#remember when they used this idea forgot to credit me and then wrote in a new car so they didnt have to credit me

[lizardboyscalesmcstuffins]

*this is a post from 2021*

Hi guys Anthony liked my idea

[gyllenhaalstories]

ALIBI — RUSTY SABICH

summary: rusty seeks comfort in someone from his past to hide from both the present and the future.

warnings: mentions of cheating & the murder, mostly angst, smut (pussy eating, penetration, marking & hickeys, accidental creampie, some elements of noncon). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4075

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i was going off the vibes from the trailers but there are spoilers from the first two episodes. this was supposed to be all smut but then i didn't feel like writing smut so it was all angst but then i remembered i'm bad at writing angst so now it's... a mess. sorry? 👓 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled you.

You had been on the edge all day, ever since you received a mysterious letter in your mailbox. The enveloppe was bare, the paper did not look much better. It could have been a bad prank for all you knew, it was not addressed to anyone specifically nor did it have the information required to return it. If it had not been of the familiar penmanship that wrote the words I'll be here at midnight, you would have believed that the letter was completely anonymous.

Rusty stood on the other side of the door, his body completely frozen while his mind and his heart raced faster than ever before. It was a bad idea, one of the worst ideas. He tried to make sure that nobody had followed him, but how could he know? How could he completely be sure there was not a car parked in the darkness of the night?

You ripped the metaphorical bandaid off. "What are you doing here?" You gripped on the door knob tightly, fighting the urge to slam the door back in his face.

He looked down at his feet. "You got my letter."

You were not having any of his misplaced timidity. He reached out, he needed to face the consequences. He needed to face you. So, you stepped out of the way and let him make a decision. Whether he walked away before it was too late, or whether he...

Rusty's shoulder bumped against yours while he made his way into your home. Memories flooded his mind. Memories of the two of you talking, laughing, kissing and...

"What are you doing here?" You repeated, this time with more annoyance in your voice.

He stopped reminiscing the past you shared. "I had nowhere else to go. I have no one else, but..."

"You don't have me either. You made that very clear when you disappeared. It's been so long, I started to believe you forgot I even existed. When was the last time we talked?"

When Carolyn started working. "It's been a long time, I know."

"You know everything, don't you?" You stated and closed the door. Rusty stood there, almost as clueless as you about his presence. You eyed him from head to toes and scoffed.

He flinched, expecting you to go on with another lecture about how he was such a horrible man. You did not, you knew he would like that too much.

You walked towards the living room and crashed on couch, as far as you could be from him. The distance made you feel safer. Only this safety was ephemeral and fragile.

"I, huh... I just," he stuttered and clenched his jaw while trying to compose himself. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I needed you."

You scoffed again at the use of past tense. Before you could talk back, he continued.

"I need you."

That confession weighted heavy in the air for several long, agonizing minutes. He came to you. He would have to work hard to get whatever he wanted from you.

Rusty fidgeted with his ring finger. Muscle memory.

You crossed your arms against your chest. You had showed this man more patience than he deserved. "Do you want a hug? Do you want me to tell you everything's gonna be okay?

He glanced in your direction, just long enough for you to notice the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"I'm not the lawyer who's gonna defend your fake alibi, I'm not the detective who's gonna scrap pieces of evidence for you. I'm not the one who's going to get you out of trouble." You bombarded him with all of these options that he had once considered, crossing them off his list one after the other. "I'm not what you need."

"Yes, you are!" He raised his voice and you lifted a brow at his outburst. He hated being cornered, he hated being on the receiving hand of a tactic he had used one too many times in court. "I need you!" He shouted, he surprised himself.

You blinked and suddenly he was in front of you. He stood, tall but not strong. The louder he yelled, the weaker he felt.

"I need you to help me." You locked eyes with him, daring him to go on. "I need you to help me forget." He did not need to speak her name for you to figure out he was talking about Carolyn.

You laughed at him, as if you were hit with a sudden case of hysteria.

Your reaction made him walk away with his tail between his legs. He sat on the opposite side of the couch.

"You think you're so brave. Huh?" You smiled at him, in complete disbelief. "You were talking shit about how you wanted to leave your wife for me. The worst part is... I believed you." He seemed surprised once again. "Then you left me for another woman who died because of you. And now..." Your smile faded and your arms fell to your sides. "You're crawling back to me because you feel lonely?"

This was a mistake. He thought, he hoped, you would be different. He had enough of people berating him. He sprung to his feet and paced around your living room, planning his next move... His next words.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek while he behaved like an animal in cage. "Rusty..." You sighed, slowly giving in without your own consent. You opened the door of the cage.

"I know you feel lonely too." Rusty clenched his jaw. He stood firm in his word. Suddenly he remembered a conversation he had, not too long ago, about taking responsibility. "And I know I'm asking for a lot." His upper lip curled, his body reacting strangely to this rare case of acknowledgement and awareness. Perhaps it could have been... Guilt.

It was your turn to be surprised. This was uncommon, unnatural. You could not quite decipher if he was genuine or not. The longer you stared at him, studying and scrutinizing him, the harder it became to figure out what was going on inside his head. However, you noticed a shift.

Rusty knew he was getting to you. You no longer had the entire control over this conversation. He reentered your house and your life. While you told him you did not want him back, your body was saying something completely different. You expected him to visit, yet you dressed up so lightly in a shirt that hugged your curves and pants he could easily rip open. You never missed an occasion to drink him in, to appreciate the countless hours he spent at the pool to swim through his thoughts. The tough version of you that opened the door with an anger-filled soul softened up faster than he had imagined.

You eyed him up and down again. "This isn't going to end well." You spoke mostly to yourself. He heard you, but did not acknowledge the bad omen.

Rusty knelt before you. Not once did he break eye contact while he crawled, bringing your words into reality. He leaned back when he reached your legs and waited. He waited for you to tell him no, knowing it would only make him crave it more. Rusty rarely took no for an answer anyway.

You reached your hand to stroke his hair. You waited, too. You waited for him to realize he was taking the wrong decision. You waited to gather enough courage, although you were not too sure what to used that courage for.

He leaned into your hand that slid down to his cheek. You reminded him that the chase of thrills and butterflies could hardly compete with someone who had the magical power of calming him down, of making the whole world disappear.

You leaned forward and reached for his glasses that you gently removed. You took a moment to admire the sight of him: the muscles of his thighs almost bursting through his jeans, his chest heaving as if his hoodie made him so hot that he was melting, his eyes begging for your permission.

He watched you set his glasses away on the couch, safe and sound. He turned his head back to you while you lifted yourself off the couch to take off your sleeping pants. Rusty helped you pull them off, he threw them as far away as he could. He decided for you that there was no turning back. He then placed his hands on your knees, ready to part your legs open.

"I'm gonna regret this." You would, but Rusty would not. You locked eyes with him again and drowned into his darkened gaze. "You better make sure it's worth it."

Rusty faced a dilemma: he was unsure whether he wanted to take his time and savour the moment or dive into it head first. The throb of his cock, confined under his clothes, decided for him.

Your body showed no resistance to his touch, your legs opened easily with the light pressure he applied. His tongue licked a long stripe on your inner thigh while he made his way to your core.

You adjusted your position, sitting more lazily on the couch while he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He peppered kisses on your pussy before he used his thumbs to spread it open for him. At the first taste, he was addicted. More so, he was reminded of the addiction that had him sneaking out day and night just to eat you out.

Your back arched, pressing yourself against his mouth when he sucked on your clit. You fought back your moans, but, once again, your body betrayed you.

"Missed you so much," Rusty spoke against your skin. He spat on your pussy and caught the drops that dripped down with his tongue. He made a mess, not that he had to try very hard for it. You were already wet for him, he liked to think it was just a reflex you had failed to break since the day he left. "I missed you so fucking much."

You placed a hand on his head, pulling on his short hair. You refused to believe his words, but they sounded so nice. Almost honest.

Rusty began to lap at your folds, making his nose bump against your clit. He swallowed the juices that leaked from your entrance, but he was still left craving more.

You gasped loudly when his tongue teased your hole. You pressed his face against you, as if he could get even closer than he already was.

Rusty palmed at his rock hard cock, moaning into your pussy as he did that. He touched himself over his clothes while he finally focused on your aching clit, flicking his tongue on it to make you squirm. He tried to fight against the movements of your hips, making sure his mouth never left you.

Your legs started to close around Rusty's face, which did not bother him in the slightest. You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch him while he brought you closer to the edge. He just looked so beautiful.

The vein on his temple was bulging, almost pulsating to match his heart beat. He let go of his crotch and helped you to put your thighs on his broad shoulders, encourage you to let go, to give in.

You were not ready to satisfy him just yet. You wanted this moment to last, you wanted it to be worth the guilt and regret you would experience the moment he would walk out the door.

That only made him hungrier. He devoured you like it was the last time, he shared the mutual feeling that it could very well be. He pulled away from you just long enough to catch his breath one last time. He was determined to get what he wanted from you.

In a matter of seconds, your vision got blurry and your toes started to curl.

Rusty's moans only made the sensations greater while his tongue worked you over and had your entire body shaking for him.

You did not need to speak, to tell him to keep going, he knew what to do. He knew how to make you feel better than anyone else ever could. That remained one of his biggest problems, he was a heartless cheater but he was just so fucking good at it.

He slowed down until your thighs relaxed around him and he helped to set them down, still wide open for him to admire the mess he made between your thighs. You were dripping of your own wetness and of his spit. He could have kept going all night, but he had a more urgent need to take care of. He scrambled back on his feet and, without a word, he took off the rest of his clothes.

You did the same, not without admiring his body and especially the throbbing and leaking cock that he stroked.

He admired you too: the way your clit throbbed for him, how your forehead was covered with a layer of sweat despite just sitting there and doing nothing besides screaming while you were cumming.

He surprised you with a rough kiss, all tongue and teeth. You did not want to reciprocate, you wanted to pull away and to protect yourself from falling harder for this man. It was simply pointless. You kissed him back with the same passion that left you both gasping for air.

Rusty helped you to change positions so that you turned around and you were kneeling on the couch and you leaned on the back of the furniture. He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and all the way down your back. He wanted to print the memory of you in his mind.

Neither of you felt brave enough to speak. You let your bodies do the talking with moans and grunts that blended into a melody while Rusty pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance. His tongue failed to prepare you for the delicious stretch of his cock.

He squeezed your ass cheeks open, trying to catch a glimpse of your pussy gripping on him. That was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He helped you arch your back, taking in the perfect position for him to use your pussy to get off. You felt so fucking good, so tight and wet around him. How could he have waited so long to feel you again? How did he manage to wait all this time?

You bit on your lip so hard that it tasted faintly of blood when he bottomed out. He stopped moving for a few moments, letting you adjust to him.

He pressed his toned chest against your back, cooing at you. When he felt your walls relax around his length, he started moving. The small but deep thrusts made tears pool into your eyes.

You held on the back of the couch for dear life when he fucked you harder, when he let you feel every inch of him nice and deep.

Rusty grunted louder and louder. The noises echoed in your apartment, filling the silence alongside the sound of your skin slapping against his. He was getting closer than he wanted to to admit it, so he stalled again.

You felt his hands on your skin, gliding down your arms. He held your hands in his, making the cushion of the couch cave in under the pressure. You looked down at his left hand, but your eyes closed blissfully before you could notice whether he was wearing his wedding ring or not. Your skin was so hot too, you could not even feel it the metal.

You could not feel anything else than Rusty's cock that was balls deep inside of you or his lips that sucked a few marks on your shoulder.

He kissed his way to your neck, where he nibbled and licked. He was buying time and you could feel it. You could hear it too, with the whimpers that came out of his mouth. He murmured at your ear while he marked you. "I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum."

"Pull out, just, fuck," your voice sounded hoarse from the moans. "Just pull out!"

Rusty cursed under his breath, his thrusts felt more like twitches than anything. His left hand moved down to squeeze on your hip, a rough and bruising grip. "I can’t," his body pressed down on yours. You could barely stay up on your knees. "You feel too fucking good on me."

"No! No, no…" You wanted to get him to move, or even to get off him. Anything really, but your pussy clenched on him with vice-like grip. It was already too late.

Rusty held your hip and your hand tight, giving you no room to escape. He grunted at your ear while he emptied himself in you. Multiple ropes of cum coated your walls and made both yours and his eyes roll to the back of your heads. It felt so good, so wrong yet so right. He should not have done it, he should have pulled out and avoid another situation. He never learned his lessons. This was forbidden. He loved it even more.

"Rusty! That was so fucking stupid." You shouted, there was more shock than anger in your voice. Your poor attempts at squirming out of his embrace failed. Your pussy milked him to his last drop.

The room went painfully silent. No moans, no skin slapping, no couch squeaking. Nothing. There was nothing but erratic breaths and the gears turning silently in your minds. What did he do? He did what he needed to do. He did what he knew you wanted him to do. Even if you told him otherwise, even if you tried to convince yourself of the opposite. "I'm sorry."

It was crystal clear that his apology was empty. As if the lack of conviction in his voice was not enough to prove it, the slow thrusts of his hips sealed the deal.

Languid strokes that made him appreciate the warmth he had craved for so long. "I know, this was wrong." He pressed his clean shaven cheek against yours. Slowly, he picked up the pace until he properly fucked you against the couch. "I'm so fucking sorry." He punctuated each word with a thrust that made you moan louder and louder. He was not going to stop anytime soon. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you until he was ready for a second load.

Only Rusty could fuck you this good. He made sure you learned that lesson, rewarding you with orgasms the more you surrendered to the pleasure he shamelessly gave you.

*~*~*

You felt Rusty's arm slide away from your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin from the sudden lack of warmth. You tried to stay immobile, although your eyes fluttered from struggling to stay closed. You knew he would leave. He always did.

He knew he would leave. He could not stay. He could not stay and drag you down with him once more. Rusty had hurt enough people for the time being, he needed to learn to be careful. To calculate the risks. The risks were too high when they involved you.

A part of you had hoped it would be different this time. Maybe he would stay for breakfast. Maybe he would offer to shower together and go at it again. Maybe he would make another promise he would inevitably break.

Rusty surprised you with a kiss to your cheek, one that lingered and communicated more than words could convey in the moment. He stood up on his tired legs and he stepped over your body to search for his clothes.

You opened your eyes a bit, squinting to catch a glimpse of his naked body roaming around your place. He looked so beautiful, so irresistible. His large back, his muscular legs, his toned ass that he quickly covered with his boxers. You could admire him for days on end. He would never grant you so much time in his presence.

He turned around, guilt and regret stabbed him in the stomach. Unfamiliar feelings. You looked so beautiful, so tempting. The delicate features of your face, the curves of your body, your steady breathing that he'd love to fall asleep to again. He wished he could stay with you and forget about the rest of the world.

You felt his eyes on you. You felt him stare and linger on the marks he left on your body, on the other places he'd love to bruise for his own pleasure.

Before he got riled up and, most importantly, before he failed once more to think with his brain, he finished dressing up in a hurry. If he made it back home before sunrise, no one would know about his escapade.

"Wait." Your mouth spoke despite your mind yelling at you to stay quiet and to pretend to sleep a little longer.

Rusty froze in place. He refused to turn around and look at you. Unless you asked him to.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body that he had seen one too many times; your body that he could not even see in the moment. You used the blanket as a shield. An armour to brace for the upcoming impact. "Is she," you cut yourself off. "Was she special?"

You watched his torso rise and fall from the several deep breaths he took before answering. "Very." He did not need one more interrogation, one more trial.

You nodded slowly. "Am I special?"

You watched him experience a myriad of emotions, just by the change in his breathing and how his body tensed up while he searched for an honest answer. This question was a trap.

"Very." He repeated in a whisper. "The most special."

You snickered. His answer felt like just as much of a trap as the question you asked. If you had been the most special to him, why did he pursue Carolyn? Why did he have this grand affair with her and not with you? Why did he risk everything for her and not for you?

As if he could hear the questions running through your mind, he spoke again. "You're the only person I've tried my hardest to protect." He referred to his children that he hurt and sacrificed, to his wife that he lied to and cheated on... To his mistress who died because of his insatiable lust.

It was only then that you finally accepted to face the truth: nobody knew who you were, in relation to Rozat Sabich. He kept you in the shadows, he locked you in a cage. He protected you in this bubble of stolen kisses and broken promises.

If nobody knew that you two shared a long and complex history, he would never have to involve you in this situation more than he already did the night before. He would not need yet another alibi to cover up the messy trail he left behind.

You held your head in your hands. You hated to see him leave, each time felt like it got closer to being the last time he would walk out of your life for good.

Rusty put on his hoodie and fixed his glasses. He was now facing you, but it was his turn to need an armour so he maintained the distance between the two of you. He stared at you, time felt like it had stopped. His lips parted open to speak, but no sound came out of his mouth.

However, you turned to look at him just in time to catch him mouth the dangerous words I love you. You smiled sadly at him with a tear falling down the same cheek he kissed. It was your way to say I love you too.

And just like that, Rusty opened the door and left without another glance in your direction. The wall between the two of you built itself back up in an instant. That way, he protected you from the world. Most importantly, he protected you from himself. All the history between the two of you would remain a secret.

You were his best kept secret.

[diejager]

hiiiiii like i've wanted to send u a request for like a while and i'm so happy i finally got u

i sadly forgot my og idea buuuuuut luckily i got a new one cus i'm bestie besties with a lurker who is like a friend with a writer cus they know each other irl and cus she gave me a lil spoilie

i wanna use like what i was told for dis request

like ik the thing is about a champion/warrior and their god and like it's a certain king being absolutely PATHETIC for like the first one (like ik my opinion cus i luv pathetic men and like i wanna know ur ideas about this)

like i love the idea of cod boys being a god or champion cus like y'know the smut that can be made

so could i request my second fav boy soap or even ghost being a SIMP like full on worshipping their god after hunting for their pretty

LUV u darlin and like KEEP ON writing because i am GOBBLIN up everything u and my other favs make but make sure u also rest

Cw: God/Champion stuff??, inaccurate Greek mythology, worshipping, offering/gifts/sacrifice, oracle, tell me if I missed any. Note: this reminds me of… the name’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember exactly who wrote about this before. Could you also send me the @ of your writer friend? I’d like to credit them if possible. And thank you! Just make sure to take breaks in between of reading, yeah? You have to rest your eyes every hour or so.

Johnny couldn’t believe his eyes when he stumbled into this small sanctuary outside the sacred precinct, outside any protective walls and guarded cities. Nestled into the side side of a mountain, the marble stones carved intricately in pretty vines and gentle flowers only to be placed in an isolated place. Away from any travellers and warriors, and hidden away from prying eyes of thieves and charlatans. This little, marble shrine made of white marble, painted murals and gold ordained altar - one of the prettiest he’s seen - was left near forgotten, overgrown with fauna and collecting dust. 

And despite that, the statue that stood behind the altar, tall and imposing, curves soft and tunic flattering, the Goddess loomed over him with a shadow of warmth and compassion, much unlike the statues of the ruling Gods and Goddesses he was used to —it was ethereal. Your image was one of love and care, a stark dichotomy to the arrogance and self-importance of Zeus and his siblings. You were welcoming towards him when they spurned him for his foreign appearance: a child of slaves that had bought their freedom, a potent sign of determination and strength.

“Perhaps that Oracle wasn’t crazy,” he gawked at the falling leafage, ribbons of round leaves hiding the entrance, parting like a curtain to the main stage of a theatre.

He had tried his luck with the Oracle of Delphi, in a drunken daze that failed to strip him from his embarrassing misadventures around Delphi’s bars and temple. Johnny had wanted to see what all the fuss was about, the mile long travel many made to see her and her prophesies. He wanted to know if she was a true oracle or a scam, a charlatan like many others, but lo and behold, she was blessed with the sight. 

He still remembered her words, her words spoken from the Gods’ whims, giving him the blessing of finding a Goddess he would willingly kneel to, one that would show him the same love and devotion he gave. She foretold that he would meet a Goddess of Health and Hunting that he wanted to worship, a give and take cycle —of life and death. And here he stood, before the statue of a benevolent Goddess he knew he already loved.

You were a minor Goddess, able to gift your champions with totems and blessings, but not a miracle. Your sacred temple was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh spring and dewy mornings, candles miraculously lit, wrapping the room in a golden embrace that felt akin to a mother’s kiss. Johnny’s eyes wandered around the room, taking it in while he walked to the altar, he stared at the dusty and empty marble, a sad sight for a Goddess so warm.

He searched around his belt, looking around his clothes and padded leather for an offering to wake you up. Something simply - anything - would work, if only to rouse you from your slumber, be it a year or a century long sleep, he would wake you and dub himself your champion. He picked a pelt, an apt offering for a Goddess of Health and Hunting. It was freshly skinned and cured, brushed with care and killed with sympathy. He wasn’t a ruthless killer or an avaricious hunter, he took what he needed and left what he didn’t. 

Nodding at the brown pelt, he wiped away the dust that had collected and placed it on the marble, taking care to place it flat and straightened the fur. He took a step back to admire the sight, eyes filled with wonder at the sudden glow, bathing him in a calming light. He felt better, his once aching arms gone, his bruises gone and his strength returned. Waking you had brought a blessing, you had healed him of his aches and pains, restoring him to his peak.

“Welcome,” he heard you whisper, your voice sounding like a bird’s song, pretty and awestricking, “Will you become my champion, dear warrior?”

How could he say no at your sweet plea? You were the warmest being he has ever met, your very essence an embrace full of passion. 

“If yer wish me so, Goddess.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled and he’d never felt so lovesick before, his heart so full, yet light.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[strawberrycheeks-and-glasses]

Listen to Me

Tsukishima x f!reader | rated E | 5k

Summary: Failing one of your classes, you remember a flyer you saw on campus offering ‘on call’ tutoring sessions. So, in your desperation, you call and develop a crush on the guy’s voice on the other end. Pretty soon, things start to heat up.

A/n: this is very self indulgent porn tbh, pls don’t judge me but I had a craving for a voice kink and the thought of Kei whispering in my ear gave me goosebumps. So~

“Hey there,” the smooth sounding voice on the other end of the phone says, sending a shiver down your spine.

You had seen a flyer on campus for a call in tutoring session a while back and as a joke, you snapped a picture of it for future reference. Well, good thing you did because guess who’s failing chem?

“H-hi,” you hesitate, being completely thrown off by the sound of this guys voice.

“Hello,” he greets again. “Did you need help in a subject, or are you one of those girls who call because they heard I have nice voice?”

“People actually do that? I mean you sound, like a normal guy,” you shrug, fiddling with your pencil.

“I’ve been told my voice is soothing to the ear,” he replies. “Not too deep, but not too high, and with a tone that is both unbothered, yet still attentive.”

“I just meant that you sound familiar, is all,” you scoff a laugh, rolling your eyes at how pretentious he’s sounding.

“I get that a lot,” he chuckles. The sound vibrating through the speaker tickles your ear. “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Oh, right,” you almost forgot why you called in the first place.

Talking you through your chemistry homework like he’s in the same class, he teaches you how to find the compounds and use your graphic calculator with ease. And, yeah, okay, his voice is kind of soothing, but he doesn’t need to know you think that.

“Holy shit, I think I understand now,” you laugh, amazed at how simple it actually is once it was explained in a way you could grasp. “You’re pretty smart aren’t you?” You tease him.

“Well, yeah,” he says, and you can hear him rolling his eyes at your stupid question.

“Okay, nerd,” you playfully insult him.

“This nerd just saved your ass from failing chemistry,” he rebuttals. “And the next time you have to call me for help, I’m charging you. Only the first one’s free.”

“Ugh, fine,” you say, pointedly, ending the call.

Please read the rest on ao3

Also, I’m not sure who to credit for this pic that my friend had saved from Pinterest, the artist is no longer active on Twitter and there is no watermark or signature on the art (I even reversed Google image searched and nothing came up), but if you know who made it pls lmk so I can tag them or link their art!!

Anyway, this is the Kei I think of when I wrote this fic, just to get an idea of why I needed to write this fic 💁🏻‍���️ (also, my friend said Kei biting on the pen is slut behavior, and I agree I agree I agree)

[ourpickwickclub]

About the PR thing, didn't Wes Vause team up with ML's PR lady to form a new PR company a while back, with Blake as his first client? I can't think of her name. It's like a weird name starting with E or something. Can Wes really be trusted, since he used to work for ML and is now partners with her PR person? Seems sus to me. I hope he is actually loyal to Blake and doesn't share info, but from the little I have seen of him, I don't trust him much. Also about ML's copycat addiction, after she released a song last year, someone in Blake's tag on twitter said that it resembled We Can Reach the Stars. Can anyone confirm that is true? I don't remember the name of the song, have never heard one of her songs and I'm not about to start. If true though, that would be the ultimate psycho move - always trying to leech off others ideas. It reminds me of the interview back in 2010 with CMT when Blake said that he had written Delilah and when ML came back and heard it, she tried to weasel her way into the writer's credits, and I was so happy when he stood firm and didn't give her writing credit, especially since he wrote it completely by himself and she had NOTHING to do with it. Can you believe a person would do that? I heard that Morgan Wallen said the same thing about ML, that she got her friend Nicole Gallyon to get her into a writing session with them so she could add a word and get writing credit on one of his songs. Anyway, here is the excerpt from Blake's interview. I am so proud of him for standing his ground and not letting her manipulate him. I just wish he had done the same for The House That Built Me (her fake tears in the truck while they listened to it - cuz she knows what a softy he is) and Over You (her rushing him to decide about it since her album was coming out - like I know it's about your dead brother, but my album is coming out so I need to know now if I can put it on there, like wut? If he hadn't decided by that point on his own to give it to her, she should have just let it go instead of forcing him to decide just for her own benefit.)

CMT.com (March 19th 2010)

What was Miranda’s reaction when she heard “Delilah”?

Miranda’s first reaction was to weasel her way onto the song as a writer. She heard the song just a few hours after I wrote it. I wrote it very quickly one day about the fact that her dog was ignoring me when I was supposed to be babysitting it... I’ve joked before that if her dog is in the highway and I’m right there next to it and a semi is coming, I know who she’s going to save. It’s going to be her dog. She loves the song, but I’m the only writer on it.

====

Also, I forgot to mention, how sad is it that B knew that ML cared more about her DOG than him?????? makes me wanna cry. There is truth in every one of his jokes. Once when he was interviewed after 2011, they asked him if ML would be a good mother, and he said that if she treats the kid like she treats her dogs, then the kid will be golden...i remember thinking what a weird thing to say...like does she treat him so badly that he can't even use that as an example for how she would treat a kid?

.

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

TELL US THE STORY

Ok ok

So

I was saying the worst head empty moment I've had*

*That I can remember

Was this one time during an exam when I wrote my dad's name on my exam because I forgot mine. I didn't even realize, I was like hmmmm name. What names do I know? Automatically wrote my dad's name.

So a couple weeks go by and I still didn't realize that was a mess up because I was just going over the answers in my head like yeah I got that one. Got that one. Ooooof I only did that one partially correct. So if the professor gives half credit for half correct work and then a baseline 5% for an attempt --

All that good stuff right

Exams get graded and I get a 0. I was like WHAT? NO!! I can argue my points back right now! Tf they think I did? Cheat? I can resolve the the paper right now! I'm gonna fight!

And the professor goes "oh is this yours?" That's when I noticed that wasn't even my name and I was like "oh yeah thats mine that's my dad's name"

And this guy goes. This guy deadass asks me "how do I know your dad didn't take your exam"

BROTHER!!!! YOU WERE THERE!!! DID YOU SEE A 50 YEAR OLD MAN???

And I was ready for some knowledge test or retaking the test or getting grilled or whatever. This mf who is the professor who was there!!! He asked me HOW DOES HE KNOW MY DAD DIDNT TAKE THE EXAM????

Its so over. So I was like, bro I can call my dad right now. And also my dad doesn't even know my field of study. But whatever I'll call him. And so I called my dad on video call and the professor goes "yeah I don't recall seeing him there but he could've been sitting in the back" IS THIS GUY FR? bro is CRAZY!!

so I was like damn this guy is a brick. OK then, what if I brought back eye witnesses? People who were sitting next to me? And do you know what he said to that

He said I could've bribed other students to pretend I was there.

And I was like ooooooh shit this guy is an absolute brick and if he's not convinced, he's gonna report me for academic dishonesty.

No ok. See. For some reason at this point, both me and the professor forgot that he had 6 TAs there acting as proctors for all sections of the rook. I didn't notice them so I forgot they existed.

I deadass have no idea why the professor didn't know this. Maybe he was testing me? But bruh! I was taking the test! Why should I notice anything?

So I'm in my TA section and I'm like brooooo the professor is gonna beat my ass I'm gonna fail and then die. And the TA was like if it's academic dishonesty just confess. And I was like noooooo the professor doesn't even believe I was there. I couldn't say the full reason because I think it's hard to believe that a person can be this

Head full of bubbles

And she was like oh is that it? I saw you.

And then I'm sure I said something stupid in response to learning this and then they started checking student IDs for future exams and everything got resolved.

And I started writing my name as the last thing on my exams so I can use my entire brainpower to remember.

The end

[wren-starling]

Callsigns (Bob x Girlfriend to Fiancé reader)

Summary: Bob’s girlfriend refuses to call any of his friends by their callsigns and when they try to give her one, she refuses. That is, until Bob gives her one she can’t turn down.

Warnings: Drinking, other than that, none! Pure Bob being a soft boy for the love of his life.

Word count: 1,403

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bob proposing. I think he’d get so nervous and he’d fumble over his words and it’d be adorable! So I wrote about it. Enjoy! (credit to gif owner)

——————————————————————

“Jake, can you get another round for me? I’ll pay you back when I get the chance.” I call out.

“Only if you call me Hangman. Everybody calls me Hangman.” Jake counters.

“Uh, wrong. Everybody calls you Bagman.” Natasha corrects from the pool table. Jake turns around and gives her the side eye.

“I gotcha, darling. What’d you want?” I hear Robert ask from beside me. He squeezes my shoulder as he stands up and unwraps my legs from his lap.

“Surprise me.” I say with a smile.

“Don’t I always?” He smirks as he pecks my lips quickly.

“I loath the day the two of you fell in love.” Jake comments as he heads over to the pool table with Natasha and Bradley.

“I think it’s sweet.” Natasha says, handing over her cue to Jake.

“Thank you, Nat.” I say as I cross my legs and relax into my chair. I turn around briefly to see Robert, Penny, and Pete having what seems to be a pretty deep conversation. Penny looks shocked and Pete looks a little sick. Robert has a goofy looking smile on his face, the smile that made me weak in the knees three years ago. I smile to myself as he walks back over with our drinks.

“Penny’s new concoction. All she said was it’s sweet and has gin in it.” Robert says, handing me the tall glass with a smile.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” I take a small sip and am immediately hit with how much trouble this drink could get me in. You can’t taste the alcohol at all and the sweet aftertaste on my tongue leaves me craving more.

“So, Y/N. Why don’t you ever use our call signs? That’s how everyone refers to us here.” Jake asks as he takes a shot and sinks the five ball.

“It doesn’t feel as personal as your name.” I explain simply.

“But they’re like nicknames we got from friends, some of us for doing something stupid, others of us have personal attachments to our call signs.” Bradley explains as he snatches the cue from Jake and lines up his next shot.

“Take your sweetheart for example,” Jake starts.

“No!” Robert interrupts. Everyone starts laughing as they remember their first time meeting Robert.

“Can we give you one?” Natasha asks. “Maybe it’ll show you why we all call each other by them.”

“No, I’m good but thank you.” I decline, sipping back more of my drink.

“Come on! It’ll be fun! I’ll start,” Jake saunters over to me, a few too many whiskey shots clear in his wobbling stride. Jake stares at me a long time before giving his first suggestion. “Ghost.”

“Do I get to know the reason behind them before I decline?” I ask. I feel Robert slip his arm around my shoulders as he pulls me against his side. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple, sensing that I don’t want this and telling me to just let it happen.

“You’re ghostly pale. I’d also accept Casper as a submission.” Jake snickers at his own joke.

“Haha. Very funny. I’m sorry I don’t get gorgeously tan like the rest of you in the San Diego sun.” Robert smirks, remembering the amount of times he’s had to rub aloe on my back because I forgot to apply sunscreen.

“What about Sparky? You and that quick wit of yours could get us in trouble in the air.” Bradley quips, setting down the pool cue after winning the game against Jake.

“Not as bad but still, no. I don’t see the point. Just call me Y/N.” Robert starts picking at a tear in his jeans, a clear sign he’s nervous.

“Okay okay. Fine. Bobby old pal why don’t you try? You know her the best anyway.” Jake suggests as he calls at Natasha to wrack the balls for a game of nine ball.

“Um, I’d have to think.” Robert murmurs.

“Just look at her and say the first thing that comes to mind.” Natasha suggests.

I turn and meet Robert’s crystal clear blue eyes and forget for a moment that we’re surrounded by his friends. Robert’s eyes scan every inch of my face before landing back on my eyes. I smile at him, feeling completely content in this moment.

“Angel.” He says. My heart melts at the smile that dawns his face.

“Robert.” I say softly, hearing my voice falter slightly at the sweetness of the nickname.

“Because you saved me. And because you give off this…this light. I know that I’m safe when I’m with you. And…and you…you’re so incredibly kind, to everyone,” Robert grabs both my hands and holds them in his own. “You’re perfect. And I’m so incredibly lucky to have you in my life.” Robert pulls his hands back and reaches into his pocket. My eyes fall to the small velvet box he opens in the palm of his hand before dropping down to one knee.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, callsign ‘Angel,’ will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?” Robert’s eyes never leave mine as the tears start rolling down my cheeks. I sniffle as I get on both knees in front of him. I stare at this handsome man who is asking me to be his forever.

“Robert William Floyd, callsign ‘Bob,’ yes, yes I will marry you.” Robert breaks out in the biggest smile I have ever seen as he takes the ring and slides it onto my finger.

Robert grabs both sides of my face and kisses me passionately. The kiss is so full of love I fall for him all over again. I feel him wiping away the tears on my cheeks as he pulls back and wraps me in the warmest, tightest hug imaginable. I hear cheering from the entire bar as Robert pulls back and kisses me again.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, just for me to hear in this intimate moment of ours.

“I love you so much.” I whisper back as I wipe a tear from his cheek.

Once Robert has helped me off the floor, he picks me up and swings me around as the Hard Deck cheers loudly for us. I look over at Robert’s friends and notice they’re all standing there with sheepish grins on their faces.

”You knew!” I shout, pointing at all of them.

“Of course we knew!” Jake says, running over to give me a massive hug as he too spins me around.

“That’s why you brought up callsigns. It gave him an entrance.” I decipher the evenings events.

“You caught us.” Bradley comments as he wraps me in a warm, grounding hug. Natasha soon follows with a gentle squeeze.

“Congratulations you two.” I hear Pete say. I turn to him and laugh quietly as Robert wraps a protective arm around my waist.

“Thank you sir.” Robert says.

“You’re glowing.” Penny says to me as she hands me Robert’s phone with a video of the whole thing pulled up.

“Is that why you offered to get my drink? So you could get them to record?” I ask Robert.

“Yeah, but I’m also just a pure southern gentleman, so I had to get my lady a drink.” Robert fakes tipping a cowboy hat as he presses a kiss to my cheek. I feel myself turn bright red as Penny announces to the bar that everyone gets a free round on the house in honor of the happily engaged couple. There’s lots more cheers as Robert drags me out to the beach behind the bar.

The two of us pick a spot in the sand and sit down as we stare at the waves crashing along the shore. I lean my head against his chest as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders and keeps his arm draped around my waist. I can feel Robert’s steady heartbeat through his button-up as I feel my chest fill with warmth. I raise my left hand in the moonlight and watch the glitter of the small diamond in the center of the ring.

“Are you happy?” Robert asks soothingly.

“Incredibly. Are you?” I question, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

“More than you will ever know.” He responds as he leans down to give me a soft kiss underneath the moonlight, interlocking our fingers as he brushes his thumb over the ring that now rests on my finger.

[redheadedbrunette]

Cool so I reread the series and I noticed a lot more than I did the first two times I read it which is fun. The relationship between Ben and Erica is more explored than I remembered which is good and I can definitely see her character arc a lot clearer.

X is still my least favorite book and there’s absolutely a corner that Gibbs wrote himself into on that one unless he’s entirely giving up on the idea of having Ben and co. be secret agents.

Ben’s a lot more of a competent spy than I remember too, which is refreshing.

I also completely forgot that all 10 of these books happen in the span of like a year and a half which is hilarious.

Oh and the age gap seems like something that would be a lot more of an issue if there weren’t only like 300 people in the world they could have contact with. Even Erica and Josh had a bit of a gap since she had to have been 14/15 or so while he was 17/18. A gap of 2.5 years would be problematic for normal kids but I think different rules would apply.

I'm so glad it was clearer on a second go around! Honestly, I didn't even really see it all that clearly until I reread the series a couple years ago (SSAS came out my first week of college) and had a lot more experience with how stories work on a fundamental idea. Erica's development is very much in the background, but when you're looking for it (excluding SSPX, but that's a different rant) it's so clear and interesting and I love it.

SSPX bothers me for SO MANY REASONS the biggest of which is that Mr. Gibbs puts the message before the overarching plot of everything, and then! It's not even a relevant message! Like, what twelve year old is hardcore believing QAnon (it's pretty obviously meant to be that or something similar). I feel like something could have been achieved and a message about privacy, like Murray makes getting a video of Ben part of some TikTok knockoff challenge, because that seems like a much more likely thing kids would do, but gotta make fun of people who remember what the news said two years ago and comparing it to what they say now! Can't have people with good memories! But yeah, it does shoot the series in the foot kind of, and I understand the reasoning behind why things were done the way they were! I just don't agree with it most of the time.

It's even funnier when you realize that it's not a year and a half evenly spread out, it's one mission his first year with five months before summer, one that summer, and seven his second year. Eight if you want to count SSGS and SSBI as different missions (I go back and forth as to whether or not I do). It's so funny. Please give poor Ben a break.

And yes! Ben is actually so much more competent than people seem to give him credit for sometimes. It's just that his skill set tends to be less flashy and useful in battle scenes, but he's very much the chess master of the group. He's the one planning and strategizing, and all the karate moves in the world aren't going to do you any good if you can't actually foil the plans.

My reasoning for why I'm okay with the age gap is because the narrative treats them as equals who are more or less in the same place in life. Like, yes she's two classes ahead of him, but for all intents and purposes, they're teamed up together constantly with others in Ben's class and I think Erica is the only one we really know about in her class (can't remember Chip's age, but he might be? idk, doesn't really matter). It's never dwelt on, and it bothers me when people try to make a deal about it! Like, they're not going to be in the same place in their lives forever. It's high school. Almost no one marries the person they dated in high school. I've long held that they'd break up sometimes after Erica graduates and starts her adult life while Ben is still in school (or something similar depending on how Mr. Gibbs decides to do things moving forward).

[just-fandomthings]

touch telepath au? im v curious abt that!!!

Ahhh thank you, Abby!! 💜 admittedly, I wrote a little idea for this au back in August…and then completely forgot it existed 😅 but this idea has so much potential for an angsty fic…

uhh so I initially only had a few paragraphs of notes jotted down for this au idea, but as I was transferring them here, an actual story began to take shape in my mind?? I may or may not have an actual outline for this now (thank you so much, Abby, the credit for inspiring me absolutely goes to you 💜) 

So, here’s a little something I wrote:

Tony is a touch telepath--

This leaves him touch-starved, for how can he touch anyone when doing so will mean knowing what they’re thinking/feeling? His touch telepathy is his greatest secret, has been ever since Howard and Maria realized when he was three. He grows up keeping to himself, making a show but never letting people close--

And then there’s Rhodey. Rhodey is safe. 

Tony has felt safe before - in his mother’s arms, when he was with Jarvis and Ana. Whenever Aunt Peggy came for a visit. To a somewhat lesser extent, with Obie, whenever he came over when Tony was growing up. But Rhodey...

Rhodey is safe. He is the first person Tony chooses to tell; for a long time, he is the only person Tony tells. 

Then there’s Sunset, who used him for technological advancements for her own gain. And Tiberius, who used their friendship against him, getting the media to see him as a playboy alcoholic and nothing else. 

It’s not the first time Tony heard someone’s thoughts while they were hurting him (every kidnapping let him know exactly what his captors had planned for him, which, while did help him escape, did also let him know exactly what his captors had planned for him) but it’s the first of many betrayals. 

He learns the pain of remembering is worse when the ghost of their touch to his skin brings back the force of their cruel intent.

Sex is... well. It’s easier to just have one-night stands, where people care more about how good he is in bed, than about him himself. It hurts less, in the long run. 

Or so he tells himself. 

At least it prevents him from getting betrayed again. 

And then comes Pepper. 

Pepper, he slowly comes to realize, is safe. So is Happy. 

Afghanistan is...

The phantom touch of Yinsen’s hand will haunt him every time he allows himself to shake someone’s hand for the rest of his life. Even in Afghanistan, even at their first conscious encounter, after everything Yinsen knew he was responsible for, Yinsen had cared for him when they’d shook hands. 

Rhodey is the only one he allows to treat him on the plane ride home. 

Everything else about Afghanistan is better unsaid.

Obie touches him only twice when he takes the reactor from his chest. Once, on the back of his head, as he gently guides his head to the backrest of the sofa. It’s a painfully tender gesture; the final bow. 

The second is an iron-clad grip to his chin that forces him to meet his eyes. 

That’s when he realizes Obie never cared about him at all. 

[ecofinisher]

Ecofinisher's crediting list for the "Ecofinisher 2.0 Sims 4 Game File" (Version 2)

(This is basically the same version, just switched the screenshots and added missing families. I meant to edit the other one, but I have no idea, Tumblr doesn't let me or my knowledge of this page is just too low)

https://www.tumblr.com/ecofinisher/747830238720016384/ecofinishers-crediting-list-for-the-ecofinisher?source=share

About two months ago I think, I was thinking about wanting to do another save file again on Sims 4, but I didn’t know when exactly. During a procrastination moment I got into with fanfic writing, I took a small break and did other things, got from a work friend a couple of notebooks since she knows I love to write and I wrote down something I dreamt once wondering if it could be turned into a plot…..then as it was actually something for Sims, I thought about writing it down as a family summary. Around that week, I gathered more ideas and noticed down, what I had in mind to do. From an instruction video, I read the many variations people used in their save files and I decided to use the content only from the gallery. Content made by other Simmers. There are a few families out there, that I still created or downloaded from my starter-times in the game, because it wasn’t enough or I didn’t have any family in mind to fit the plot.

Notes:

- This save file contains objects and clothings from the following pack: Get To Work, Cats and Dogs, Werewolves, My first pet (Free/UTB free) and Holiday Celebration (Free/UTB free).

-The following worlds were used in the save file: Willow Creek, Oasis Springs, Newcrest, Magnolia Promenade, Brindelton Bay (1 new lot, the rest remains the same), Moonwood Hill. (1 new family is located there)

-The game should be free from any CC. There’s a possibility, that it could have something I have missed.

- I recently installed MasterController and some things I have fixed with it, rather than manually. *coughs* career.promote-cheats….you know, that way.

Moving on, here is the link, and it's packed inside a ZIP-file with a PDF file of all the buildings I screenshotted straight from the gallery with the original creator's name. The screenshots were too many for this single post only and it would be annoying to make more posts solely for that. The PDF file consists of 30 pages, but most of the sheets are just screenshots and the family that lives in it.

On the rest of this post, I have the crediting list for the households I downloaded from the Gallery. Go under the cut to check the screenshots out.

Link via Sims File Share:

Click down here:

Households (Inspired by Sims-media)

The Alto family. The red-marked is the original one from the gallery from user gemz123. The one you'll find in my game has base-game content only. I only have the mentioned packs above and tried to stay closer to the original.

The Alvi-McIrish household. (McIrish are based on the mother-daughter duo from Ts3's Single Moms household and the Alvi are the ones with the single divorcee Dad from Sunset Valley) I had the Alvi's saved a long time ago in my gallery and I couldn't track back the right creator. I assume it was hestiah23. I only remember redesigning their clothes back then. McIrish as seen in the red square was made by gemz123.

From gemz123 I have gotten her parents. As far as I know, the user hasn't made its own version of Blair as far as I know. So my current favorite version of Blair is from this user mentioned in the image. (Oh I also took screenshots to facilitate for everyone, when looking for those versions on the gallery.

Taken from my other save file I shared back in 2023. Here you see hestiah23, the original creator and the clothing were put into owned games to prevent them from being "naked" (Oh and Judy's a scientist, lol I forgot about that)

The Goode and Bad household from Twinbrook. Ah from the last sales I bought Ambitions and played with them. (It was the only family I was familiar with 😂Wish I had got the game earlier)

Where are my former PSP gamers at? Do you all remember Annie Howell, the bar girl? I remembered her existence and had to add her in the game as well, knowing that she was a werewolf in the game and I had the pack as well! TengGong had made a great Sims 4-version of them. If you own said packs, you're definitely going to enjoy having them in your game. I had to go with what I had and follow somehow the PSP design.

I had a different plot for them, but changed at a later point. I was meant to focus on either Kaylynn or Parker, but ended up getting the idea to make Iliana "the main character" Iliana being the workaholic we know suddenly finding herself lost and needing to find her way back to reality. The Langeraks and Zelda are shared separatly, but were made by the same user. Also gemz123. The dog is from the user rnr1975 and is the house dog of Iliana and served as her therapy dog during her low days. I picked a Leonberger, which only exist in the gallery by other users as the game didn't own one in the breeds list.

The Jones-Brown family. Also from Twinbrook. They're not part of the plan, they are homeless. I thought about adding Jenni, because of the summary of the Goode and Bad household.

Yeah, I gave Mortimer parents in the game. They're also from the gallery, just one of the two happens to be dead now. - They also are dressed differently in the game. Very hideous, sadly :/ If you got the packs above, you'll get this look as DolphinSimmer13 made 😍

The Sekemotos - OK, in the game they live separately. Yumi lives in a smaller house in Newcrest and Leighton is located in Oasis Springs with his toddler Sam. Everyone's favorite "legacy daddy" lives just like in the OG Sims 3 as a single Dad, just he might be interested in someone in this new town. If something is going to happen between them in the future.....it's up to you.

The Ursine household - Like girl, screw Jared Frio and everything, that happened in Sunset Valley. Take your daughter to a new place and raise her on you own. You have seen in life more men and women were doing the same with their kids and it's possible. Also from gemz123 - Simmers, seriously all his Sims 3-inspired Sims look so close to the original. This user so far has impressed me with how detailed the results were.

The Wainwrights - Owning the Get to Work park, they deserved to make an appearance somewhere in the game as well. "Eco, what idea did you even have for them? People barely know them?"

I stuck with the same plot as in Sims 3, just it progressed here 😂 I had read recently, that Oasis Springs is basically Strangetown, so....military, science freaks, weird shit.....why not?

Ok Ignore the name there, I had to remove their original kids from the save file and that was just my "emergency save name" - Just in case I save households during CAS, because you know.....freezes, crashes and mostly at the wrong moment. Luckily nothing has ever happened to me in the past weeks, but you never know. (As an avid fanfic writer I learned to press CTRL-S every 10 seconds to avoid trouble 😭)

They live separately in the game. Thornton had an affair with Jamie, while being married to Morgana. Both women figured it out and broke his heart and became friends. What happened next? Guess, who fulfilled Morgana's deepest desires? 😏

Households (Inspired by other media)

The Ritchi household. (In other names "The Megamind household)

They were both variations of them alone or together already. I preferred these two versions from two different users and set them together in the game. Roxanne doesn't need a lot of packs and Megamind is base game, so you wouldn't have a problem, when downloading them from the gallery.

Time & Space household (Inspired by youngest children of Clavell Jr, Langerak Jr and Caliente household)

On the right side, you'll see after whom the adult Sims are inspired by. If any of you have played or seen my previous Save File reviewed by Savythatsimmer around July 2023. This is where the Sims are from, just they're adults here. The household name already reveals that they're "time travelers" which are for some reason in this save file.

Kurtzberg household (Inspired by previous save file & Miraculous LB)

I had created them along with their "fanon kids" of mine in Sims 4 back in 2019 and reused them in this save file. Just like most of the families they didn't have a lore back then, so I made one based on their oldest daughter, who just like her father was shy and reserved, but things would eventually change in her new home in Willow Creek.

Couffaine (Inspired by Miraculous Ladybug and a post of Simmer Nikethesimmer)

Luka already existed in my game married to Marinette and their common son, Rouven. I had in mind to create a different family, but remembered I had Adrien somewhere in the gallery with his family and switched everything up and gave them kids with CAS-DNA thing two kids, then killed the kids' parents off for the drama of the summary 😂I can't recall the exact info of the summary, basically Luka saw Marinette on her dead-bed and promised to raise her children, despite not having any relation to them. Sounds weird? I dunno, it didn't back then. (Oh yeah they drowned in the game, because there is no other way to "make them have an accident"......Or I can say they died on a cruise like Toby's parents in Tales of Arcadia....Good idea....

Rodriguez household (Inspired by Snow Queen Mirrorlands and the two boys' "in-law rivalty" 😶)

Because canon didn't care about showing their relationship in the new movie nobody asked (OK we did, but SOMETHING WAY DIFFERENT) we can improvise with Sims 😂 Here Gerda is engaged with her boyfriend Rollan and lives with him together in a new house, but invited her younger brother Kai to live with them until he's old enough for an independent life. Kai has a hard time accepting Rollan in Gerda's life after a past incident and despite things having changed for the best, he still can't help it. Perhaps it's a brother-sister thing. It's up to you to see, if their relationship improves or not.

Lopes household (Inspired by the family of the same name from Mar Salgado, a Portuguese soap opera)

About the Live-Action pictures, they're just portraits from the channel's page of character introduction, this is why the clothing is so random. I had used another screenshot for each character and the family was created around 2017. The summary in the game is just like in the show, just downplayed.

I just ran out of pictures, the next family would also belong to the same show, but it would consist of 7 pictures, but I don't want to start or remove anything from here :/

This is all I got, if you want some bonus here are names of non-mentioned families :D.....Without pictures of course :/

Herzog = Inspired by random names in Dutch,.

Sarutobi = Names from Anime characters.

Kaufmann = Random gathered

Blanco = Enrique Iglesias and Nazaré novela parody.

Furtado = Based on Sims 3 character of mine. (Look he exists since 2009, Furtado I just took from Nelly Furtado, cause I liked her songs back then)

Disaster = Inspired by one Simpsons episode.

Lucia Noceda = Inspired by Luz Noceda from The Owl House and Lucia from GTA 6

Stanford - Inspired by the Madagascar movie.

Werewolves = Random wolf-themed names.

[524fangirl9479]

I just saw a thread as to how people have outsmarted their teachers and never got caught, so here is my story;

I am absolutely terrible, I mean, absolutely HORRIFIC, at environmental science. I had to take this class my Freshman year in high school and I HATED it. I do not understand it, it's so stupid in my opinion, and I don't care for that portion of science at all. So for the classes final project, we could pair up or we could do something on our own. Initially, I was paired up because I didn't want to do all of the work by myself, plus I had friends in the class, so I asked two of my friends if they wanted to work with me on it.

The project was to redesign something that is of everyday use and make it environmentally friendly; my idea was to make bamboo utensils, especially because a lot of people litter and toss the utensils they get from amusement parks away, if they were to decompose into the ground, it wouldn't affect the Earth as it is environmentally friendly. Well, my group didn't like the idea and we were going to do something else.

We were about a month away from turning in the final project and presenting it when two of the girls in my group got into a fight and we all split up on our own so we had to come up with something a month in advance to do for our project that could determine if we pass or fail this class.

I was happy because I could finally do my idea of the bamboo utensils and I did. Well, my teacher said that we had to come in with samples and I was too busy looking up research and making sure my notes were up to date to present that I completely forgot about the project I was presenting on and never made anything. I told my mom a week before I had to present it in class, she went onto Amazon to order me bamboo utensils, and by the time I had to present, my project was finished.

I presented everything, with shaky hands because public speaking is terrifying, and then I showed everyone the bamboo utensils that I passed off as my own.

What was unexpected was when my teacher said that we were going to be given a paper with two questions, "who had the most unique design?" and "whose presentation was the best?"

I wasn't expecting anything because I knew that there were presentations better than mine, so I just wrote down two random names and handed in the paper.

I asked to go to the bathroom and when I came back, my teacher was standing at the door holding a bag of gummies and a ring-pop telling me "congratulations." I was confused because all I did was go pee, but then he went on to explain that I had gotten the most votes for "who had the most unique design" in the entire class.

I took the ring-pop (it was the cherry flavor) and we still had around 10 minutes before class ended, so my teacher was calling everyone back for a little conference, telling you whether or not you passed or failed the class.

When it was my turn, I went back, sucking on my ring-pop, and my teacher told me that I passed with a 66%; the project got me 100% and that quite literally did determine whether or not I failed.

Time skip to when I graduated and I asked my mom if she remembered the environmental science project I did with the bamboo utensils. She said "yes," and I told her that I passed the utensils off as my own work and that was the only reason as to how I passed environmental science Freshman year in high school and she was flabbergasted. I am still not allowed to buy things for school as she doesn't trust me for not taking credit for the work in class.

[yanderefairyangel]

Reblogging to add some point if you don't mind. Anon, I don't know if you read this but originally, the death of the author is supposed to be a critical method of textual analysis that is focused around one of the 3 intentio of studying a media : the intentio operis, which is to say what the text says about itself. In other world, it's based on a textual reading in an intent to find what is it's true meaning. The real problem with that theory elaborated by Foucault and Barthes is that it may lead, as you point out to what is called the dictatorship of interpretation in which every interpretation is valid.

It's original goal was simply to cut it out with that obsession that literary studies had for the author's life since at the time, it was considered that the only way to know what a media truly meant was by studying the life of whoever wrote it/made it since literay critics were obssesed with trying to absolutely shoehorn X element of this author life into his work despite the lack of textual evidence backing this up, for example the Baudelaire expert that keeps giving a new identity to said woman in his poem "A une passante" completely missing the point that this poem was being as vague as possible about the identity of this woman for aesthetic and literay reason. When done seriously, however, this type of study of a text is actually a literal reading with several layers in which you don't try to deform what the text says but hold what the text says as it's true meaning, in that context someone that does use the death of the author like that can have the possiblity to present an interpretation to be invalidated, because a text will always bear a trace of its author's intentio in the final project in a way or another. Literary works can be easily misunderstood by us reader, so the idea of reading closely the text in an objective sight, without wondering what was the intent of the author can work because the text will necessarily reflects it in a way or another. Moreover, this concept was also in the same line as Proust begging to separate the artist from the men because they are 2 different personas of one individual and that artistic process being an intimate process, that is to say, taking place in private, and coming from the depth of their being cannot be known throught a study of their public character. So that didn't mean "we don't give credit to what the author says about their own work" but "the moment the author wrote down his text, the voice that we are seeking in his public character is dead, it's in the text, so we can find it based on the text alone" because ultimately, an author talking about his work would lead to him making his own commentary about it since he expect the reader to find what he will end up answering himself about his work.

A good example of this is Lolita. You actually never needed Nabokov to make a direct declaration that Humbert Humbert was unreliable because a close reading provide from falling into the trap of taking things at face value. He even had a prototype novel called The Enchanter that had a similar plot but told differently with a more objective point of view. I remember reading a detailed commentary focused on dissecting his writing using a special typing to illustrate the effect generated by the narration to help the reader observes that phenomenon on a brighter light, but I sadly forgot the title.

That's an actual concept that is precisely supposed to enfore the canon but seeing that fandom ended up leading it to the dictatorship of the reader actually doesn't surprise me... that's the problem with literary theories, they all have their good and their backwards, and for some reason people always ends up falling into the trap those theories tried to avoid as to not being considered flawed or not worth it. That and trying to apply it to a game that failed to convey it's story properly

Do you agree that anyone that uses death of the author as argument shouldn't be arguing about a text? Because according to them all interpretations are valid so why argue against other people's interpretations?

Mmh...

I guess it's part of the duality of fandom life - people want to talk about the game are very involved in it, but they also create fun headcanons to explore said game's lore/setting/characters.

So in way, participating in fandom and even writing fanfiction, or saying stupid things like "hc : Nabateans attach a great importance to golden trinkets" is, in a way, pushing your own interpretation over the game's.

But at one point, it depends on what you want to argue about.

Argue about headcanon? Uh... it's like arguing about what topping you prefer on your ice cream. It's your ice cream, your tastes, so you can prefer chocolate cookies or peanuts and it's, you know, not open to discussion as in "talking with you made me realise peanuts are was tastier than chocolate chip cookies".

I like to talk and discuss and see other people's headcanons because it's fun and when some of ours match we can nerd about pointless things like warm rocks or nabatean laying eggs, but you won't see me being an ass and tell them "uh your headcanon sucks, you should put blue cheese on your ice cream".

Now, arguing about canon?

FE16 (and Fe Fodlan in general) is a game where the devs forgot to hire a continuity game and thought letting the world "vague" would make it look "deeper and richer" than it is. 10k years of lore, after all. And we have at least 2 unreliable narrators, that are Lords so who are protagonists and usually should be believed... expect that the game shows us they're full of nonsense regarding various topics.

But, unlike headcanon, canon isn't subjective, it's the same game (well... depending on the audio, it's not) everyone played, some people were kind enough to create a website where every line (+ dub!) is available, so it's not a question of interpretation as much as going to read and check the datamine website and the hundreds of YT videos, were people recorded their PT.

Was Burnie surrounded by flames, effectively preventing her escape from her pyre, or not?

Does Cyril mention to Mercedes how he only ate every couple of days before coming to the monastery (so under House Goneril's good care and in the Almyran army) or not?

Those things can be easily checked, and there's no interpretation.

If you don't like canon, you can churn out headcanon and have fun developing them, maybe finding people who like them and expend them themselves!

But for various reasons (is it because fanfiction has a bad rep since the 2000s for being something, idk, teenage girls write? or because it's not seen as very serious (tm) as a redshit post?) some people in the Fodlan fandom don't really want to confess they don't like the canon, and prefer the headcanon/fanfiction version of the game portrayed through a certain fic that, in turn, influenced how canon is perceived by some devoted fans.

(and let's not forget the lolcalisation that, too, didn't like the base game and edited it for ~ reasons ~)

And imo, Death of the author, in those fandom circles, is a roundabout way to say "the canon is not conclusive so i interpret the situation as this, but it's totes not my headcanon nor a fanfiction bcs i'm no gross fangirl, it's still canon, but my interpretation of the canon"

Tldr : Arguing about headcanon is as pointless and fruitless as starting a shipwar, and in the 2020s apparently it's too shameful to confess liking/writing fanfictions, so instead you like and write "your own interpretations of canon or how it should be" instead, using various theories like "Death of the Author" to validate your creative process, bcs fanfics gross'n'bad'n'only for lonely teenager girls, i guess.

[aperrywilliams]

Lost and Gain... and Lost Again? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Reader and Spencer’s bond strengthens after the team receives devastating news. But what happens when that bond becomes an agreement that ends up confusing them more?

Word Count: 10k (Ouch!)

Warnings: MINORS DNI. NSFW. 18+ ONLY. Reference to a character’s death; crying, feelings of regret; mention of nightmares and ideas about drug use (doesn’t happen); mention of wounds and blood (superficial); strong language; penetrative and unprotected sex; oral sex (f and m receiving); fingering; rough sex with chocking; crying after sex; oral and penetrative sex in a public place; voyeurism (from a third person); size kink; gagging. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I wrote this one for Smurph’s Birthday Challenge. Happy birthday, my friend!!!! (a bit late, I’m sorry). If you haven’t read a @smurphyse fic yet, I recommend you do! You’ll find a great writer (Room 405 has the top 1 of my heart). On top of that, one of the best human beings I have had the honor to know. For the challenge, I used the prompt “Get on your knees and show me.” (Category 2); and Choking, Deepthroating, Public sex; Voyeurism; Size Kink (Category 3). Thanks for reading, and keep sending me requests!

Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE

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Reader’s POV.

Emily Prentiss is an extraordinary woman. Smart, determined, brave, tough, compassionate, and the best friend you could ask for. But when she faked her death and disappeared for seven months, it started a series of events that hit my life forever.

‘Devastation’ falls short of describing our emotions after getting the news. The team crumbled. Nobody could believe what had happened. Not to our Emily.

I remember being in my apartment crying for days. I barely made it to Emily’s funeral. I was a complete mess.

Hotch granted us time to process, but we didn’t think it would be enough to overcome our loss.

I knew the other team members were grieving Emily’s death too, but I felt it harder. Maybe it was because I had known Emily for eight years back then. We worked together before she joined the BAU.

Two years after she settled there, a suggestion from her to Hotch gave me the chance to join the team. Once me there, we got inseparable.

So you can guess how hard it was to assimilate that you would never see your friend again.

Morgan and Spencer weren’t okay either. Derek leaned on Garcia for support, showing his anger whenever he could. Spencer leaned on JJ in a more reserved way, although he thought JJ couldn’t fully comprehend his pain.

He told me about this feeling when he knocked on my door one night.

“Spencer?” I looked at him, puzzled. It was near midnight.

“Hey,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I came here like this all of a sudden. I - I thought that -” he trailed off. His hands were shaking, eyes glassed, dark circles under them, and he looked pale. I knew that face. I saw this in myself plenty of times in the last weeks. Nightmares.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. Come in.” I pulled him inside the apartment and led him to sit on my couch.

That night we talked until the sun rose. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about the nightmares, the headaches, and the cravings. I knew about what happened after Hankel. But never did someone tell me the details, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

We never were that close before, but I guess circumstances did the job. Grieving the loss of our friend, we realized that we were struggling in a similar way. So why not lean on each other?

That way, nights like that kept happening in the following weeks. Some days at my place, others in his.

Sometimes we just sat to talk. Other times we watched a movie to turn off our thoughts. We could even sit on the couch without talking and staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

Gradually the pain gave us a truce, and the company became nice by itself.

I never thought of Spencer as a close friend, at least not in a sense Emily was, but the time we spent together gave us a chance to get to know each other better. I was pleasantly surprised that we had more in common than I had imagined.

-

We hung out a lot, and we liked it. But there was something more there that I couldn’t explain. Yeah, we could talk, cry, and laugh, but why did it feel like something was missing?

I couldn’t pinpoint what it was until one particular night.

After a messy unsub takedown, Spencer got some cuts and bruises, but he didn’t let the paramedics check on him.

On the flight home, I saw Spencer hiss every time he brushed some spot on his left side.

Spencer-fucking-stubborn-Reid.

When we landed in Virginia, I persuaded him to have dinner and a movie at my place. Secretly I was worried that he would go home without anyone checking on his injuries.

As we put a foot in my apartment, I required him to sit on my couch while I went to get my first aid kit.

“Okay, now let me see those cuts,” I said, inspecting his face as my hand clutched a gauze dipped in alcohol.

“You are being dramatic,” he pointed.

“Oh yeah? Well, prove me wrong then,” I challenged, cleaning one of the cuts on his forehead with the gauze. Spencer hissed at the contact.

“Who’s the dramatic here,” I teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing I could be as stubborn as he.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Once I finished wiping his face, I took another piece of gauze.

“Okay, now let me see your left side.”

“What? Why?”

“I saw how you sizzled whenever you rubbed your left side, Reid. Don’t argue with me.” I instructed. I could see his cheeks turning pink.

With hesitation, Spencer unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it from his shoulders.

My eyes immediately focused on the scratches on his torso and the dark bruise on his ribs.

“Holy shit Reid. That must hurt,” I said, using the gauze to give attention to his skin.

Then is when I felt it.

A change in the air. It became thick and difficult to ignore. I met Spencer’s eyes, and there was an intensity in them I didn’t see before.

Honestly, I never noticed how beautiful Spencer’s eyes were and how desirable he looked, licking his lips as he watched me methodically sweep the dried blood off his wounds.

Feeling the nearness between us ignited in me a spark I didn’t know was there. When did Spencer’s lips start to look so kissable?

I tried to put that thought in the back of my brain, but touching his skin - even indirectly through a gauze - made it almost impossible.

Chastising myself, I did my best to concentrate on whatever could move me away from my salacious thoughts about my coworker and friend.

‘A Friend. A Friend. A Friend.’ I repeatedly told myself as I finished bandaging the cuts I had just cleaned up.

Little did it help that he was looking at me with those doe eyes.

I wanted to kiss him so bad.

I wanted to fuck him so bad.

I could feel the warmth in a specific spot on my body. My cheeks tinted in dark crimson when I realized what was happening to me.

“Are you o-?” Spencer tried to ask, but before he could finish the question, I silenced him with my lips on his.

I felt Spencer frozen in his spot as I kissed him. Surely he wasn’t expecting that. Neither do I, but I couldn’t help it.

When the senses returned to me, I pulled away.

Shit, I had fucked it up.

Stuttering, I tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry. This was so inappropriate. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I mumbled, scooting back on the couch and entirely baffled.

Spencer seemed surprised. But something in his eyes told me that he wasn’t upset, quite the opposite. The confirmation came from the very Spencer. Not saying a word, he cupped my cheeks and leaned to kiss me this time.

It didn’t take me long until I let loose and kissed him back.

Quickly our lips started to move frenziedly—all tongues and teeth. The kiss turned heated fast, and our hands began to wander. Just running my fingertips on his bare chest sent shivers down my spine.

Without a second thought, clothes flew from our bodies to land somewhere on my living room floor. I was on Spencer’s lap only minutes later, grinding over his massive erection.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands gripped my hips as he bucked up his to increase the friction between us.

Desperately I grabbed his dick to pump it a few times before aligning it to my entrance.

I looked at him, and his full-dilated pupils told me everything I needed to know. He wanted this as much as I did.

Feeling him stretching me was like heaven.

He was big, and his girth perfect enough to have me trembling around him in no time.

That night we fucked on my couch once and two more times in my bed.

I didn’t know if my lack of sexual activity at that time had to do with it, but those were the best orgasms I had had in a long time.

Panting and looking at the ceiling, we agreed not to do it again. It would be weird, and we didn’t want to feel that way at work.

-

But it happened again. And again. And again.

Some people say that when you get the ‘taste,’ there is no return. If I stick to that, Spencer Reid turned out to be my favorite drug those days.

And I had the feeling I had become the same thing to him.

We settled a new agreement: the typical friends with benefits. How cliche is that? It didn’t really matter to me at the time; we needed the release, the sex, and neither he nor I wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. Let alone when it all started as animalistic sex.

Fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, necessary animalistic sex.

Thanks to Spencer Reid, I got laid considerably more times in three months than in the past years.

Not that I would complain about it, quite the opposite.

The rules - because, of course, we settled rules - were not to tell anyone, keep it as only sex, not stay the night, and not jeopardize our friendship. If any of us suspected this arrangement could put our friendship in danger, we would call it to quit with no resentment.

It seemed pretty easy.

Having clear rules, we used every chance we got to fuck. His place, my place, sneaking to our hotel rooms during cases. Even at work, we had our favorite abandoned office in the basement.

I found out a lot of things during these months. For example, I didn’t know I could be that horny all the time. Okay, thinking better of it, scratch that.

I did know I could be that horny, but kind of I forgot how it felt until then.

What I truthfully didn’t know was that Spencer could be that horny and touch-starved all the time.

You would say the boy genius that doesn’t shake hands avoids any kind of touch. Wrong. He loves it. Spencer adores cuddling after sex. He likes me playing with his hair and drawing soft patterns on his skin with my fingertips.

Could you believe that Spencer Reid is a boob man? I do now. Sometimes, he lays his head on my chest and hums comfortably between my breasts. I’m pretty sure he would do it if he could always use my boobs as pillows.

But all those displays of affection - or lust, if you want to call it - were only reserved for the bedroom. As soon as we left bed, we returned to our traditional roles as friends and coworkers.

It was working for us. And nobody had to know.

-

After Emily ‘died.’ Hotch thought we could be fine without another agent, but Strauss had another opinion. That’s why Alice Brown joined the BAU. Strauss herself brought her directly to the team.

As you can guess, we weren’t very enthusiastic about the decision, but the poor girl hadn’t any fault. Young and inexperienced, Alice came to a team with a fractured heart.

The first one who showed friendly with Alice was JJ, who took her under her wing.

Brown did her best to fit into the team. Not much time passed until Morgan and Penelope warmed up with her. Rossi acted like her loving father and Hotch like an understanding boss.

Spencer, the gentleman he is, was way far nice to her. He usually talked to her about books and facts about our cases and the BAU history.

That’s how Alice seemed welcomed after a couple of weeks.

But with me, things didn’t come easy. I knew the poor girl wasn’t trying to replace Emily. I truly understood that, but for me, something about her didn’t fit. I never was deliberately harsh or not polite to her, but we didn’t get that groove she had with the rest of the team.

I thought it was a matter of time.

But maybe I was wrong.

With Hotch away for months, JJ moving to another division, and Rossi barely present, the job weight laid on the remained team members: Morgan, Garcia, Reid, Brown, and I.

Only four agents in the field made things a little bit rough. Rough enough for me to be irritable very often. The bad thing was that my sour mood tended to land on Alice most of the time.

“Why do you go so hard on her?” Morgan chastised me once Alice ran from the conference room crying after I said something a bit sharp.

“I don’t go hard on her. It’s just she should be in tune by now,” I explained.

“Pretty girl, you already forgot when you joined the team?”

“No, Morgan. Don’t play the sentimental card with me. It’s not going to work,” I warned him. Morgan only shook his head.

“I’m just saying you should be more understanding. That’s all.”

Yeah. Maybe Derek was right.

That’s why I gathered the courage to talk to her and apologize. But when I reached Hotch’s office, where I knew she was, I saw Spencer hugging Alice.

The girl was fully crying with her head buried in Spencer’s chest.

I halted in my tracks. Spencer noticed my presence and gave me a disapproving look.

What? Now everyone blames me?

Huffing, I left the room without saying a word.

I didn’t know what was more upsetting: that people accused me of being a bitch with Alice or that she played the victim role. Because that’s what she was doing. She was in Spencer’s arms, looking for comfort, and the bastard provided it with no question.

How does SHE dare? How does HE dare?

That last thought made my heart stop for a second.

Why was I so apprehensive? Was it because of her nearest to Spencer? No. It couldn’t be.

Spencer was only my friend and my fuck-buddy.

And maybe that was the problem. I didn’t want Alice to steal my friend AND my benefits.

“It’s not - fuck!- it’s not I dislike her,” I managed to say to the man with his head between my legs.

“Yu-shul-be-nice-tho,” Spencer mumbled from his spot as he lapped my clit with his glorious tongue and used his slender fingers to pump them in and out of my pussy.

“I am - Oh my God! - I’m nice to her, really - Spencer! Please! Right there!” I whined.

“No. Yu-not,” Spencer rebutted, muffling his words in my core. Feeling my heavy breathing, he sped his fingers’ movement and sucked on my clit hard. Fuck, I was so close.

“Okay! I’m not, but- would you - fuck! - can we stop talking about our coworker? I’m trying to have an orgasm here!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

-

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you know, Emily lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her...”

Hotch’s words reverberated in my head as we were in the conference room discussing what to do about Declan’s kidnapping.

‘Stabilize her’? I was still trying to make sense of those words when I saw a ghost at the entrance.

Emily-fucking-Prentiss was alive.

It wasn’t my imagination. I pinched myself to be sure. I locked eyes with Spencer and Morgan, looking for confirmation.

Of the three of us, I was the nearest to faint.

The lack of oxygen made me feel dizzy.

Why didn’t JJ seem surprised? Why Rossi hadn’t the same shocked expression we had?

A lot of those questions were kept on standby as we focused on getting back Declan.

Emily was cautious and didn’t approach anyone just yet.

I worked on autopilot most of the time. I barely spoke a thing in the twenty-four hours the case was open.

After finishing Doyle’s ordeal that night, we returned to the BAU. Emily tried to talk to me, but I ditched her attempt by sneaking into the kitchenette.

I was pouring coffee on my mug for the umpteenth time that day and so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Spencer standing on the threshold.

He cleared his throat but kept silent as he decided what to say.

I spared him the trouble.

“You don’t need to say anything, you know. There are no words to make sense of this.”

Spencer sighed.

“Eventually, we should,” he pointed.

I met his eyes so that he could see the bitterness in my gaze.

“Should we? I was prepared to miss her forever,” I confessed, sensing tears pricking my eyes.

“I guess I was prepared to do that too.”

Spencer didn’t look better than me. His eyes were as glassy as mine. His lips were tightly pressed like he was holding back.

Truth be told, both were holding back emotions.

That’s why when I asked him to help me to unravel, he was quickly in the same boat as me.

That night we fucked harder than we had been doing in the past five months.

We were angry; we felt betrayed, and this was the way we thought could help us to navigate those emotions.

I needed to lose control. I needed to stop thinking, so I gave him the reign of my body and, maybe, something else.

Spencer understood what I was looking for and didn’t waste time. He gave me what I craved.

Dark hickies and bite marks on my skin would prove that the next morning.

“Please, harder!” I begged, clasping his wrist as he put more pressure on my throat. Spencer’s kept his rough thrusts, grunting each time his hips snapped to mine.

“You want me to let you dumb, uh? So fucking needy,” he panted, his pace not faltering.

“Yes! Make me dumb! Use me!” I cried out, feeling the air leaving my lungs. The dizziness was welcoming as I allowed the tears to run free—a mix between the pleasure and the past hours’ pent-up emotions.

I didn’t need any other stimulation to trip over the edge for the third time that night. After a wild scream, I let myself go, clenching my walls and sending Spencer to his own end.

Collapsing on top of me, Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck as we tried to catch our breath.

But my body started to shake, and sobs left my lips. That alerted Spencer, who immediately pulled out and leaned back to inspect my face.

His concerned hazel eyes met mine. I could see the panic in him.

“Did I hurt you? Was it too rough? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he trailed off. I shook my head, resting my palm on his cheek.

“No. No, Spencer. You did nothing wrong. It was amazing, actually. It’s me. It’s just- I don’t know what-” I couldn’t end the sentence because of the lump in my throat.

“Hey,” he mumbled, engulfing me in a tight embrace. It didn’t matter we both were naked and spent; I needed his solace, and he didn’t hesitate to supply it.

Kissing the top of my head and tracing delicate patterns on my back, he took his time to whisper sweet nothings until I calmed down.

It’s weird, but this was the first time I showed myself so vulnerable to him, and it scared the shit out of me.

We leaned on each other when Emily died, but this was different.

Our relationship was different now; even if I didn’t want to admit it, Spencer became an essential part of my life. As a friend. As a confidant. As the man who has seen beyond my defenses and knows me in the most intimate way.

When I regained some composure, Spencer put his boxers on and helped me to reach the bathroom. Then he went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water and a snack. Once I was dressed in my pajamas and under the covers, he looked at me to ensure I was okay.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, sipping the water.

“You are welcome. Uh- well, I think I should go now? You need to sleep,” he said, hunching to grab his clothes scattered on the floor.

I couldn’t conceal my disappointment, although it was a reasonable thing to do. Our agreement worked like that: Don’t stay the night.

But I wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Maybe I didn’t want him to go ever again.

That last admission wasn’t clear to me at that moment, though.

“Spencer? Would you stay tonight, please?” I asked, my voice small as if I was begging for something forbidden. In some way, it was.

He halted his doing to look at me. I cleared my throat.

“I know it’s not what we agreed on, but I don’t feel I could stay alone now. I’m sorry if-” I stuttered.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain to me. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay,” Spencer offered.

“Thank you.”

Spencer joined me on the bed, wrapping us with the sheets and comforter and switching the lights off.

I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder and arm over his naked torso.

Waking up the following day, the first thing I noticed was the grip of a strong arm around my waist and a soft fan of breath on my shoulder. A warm sensation filled my senses.

Not wanting to wake him up, I slowly turned in bed to find Spencer asleep. He stirred a little but did not wake up. Soft snores escaped his lips. He looked so beautiful sleeping. By far the most attractive man I have ever met.

My stomach clenched as I analyzed the potential consequences of my thoughts.

What was this feeling? Of course, there was infinite gratitude for the best friend I could have found. But a friend who also became your sexual partner? Someone with whom you have been able to experiment, and is willing to please you, just as you would do anything for him to please him?

This was moving to another level.

I was falling in love with Spencer Reid.

Neither Spencer nor I mentioned the morning we woke up together in the days that followed. I assume it was just a one-time thing, and I thought Spencer considered it the same way.

As the cases kept coming, we had no chance to chat about that. So we let it slide.

But I couldn’t get out of my mind the idea there was something more. Was it just me imagining things?

--------------------

Spencer’s POV.

It was the perfect arrangement until it wasn’t.

I must have known that it could happen. I’m not that experienced in that field.

I only kissed a few people in my life.

I had sex just a few times before her.

And non just a few months passed until I broke the rules. At least one of them: no mixed feelings.

We were friends, and we fucked.

That was all.

In theory.

The rule was clear: if we saw this could put in danger our friendship, sex had to end.

But this was more than that for me. And it had been that way for months, yet I didn’t dare to call it to quit.

Having her by my side is the best thing that happened to me. I didn’t know I could fall so deep for someone, but she made it easy.

After the long talks and hanging out a lot, it wasn’t difficult to notice our connection.

But that was a friendship means. Or that is what I thought until we had sex.

God, it was amazing. I didn’t feel like that with anyone before.

What did she do to me?

I thought I had it under control, but I lost the last ounce of self-defense the night he asked me to stay.

How couldn’t I? She was vulnerable and needed someone. A friend. Me.

Watching her in my arms sent me into a spiral of overthinking. I wanted this for the rest of my life, but I would never have the nerve to confess that to her. That would mean I’ll lose her forever.

She didn’t feel the same way I did. Why should I bother then?

Sure, we were attracted, but keeping it physical was the agreement. No other feelings should have been involved.

I screw it up. What do I do now?

It became worse when she started to act a bit cold around me. I mean, not the same friend affection we used to have daily.

God, I was losing her as a friend too, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Two options came to my mind: play it cool or finish the friend with benefits bullshit. I needed to decide something, but I delayed it. Like if things could resolve themselves magically.

She knew something was happening yet didn’t say anything. Instead, she tried to keep it casual.

“What are you doing?” I complained when one afternoon, she dragged me to an abandoned office.

“Hey, relax. I only want a moment alone with you, okay?”

“Somebody could see us!” I scolded. Honestly, it wasn’t an issue in the past five or six months, so why would it be now?

“Don’t be paranoid, Spencer. We are in our usual abandoned office. Nobody walks here. You know that” she reassured me, kissing my jaw, but I was still tense, with my hands to the sides. Hands that, in another time, would be pulling up her skirt to squeeze her delicious ass.

She wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss my lips hungrily. I couldn’t help but gasp, kissing her back and gripping her hips. I was almost lost in the feeling and about to give in until my senses returned.

I rapidly used the grip on her hips to pull her away.

“I think we should come back.”

She frowned and parted entirely from me. I could see the anger rushing in her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat.

Well, I couldn’t tell her truly what was wrong with me, so I tried to play ignorant.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

Her voice sounded annoyed and something else that I couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not.”

A lie, of course. Excellent, Spencer Reid.

“Yes, you are. We haven’t fuck in two weeks. You tell me what our statistics are. A week at most?”

I knew that: six days and twenty-one hours. I opted for a nonspecific answer, though.

“Sort of. I guess.”

“Why then? Don’t tell me it’s because of work or anything like that. You know we managed before.”

She was trapping me. Every remark she made was pushing me to tell her the truth. I wasn’t ready for her to know, though.

Maybe I will never be. I needed to escape from there.

“We should end this,” I blurted out.

She frowned again. “End what?”

“This arrangement. It’s not working.”

I saw her demeanor change. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but my first guess? Hurt. That broke my heart.

“Why? You... You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” She asked. Her voice was small. Why could she think I didn’t want to be her friend anymore? Not in a million years. I would like to be more than that, but I knew it was impossible.

“No! No that! I’m talking about the benefits thing. I - I think we should end that,” I hastened to explain. I prayed she could agree with me without any question. Too much to ask?

She kept silent for a couple of seconds, contemplating her answer. I knew this would happen. I knew that doing this would mess up everything between us. And the people assume I’m a genius. Waste of genius I am.

“So it’s true you found someone else. You want to fuck someone else.”

‘No! I want only to fuck you!’ I wanted to scream, but instead, I repeated myself: ‘Calm down, Spencer. Calm down. Stay focused’.

“I’m trying to keep our friendship, that’s all.”

“So you can fuck someone else. I get it,” she insisted. Why was that so important? I mean, she could have any man in the world to feed that need. I’m not that special.

“It’s not - I mean, not that I - “ I tried to explain, but she cut me off, putting a hand over my shoulder.

“Spencer, it’s okay. I know. She is pretty and a smart girl. Not to mention she’s head over heels for you.”

Now I was confused. Who the hell was she talking about?

“What? You - she, who?”

“Alice. You are talking about Alice. I know.”

Alice? Our colleague Alice? Does she think I want to fuck Alice Brown?

“I’m not thinking-” I stuttered.

She sighed.

“Spencer. I’m so sorry for my outburst. We knew this would happen eventually. One of us would find someone and want to be in a relationship. You have the right to get that,” she said, shedding some tears. I was so confused that I couldn’t determine the real reason for her tears. Was it because she was happy for me? Or because she didn’t feel she deserved the same? Damn, why am I so incompetent at interpreting this kind of thing? Either way, she was giving me a friendly outing. Wasn’t that my initial purpose?

“Thanks,” I mumbled. (Y/N) gave me a tiny smile and kissed my cheek.

“She is lucky, you know? But if she hurt you, I’m going to kill her,” she sentenced before leaving the office.

I would like to say that after that conversation, I was more relieved. I would like to say that it was the best decision I have made in a long time. But I would be lying.

Yeah, we’re still friends, but things were weird between us, though. She avoided me more often, and our conversations were more superfluous than before.

It didn’t help that Alice was always around because when she saw Alice, she definitely stopped talking to me or left the room.

That’s where the jokes started too. Morgan jumped at every chance he got to suggest - in a not subtle manner - how interested Alice was in me. I didn’t think so, but JJ even ventured out once and asked me when I would do something about it.

Little did she know that Alice was not the woman my heart and desires gravitated around.

God, I missed (Y/N) in my arms. But I needed to be strong. Hopes weren’t an option in this case.

And it seems that peace of mind wasn’t an option either. When (Y/N) started flirting with other guys, I felt the blood boiling inside me.

I shouldn’t have felt jealous; I didn’t have any right, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing she could have some of those guys in her bed, the bed I used to be in for a solid six months, made me sick of my stomach.

I didn’t know that part of me—the possessive one. That part that yearned for her and was desperate.

-

Another local case closed, and Prentiss convinced us to go for drinks.

After Emily’s return, it was rough to settle for the idea of having her back, but she managed to coax out of us any resentment we could have, even with (Y/N) and me. We didn’t take pretty well Emily’s fake death. Not after grieving her for months. Of course, rationally, we understood her reasons, but it hurt. It hurt a lot.

But they say time helps, and they are right. At the end of the day, Emily was alive, and slowly we got used to that.

Garcia picked the club this time.

Only Hotch and Rossi were excused for not going.

Instantly Morgan pulled Garcia and JJ to the dance floor, leaving Emily, Alice, (Y/N), and me at the table, sipping our alcoholic drink of preference.

Sitting by my side, Alice laced her arm with mine, leaning her head over my shoulder.

“I’m so exhausted, Spence. This case was so draining!” Alice sighed. I returned a hum in response, more focused on how she clutched my arm. When I shifted my gaze to (Y/N), she quickly averted her eyes from me. In a matter of seconds, she stood and strolled to the dance floor, joining Morgan, Garcia, and JJ.

Emily narrowed her eyes as she realized something.

“Alice?” Prentiss asked. The girl looked at her with full attention. “Can I ask you something from the bar? I would go to bring it myself, but I don’t want to be abducted by Morgan.”

Convinced enough, Alice complied and headed to the bar.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and (Y/N)? Or should I say between you and Alice?” Far from Alice’s eardrops, Emily asked immediately.

“Nothing.”

“Spencer, I’m not stupid. (Y/N)’s behavior with Alice around? Your eyes on her?”

Profilers. Not that I had been subtle about it anyway. I cleared my throat, Emily’s gaze on me the entire time.

“I - we - uh. We had sex.”

“With (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” I admitted. Prentiss didn’t look surprised. Of course, she wasn’t.

“And what’s the problem?”

I spit in thirty seconds what had happened between us in the past six months.

“That kind of agreement never works. But sure, you already know that.”

“Believe me. I know that” I sighed.

“Tell her.”

“What?! No! She’s my friend on top of everything. She doesn’t feel like I do. I can’t tell her.” I assured Emily, who didn’t seem too convinced.

“How do you know? I bet she’s jealous of Alice.”

“I don’t think so,” I mumbled, pointing to the dance floor. (Y/N) was grinding against a guy who seemed too enthusiastic about it.

“That means nothing,” Prentiss scoffed.

But for me, it did. (Y/N) was enjoying the night and that guy’s company. And I was stuck in the same shit I wanted not to. I needed to move on from her. Try, at least.

Alice came back with some drinks. Emily took hers and stood to talk to someone who greeted her from another table.

I sipped my beer as Alice smiled and scooted to my side.

“Well, it seems we are alone now,” she pointed.

“Technically, no. The team is scattered between the dance floor and the -” I tried to explain, but Alice’s giggle cut me off.

“You know what I mean, Spencer. In fact, you know what I have been trying to do in the past months,” she asserted, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Flirt with you. I want you, Spencer. And I know you want me too,” Alice said, brushing some hair I had over my face. I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t say anything, seeing how she moved closer and closer. I darted my gaze from her eyes to her lips, which was her cue to close the remaining gap between us, pressing her lips to mine. It was a foreign feeling, but I told myself, ‘why not?’ so I kissed her back.

I cupped her cheeks and cocked my head to deepen the kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pressed her body against mine. I swept my tongue over her lips, and she complied and opened her mouth. Our tongues were fighting for dominance.

But it was wrong. I was kissing Alice, and I was thinking in (Y/N). How different she kissed me, how I missed her touch. The way she plays with my hair on the nape of my neck. The sounds she makes when I touch her.

I ended the kiss because of the guilt for what I was doing and the lack of oxygen. We both were panting, but Alice was the one who had a grin plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have done that,” I apologized. Alice looked at me with a frown.

“Why do you say that? That kiss was amazing.”

“Alice. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I just can’t. You are such a beautiful and intelligent woman; any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I want you to have me, Spencer. Why not? You are single; I am too. And I know we’re attracted to each other,” she reasoned.

“But I love someone else,” I blurted out. Alice sat straight in the booth, scoffing.

“It’s (Y/N), right?”

I nodded. I really didn’t care right then if the whole DC finds out.

“Yeah. It’s (Y/N).”

“Come on, Spencer. She is not the one for you. I know you have been friends for a while, but you? with her? In a romantic relationship? Not a chance.”

That judgment took me aback. Why was it so difficult to believe?

“Why do you say that?”

“You need a person who cares about you, for real. Not someone that is constantly bossing everyone around and ditching your feelings. I saw how she was treating you lately. The cold shoulder and everything. She doesn’t deserve you, Spencer.”

“(Y/N) is not like that. You’re mistaken,” I shook my head. Alice didn’t understand. It was all my fault.

“Well. If I am, then please tell me what you see right now. That’s the woman you love?” Alice mocked, pointing to a corner where (Y/N) was making out with the same guy from the dance floor.

They both were getting handsy, and my blood started to boil again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I barely heard what Alice said when I stood up and marched where (Y/N) was.

--------------------

Reader’s POV.

Kissing that bitch. Spencer was kissing that bitch. But why was I surprised? He was the one who told me that our agreement should end because he wanted to fuck Alice.

It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Not when I had another human being roaming my body with his hands and whispering praises into my ear.

Fuck you, Spencer Reid.

I took my fuck-mate prospect’s hand and made him follow me to a more private corner. I needed to forget what I saw, and if that meant getting lost with another guy, so be it.

We were heavily making out when I heard someone clearing his throat. I recognized that sound immediately.

“I need to talk to you,” Spencer sternly said, tapping my shoulder.

I parted from the kiss, and my buddy didn’t seem happy about the interruption. I wasn’t either.

“Hey dude, we’re busy here,” Randall - I’m sure that was his name - told him.

“Yeah, get lost, Reid,” I snarled. It was dark, but I still could see the redness on Spencer’s face.

I was about to resume my kissing session with Ryan when Spencer cleared his throat again, speaking louder this time.

“I will not go. We need to talk (Y/N). Now.”

Did I hear correctly? Was Spencer Reid demanding something from me?

Raymond was pissed off right now and turned to face Spencer with anger in his eyes. I should have felt bad for Spencer, but he deserved it.

“You heard the lady. Get lost!” Reggie grunted, but Spencer didn’t move from his spot, preparing himself for the worst.

When I saw Rendell fisting his hand to land a punch on Spencer’s face, I felt like I should do something.

“Hey, hey, Richie. Calm down. I had fun with you, but my friend needs me now. I’m so sorry,” I said, quickly grabbing Spencer’s wrist and dragging him to the back exit.

“Call me! And it’s Robbie. My name is Robbie.”

The poor guy spoke out before I disappeared.

Once outside, I looked at Spencer deadly.

“Spencer, what the fuck was that?!” I yelled.

“That guy only wanted to take advantage of you,” he spat back.

“How the hell do you know that?” I asked him, my hands on my hips and my best-annoyed look.

“He was touching you!” Spencer cringed as if he were talking about the world’s more disgusting thing.

“Oh! Is that a problem?” I mocked. Spencer looked frustrated with my sarcasm.

“Yeah, it is! You were going home with a stranger!”

“Good observation, genius. Maybe it is what I wanted to do.”

“To fuck that guy?” Spencer asked in disbelief.

“Yes! Since I don’t have my fuck-buddy anymore. Does it make sense to you?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. I huffed.

“You did end our agreement, not me!” I reminded him.

“So that is what you miss. Your fuck-buddy,” Spencer pointed, his voice pained as if I said something hurtful.

“Yes. I mean - yes! Of course, I miss you,” I added, but Spencer shook his head.

“No, you miss the sex. Not me,” Spencer corrected.

“What the hell are you trying to say? Just say it, Spencer!”

An awkward silence fell between us. Spencer had his hands fisted as if he was holding something back. As if I had struck a chord in him.

“It can’t be that I was the only one who felt it! All this time was just sex for you?” He asked, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

“No! That’s why we are friends too. You are not a stranger to me, Spencer. You could never be a stranger to me.” I tried to explain.

“And what if it was more than that? What if I broke the main rule of this whole thing?”

This time I was speechless. How could it be?

“You did not. You have feelings for Alice. That’s why you ended it.”

“No! And no! I don’t have feelings for Alice, and I didn’t end it because of her.”

“Oh please, you were devouring her in that booth minutes ago!” I scoffed.

“Yeah. I - I did kiss Alice, but because I wanted to forget how you were rubbing your body with another guy!” He argued.

“What? Why does that bother you so much?”

Spencer ran his hands through his hair. He was holding back something. When he locked eyes with me, I could see his struggle inside.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He yelled out, and I stepped back from the impetus in how he said it. “And not only because another guy was touching you. I’m jealous because I realize you can go on with your life without me. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret telling you we should have ended our arrangement without explaining the real reason.” Spencer said, averting his gaze from mine.

“And what is that real reason?” I asked in a whisper. I was afraid about what he would say.

Spencer returned his gaze to me.

“That I fell in love with you.”

I was taken aback. I didn’t expect Spencer would say that. I thought that I would be the one who would say it. My surprise seemed to deflate him.

“I know. I screwed up. We said this couldn’t jeopardize our friendship. And I really tried. I swear. But it got stronger every day, and I didn’t know what to do-” he rambled until I pressed my hand on his cheek. Spencer looked at me with doe eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, I broke the rules too. And I’m not only talking about the night I asked you to stay with me. Although that night, I realized I had already loved you for a while,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks burning at the admission.

Spencer looked at me in utter surprise.

“You – you what?” I let out a nervous chuckle, like a teenager confessing to her crush.

“Yeah. I love you.”

Spencer didn’t seem to get the whole idea yet.

“But you were - I mean, that guy over there-”

“I was jealous too. And what could I do? You told me that we should end it. I thought you would fuck Alice and start a relationship with her,” I shrugged.

“God, no! In a million years. You have to believe me,” Spencer hastened to say.

“I don’t think that’s such a bad idea. I saw you excitedly kissing her a while ago,” I pointed matter-of-factly.

“You would think that even if I tell you I was thinking of you when I was doing it?”

“Liar.” I jeered, looking anywhere else but him. Spencer’s hand on my chin guided my gaze to him again.

“I’m not lying. Alice will never kiss me the way you do. She won’t give me goosebumps like you do when you touch me. Much less could she make me – you know – make me that hard, like when you kiss that special spot on my jaw,” he said, now stroking my cheek. I chuckled because I knew that sweet spot so well.

“I bet she couldn’t suck you off as I do,” I dared to say to see his reaction.

Spencer groaned, and I knew he was picturing the scene. Me on my knees, my lips around his shaft.

I was sure that my sultry voice filled him with pent-up desire. He missed me. He wanted me. He needed me the same way I missed him and wanted him.

“Kiss me,” I begged. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned and complied, with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my head; we crushed our lips together. I tried to ground myself, grabbing Spencer’s coat lapels, but the kiss was so fierce that I felt my knees weak. It was sloppy and full of passion.

I could feel Spencer’s erection pressing on my thigh. Maybe this was heating us faster than it should, but I didn’t care, and Spencer didn’t seem to care either.

When we broke the kiss, we were both panting. I could see Spencer’s eyes full of lust, which turned me on more than it should have. I was going to kiss him again, but he stopped me, holding me in place with his hands on my cheeks.

“Did you say she couldn’t suck me off as you do?” He asked me, and I fastly nodded. A smirk emerged on his face.

“Then get on your knees and show me,” Spencer demanded, running his fingers up and down my cheek and jaw.

Wait, what? Was he asked me to give him a blowjob in the back of a club? A public place?

It’s not that we haven’t talked about something like this before, but it was left as a fantasy that could happen in the future. Well, it seems that this moment could happen now. The idea made my panties absolutely soaked.

Without a second thought, my hands worked on Spencer’s belt.

I quickly unzipped his pants and freed his cock from his boxers. Before I got down and started my task, Spencer stopped me, took off his jacket, and hunched to put it on the ground, where I would put my knees.

Quite a gentleman, worried that my knees would not touch the dirty floor. Sure, a gentleman who was going to get a blowjob, but a gentleman nonetheless.

Once ready, he leaned against the wall as I pumped his cock with my hand. I could see the precum on the head, which I spread with my fingers.

Jeez, no matter how often I did this, the man was packed, and it was always a challenge to give him a blowjob.

A groan of satisfaction left his lips as I took him into my mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” he muttered.

His hands immediately landed on my head, stroking my hair while I sucked on it, trying to take it whole. I hollowed my cheeks to take more and more of him as I bowed my head to increase his pleasure. And it worked. Spencer’s moans were all I needed to go on.

“Baby, you take it so well. You don´t know how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth,” he praised, coaxing a loud moan from me.

My eyes were fixed on him. Seeing him so lost in pleasure turned me on, throwing his head back, grabbing my hair to hold me in place, and pushing his hips up to fuck my mouth.

As he quickened his pace, I couldn’t help but gag when his cock hit the back of my throat.

“Come on, (Y/N). I know you can take it. This big cock is made for you,” he encouraged me. That way, it helped me relax my throat to take more of him.

I could feel him twitching, a sign that he was close. I loved knowing that I was the one who could push him to the limit, that I was the one who could give him so much pleasure. I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

Spencer yanked on my hair to stop me as he was about to explode. Panting, he gazed at me adoringly as he helped me to my feet.

“I think we’ll leave this kind of ending for another time. Come here,” Spencer panted. I grinned, sweeping my lips with my tongue.

Spencer collided his lips with mine in another heatest kiss. He could taste himself in my mouth.

In the dark alley now was Spencer, who caged me against the wall. The cool bricks didn’t cool down the fire running through my body.

“Please, Spencer. I need you, baby,” I moaned on Spencer’s lips. He didn’t hesitate to act for his desires. His fingers toyed with the hem of my skirt, pulling it up enough to slip his hands under the fabric, caressing my thighs up and down but still not touching where I wanted him the most.

Feeling me squirming, he knew I was growing desperate for more.

“Are you greedy right now, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he taunted. That little did help me to stay still. His low voice and the teasing only made my arousal grow.

“You. I want you. Now. Please,” I mumbled. My eyes shut, feeling Spencer’s hands traveling upper my tights.

He took pity on me and reached my covered center with one hand. He started to circle my clit over my damped panties. A growl escaped my mouth.

“So wet, and I barely touched you,” he teased.

“Umm. It’s all for you. Keep touching me, please.”

I purred, feeling the pleasure of his thumb circling my bundle of nerves.

His lips sucked the skin on my neck, making me moan. My hands tugged the curls I had in my reach. Spencer grunted as his hand pulled the fabric to the side, letting his thumb work on my clit without any barrier. He added his middle finger, pushing it between my folds. A silent scream told him that it was what I wanted, quickly adding a second finger.

“Fuck! Spencer!” Still dizzy, I bucked my hips to feel his fingers deeper and deeper.

“You like that, uh?”

I couldn’t manage to let words out. But Spencer already knew the answer, speeding up his pace.

The poor light in the alley let Spencer see my face. Sure I looked like a mess, moaning and taking what he was giving to me.

“Spencer, baby. I’m so close,” I whimpered.

“I know. Do you want to cum in my fingers? Here, where can anyone see us?” He was openly teasing me, but honestly, he was just as worked up as me.

“Yes! Make me come. I want to give it to you because I’m yours—nobody else. Yours.”

That encouraged him to work faster, panting praises in my ear, circling my clit, and fingering me. That was enough to push me to the edge.

A loud moan and my walls clenching around his fingers told Spencer I was almost there.

“Let it go, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I whimpered as I came.

He helped me ride my orgasm, moving his fingers slowly and kissing my lips tenderly. Carefully, Spencer retrieved his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean. The sight made me moan, pulling Spencer by his lapel to kiss him again. Now I could taste myself in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked after breaking the kiss.

“Yeah. But I need more,” I panted, still regulating my breathing. Although the poor light, I saw him smirk.

I wanted to feel him so bad. It didn’t matter that we were in a dark alley where anyone could pass and see us.

Spencer pumped his shaft a couple of times before aligning it at my entrance. He made eye contact with me to confirm if I was ready.

“Fuck me, please,” I whined.

It was the answer he needed.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned when he slid the head of his cock between my folds, pushing inch by inch until he bottomed out.

“Oh my God. Yes!” I moaned. The feeling of him filling me up has always been so intense, no matter how many times he had done this.

“Baby, you’re so tight. I don’t know how I can fit in you,” he panted, stilling there and basking in the feeling of my warmth and wetness.

“You’re so big. I love how you stretch me. I love to feel everything of you,” I whimpered. Spencer let out a grunt trying to keep still and not move until I was ready.

“You - you can move now,” I whined, urging him to oblige.

Spencer pulled out almost entirely, only to slam into me right after.

“Shit!” I cried as Spencer set a pace. Ragged breaths erupted from both of us.

It was like being at home. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

“You like that? Uh?” Spencer grumbled, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

“Yes! You feel so - so good. I love the way - ah! - the way you fuck me,” I said.

“That’s why you were flirting with that asshole? You - you wanted me jealous?”

“Uh - yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted you so bad. I missed you so bad!”

Some tears pricked my eyes. A mix between the pleasure Spencer was giving to me and the realization that I missed him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

People might say it’s strange that such a collected, shy, and socially awkward man could have such an animalistic side. For me, it is part of a whole. Spencer is all that and much more. People are multifaceted, and our social side often seems to be the opposite of our intimate side. Honestly, that’s not a problem for me. I love Spencer in all his different ways: the nerd, the fact-spouting young genius, the Dr. Who fan, the good friend, the one who’s by your side when you need him, the one willing to sacrifice for you, the man who is self-conscious when he receives compliments, the lover, the one who can mark your body with lovebites and who can make you see stars with his tongue or his fingers.

They are all the Spencer I love, my Spencer.

Spencer grabbed one of my legs and looped it around his waist. I held onto his biceps for stability as he speeded up his thrusts. Our moans were loud enough that it was a miracle no one had seen us yet.

Though perhaps I spoke too soon.

I opened my eyes, looked over Spencer’s shoulder, and saw someone looking at us. That made the adrenaline rush in a different direction than it was at that moment.

“Spencer. She’s - she’s watching us - she’s there. Fuck!” I managed to say between whimpers. Spencer didn’t seem bothered by my announcement, as his thrusts remained in the same delicious way.

“Who? Who’s watching us?” He asked, panting in my ear.

“Alice. Fuck! Should- should we stop?” I barely could form coherent words at this point, but I needed to warn him. We were in a public place, after all. The realization made my arousal grow somehow, so I only could close my eyes and feel Spencer’s cock stretching me most delightfully.

Almost forgetting that I told him what was happening around us, I swear I feel Spencer smirk on the crook of my neck.

“No. No. Let her watch if she wants. So she knows I’m yours. That you’re the only one - the only one I want to fuck in my entire life. Every time, everywhere. Let her see us. I - don’t - fucking - care,” Spencer emphasized each part with a deep thrust. I was a moaning mess, eyes shut and clinging to Spencer’s biceps for some balance as I lost myself in the pleasure.

The coil in my lower belly built it faster and faster.

“I love you so fucking much,” I panted, bucking up my hips to feel him deeper if that was possible at this point.

We both knew it was animalistic, lacking all rationalism. But we need it. We craved it in the most primal essence, where the words were not enough.

“I love you too. Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I’ll make you come. That’s it, my love—my good girl.”

“Repeat it, please,” I begged, arching my back.

“I love you, my good girl—only you,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yes! I’m yours. Spencer! God! So so good,” I babbled. I didn’t know it was something coherent, but who cares anyway?

“Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock? Let her see how I fill you up?” He asked, a twisted smirk on him. Oh, fuck, how I love this man.

I didn’t know if Alice was still watching us, but the thought of her realizing that Spencer only wanted me and I only wanted him made me delirious.

“Yes! Please! Let me cum. I’m so close, baby.”

The feelings must be shown in some way, expressed, and offered in the form of actions. This time it was the possessiveness: the fact that reminded us that the fire was there because we belonged to each other.

At the top of our climax, mouths only served to moan our names, curses, and praises.

“Spencer! Fuck!” I yelled, shutting my eyes in pleasure.

My muscles tightened around Spencer when I came, pushing him to the edge. Spencer groaned as he emptied himself in me.

“Arg! So good, so good for me,” he muffled as his head nestled in the crook of my neck.

The moment and the place made the feeling more powerful. So powerful that we got lost in the dizziness of that post-coital bliss for a minute or two.

“God, I love you,” Spencer mumbled, kissing my neck. I giggled, feeling his stubble on my skin.

“I love you too. You’re more than my fuck-buddy, Spencer. And more than my friend too. You’re the man I love. I mean it,” I reassured him, tracing my fingers between his locks. He hummed contentedly. Parting from my neck, Spencer focused his eyes on mine.

“I know I should have said something before, but I was scared,” he confessed.

“Me too. But here we are. In a dark alley, in the back of a club, after fucking the shit out of us. I guess we are okay now.” We both giggled.

“Yeah, we’re more than okay,” he said, pecking my lips and hugging me tightly.

Well, maybe Emily Prentiss faking her death did bring something good to my life, after all.

------------------

Spencer Reid’s Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19  @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @thebloomingeagle

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[neil-gaiman]

Dear Mr. Neil Gaiman,

I am sorry that this is not a question, but, rather, just a message of admiration.

Back in 2012 when I was just a young college freshman (16 years old), among the works that we had to read for our Literature and Humanities class was one Murder Mysteries.

My memories from when I was 16-17 1/2 years old is a bit fuzzy, but I do know that Murder Mysteries was the only story from that class that really grabbed my attention and the only one from that class that I would remember for years to come (except, perhaps, Babycakes*).

Due to my rather muddled teenage brain, I glossed over absorbing the author credit right beneath the title, but I never forgot the story itself, it just hooked me.

Fast forward to when Good Omens was adapted into a show and, of course, the concept got me fast, as well.

I've heard your name for years by then, but that was the first time I actively sought out your works (sometimes, we can live in a bubble and not come out for a long time). I devoured Good Omens, Coraline, The Graveyard Book, and Stardust in a blink of an eye. Needless to say, you became one of my favourite authors. 🌸

But, what floors me is that, I didn't know I liked your work before I was even conscious of the fact that they were yours.

A while after reading your books, I cleaned up my old school stuff and I found stuff about Murder Mysteries among them.

Oh, I tell you, the way my jaw dropped when I saw your name there 😂 It was, indeed, a lovely surprise, though 😊

I look forward to reading more of your works and I am just happy that you are here in Tumblr. This is the first fan "letter" I've written (took quite a long time for me to develop the guts to write and send it, too 😅). Even if you may not be able to see this, I'll still look forward to seeing your posts and interactions with us.

Best regards,

Vivi 🌸

*p.s. I just did a quick Google search because I got curious who wrote the other story that stood out to me and now I am embarrassed. Babycakes is also yours, good sir, and I am laughing at my years of ignorance.

That's so sweet. If it's any consolation, an awful lot of messages here on Tumblr are "I had no idea I liked you already because I didn't look at or remember author names", so you are definitely not alone.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

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

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

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

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

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strawberry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

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

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

Victor: I do.

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

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

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

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Long time no see.”

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Let her go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

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

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

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

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

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

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

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

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

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

“What book?”

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

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

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

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

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what do you do in the band?”

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

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

“How come?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’sorry about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sarah Jones is now following you!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just as you thought.

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

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By who?” he spats.

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

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

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

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

“I-I’m…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

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

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

-

Dear Harry,

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

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

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

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

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

“What’s this for?”

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

“Y/N, I can’t—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breakfast is now following you!

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

Could this be Harry’s profile?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

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

Y/N: Sure!

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

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

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

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

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

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

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

“But you already gave me one!”

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

“Why?”

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

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

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

“You too, Harry. See you!”

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

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

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

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

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

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

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

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

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

“That’s not the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the one making it hard!”

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

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

“The opposite?!”

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

“You started with the gifting!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me help you.”

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

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

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“He really did that to himself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take me home then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do. I’m just—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

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

“Oh fuck!”

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

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

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

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

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

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

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

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

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

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

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

[diamondot]

glad Troi and Worf are wearing their gender appropriate blue and pink leisure outfits for their date

Worf is nervous about becoming part of Troi and Riker's polycule

nothing like your captain running up to you in the hallway wearing nothing but a bathrobe and ranting about time travel

OH NO why am i getting emotional over the credits voiceover. i blame pregnancy

i just love TNG so much you guys

i hope that Troi's dress is intentionally inspired by ancient Greek clothing, because the cut looks gorgeous on her

them time skips are sudden

the only thing they got wrong about aging Geordi 25 years is that LeVar Burton is even prettier 30 years later

man i forgot all this stuff from Picard originated in this episode. the writing on Picard wasn't always my favorite but they did good on this stuff

Tasha Yar! and Picard's first view of the Enterprise!

gonna answer this urgent call from an admiral in my bathrobe

Geordi doing an impressive Humor The Old Man maneuver here

NOBODY knew what they were gonna do with Data. this Cambridge professor stuff is hilarious

welcome back to the Enterprise, Mr O'Brien

unclear if Encounter At Farpoint era Picard remembers his future in detail or not. maybe he does?

Riker's first appearance in this episode! i wonder if they didn't want to have him in the past because they didn't want to make Jonathan Frakes shave

apparently RDM and Braga were writing Generations at the same time as they wrote this episode and kept getting them mixed up. can't say i blame them

oh no Riker isn't feeling the compersion for Troi

Picard delivering the most erotic Yes Sir in the entire series

the future sure ain't written in stone, did you see what they did with Data?

had to get a Picard-Crusher smooch in there

Future!Geordi is really going through it with this old man

oh the stuff about the Klingons somehow taking over the Romulan Empire is different

Future!Crusher looks amazing

Picard: we're getting the band back together

reluctant to find he's stuck in Q's kangaroo court again

Picard would like to speak to the manager

unfortunately the manager is Q and he'll only answer yes/no questions

TITLE OF THE SHOW. TITLE OF THE SHOW

leave it to Data to introduce the idea of pet play into Picard and Q's relationship

Old Man Worf always looks amazing, but they still failed to imagine just how beautiful he could be

are you kidding me Picard, Worf is the MOST concerned with rules and regulations

Worf: if you're getting the band back together don't you dare leave me out

oh! that was clever. they used 7 year old footage of Riker and just didn't show him when he was answering questions

G'KAR IT'S G'KAR i mean Romulan Commander Tomalak BUT IT'S G'KAR

anomaly? not in the future

oh NO Data's gonna make the anomaly

reverse tachyons. good lord.

Q looks like Miracle Max

Data: captain, i had no idea you were so versed in temporal theory. marry me

of course! it's anti-time. how could we have missed that

we don't have any time to talk about it tho

love how they made Future!Enterprise by giving the Enterprise-D a cloaking device and a third warp nacelle

at least Picard can easily tell what time he's in by the uniforms

the young earth and the primordial goo really made a big impression on young me

WHOOPS we made the anomaly, thank goodness for smug Future!Data

time for a little mutiny in the past, as a treat

Picard's gonna speachify his way out tho. that was damn inspiring

lookit those actors shaking in their shaky chairs

Present!Geordi out there doing his job despite growing brand new eyeballs yesterday

one ship down

two ships down

three ships

aaaaand we're back in court

bahaha Q looks sheepish for the first and probably only time

and then this happened

this poker scene was apparently the last scene they filmed

everybody panicked and froze when Picard walked into the room

not me reduced to tears by poker. they recreated this shot for Picard and it got me there too

friends! it's

Star Trek night

i'm having big feelings about this episode for a lot of different reasons! i was still pretty young when it aired, but i was old enough to understand what a series finale was and i vividly remember watching it on TV with my dad. i'm due to have a baby literally any day now, and i've been either trying to conceive or pregnant for the entire time i've been watching weekly TNG episodes. i started doing this to introduce some stability to my life during the so-called lockdown phase of the pandemic. it's been a ride.

All Good Things...: in which Q is the ghost of Christmases past, present, and future