A-wing interceptor, parked next to an old X-wing model, and Poe was suddenly curious. He looked towards the craft as Artoo was suddenly became excited with blipping and whistles.

Poe turned to the diminutive droid, as he arched his brow. “What?” he asked unexpectedly. “What do you mean—“

“Is that you, son?” His father shouted from the nearby stable while fixing his tractor. “And I could hear Artoo’s droidspeak.”

He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Dad,” he said, still focusing on the ship as Artoo rolled closer. “I’m home!”

“How’s my old mates at Coruscant?”

“Er...they all missed you,” he looked closer at the craft: one had the red stripe on two of its wings and on the body. It was sleek, like the T-70 X-wing or his original Black One that had been destroyed inside the Raddus’ hangar.

Poe abruptly realized that this was the T-65B starfighter, the one that Uncle Luke had piloted to destroy the first Death Star at Yavin 4, and then thirty three years later the same craft that had flown to Exegol with the guide of a Sith Wayfinder, with Poe along with Finn and the rest of the Resistance following its track.

Red Five––here? Poe thought. No kriffing way!

“They’re coming to visit you the next seasons,” added Poe, sighed in relief. “And they’ll bring some of that Corellian cognac that you wanted!”

“Sounds good, Poe!” Kes Dameron answered enthusiastically.

That’s Master Jedi-Luke’s X-wing and I recognize this ship, Maker-Poe, the droid beeped to Poe. And I think there is someone here?

“Who?” asked Poe.

“Oh, there’s a visitor for you, kid,” Kes added. “And she’s with our Beebee.”

“Really?” His heart leaped to find out Rey was already there.

“Of course, you Space Porg! Did you see that old X-wing she’s flying?” Kes chucked as Poe got annoyed at his ridiculous teasing. “She’s at our old place. Do invite with your Jedi friend for a dinner tonight.”

“Ah…no problem, Dad. And I’ll tell her!” Poe wore a satisfied grin as he turned to giddy Artoo. ”Will you take it easy, bud?”

Sorry, sir. Artoo beeped. Never can help it.

He shook himself as he walked and the droid followed. “You know what, you’re a lot more cheekier like Beebee-Ate.” he observed. “And a bit naive.”

Why thank you very much, Master-Poe. You have to add that I’m a stubborn little droid as well. Jedi Master-Luke calls me that, by the way.

“Ah, I almost forgot that.” he chuckled lightly as they move along the path through the woods where his new home was, where his family was, and where the Uneti tree was located. “Does Uncle Luke cross your mind?”

Yes, Master-Poe. We had a lot of adventures when I was with him from time to time. But I can’t say much about what happened after he had gone.

“I know, Artoo,” he sighed sadly.

Until a sound of jubilant beeps and chirps approached as a spherical looking droid followed by a tiny cone shaped, rolled towards Poe.

“Beebee-Ate! Welcome back!” Poe exclaimed, dropping to his knees. He rubbed the droid’s body back as Beebee’s dome head jiggled excitedly like a child has returned from a long trip. “I really missed you, Buddy?”

Same to you, Master-Poe! Beebee beeps and chirps happily. It’s good to be home! What’s up, Artoo and you’ve been spending time with him!

Incredibly much, Beebee-Ate. Artoo replied. Master-Poe is happy you’ve come back.

“And how d’you enjoy crossing the galaxy with your Jedi Mistress-Rey?” he asked with a smile at Beebee. “Have you stuck with her?”

Yes, sir. She’s been keeping my antenna straight in case I get into trouble. We’ve traveled around to all the places, especially Tatooine.

“You mean Luke’s old homestead?”

Yes, sir.

Dio rolled closer to Poe. “Welcome back, Master-Poe.” he said calmly. He had been living there permanently as Poe’s second familiar. “How was the Senate meeting at Coruscant?”

Poe groaned as he nuzzled the droid’s cone head like a house pet. “Lot’s of reconstruction and other headaches, Little Buddy.” he smiled lightly. “Thanks for asking.”

He brought himself back to his feet as he was looked in the direction where he was going. “Is she there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Dio replied.

Jedi Mistress-Rey has been at the tree in about an hour, Master-Poe. Beebee beeped in reply.

“What’s she doing?” asked Poe, looking at Beebee.

Meditating. Beebee double-beeped.

Poe looked over in the direction of the tree. He took a deep breath, glad of see Rey again. They had shared intimately at the forest of Ajan Kloss during an evening celebration. And it felt rewarding to him, as it was so very uncommon.

“Why don’t you guys go with Artoo and charge yourselves alright?” he said at the two. “I just need to speak alone with her.”

Beebee and Dio responded in the affirmative as they joining with Artoo and proceeded to the charging area. Poe resumes up the path, which finally opened into a clearing where he could almost feel her presence.

The ancient Force-sensitive Uneti tree stood there near the lake and his family’s old home, remodeled now as his own. Like The Great Tree at Coruscant, colorful fan-shaped leaves of gold and brown were attached to the coiled branches and stems of the large, twisted trunk.

Then Poe saw the enchanted tree, and near it a beautiful floating figure sat crossed-legged in the air with small boulders and rocks hovering slowly around her as the Force flowed through her. Her eyes were closed peacefully as she concentrated in a meditative trance that flowed between her and the tree.

Poe was silently impressed; he sat down on the grass, placing his flight helmet beside him. Then he stripped off his flight vest and placed it on top of the helmet as he watched the floating and reposed Rey. She had more beautiful since their first encounter on Crait where she had used her power to lift rocks. Looking at her now, Poe thought her once again of how she resembled an ancient Yavinesque goddess with her celestial objects surrounding her.

He’d never fallen in love with any woman in the galaxy before he found her. He had wanted her from the beginning when they first met at the Falcon, and now he loved having her in his life. Time was specifically a good thing when it came to General Dameron, who was gladly reunited with the lone scavenger from Jakku, now a fiercely independent Jedi after the tides of galactic war.

And it was something that he had faith in the ideal of his dauntless ally, his space goddess, his ray of sunshine, his beguiling sweetheart, and his beloved Jedi. She had returned for him.

Then a minute later, Rey had finally completed her meditation. She lowered herself neatly on the ground as the rocks fell around her.

Poe stood up and walked to her. “Hey, Sunshine,” he said to her.

Rey was aware of the familiar voice as she slowly opened her eyes and blinked. “Hey, Flyboy,” she replied breathlessly with a bright smile.

Poe took a quick step forward as Rey approached him and then wrapped her arms around him. At once all his aching memories of three unbearable months had finally lifted, and his eyes closed in bliss that as was back in his beloved Jedi’s arms. He tightened his hold around her waist and leaned against her chest as he inhaled the scent of her.

"I missed you,” she sighed softly.

“Same to you,” he murmured, his face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. “I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I came to see you, Poe,” she sniffed. “It’s been a long time since I was away.”

“I was worried while you were still out there.”

“More than your Force-sensitivity of tracking me?”

“Indubitably.” Poe lifted his head, raising his brows in a cocky manner and looked at her teary eyes. “I don’t want to spoil it too much, and it takes time,” he said meticulously, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“To be sure,” assured Rey.

He chuckled as his eyes mirroring hers while he stood in silence. It had been months since he and Rey had parted after leaving Ajan Kloss. There had been a lot of opportunities in their separate ways during the restoration of the New Republic, and some perks.

And he could see the truth in her eyes. Rey had missed him all these months since their fight against the Final Order, Emperor Palpatine, and his Sith Eternal, and she had come back to see him once again.

After disowning herself her Palpatine bloodline and adopting the Skywalker’s surname, Rey had made plans for the restoration and reorganization of the New Jedi Order––or maybe a search for the kybel crystal to build her own lightsaber from the parts of her staff.

She had returned to see Poe after her final trip to Tatooine. And either way, Poe was happy that Rey had come.

He began to move closer again until Rey spoke. “I hope you’re surprised I’m here with Beebee-Ate,” she noted. “He missed you.”

“Did he?”

She nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s my buddy,” he shrugged his shoulders with a sardonic grin as they gently pulled away. “And you’ve been flying Uncle Luke’s Red Five. What happened to your Falcon?”

“Lando asked me to borrow it for a while with Chewie,” she answered. “He told me the whole story about how his ship before he was beaten by Han in a card game.”

“That’s him, alright. He’ll never change a bit,” he sighed with a scoff, scratching the back of his head. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

“If you want me to,” she assured playfully, “then, I’m staying.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like,” he said with a smirk. “Also, my Dad made some dinner for us tonight.”

“That’s sound’s wonderful,” she said in an optimistically.

Poe led her on a simple tour of the Force-sensitive tree. Despite growing up in the desert, Rey had already visited so many greens planets in the galaxy like Takodana and Ajan Kloss. But she was amazed at the exotic fields of Yavin 4 with its fresh breezes blowing through the Massassi trees, the scented fresh fruits of Koyo trees that Kes had planted, the bioluminescence of fresh flowers and lush green grasses, and the gleams of the late afternoon sun on the crystal-clear lake that shone with a lustrous and rare beauty.

As they strolled around under the tree in conversation, Rey noticed the renovated house nearby. “I can see the new home that you’ve to built over there. Is that the house where your parents lived?”

“Yup, I’m still restoring it,” he answered, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fight uniform.

“Perhaps you need a hand. I’ve fixed a lot of stuff besides ships,” Rey glanced at him. “How about it, General Dameron?”

“Why not, Jedi Mistress Skywalker.” he was amused at the tone of her new surname. “A carpenter would be nicer to have around than a scavenger, a mechanic, or even a Jedi. But you only have a new lightsaber rather than a laser saw. Or maybe the Force would do–”

Instinctively, Rey quickly slapped his arm while Poe laughed with a cocky humor as they strolled. She ignored him as she is looked up to watch the gentle breeze moves through the branches of the Force-sensitive Uneti tree.

“Your father showed me this tree, and I can’t believe it’s so beautiful and mythical,” she said. “But it much seems so huge and different, unlike the one at Ahch-To.”

“It’s pretty awesome, huh? And it’s matured and more than I expected.” He walked to the trunk, but did not get close. “My mom helped Uncle Luke to cut two clippings a long time ago. So he gave her one as a thank you present.”

“So Luke has the other one at Ahch-To,” Poe continued. “and you’ve said there was a library underneath the trunk of the tree where the sacred Jedi texts kept.”

“That’s right, Poe.” she answered. “I returned the day on exile as when I saw the tree, it was burned down.”

Later, she stopped as Poe kept strolling. “Have you ever touched the tree?”

“Huh?” he blinked as he halted and turned back toward her.

“Did you?” she asked curiously.

“When I was thirteen, I was supposed to be close to the tree, but I’m afraid that was because I was being sensitive about staying away.” Then he swiftly glanced at her. “Later, I did at this point that I sat under the tree, and when I did, I felt the inside of me for the first time while I was napping.”

“Was it scary?” she asked.

Poe moved shyly away from her. “Nope, it’s childish. But sentimental.”

“Can you tell me, Poe?” Rey giggled, teasing him. “Come on.”

He turned back toward her again and looked down at the necklace that held his mother’s wedding ring around Rey’s neck. His expression was earnest as he moved towards her, and his fingers fiddling with the ring.

He took a patient breath and began. “I can only I remember what I felt about my mother and me. She was very close to me when I was a little boy. She would take me outside at night when my father was fast asleep. We went to the lake near the growing Force tree, we’d lie down on the grass and stared at the night sky.” Poe released the ring from his hand as he looked up at the afternoon sky. “Once, she pointed to the brightest star –– Caeli, the Bird Star of the galaxy. And it was a good sign; my mother promised me that I’d become the best pilot when I grew up, just like her.”

Poe missed his mom so much when he was with her. She had taught him advising and caring across the galaxy and over until he found himself in a place where the eyes of Shara Bey could not reach him.

“That was very touching, Poe,” she observed. “You missed your mom a lot?”

He sighed as he looked down at the surface roots between his feet, and he felt something like life, a presence, like the air through him. He cocked his head at her. “What about you, Sunshine?”

“What?” she puzzled.

“Have you touched or meditated through the tree?” he asked simply.

She took her breath with ease. “I felt it,” she replied with a simple nod.

“Was it scary or something?”

She shuddered slightly as Poe moved at her. “Hey, it’s alright I’m here with you.” he reassured her.

“It’s like a magnet pulling me, Poe,” she answered, and her eyes rose and met his. “It’s not scary. It replenishes me inside––the Force––through the way of the world, through my parents, Han, Luke and Leia, and Ben. I had cherished them as my faithfully as long as I wished for them. They’re in peace now, and I shall never regret it. The bond between Ben and me has been reconciled and purpose. I was very fond of him and remember him as a friend rather than an adversary. I embraced him with gratitude when he brought me back to life after I was defeated Palpatine and the Sith.”

Poe moved closer to her, brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckle. “Finn and I thought that you were gone there at Exegol.” he murmured with his breath hitched. “I…I’m––“

“I know, Poe,” she answered softly in a brittle tone. “But I live.”

He watched her in silence for a while, and before he could kiss Rey began to talk about something else.

“I was there in Coruscant,” she said. “At the service.”

He understood. He hadn’t seen her at the Monument Plaza during the service. “Finn told me that you’d left early,” he said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed for a while, but I had something to settle.” she nodded slowly. “That was a good speech, Poe. It was very...”

“Solacing,” he admits, cutting off Rey’s sentence.

Rey clasped both hands. “I’m sorry.”

He heaved a sigh and swallowed, looking more comforted than grieving. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to affect myself of having an ordeal like this. I miss everyone, especially Snap and Aunt Leia.”

She bowed her head sadly. “I understand.”

“Leia was your master after Uncle Luke, Rey,” he said.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Master Leia taught me everything while I was at Ajan Kloss. She watched me what I’m doing, and it was with a patience between peace and calm. She told me about all the moments she treasure with Luke as he taught her every day. I miss her, and especially Master Luke, Poe.”

Rey recollected the motherly relationship with the master who trained her apprentice to refocus and free her mind from fear through the Force. She understood entirely that patience was the key of the Force.

Poe walked and stood beside her as he gazed at the fields. “Before we left on a mission in search of the Wayfinder, Leia said she was passing her torch to me to bring the Final Order down. And while I was at Exegol that I nearly failed or retreated, until the spark which had become a fire finally arrived with Lando and the entire fleet from the whole galaxy. They had done it, and Leia was right about what she’d said about new hope. I believe in her, Rey.”

Then a single tear fell from his eye, and he wiped it away. “Anyway, that was then before the war was over and it was time to move on. But i’m here now with my dad to start a new life, right from the start.”

He took a breath like he’s relaxed from bereavement as he runs his hand through his hair. “So, um…how’s Tatooine?” he asked. “Beebee-Ate told me.”

“Hot during the day, and cold at night,” she said, walking over and staring out at the lake as she felt the gentle wind behind her. “It looks fairly different than Jakku. And it’s not to be lightly traveled, that desert planet.”

“Did you find what you’ve looking for at Uncle Luke’s place?” he asked, watching the most beautiful Jedi he had ever seen standing on the very edge of the lake.

After exploring across the galaxy, and revisiting Ahch-To, her final stop had been the Lars homestead in the Great Chott flat on Tatooine. The moisture farm had remained abandoned, it was there where she buried Anakin and Leia's lightsabers. She stayed there for a while in peace and tranquility, staring at the striking blue and gold sunrise of the twin suns.

“Nothing special,” answered Rey after took a long breath. She picked up a small stone and threw and skipped it across the water. “But, there’s one who came and visited me before I left.”

“Luke?”

“No, it was Leia,” she said, turning her back to him. “She told me everything about Ben, about the pain he’d suffered, that there was still good inside of him, and she could feel it before she died.”

After a moment, Poe sighed as Rey went on. “Leia told me about you, Poe. Not so feisty as you’d think since when you were with her.”

“Oh, please,” he said like he’s was fooling around. “What was our second mom saying?”

“She wanted to know how you felt to be without guidance. Your instinct as a leader was genuinely unsurpassable, and it was such a difficult situation with what you did out there. She was pleased with you, Poe.”

Poe missed having Aunt Leia by his side during the war after Shara’s passing. He was just amazed by the miracles in the galaxy.

“When if she comes as a ghost to see you,” said Poe with a light smile. “tell her to say thank you, will you?”

“There’s more,” she said, this time sincerely. “Leia told me that I was her last wish for you—it’s because I’m your gift, Poe. I hadn’t noticed this before we met––”

Poe moved closer to her and felt the way her body relaxed against his. He placed his finger gently on her lips to silence her. “Enough, sweetheart. You’ve talked too much, and I know the exact words that she said to me.”

“Oh, there is something else,” she added with a sigh, leaning her forehead to his, and held her hands on his chest, clutching her fingers against the fabric of Poe’s flight uniform. “While I was still meditating with the tree, and I felt a presence that was unforgettable.”

They stood looking at each other in serenity and longing as the sunlight gleamed on the surface of the Yavinesque lake around them.

“It’s about us, Poe.” she whispered as her breath hitches. She closed her eyes like she was praying.

His heartbeat skipped a beat, and his eyes blinked as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Tell me,” he murmured, as his eyes closed with hers.

“I remember at Crait when you were bewildering me while I used the Force to lift rocks and help you, Finn, and the rest of the Resistance to escape. Then we met at the Falcon, and as we shared about our pain by Ben and then Snoke, we were truly connected. Then we bickered with each other like feral Loth-cats about the Falcon being on fire because of your habit on lightspeed skipping,” Poe snorted at that as Rey lightly chuckled before continuing. “We fought alongside with Finn against the First Order from time to time. And while on a mission, you protected me that I fought my Palpatine bloodline against turning to the Dark Lord’s throne and falling to the Dark Side. And when I was ready for heading to Exegol to face my grandfather, were still arguing that I didn’t need you to safeguard or watch over me anymore. But you still protected me because you were deeply in love from the beginning without telling me.”

And Poe moved to hold her gently, then ran his hands smoothly along her arms and between her neck and her face. His head moved up as his lips brushed softly against her forehead. Rey flutters her eyes blissfully as she let her saying the words to flow. He whispered with kisses, from one of her eyelids to her cheek, and then that close to her mouth. Rey sighed with bliss and felt the feathery touch of his breath against her skin.

She went on: “Then the other day during the victory celebration, the night we shared each other in the deep of the forest when we made love...as the Force enlivened inside of our deepest emotions we shared, and preserved this moment forever. And when we left Ajan Kloss at dawn in our separate ways, I felt that my presence was inside still in your heart and soul, and that you would be waiting for me when I returned from across the galaxy. And now…” she paused for a second with her eyes opened, and Poe instantly stopped kissing her while his eyes stared lovingly at hers. “Poe?”

“What?” he asked, his expression beguiling.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, begging him to continue in his dawdling manner.

“Why did you stop,” he asked. “I wouldn’t know until you allow me to say so.”

Her breath hitched, then she choked up like she was almost crying, and they were both quiet for a moment until her face rested on his shoulder and Poe moved his hand to gently fondle her head.

“I came for you, Poe,” she declared softly at last with her eyes closed. “And I’m here…right here.”

He smiled peacefully, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “Well, you’re here right now, my Lady Jedi,” he replies. “And I love you.”

With hindsight, she took his hand from her head and placed it gently on her abdomen.

Poe‘s eyes were stunned and surprised, and his mouth parted in wonder. Rey cocked her head to face him and smiled at him.

“No way,” he stammered, furrowing his brows. “Rey, you’re––”

“Does it surprise you, General?”

As their heartbeats touched each other’s chest, Poe’s permission was written into the desperation of with which his mouth met hers, something like a sense of contentment that he shared with her. He wanted more than anything is to be with her eternally.

Two hearts and one home. Poe discerned in thought.

“So you’re staying with me, Rey,” Poe said as his eyes gleamed and smirked. “And if you live to be a hundred?”

Rey laughed joyfully. Tears flowed down on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with his thumb. “I hope to live to be a hundred minus a day.” she sniffed in jest.

He chuckled thoughtfully with one brow widened. He nodded and caressed Rey’s face as she looked at him. “So that I never have to live a day without you.”

She leaned her forehead against his. The Force inspirited their emotions because of love, and the heart of the galaxy was forever changed.

“I love you, Space Porg.” she murmured.

Instead of calling her ‘Desert Rat,’ he decided to call her from now on.

“I know, Buttercup,” he answers softly, pulling her gently and returning his lips to hers. “I know.”

#damereydaily2020 #damerey #poe x rey #poe dameron #rey skywalker #damerey fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars nothing but star wars #13. if you live to be a hundred #21. two hearts and one home #may the queue be with you #may the force be with you #post canon

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sometimesiwrite · 5 years ago

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A Pinter Pause (1/2)

Summary: Terence and Katherine reconnect at the opening night reception for a collection of short plays by Harold Pinter. After talking for a long while, they realize there’s more than just an intellectual connection between them and things get deliciously tense.

Content Notes: Sexual tension, references to sex in public and arousal.

Word Count: ~3,000?

I didn’t intend this as a fanfic/imagine piece but if one just so happens to imagine one’s favourite actor crush playing the role of Terence, then who am I to tell you what to do with your imagination?

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Terence Davis had been standing in the lobby of the Old Playhouse Theatre after the opening night of collected short plays by Harold Pinter. He was holding a martini and wearing a smart blue suit with a crisp white shirt and tastefully colourful tie. An excellent tie which Katherine remembered exactly — oblique stripes of electric blue, yellow, black, aqua, and a less occasional thicker white stripe for the sake of it. Katherine had seen him from the opposite corner of the room where she stuck to the wall in an attempt to avoid the ever-churning mass of theatre goers who were in the process of getting drunk, and were therefore more likely to bump into each other. Terence seemed sober, though, and as he looked up, smiling from the remains of a witty retort (probably one of his own), he saw Katherine Henderson over the top of his martini glass. He smiled at her, and waved. Katherine waved back and then made an oh-my-god-there-are-too-many-people-in-here face.

Terence laughed, and raised his glass to her in agreement; Katherine took a sip from her glass of Rosé. It was mostly full. As the minutes inched their way around the clock on the lintel above the front doors, Katherine watched the swarm as its consistent buzzing reverberated through the teal-carpeted room. Every once in a while, she glanced Mr. Tie on the other side of the world, still in his corner contentedly talking with the same two or three people. She could have sworn she met him before. Where, she could not imagine. Somewhere classy, probably. She stood silently sipping at her glass, listening to the ebb and flow of sounds. Laughter stood out the most, then pompous protests, scolding, one unruly child, and the traditional cocktail phrases could be heard above the hubbub: “Oh my God, look who’s here!”; “And then I said…”; “Nooo of course not!”; “Oh my goodness, how are you?” All of that was underscored with a general clatter of clinking class and clanging catering dishes.

Of all the people in the room, Katherine knew probably five or six, two of whom were certainly in bed by now (probably with each other). Another two were evidently more-than-tipsy, and the others were involved in ever-so-enthralling discussions with members of the school board, or Theatre Arts Association, or some other organization in search of people to whom they could give money. So, Katherine stayed in her corner, watching people come and go as groups morphed and merged into one another like water drops on a window. Drunk, noisy water drops.

Katherine always found it interesting how much unfocussed electricity could be produced after the intensely-focussed energy of a two-hour play. Not a film. Film could never do that, it was easy to get your bearings after a movie had ended — all you had in front of you was a black screen. The theatre was different; even when the house lights went up after the standing ovation, one was able to sense the bit of the world that was left behind on the flower-strewn stage. She could not help but compare it to the thin layer of mist that hung over hot pavement after a summer rain shower. She didn’t really understand her own simile at the time, but she was too claustrophobic to care.

About fifteen long minutes after their silent conversation across the room, Katherine looked back to Mr. Tie’s usual corner. He was gone. Katherine assumed he had left with his friends, and decided to eves-drop on the conversation to her left: “Well, I just didn’t get it. I mean, who writes plays like that? No one’s going to understand them anyway—”; “No, but—no shut up and listen. You never listen when I try to talk and it’s rude. It’s very, very rude. You’re rude. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. Understanding them isn’t the point. There is no point.”; “Well then what the hell’s the point of trying to watch something you’re never going to understand. It’s just dumb. And I hated the pauses. So many pauses. You would have thought a good company like them would have known to pick up the pace…” Katherine’s wine was starting to release the cynic. Oh Christ, if a piano were to fall through the ceiling right now, I would want it to be them or me. Someone please drop a piano.

Katherine turned around in the hopes of finding a less drunk, more interesting group, though she suspected it was too late in the evening for either of those criteria to be relevant. Instead, she came face-to-collar with a brightly-striped tie. “Hello!” it said. Katherine looked up. “Oh, it’s you,” she replied, not sure what else to say. “I’m not sure what else to say. I didn’t expect to see you out of your corner.”

“I often find ‘hello’ is a good safe standard to go by,” he said, soberly.

“Should I try it?”

“By all means, do please try. After all, you may like it.” His smile was crooked without being roguish or gruff. Instead she found it rather warm and reassuring. Not as though Katherine needed any reassurance to say hello.

“Hello,” Katherine said.

“See, that didn’t hurt one bit, did it?”

“No, it didn’t. I might say it again sometime, just to be rebellious.”

“Alright, but you know what they say: greetings can lead to scandalous things like friends and lifelong companions, romantic or otherwise.”

“Is that what they say?”

“I believe so. Though nowadays, they say so many things one can’t help but suspect they make at least some of them up.”

Katherine realized that she could easily listen to this man talk all evening. His voice was smooth, calm, and wonderfully expressive. It reminded her of a radio voice from the 1960′s or—what was his name? The man who did The Twilight Zone..? His demeanour was straightforward and grounded, and had a softness to it hat she found soothing. She was glad for the company. He produced a sort of shield which relieved Katherine of her subtle crowd induced panic.

“Would you think it terribly rude of me if I asked what you were thinking of just now? Before I ambushed you?” He asked, just loud enough to cut through the buzz and no more.

What a strange question.

“It’s just, you had such an interesting expression on your face as I walked over, I couldn’t help but be curious.”

She paused, wondering whether she should tell the truth. “I was thinking about how nice it would be if a piano fell through the ceiling and killed either me or the two women behind me who are far too stupid to go to the theatre, and far too drunk to talk about it.”

Mr. Tie laughed. A rich, genuine laugh. Brushed his hair out of his eyes with a well-practiced gesture. “Were you really? That’s fantastic. Though, I suppose it’s all you really can do when they get to this stage, isn’t it? They’re already bumping into one another, next they’ll stop noticing other people standing right behind them—”

“Then they’ll start spilling things...”

“But nothing can beat the point immediately after when they begin profusely apologizing at a decibel level beyond human standards.”

Katherine laughed aloud for the first time all evening. His poise and manner were thought to be extinct. How wonderful to find they were only severely endangered. “The theatre really is an ugly place, isn’t it?”

“An ugly place filled to the brim with beautiful people.”

“Better than a beautiful place filled with ugly people. At least with your example the expectations are low.”

“Whereas your example is utterly devastating,” he quipped.

“Tsk!” Katherine playfully batted him on the arm. For a few moments, they fell silent. Not an awkward silence, but a settled one as they waited for something else to say.

“We’ve met once before, haven’t we?” Katherine said, still watching the crowd.

“Last Christmas. Jennifer Finney’s.”

“You had a pinstripe suit and a pink shirt. And a vest.”

“With suspenders,” he added, leaning towards her ear.

Katherine gasped. “Please, we’re in public!” she cautioned playfully.

“You were wearing an evergreen evening gown with blood red earrings.”

“Bravo!”

There was another pause. Shorter this time. It was Terence who broke it. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it seems I have forgotten your name in the six months since I met you.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Mr. Tie raised his eyebrows.

“No, no! It’s just that I can’t remember your name either, and I’ve felt so awful this whole time talking to you and not calling you by your name because I forgot it.”

He offered he hand: “Terence Davis.”

She accepted it: “Katherine Henderson.”

“I am pleased to re-make your acquaintance,” he peacocked, kissing her hand in mock chivalry. “Well, now that we officially know each other, may I ask what you have been doing in this corner all evening? Have you been punished for stealing peppermints or something ridiculous like that? Or was it some other dubious thing?”

“Well, the thing is, I kept running around kicking people in the shins and screaming at the top of my lungs, so my mother made me stand in the corner all night.”

“Really?”

“No, but that’s what should have happened to a boy who was in here earlier.”

“I saw him.”

“He was hard to miss.”

“I had rather short words with a young woman who I can only assume was his mother. She did not heed my advice. Eventually, Angela, that Goddess of a stage manager, asked her to leave.” Katherine flushed a little at his last comment, wondering whether he was confiding in her that we was attracted to the stage manager or just saying she was an all-powerful saviour of the world, which was true.

“At least you tried,” she replied, intentionally feigning over-comfort as she put a hand on his shoulder. Terence glanced at her hand, and then back to her. Katherine flushed a little more.

“I do what little I can for the betterment of humanity,” he sighed, his eyes locking onto hers a little more firmly and lingering a little longer than was necessary. Katherine was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat which had crept its way into her throat. She tried to swallow it back to where it belonged.

“Though,” she continued, her mouth slightly dry, “if you want an honest answer to why I was standing in my corner—”

“It’s noisy, crowded, hot, and you don’t like anyone here because they’re all inarticulate and annoying.”

“Well, I was going to try to put it a bit more diplomatically but, yes, in a nutshell.”

“Darling, over the years, I have found it’s often more diplomatic to speak your mind, and those who are offended can go join a support group.”

Katherine smiled. “I suppose I haven’t quite gotten to that point yet.”

“Rest assured, the day will come when you shake off that downy coat of concern over other people’s reactions, and realize that the only way to deal with the insanity of the world is to tell it the truth.”

“I feel a deep discussion coming on.”

“You know, I believe I do as well. Would you like to escape and venture elsewhere?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” answered Katherine, breathless with anticipation, though she didn’t know why. There was no implication in his voice that suggested he wanted anything other than conversation. And yet…

“Ladies first.” The two of them maneuvered their way through the crowd toward the front doors of the theatre, eventually finding themselves in the open air, breathing freely and deeply. This must be how a fish feels when it’s released from its small plastic bag. They walked for about a minute without speaking, enjoying the warm, fragrant night air. It had rained while they were inside so that the street lamps cast shimmering amber rings on the black, empty pavement. No traffic on the residential side street. It was Katherine’s turn to break the silence.

“How did you enjoy the show?” She asked, trying to find new footing for their conversation after its drastic change in atmosphere.

“I thought it was quite good.” Katherine noticed some reservation in his voice.

“But…” She prompted.

“You don’t know any of the cast, do you?”

“Just one. The man with the funny hat.”

“An unfortunate casting choice, but obviously not his fault. He was very good. One of the best of the group, I would say.”

“Mmhmm, he’s very versatile, wasted on this production if you ask me. But then again, the production was wasted on the audience, so perhaps it’s all for the sake of balance.”

There was a brief pause.

“You’re a clever young woman, did you know that?”

“So my bathroom mirror has tried to convince me.”

“Maybe you should listen to it. It’s a very attractive trait.”

Katherine felt like giggling on the inside, but resisted. Instead, she directed the conversation into more comfortable territory, one where she would always have a response. “You’re just trying to change the subject. You still haven’t told me what you thought about An Evening of Pinter.”

“I would, but I was taught never to speak ill of the dead.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Parts of it were on the stage, but the rest was back in the rehearsal room somewhere looking for its socks.”

“How so?”

“Well, the taxi driver, for example. She wasn’t specific enough in her choices. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about.”

“Neither did we, though.”

“No, but the playwright did. Some people argue that absurdist theatre is a waste of time, and that may be in some cases, but the fact still stands that a published playwright went to the creative trouble to put some very specific words on paper for a very specific reason. Not to respect that in one’s performance is rude. I saw quite a bit of that in other scenes as well, and I found it very disappointing. Others were good. Surprisingly good. But I can’t help but feel I’ve missed a connection. It’s like a bad date”

Katherine felt herself blushing again, feeling playful and a bit bold in the late night air. “Well, maybe the director didn’t know you were expecting a date, maybe he thought you were just talking nonsense together for the evening.”

“Perhaps, but surely the fact that I had purchased a ticket suggested I was interested in more than just a bit of nonsense.”

“Or, maybe the director was trying to expose the language burier. Sometimes life makes sense, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes we think we’re talking about one thing when we’re really talking about another.”

“Hmmm subtext carrying our baser selves on the shoulders of nonsense…” They had stopped walking now and Terence had squared himself to her, looking her dead in the face, hands casually in his pockets, dark eyes intensely steady yet still warm.

“Subtext can be confusing,” said Katherine, breathlessly, not breaking eye contact but feeling her arms go cold as her palms moistened.

“Then let’s be direct.”

“…Okay”

“I’ll start: I’ve been watching you watch other people all evening and I find that utterly fascinating.”

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“…I noticed” He raised an eyebrow and that damn smile came back to his lips.

“I find you very attractive and charming,” Katherine blurted out.

“I would find that very flattering if you didn’t look as though you were about to get hit by a car,” he chuckled. Katherine buried her face in her hands, laughing in embarrassment, wishing her hands weren’t so cold all of a sudden.

“Nevertheless,” he said, gently pulling her hands from her face to find her eyes again, “I find you incredibly alluring.” His last words were spoken so quietly they were almost a whisper, but Katherine them rumble in his chest. He had closed the distance between them by placing one hand on her shoulder, leaving one side of her open so as not to trap her. He tilted his face closer to hers, but didn’t kiss her. His lips were three inches away from hers, an offer and a question. She could almost taste his breath in her mouth, sweet with gin and vermouth. He stayed there, one hand on her shoulder, one still in his pocket. Ordinarily Katherine would have felt threatened by his confidence but instead she felt secure and aroused in a way that she wasn’t accustomed to. She felt emboldened, even—dare she say—empowered? Ugh, she hated that word. And yet, she felt such a sense of… control. Not more than he had, but no less either. Whatever was about to happen was on both of their terms and she was so unused to that feeling, always having to either take the lead or navigate objecthood.

Still, he hovered there, waiting for Katherine to decide what she wanted to do. His eyes had started searching her face for signs of a wordless answer, clues for whether he should proceed or retreat. Finally, she spoke, bringing her lips just to the point of almost touching his as she spoke and adoration began to spread from his chest like hot wax dripping down a candle. “You see, the thing with pauses,” she said, her breath heavy on his face, “is that they build tension between the performers and the audience. So that by the time they find their next line...the audience is in agony with anticipation.”

“This is a very long pause, darling,” he said, just as breathless as she was. She could tell how much he was holding back.

“Shall I kiss you then?”

He pressed a little closer to her. “Yes, I think you better had. If you’d like that.”

She breathed and closed the molecular distance between their mouths. Terence freed his other hand from his pocket and cupped her cheek, his fingers combing her hair away from her face as he did. The kiss was tender, chaste, and brimming with desire all at the same time. She pressed her front against his, convincing herself that this was actually happening somehow. It had been so long since she felt this rush of exhilaration about anyone. She didn’t know it, but Terence was just thinking the same thing, feeling remarkably fortunate if a bit nonplussed.

With both of them feeling pleasantly surprised about the direction the evening had taken for them, things had heated up quickly, fuelled by alcohol and the empty street. Terrence gently pulled away from their hungry embrace his grin more primal than it had been in the theatre. “Easy, darling,” he cautioned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still need to walk to my flat. If you want to come with me…”

Katherine almost laughed out loud at how unnecessary his question was, but wanted to respect his efforts nonetheless. She looked him in the eye, tilted her head and said, “When you say come…” and then smiled a wide, cheeky smile that made Terrence raise his eyebrows in surprise. He shot her a playful warning glance and said, “Damnit, woman, you’re going to be my undoing. Let’s just hope I can do the same for you,” he added in her ear as they started walking, his arm around her waist.

She was just starting to hope he didn’t live far she heard keys in his pocket. They had arrived at the shiny black door of a red brick duplex, two mailboxes mounted above the doorbell. Terence lifted the lid of the bottom one and peered inside. It was stuffed full of flyers, letters, and a newspaper. “Good news,” he said, letting the lid fall closed again and unlocking the door. “The neighbours are out of the town.” He smiled at her as he opened the door behind him and held an arm out, ushering Katherine in: “After you.”

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