#when you can easily admire every single shot of the show

[occasionallyinlovewithmovies]

Ripley (2024) dir. by Steven Zaillian

Sempre la luce...

[eveningepiphany]

tease | H.S oneshot

summary: seeing harry tonguing his guitar last night has you finally admitting the state he puts you in. and that’s never good when you’re a tour photographer. especially now you have photographic evidence of the moment.

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, praise, swearing

a/n: can’t stop thinking about that fucking video? like it’s on loop in my head I can’t. he was so slutty last night it’s illegal. also this isn’t 100% proofread so enjoy I hope it’s okay!

———

Some days at work are harder than others for you.

Today, you knew was going to be rough the second Harry walked out in single-handedly the most revealing outfit he could have. Borderlining absolutely slutty.

And as his tour photographer, that is quite a bold statement to make when you’ve seen every single outfit— and when his top half is often found shirtless up on stage.

But tonight, out backstage when you were prepping your SD cards and ordering your camera lenses, he walked out of his dressing room adorning his stage outfit to show you, and your stomach dropped the sight of him.

It was a new style, something he hadn’t worn before. A cropped, tasseled blue vest, paired with low rise pants that looked like they were clinging onto his hips for dear life.

“Alrighty, what d’ya think?” He asked, doing a little spin to shake the tassels.

Your mouth opened and words struggled to form as your head fogged over from just seeing his body. And the way his ferns were fully out— along with almost all of his other ink on display. Arms, chest and all.

You had sworn this, many times, was just your eye for art. For people like him who made photography electric. But as time and the tour progressed on from its earlier start in 2021, it was getting harder to convince yourself. Because even if you didn’t acknowledge it, there was no way to justify the heat that stirred in your stomach as just admiration.

“Oh— wow— I like the tassels,” you paused, tongue swiping over your lips, “they’ll be really fun in the photos, I’ll try to get some motion blur type shots with them.”

Your hand reached out before your brain even computed what it was doing, grabbing one of the rhinestoned threads at the base of his vest and running down it. Knuckles brushing the side of his chest.

“Excited to see them as always, m’lovely.” He smiles, the pet name making you flush.

“10 minutes till you’re on, H!” Someone called out.

You laughed at the panicked expression on his face as he realised he was probably dawdling, and in fact behind on his own schedule.

“Alright!” He confirmed back, then chuckling as he whispered to you, “I still gotta brush m’teeth.”

“Well, cmon let’s go, I’ll see what behind the scene shots I can get.”

And you thought that the time spent with him pre-show would ease your racing mind a little, but now that you’re out on the floor you’re almost jittering.

He looks fucking delectable. And by the sound of the stadium around you, they notice it too.

As he steps out you have to force your camera up to your face, which is something you never have to do? But looking at him through your viewfinder is hardly enough to satiate you.

Especially a little later in the show, when your camera is aimed to the back of him— and he’s squated down to get a drink of water…

His pants slipping so far down his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Kleins are easily visible.

Some girls on barricade behind you are going feral simply at the sight. And you can hardly blame them, because the sight of them makes you a little light headed too. Tonight he’s really not leaving much to the imagination.

You feel obliged to take a photo of it, lens aiming up to him— hearing the girls from behind you as your cameras shutters open to capture the moment. They’re shouting clearly, “Y/N, you get that pic girl!”

Another one yelling from your left, “SHES ONE OF US!”

You laugh at them. The fans are always an amazing part of the show. You leave with an array of adorable bracelets, funny shirts, and always lovely compliments.

You snap a few more photos before someone calls your name again, and you turn. A brunette girl, in an incredible replica of his recent purple and black heart overalls from the recent Wembley show, is standing.

“Y/N!” She reaffirms when you’re looking at her.

“Hi lovely, your outfit is amazing.” You smile, and she has fresh tears streaming down her face— a common love on tour occurrence.

“Ohmygod, thank you so much. I made you this tshirt, i wanted to give it to you!” She pulled a white shirt from her feet, presumably from a bag.

She held it out, unfolding it to show off the print on the front.

You immediately couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at it. A big pink shaded heart, with 2 also heart-shaped photos on each side of it— of you and Harry. But the best bit was the bubble written font, “my favourite parents!” that is above it.

“I— can I please take a photo of you with it first.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, “No way, of course you fucking can.”

You take a few photos of her posing with the shirt, “I have 2, please feel free take them both!”

You can only assume one of them is intended for Harry. And even if it’s a little weird of you to take them, you do anyway because the girl was too lovely to even consider denying them.

“Thank you so much.” You chuckle as you hang them over your elbow. She still looks starstruck at the interaction that just occurred and you’re overly excited to edit the photos later on.

In the time of the short interaction, you turned to find Harry. He’s about to transition into she, and is over on the main stage.

You hustle to get yourself up from the floor and onto the stage area. Moving to chuck the shirts on the bench, where most of the bands essentials are for easy access.

Harry sees you over there and you decide to show him the design on the front before you can overthink it.

He’s beginning to sing the intro, and he chuckles the lyrics into the mic as he sees it. And fans around the whole arena scream at the shirt— which you didn’t realise was being displayed on the big screens.

You shake your head, struggling not to admire the tone of his laugh that just echoed around the stadium.

Also blushing a little at the fact you did genuinely just show him a shirt with both of your faces of it, deeming you both as a fans ‘parents’.

You go back to doing your actual job, moving to get a good angle, aiming to blend back into the background as you take more photos for the night.

Capturing the sway and jolts of his tassels as he sings. Getting a few shots that not only capture his energy but also his outfit perfectly.

You smile at yourself and at your work.

And you glance up as Harry joins in with Mitch while he absolutely shreds his guitar solo.

Sweat is beading on Harry’s chest and you’re all too aware how much money people would pay to see it from your angle. Thank god for Barcelona’s heat.

And, fuck, not only is it that. His arms look perfect as well. This outfit is really just showing as much of himself off as possible.

You change the settings on your camera hastily to alter the outcome of these next few shots.

He’d stepped away from the mic, turning to look at the band, mouthing something you couldn’t decipher.

He starts to lean down head getting closer to guitar. His tongue juts out…

Your eyes immediately pull back a little from your camera because, there no fucking way he’s about to let some kind of intrusive thought win here.

Time seems to slow. But not the movement of his tongue. It’s flicking fast, as if to mimic it playing the strings of his guitar. Or something like that anyway, because all you can think of is… well… something too inappropriate to even be entertaining in your head given he’s literally your boss.

You can hear the piercing screams around you, someone in the front shouting what the fuck loud enough you swear someone in the back of the stadium could’ve heard it.

You’re not even aware you bought your camera back up to your face and that you’d clicked the button a few times until it’s done and the moments over.

Harry’s laughing at himself, and Sarah is face palming at his lewd action. His smug smile after solidifies the fact he knows what the fuck he just did. And exactly the kind of effect it’s left on some people.

Just not aware you’re one of them…

Because you can’t deny the way you spent rest of the night with a nagging warmth between your legs. One that festered long after the moment was over.

After the show came to a close and you eventually ended up in your hotel room, freshly showered as you edited some of your favourite photos. Including the shots you’d captured of him and his guitar.

Which were fucking insane. You had just the right amount of contrast going on in them, and a certain degree of motion blur that indicated the movement his tongue was making.

The final product was amazing once you had edited it on photoshop. But you spent the remainder of the night in your hotel room ridiculously worked up. Left in bed toying with your clit lazily as you stared at the celling, acting like you didn’t have a specific person in your thoughts.

It got to the point in the next day where you stressed about what photos to show him. And whether or not that included the one you literally came to the thought of last night?

Usually you wouldn’t hesitate, especially since it looked incredible. But you were embarrassed internally. What would he think, or say? And could you even play off your sheer attraction to the image.

You placed your head in your hands with a groan, sat in the chair over by the window. You’re tired, and swear on your life your decision making is going to be impaired when he walks into your room.

Which you didn’t have much more time to stress much about it as a knock came to your door that you knew was him.

You rushed over to open it, finding him standing there, hair freshly washed and clad in much more clothing then you last saw him in. A plain white shirt and some gym shorts— that still made him look hot as fuck, without even trying?

He greets you with a good morning, voice a tad hoarse from last nights show. And he’s smiling as he hands you a cup, one you know is filled with hot chocolate. Just for you.

“I owe you like 100 hot chocolates for how many you’ve bought me just in this leg of the tour alone.” You laugh, letting him past you.

He glances at the unmade bed— you stopped making it a while after he started to come visit your room the morning after the show to pick which photos he liked best, and ones he also wanted edited. Sometimes he’d settle himself on it, legs crossed like a cute little kid.

“Think of it as a gift for all your talent. And putting up with me.” He chuckles, and plops himself down on the chair that’s opposite to the one you were sitting in.

So you follow suit, walking back over the your chair. Taking a small sip of the sweet liquid in your hands.

“Have any favourites so far?” He asks, taking a quick swig of his own drink— which you can only assume is hot tea.

Yes, you think, the one where you’re about to practically fuck your guitar strings with your tongue.

You substitute that for, “A few! The tassels were so fun to try and capture.”

You rotated the laptop screen to show him a cool shot you edited of him. It was a front on photo, his arms extended and washboard abs in their full fucking glory along with his tattoos.

He nods, a smile coming across his lips, crinkling the corners of his slightly tired eyes.

You showcase him a couple, all that he gives relentless praise on— regardless of if they had been edited or not. But you just want to show him your favourite.

You swallow as you stare at it on the screen of your macbook. Working up the courage to turn the screen to him as he waits cluelessly. Does he even know you took this?

“This one too…” you hesitate a little as you swivel the laptop around on your lap.

“Oh. I like this one a lot.” He says, nodding and then glancing up from the screen to your semi-flushed face.

“Didn’t know you took that.” He chuckles, shrugging and almost seeming… like he has more to say about this situation.

Like something is laying on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

You think he’s not going to though, after a beat of silence, you nod.

“Yea… what actually are you doing in this photo?” You nervous laugh, and wonder what kind of answer he’s going to provide.

He runs a hand through his curls, brows raised a little at your question.

“What did you think I was doing?” He quizzes, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“I- well it looked quite… everyone in the audience was going wild. Were you trying to be a tease?”

“I wasn’t! I swear. I was playing the guitar.” He confirmed, yet smirking like he knew there was a two-way perception of the event.

“With your tongue?” You sighed out a laugh.

“You still didn’t answer me. What did you think I was doing?” He backtracks, eyes watching you intensely as you’re both entering some rather dangerous, untouched territory.

You’re quiet again, and he raises his brows still expecting a response.

You flush under his gaze, hand coming to cover your eyes. “It just looked very…”

“Very…?”

“Inappropriate.” You laughed, feeling like you were emotionally torturing yourself by letting this situation happen.

“How so?” He continues to push, wanting to hear more. Secretly adoring the way you get all flustered about it. How badly he wants you to tell him exactly what the movement of his tongue reminded you of.

“It just— you know what I mean, Harry!” You say, now being the one trying to backtrack out of this entire situation. That in the end is still technically your own fault.

You distract yourself with other photos, going in and trying to find another possible contender for his new post on instagram.

“Don’t try and avoid the conversation, love.” He chuckles at your sudden shy demeanour.

“Harry.” You place your hand over your face again trying to mentally reset yourself. Put your thinking back in line.

“Cmon! I’m just curious.” He tries to brush it off, but if he has to resort to begging, he honestly wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know you are, but— it’s weird!” You whine, wanting to die at the fact you had let this happen in the first place.

“I promise I won’t judge.” He places his hand over his heart, face serious, like he was swearing it on his bloodline.

You thought about it a little longer. He clearly was not going to leave you alone if he didn’t get an answer. You could try and lie, but he already knows anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“You know, Harry. You just want to hear me say it.” You murmur, bringing up the chocolaty drink to your lips to distract yourself.

“Sure, maybe I do. I wanna confirm my suspicions.” He proposes, a small shrug of his shoulders. You place the drink back on the coaster, staring at him. Eventually caving.

“It— everyone definitely thought it looked like you were, uh, giving oral.” You rushed out, trying to now act as nonchalant as possible to avoid further questioning.

I didn’t work.

“So everyone including you?” He asked.

“Well… yea.” Your cheeks were pink, and he smiled at your flustered voice.

“Dirty thing.” He chuckled, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe you could move on and pretend as if this never happened, but he continues on.

“Had you a little worked up, did I?”

“May I touch on how unprofessional this conversation is?” You bring up, trying to save yourself. But it’s evident in your voice you hardly mean it. You are admittedly a little curious as to where he’s going with this. Equally, if not more embarrassed than anything, but still curious.

“I suppose you can, yes.” He nods.

“But may I bring up how you undressing me with your eyes yesterday was unprofessional? Because unless I’m insane, you definitely were.” He’s cocky, and overconfident with his accusation.

Not that it can be really labelled as an accusation, given he’s not wrong at all.

“I—“ you swallow, “Okay. Whatever. Point proven.”

He laughs at your surrender, shuffling forward on the chair.

“So you were— that’s the kind of stuff you were thinking about me?” He rests his elbows on his knees, watching you intently.

“You are really trying to get something out of me aren’t you? What do you want to hear me say?” You raise your brows, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Just want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, since we’re talking about being professional. I think that’s a good start.” He sounds so gentle yet firm, and your devouring this dominant kind of trait he’s showing you.

“Communication and honesty is very important when it comes to professionalism.”

Pleasure has been simmering in your stomach since he walked through the door, and his persistence is beginning to pay off, since you’re starting to let your guard down.

“So you want me to tell you how wet I got after your little stunt last night? That if I wasn’t your employee, after the show you would have found me in your dressing room bent over on the table.”

“Waiting for you to come in there, all sweaty and ready to strip that teeny fucking vest off, and put your mouth to use.”

He’s got a dusting of red over his own cheeks now, blood rushing to his cock as he realised he cracked you open now. Your dirty words spilling out of your mouth after holding back seemingly since last night.

“That what you would’ve done? Bent yourself over my dressing room table waiting for me like a pretty little post-show gift?”

“Maybe so.” You feed into it, watching as his eyes darken with desire.

He sighs out, standing up promptly, “Alright, darling. I’m gonna offer you something. You don’t have to agree, but if you do we can stop at any time. Okay?”

“What exactly are you offering?” You ask as leans his tall frame down to you, hands bracketed on your hips.

“For me to pick you up, put you on that bed and strip you until I can bury my head between your legs.” He stated, matter of factly.

Your thighs are shaking so hard you’re clenching them together— clit throbbing at the pressure.

You can only look up at him and nod, to which he doesn’t take as an answer.

“Baby, need you to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Harry. Want that please.” You whine, very quickly becoming delusional at his close proximity.

He grunts as he picks you up, his arms firm around your body and he carry’s you the few feet to the bed. His lips hot as they suddenly come in contact with your jaw.

He pushes your legs open with his thigh, making you moan and push your hips forward.

“Needy girl.” He whispers, voice dirty and hot near your ear as he sucks on the skin below it.

His hands cascade down your body, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging it down.

“Please, please touch me.” You’re wild, bucking your hips up. Wanting to get his tongue on you so bad.

He chuckles at your sudden spiral, how quickly you’ve unravelled before him. Truly like a present, all laid out waiting just for him.

He palms his hand over your damp front, “Soaking through already, fuckin’ hell.”

You groan as he rubs a pressured circle on your fabric-covered clit.

“Want to tell me who got you so wet?” He coos, slowly moving his fingers over you as he waits for an answer.

You give it to him shamelessly, “You. Want you so badly.”

He’s over the moon to finally have you like this. Because it became apparent rather quickly the crush he’d developed on you since you were hired. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist at the thought of getting to touch you.

“Oh, you’re being so good for me now. Because I’ve got my hand between your pretty legs I bet.”

You cant even respond as he slides your drenched underwear down away from your tingling core.

He audibly groans at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy. Watching as you squirm under his stare.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N. How long have you been hiding this gorgeous cunt from me?”

“Too long.” You whimper.

His fingers slid through you, and he gathered up your arousal to play with your clit. Relishing the way it slides under his fingertips.

You were clenching around nothing as he gently rolled your clit between calloused fingers. Playing with it until you were a mess. Moaning and grinding up against his fingers. Begging for what he’d promised earlier.

“Your mouth, Harry. Need it. Anywhere.”

“S’that why your little hole is clenching so hard? Like it’s begging for me.” He watched, mesmerised as your hole pulsed around nothing, and leaked more clear arousal.

You look so delicious to him. And he took a moment to appreciate the fact you were about to let him clean up all that arousal pooling at your hole

He sunk down between your legs very slowly. Distracting himself a few times with mouthing over your fabric covered breasts.

Eventually making it there, so he could blow over your clit, letting you squirm at the teasing stimulation. You smelt amazing too, your sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

He was grabbing at his cock, pushing at it trying to relieve pressure down there as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

“Stop teasing, H. Please I— fuck.” You hissed as he bit the seam of skin of your thigh.

“Cant handle it huh? Are you gonna come before I even get my tongue on you.”

“Want to finish around your mouth.” You plead with him. And he shakes his head with a laugh, anticipating your reaction as he leans forward to drag a long stroke through your slit.

Your whole body shakes with a moan. His velvety, hot tongue immediately leaving you a wreck.

“Harryyy…” You cry out, bucking your hips into his face.

“Gonna ruin your cunt, darling.” He murmurs into you, and you know it’s true with the way your hole is clenching.

He sucks your clit into his mouth before placing fast strokes over it. Flicking and rolling it between his tongue and lips.

The sounds of him lapping up your pussy are echoing through the room, further fuelling the fire that’s started in you.

Your whole jaw goes lax as he moves further down, gliding over your hole— pushing his tongue past your entrance.

“Fuck!” You moan, hips jolting, causing his hands to slide up and hold them into place.

He slides it into you as far as he can, nose bumping your clit. Making you realise very quickly that you’re going to finish around his mouth.

He moans into you, again the vibrations makes you writhe in his tight grip. “I- Harry- more!”

It’s making your whole body shake, and he’s pressed so far into you that it’s all you can feel. And it’s obvious that you’re about to come, just with the way your cunt is pulsing around his mouth.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Harry, please, I’m gonna come!” You felt the burning spark fly through you, hitting you like a truck when his tongue curled and rocked inside you.

He’s humming and pressing himself so close you genuinely think he can’t breathe. And you realise immediately when the rubber band in snapped inside of you.

It gushed through your whole body, making you moan and cry in his grip. He couldn’t even explain the feeling of having you clenching around his tongue. It almost made him finish in his pants.

He lapped up every single drop he could. But he didn’t stop.

Your clit was so sensitive as he came back up to it with the same intensive pace.

You tried to push him off, “be a good girl, baby, give me another one.”

“So sensitive, Harry.” You whined, hand threading into his soft hair.

“Y’can take it.” He states, going back to sucking on your clit, and the outside of your entrance.

It made you a mess. A proper fucking mess.

You legs were being spread wide by the palm of his hands, and you were almost crying at how sensitive your pussy was.

You were always a five-minute-scroll-break kind of girl when it came to masturbation. So this came as a whole shock to your body. And it was so fucking hot from his perspective.

All he could hear was your filthy fucking whines, begging him one minute to stop and the next to go faster. And he was going insane at how sensitive your little hole was.

That was all he could feel. The clenching of your cunt, the absolute shaking mess your body was becoming.

His tongue flicked over your clit, just as you imagined he would after seeing him last night. And it was getting to messy, your arousal absolutely coating his mouth and chin.

“I-“ a deep suck of your clit, “I’m gonna fucking come!”

You writhed the whole way through your orgasm. Fucking into his face like it was a toy, grinding into it so hard your sure he was completely consumed by you.

And as you came down from the high, still shaking, he cleaned up down there again. Too good to waste, was his thought process. ‘You tasted like a dream’ you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter against you at some point.

His thumbs run over the dips of your hips to bring you back down to earth.

“Good girl, Baby. Took my mouth so fucking well.” He presses a final kiss on your clit as he stood up, your hands dragging up his back did.

“Feeling a little better too, i hope.”

“Yes. So good. H.” You panted, still in a bit of a daze.

“Next time,” he peppered a kiss on you shoulder, “tell me when you’re feeling all worked up okay.”

You nodded, hands sliding to rest in his hair.

“Or by all means, lay yourself out in my dressing room so I can make make come like you deserve.” He smiles at your little nod, still so out of it.

“My little gift, hm?” He coos, stroking a gentle hand down your face.

And he knows he’d do this moment a thousand times over with you. Just to see that smile flash over your lips.

———

[tea-plantz]

ahoy🗣️

can I request an anxiety/reader where reader represents the Love emotion?

like we're a little extroverted and flirty (and kinda serve tbh) but we are gentler around her and help her calm down when she's about to have an attack?

(I'm normal about her I swear💪)

Ahoy to you too! Yess I finally got a request for my girl!! She’s so cute, I swear-

Anyway, that’s an awesome request, I love the concept of the reader being a Love emotion!

~Anxiety x Love emotion reader hcs~

Anxiety wasn’t really interested in romance, partly because she figured she didn’t have a shot at it anyway, and because she thought it seemed way too stressful. That was until a new emotion appeared in the HQ, the Love emotion.

You were so sweet, kind, pretty and even flirtatious, causing the small orange emotion to quickly become smitten.

She would feel her heartbeat speed up x100 whenever you were around.

The poor girl constantly stressed about making a good impression on you, seeming interesting, and wanting to know more about you, but she couldn’t let you know that she’s excited, or else she would seem too intense, and so on.

Since you represented the emotion of love, your job would be to control Riley’s crushes, feelings of love, horniness, and all that. Anxiety would love to watch you work, observing as your hands glided over the console, making it light up with a soft, pink color. She swoons over everything you do

Anxiety sometimes even slightly envied you. Your job was to make Riley feel all these positive and exciting feelings, whilst hers was to worry her and make her anxious. She knew it was all to protect their girl, but she didn’t wanna feel like a burden. On top of that, you were also so extrovert and outgoing, speaking so easily with all of the emotions, even Ennui, which was something she admired and slightly envied as well. She would overthink it, feeling like she wasn’t a good enough conversationalist, and fearing that she came off as boring to you.

The fact that you where so flirty towards all the emotions, but more gentle around her would leave her with sleepless nights filled with overthinking.

“They act so flirtatiously towards everybody, but somehow different towards me! I mean, they’re still flirting, but it still feels different! Does that mean they like me less?! Oh no no no, that would be so bad! But what if they do..? And then they’ll slowly stop talking to me, because they secretly hate me, then they’ll stop looking at me, or even being in the same room as me, and I’ll die alone! Ah!!”

She always thinks so negatively about every single situation, not concerning that it could be because you liked her.

It was only after you helped her calm down when she was about to have an anxiety attack that she realized that maybe her feelings were mutual. The way you had gently hugged her, rubbed soothing circles on her back,y kissed her head and whispered sweet nothings into her ear made her absolutely melt. She knew she needed to confess, or else it would drive her insane!

Anxiety spend many many nights, filling out countless notebooks with her frantic writing, trying to figure out the perfect way to confess. She knew you loved romance, so she wanted to be romantic and sweep you off your feet. One problem though, she was very bad at romance… like… really bad. After the made the perfect plan she practiced again and again before she actually mustered up the courage to confess.

She wrote a whole ass 5 page long script on what to say, and a backup script for when if you rejected her. She didn’t hope that would happen, of course not, but she thought you would, always preparing for the worst case scenarios.

Assuming you said yes to her cheesy little confession, Anxiety would be thrilled! You, the glamorous, lovely, super pretty, sweet and confident emotion that you were, wanted to date little ol’ her!! She almost couldn’t believe it!

She definitely cried

It would take the poor girl a long time to settle into the relationship, but with you showering her with love, affection and kisses, not to mention words of reassurance, everyday, she would quickly feel safe and relaxed in the new relationship.

You two would give off major Jessica and Roger Rabbit vibes.

Even though you might be kind of opposites, you both fit really well together. She appreciates you and all of your affection so much, it always helps with calming her down whenever she can’t sleep, or starts stressing out too much.

Anxiety loves it when you flirt with her, but would quickly become overwhelmed if you where too seductive, leaving her brain completely fried and her hands jittery.

She also loves it when you declare your love to her, but she would become way too anxious or overstimulated if you preformed some kind of grand gesture. Instead, she would much rather prefer if you did smaller stuff, like send her love letters, surprise her with hugs and kisses, cuddle with her or enjoy a cozy stay at home date<3

[sanjisboyfie]

eren first meeting his roommate

aka ; eren yeager having a gay awakening <3

-> might be a series? idk i love roommate eren a lot so probably will be a series LMFAO also also there's really no obvious romance here, it's just silent admiration and crushes

also eren is very much puppy-like and high energy in this one hashtag sorry if u love emo eren, he will NOT be emo here!!! hashtag no regrets.

eren yeager x male reader

— eren was dead broke. his ass definitely did not have enough money for either dorming on campus or off campus, but off campus was the cheaper option. and since he went to a college so far away from home, it would be too big of a hassle to commute. so him and his parents compromised by giving him an "allowance" every month, which would basically pay for a third of rent. but that meant he had to use his own money to pay the next third, then find someone else to pay the final third. ( 1/3 being paid by his parents, 1/3 being paid by him, 1/3 being paid by a lifesavior roommate, aka you!!!!!)

— it was very odd to see eren, who on first impressions seemed like an intimidating individual, sit you down at the empty kitchen table and beg you, literally beg you with his hands in praying form, to room with him. he was very, very obviously desperate to find someone else to live with.

"please, i will be good - i've heard from all my friends i'm a great person to live with, my mouth will vouch (he is a terrible person to live with, but if he has to do more household chores in order to get a roommate he will). i will let you speak to my own mother and father, they will vouch and say-"

"i believe you, eren, why are you crying?"

"PLEASE LIVE WITH ME!!!"

that's an exaggeration of what happened...he didn't actually start crying, but his begging was insistent and borderline pathetic.

— in the end, you agreed !!! paying 1/3 of rent was better than paying 1/2 + the place wasn't in a terrible location, it was close to school, and was a pretty good size for two bedrooms. since eren was already settled in, he helped you move in. and that was when you were given a free GUN SHOW because damn was this man working hard in lifting your many boxes of belongings. it was almost like he wore a tight shirt on purpose, just to show off. he very adamanently told you that you didn't need to hire movers and he'd do all the heavy lifting, along with muttering about how they were "scammers" with how much they charged.

"eren, i can lift some of these-"

"no, please, consider this my thanks for moving in with me," eren grunted, holding a huge box of your clothes with relative ease. he was sweating, but that was because this was probably the third box of heavy stuff he had to carry from the car to the building.

he was wearing a beige shirt that hugged his muscular form, emphasizing every single ripple underneath the fabric. and as you two stood in the elevator (thank god the building had an elevator or else eren would have had to carry all the boxes up three flights of stairs), the only sound in the metallic box was eren's heavy breathing.

his muscular chest (boobs) were moving up and down as he tried catching his breath, his hands lifting to wipe the sweat off of his forehead with the collar of his shirt.

your eyes watched each of his movements carefully before you snapped out of it with the dinging of the elevator to tell you you were on your floor. you got out of elevator first, holding your arm to the door to prevent it from closing on him.

he shot you a smile in thanks before proceeding to easily lift up the box (it was at least over 50 pounds, mind you) and walk ahead to the room.

what you didn't know was that eren's cheeks were burning red as he had felt your stare on him earlier and it made him feel shy. you didn't have to know that he was purposely flexing harder with each cardboard box he had to lift. it was his own subtly way of trying to impress you, anyway.

it was flustering to know that it was somewhat working.

— after all the boxes were situated inside of the small apartment, he went to put all of your utilities away, like your own set of utensils, plates that you bought to share, and a couple of mugs. meanwhile, you went to your room to personalize and unpack all of your clothing. as eren was occupied working in the kitche, he felt himself smiling to himself as he carefull put away any of your belongings in the shelves. he felt himself laughing at one of your comedic mugs, a ceramic figure that took the shape of a chubby cat. the tail of the animal curved into being the handle and a funny expression was painted onto the cat's face.

"what's so funny, yeager?" you challenged, stretching your hands above head, "you think my mugs are funny?"

eren laughed, putting it away intot he cupboard and turning to look at you, "i think they're cute, they're also fitting,"

you made a face of uncertainty, which only made eren's grin go wider, "alright, you'll see."

"i'll see what?"

"you'll see — when i get you your own mug, you'll learn to appreciate it more,"

"oh, god, please don't." eren said, leaning against the counter on his elbow and staring at you, who were sitting on the other side, "for your first night here, you want me to treat us to take out? the chinese place down the road is really good,"

he watched your expression carefully. wordlessly, you walked around the counter and to the fridge. once you opened it, it took you a total of three seconds before you looked back at eren with a grimace.

"the only thing in here is ketchup and mayo..."

"those are the condiments i use to eat my fast food with," eren shrugged, making you only become more flabbergasted. "what??"

"oh my god, let's finish unpacking later, we need to go buy groceries,"

"but you didn't answer my question on dinner?"

"i'll make dinner — you save more money buying groceries and making meals out of them instead of buying takeout everynight, eren," you lectured, making him tilt his head in thought. he supposed you were right, so he didn't argue against going grocery shopping.

as you announced you were just going to change quickly, he then thought about it for a second longer. then a blush fell on his face as he imagined you at the kitchen, cooking a meal for just him and you.

god, was he really developing a crush on his roommate that just moved in?

— the grocery shopping turned unserious very fast. bring eren to any public environment and he won't be able to stay on track for a second. you didn't really know eren that well (it sounds silly to say that considering you are now living with him, but prior to agreeing to be his roommate, he really was just a stranger to you), so to see his more childish side bleeding through his cold exterior was a good change of pace. he was a very goofy guy, making funny faces at babies with the intent of making them cry, and would easily get distracted. he had tried dragging you off to the pokemon card wall several times when all you needed were groceries.

"did you see the way its face scrunched up?" he grinned in excitement before focusing on mimicking the expression a baby he tormented made. you laughed at the face he was making before smacking his shoulders.

"be nicer! they're just babies, eren," you softly scolded, weak chuckles escaping from you.

"just babies that make funny faces," eren laughed, switching from standing at your left side to your right side repeatedly as you stood in front of the produce section, "what even are you going to make tonight?"

"hm, how about pasta? you like pasta?" eren nodded his head in affirmation, "i was just going to buy some staple fruits and vegetables too, though, in case we get hungry for snacks,"

"snacks? i can run to the chips section too then! what chips do you want?" eren said, very excited to go to his second favorite section of the store (the junk food aisles).

"just get me a bag of f/c," you requested politely, making him nod like an eager puppy and run off.

you finished going down the list of basic ingrediants for a white sauce pasta, while also grabbing anything that you could use for other dishes in the future.

just as you turned around to your now full cart of vegetables, sauces, fruits, and meat, eren came bounding back towards you. this time, he was now holding five bags of chips, in his mouth he was carrying a single packet of pokemon cards, and in his fingers he was desperately holding a lottery ticket.

"look! we can open up a pack of pokemon cards, i got you one too, it's in my pocket though, since i figured you wouldn't want my spit on it, and then i also have a lottery ticket. i have a feeling we will win it big! and if we do, we won't have to pay rent for like five months!"

"eren, what the fuck? i thought you were just getting chips,"

the accused man pouted at the tone you were taking with him, dropping his arms into the car to free them of the five bags of chips, "i was!! but look, i'll pay for the lottery ticket, chips, and pokemon cards! c'mon, it'll be fun to open the cards together and everything!"

he almost pouted at you, can you belive this guy? pouted at you with begging puppy dog eyes. you almost smooshed his face with the palm of your head, but restrained yourself.

"fine, let's just go and pay,"

eren grinned in achievement, pumping his fist into the air, "c'mon, i wanna open these on the ride home!" he said, referring to the pokemon cards.

"alright, alright, i don't know anything about them though, so you're just gonna have to tell me what's good or not,"

"if it's shiny and reflective, give it to me, that's all you need to know," eren said dismissively. he swiftly took your spot behind the cart, pushing it with ease and only allowing you to walk beside him. "what pasta are you cooking for tonight?"

"i bought alfredo sauce, so i'll just add in some vegetables and to the pasta and make...chicken alfredo? if that's alright with you," eren almost salivated at the thought. he simply nodded his head eagerly, the bangs around his face bouncing at the movement.

"sounds delicious! man, i really lucked out with you as my roomie, huh? we're gonna make a great pair!" he threw his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer as he said this, an innocent grin on his face.

— that night, the two of you sat on foldable chairs watching tv. eren's parents gave you two as a house warming gift. it was small, but it was working so that was all that mattered. eren and you laughed at the tv screen until the late hours, where you both agreed to finally call it a night.

"should i make breakfast tomorrow morning? or are you gonna be in clases by the time i get up?"

eren frowned, "i have classes all day tomorrow, from 8 in the morning to 7 at night, so you don't have to worry about making too many servings,"

you nodded in understanding, "alright, then, i'll see you when you get back then,"

eren and you were about to break off to your own rooms, but he called out to you one last time, "uhm, what time are you gonna be in classes?"

"i only have one class tomorrow, 1 to 3:15," his face brightened up, which instinctively made you smile at him in return.

"we can go get lunch together then," he offered, "there's a good place that has burgers, it's like a ten minute walk from the main campus. i have a break in between classes at 4? if that's okay with you, of course,"

you grinned so wide that it almost hurt your cheeks. eren was a really nice guy, he was going out of his way to just get to know you better and spend some time with you, "yeah, that sounds perfect. meet me at the bus stop that's right outside the main hall and we can walk together,"

"okay, yeah!" eren nodded his head repeatedly, the bangs on the side of his head once again moving at such rapid mvoement. "then, i'll text you tomorrow when i get out of class!"

"sure, that sounds good." there was a pause and you pivotted your torso to turn away from the smiling brunette, "good night, eren,"

the man blinked and nodded his head, also turning away, calling out a, "goodnight, [name]," very quickly.

and the two of you fell asleep with grins on both of your faces. eren had brought the blanket up to his face, as if he was paranoid that there were someone watching his blushing face only redden. your smile was really, really handsome, his heart felt like it was in his throat everytime he remembered it.

[h0neylevi]

apparently all i can do lately is repost my old work. here's another one from a while back that I liked

tw: smoking, drinking, alcohol, university AU, gn!reader

Looking around the cramped living room of Erwin’s three bedroom apartment, you had to hand it to Hange for putting together such a successful party. 

A sea of people occupied every possible inch of the tiny, well-kept living room. In one of each person’s hands were cups—red ones for people who were taken and green ones for people who were single—and the other was cuffed to the hand of someone else attending the party.

The point, Hange had quickly explained, was to get people out of their comfort zones. Meet new people that they might otherwise not approach. Hange had at least been sensible enough to link the people with green cups together. Looking around the crowd, it looked like most of the people with red cups were tethered to their significant others. 

You wonder for a moment if Hange had put any thought into who was cuffed to who, if they thought them compatible in some way or if it was randomized. Most people seemed to be getting along just fine either way. Only your partner for the night just happened to be the most unapproachable person on Sina University’s campus.

It was your own fault for thinking that you could tell Hange anything in confidence, much less that you had been admiring Levi Ackerman from afar for the last two semesters. He was a friend of theirs, you knew, but up until now he never showed up to any of the small parties that Hange loved to throw so often.

You don’t know why he’s here now. And when the cool metal clamped down on both of your wrists and he’d glared at you like an angry bull seeing red, you’d been too afraid to ask.

“This is stupid.” Half-heartedly, he had tugged on the cuffs as if to test their durability. “You didn’t tell me you’d be pulling this shit when I agreed to stop by, Hange.”

Your friend had just shrugged off his ire. “Yeah, well you would have backed out if I told you.”

Now you’re sitting on the cramped sofa, surrounded by a few different faces, some familiar and some not. Levi is sitting on your left, looking bored between taking sips in the green cup that Hange had forced into his open hand.

Thankfully someone that you do know, Erwin Smith, sits immediately to your right. He greeted you immediately when you first sat down, giving you a small wave with the hand clutching a red cup. His girlfriend, Marie, had offered you a smile from her place next to him.

Hange and Moblit are also sitting together in the immediate circle around the seating area, but everyone else seems to be new to the university. They each rattle off their names and majors over the beat of the music, prompting everyone else to do the same.

Despite never having talked to Levi in the four classes you’ve taken together, you’ve observed enough to know that he generally hates introductions. He clearly isn’t having a good time, with you or with the party as a whole.

So to offer him an easy solution, you lean over enough to speak over the music.

“Hange told me that the penalty for breaking the link is to take a shot.” You emphasize your words by lifting your cuffed hand. He turns to you, looking surprised but doesn’t say anything. “If you want to—“

But he’s already rising to his feet. “Come on.”

You can’t help how much it stings, how easily he’s willing to give up without making an attempt to get to know you. But that was part of the reason you’d never introduced yourself to him in the last several months. He always put off a mood that said he’d rather not be bothered.

He leads you through the crowd, but when you realize that he isn’t headed for the kitchen where all of the alcohol is kept, you pull back. He stops and turns, eyebrows raised in question.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He gives you a bored look. “I want to go outside.”

Indeed, you look to find that he is walking in the direction of the small balcony.

“It’s cold,” you borderline whine next to him, which oddly makes the corner of his lips lift into a smile.

With one brow quirked, he challenges you. “Take a shot then.”

If he isn’t willing to, then you’re not about to give in either. You straighten your shoulders. “No.”

He gives the cuffs a sharp tug and you have no choice but to follow along. “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

He leads you through the rest of the crowd until you get to the balcony doors. It’s a small space overlooking the twinkling downtown city skyline. The chilly December air immediately rips away any lingering warmth left in your body as he walks you to the railing. Levi places his cup on the edge and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter with his free hand.

A couple you don’t recognize take up the single set of seating, audibly making out in the corner. They don’t seem to notice the sound of Levi flicking his lighter, or they don’t care. He lights his cigarette, unperturbed. You give an awkward cough.

“You know, the entire point of this party is to get to know others,” you quip. “Instead of hiding out for a smoke on the balcony.”

He keeps his gaze toward the city lights. “I prefer to smoke.”

You almost wish you had taken him up on the offer of a shot. However stubborn you might be, he hasn’t shown any desire to speak to you. The question of why he hasn’t decided to be rid of you already sits on the tip of your tongue. But if he was making the choice to play along, you would at least take the opportunity to get to know him.

In an attempt to appear nonchalant you ask, “So, what’s your name?”

Levi looks to you as you speak. “You mean we’ve taken three classes together and you don’t know my name by now?”

“Are you saying you know mine?”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment, then takes a drag on his cigarette. When he breathes out, a murmur of your name floats from his lips alongside the smoke. To your surprise, he tacks on your last name and your major as well.

When he looks away to flick the ash from his cigarette, you swear he’s smiling. But it disappears in the low light before he looks at you again. “Those first day introductions in class were good for something.”

Taken by surprise, you can only stare for a moment. The idea that he knew your name this whole time despite never crossing paths makes your stomach flutter like it’s been taken over by a swarm of butterflies.

He waits for your response patiently but when it doesn’t come, his tone sounds a little subdued when he adds, “My name is Levi. We have the same major and I hate parties.”

At a loss for anything else to say, you glance to the cigarette perched between his fingers. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

“How would you know?”

“Okay, so I do actually know your name,” you confess. “And it’s four classes if you count Professor Treadwell’s class this semester. I just thought you’d think it was weird for me to know who you were already without being introduced first.”

“Oh, it’s definitely weird.”

He levels you with another gaze over the glowing end of his cigarette, but where the enraged bull in his expression was half an hour ago now sits something more unassertive and relaxed. This must be what Levi looks like when he’s being playful.

Your face flushes, feeling unpleasantly warm against the chilly air. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me.”

You both allow a silence to settle in then. It’s more comfortable than what you would have expected at the beginning of the party. Levi continues to quietly smoke, always considering the direction of the wind before blowing out so it doesn’t drift into your face.

You lean against the railing and stare down into your green cup for a moment, now empty. He seems more amenable in conversation now that he’s not surrounded by a crowd, so you ask the question you’d wondered about when he first arrived.

“So, why are you here if you hate parties?”

“You know Hange,” he shrugs. He stubs out the last of his cigarette and drops it into the single sip of whatever alcohol is left in the bottom of his cup. “I’m sure you also know their powers of coercion.”

You grin, knowing exactly what he means. “What did they bribe you with?”

There’s a pause where he turns to take a look around the balcony. It’s empty now, the couple that had occupied the seats before disappeared at some point without either of you noticing.

“They promised to not get a gift for my birthday if I came.”

“When is your birthday?”

“The 25th.”

“Of this month?" you ask. “They probably already have a gift for you.”

“I think you severely overestimate Hange’s ability to plan ahead.”

You laugh in agreement. With school, they could be aggravatingly detail-oriented, but anything else in life was another matter entirely.

A sharp breeze cuts through the air and you stiffen, casting a glance to the sliding door that leads to the warm apartment inside. Levi follows your line of sight.

“Do you have a partner yet?”

Your head whips around at his question, immediately feeling those butterflies again. “Huh?”

Levi blinks, brows raised. “For Treadwell’s class? The research project?”

“Oh,” you say, feeling silly for not immediately understanding. “No, not yet. You?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know anyone in the class except for you,” he admits. Emotions flicker over his features in tandem, but you can’t accurately guess what’s going through his head before he asks, “Would you like to work on it together?”

“Really?” The question comes out like you don’t believe he’s being sincere, but you quickly remedy it with a nod. In class, he’s always come off as someone diligent in his work. At least you wouldn’t be stuck with someone who slacked off and left the responsibility up to you.

Before you can think better of it, you gesture for him to hold your empty cup and pull out your phone. “Uh, here. I’ll take down your number and we can plan to meet up.”

He recites his number and you quickly add him into your contacts, taking a moment to send him a text with your name. From somewhere in his pocket, you hear his phone ding.

“There,” you grin. “We can set something up on Monday if you want.”

Surprisingly, Levi reciprocates your expression. With your cups now stacked together in his free hand, he gestures to the door. “Monday’s fine. I should get going anyway.”

You lead the way back inside, not feeling comfortable enough yet to question why he’s leaving so early. Knowing him, he’s probably just over being surrounded by so many people.

A wave of warmth shivers down your spine when Levi closes the door behind him. In the case of someone leaving, you think the best option would be to find Hange for the key to the cuffs, so you take a moment to look around the room.

You turn around. “Hange probably has the key, so—“

The cuff around your hand suddenly feels heavier, and you look down to see that Levi has already opened his side and it’s now swaying from your wrist.

“These cheap ones are easy to break out of,” he explains, punctuating his point by reaching to release your own. His fingers just barely brush your skin before it unlatches with almost no effort. He holds them up for you to take. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Before you can think of something to say, he’s already making his way through the crowd toward the front door. Something compels you to follow, even if it’s just to get another drink from the kitchen nearby, but he’s slipped on his coat and closed the door behind him before you get a glimpse of him again.

“There you are!” Hange’s voice rings through the doorway from the kitchen and you turn, finding both Hange and Moblit standing together in front of the stove. “Wait, what happened? Where did Levi go?”

“He left,” you say, crossing into the room and placing the cuffs onto the counter. There’s already a growing pile of them and you wonder how many had left over taking the penalty shot. “He said you bribed him into coming by promising to not get him a birthday present, so I’m assuming he hit his social limit for the night.”

Hange laughs, throwing their head back with the force of it. “He didn’t tell you the full story then. Tonight was his birthday present.”

[heizouwtff]

𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙝𝙖 𝙗𝙛 𝙝𝙘𝙨

𝘬𝘢𝘻𝘶𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘱 !! (𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘢𝘻𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.) 𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘺𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘤𝘴 ~

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⋆ kazuha is really clingy... i don't know why but i see him as someone who enjoys always being near his lover.

⋆ kazuha doesn't really get jealous easily - however, whenever he sees heizou flirting with you he can't help but want to pull you away! he never does anything like this though... he's afraid you'll be upset at him.

⋆ kazuha is not opposed to the idea of pda, as long as his lover is alright with it he really does not mind holding hands with you or giving you small little kisses in public.

⋆ kazuha is really protective of you - and even if you do know how to protect yourself the guy won't let a single harmful thing touch you. destroying every hillichurl that gets in yours and his way.

⋆ he loves when you read his poems to him, adding your own little comments as you go on with it. he just loves the feeling of resting his head on your lap as you read those cute little loves poems he wrote.

⋆ i feel like his love language would definitely be physical touch and words of affirmation. he simply cannot keep his hands off you - always feeling the need to hold hands with you... and along with that, he will constantly tell you he loves you.

⋆ since he was so busy with crux it was hard for him to make enough time for you - but finally, after lots of convincing, beidou let you onto the crux with your lover.

⋆ because you two are constantly out on the sea it's hard to have those cute little dates like all those other couples, but whenever you guys stop somewhere he always makes sure to take you out for a treat.

⋆ asides from having those big fancy dates... you two like to admire the sunsets together - this was much more convenient for your life out on the sea. and honestly, it was a whole lot better than stopping by some big-shot restaurant.

⋆ i think while you would watch the sunset together he would definitely try to use some cheesy pickup lines that beidou told him about.

𝘶𝘱𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 !!

⋆ kazuha is such a horny little guy sometimes... he can't help but want to do those dirty dirty things to you...

⋆ sometimes he would write poems about his undying lust... however, he kept them hidden because he was afraid you would judge him for those things.

⋆ eventually, you found these poems and just simply laughed at him.. not in a mean way or whatever but rather in a soft and loving way. kazuha still couldn't help but feel embarrassed.

⋆ since you two were out on the crux it was really risky... not like anyone would judge you two or anything - it was just it would be an endless embarrassment for the two of you. and beidou would definitely tease you guys.

⋆ kazuha didn't care though... he would lock you up in your room and immediately pin you to the bed.

⋆ i have a feeling he's a soft dom... however, he'll get a little rougher if you allow him to.

⋆ he likes to overstimulate you sometimes. like he'll be slamming his cock into your poor little hole while pinching your soft little nipples.

⋆ he also has a thing for calling you baby during these times like - "baby i'm close... ngh" DBIHDBWibocs

⋆ he also absolutely adores giving you small little bite marks... though he's not really that possessive he still likes to show people who you belong to.

⋆ definitely groans - and occasionally whimpers when he's cumming.

⋆ he can last for about 2-3 rounds... ya'll tried doing 4 once but he was exhausted, and so were you.

⋆ HE ALWAYS ASKS FOR CONSENT BTW !! LIKE AHOHIHQEWVJBFCDHCDVJS

⋆ aftercare with him usually just taking a shower or cuddling for a bit.... if you guys take a shower there's a 90% chance he'll fuck you there too ^^

⋆｡°✩

screaming this was my first time writing nsfw ahhhhh

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Ready to Comply

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Villain!Reader

Plot: Something had been missing. But that has nothing to do with your life time enemy standing in front of you to finally end this.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, light angst and violence.

Words: 4,4OO

He remembers telling Steve and Sam about them – “Their most elite death squad. They speak thirty languages. Can hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming.”

…and you used to be one of them.

Bucky takes another look around the massive room, wincing when he sees all of his colleagues passed out around the space. It happened way too fast. How is he the only one still standing? They walked in here so confident, so prepared. He had done so much research on you. He knew everything.

His mind is running a million miles an hour to try and process how you are still so calm after single-handedly taking out his entire team. So skilled, so graceful. Only one strand of hair had come loose to hang over your eyes.

It’s just you and him now. Again. Exactly how you ended up last time. And the time before that, long before he had a team to stand with him. You’re the only one who has had nearly all versions of James Buchanan Barnes as your opponent. Why the fight has never been settled before, neither you nor Bucky know …or let yourselves admit.

It is a thing of Bucky’s nightmares. The same one, over and over and over again. You are always in it and always have the winning hand. Never has he been able to figure out how to make the odds turn in his favour. This conniving, effortless and mean – mean – woman. This picture of a villain that heats his blood to a boiling point and makes his skin tighten with frustration. He’s had the dreams for years. For years, the image of you haunted him.

Though if he had to be honest, despite the endless losing battle, seeing you in his dreams was a welcome relief. You became a confusing token for him during these years of recovery. A constant – an image of beauty almost. Now here you are, again.

Bucky turns to you, his piercing eyes connecting with yours as you raise your brows in curiosity.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” he scoffs and you admire the way he sounds so cool. Like you haven’t just proven how easily you could beat him. Not that you’d make it quick or easy – not with him. What would be the fun in that?

You have spent years perfecting an attack on this man, knowing he’d return to you time and time again. Like fate wanted him in your claws. Your little plaything. All you can see is a challenge. For you, yes, but mostly for him. To break him, tear him to shreds. Perhaps, if the fates allow, for him to change his alliance. For him to finally embrace that inner darkness, find harmony and purpose with that Winter Soldier monster in his body.

A challenge indeed…

“Scared of me?” you drawl with an indifferent shrug of your shoulder, “No.” You never intended to scare him – of course, not until the next words fall from your lips. “I think you and I both know perfectly well there’s only one thing you in particular should be scared of,” you start, “a part of you that can hurt you beyond torture.” You can tell he has caught on when you see his jaw tick and his eyes harden. Your footsteps are slow and long as you approach the metal-armed soldier in the middle of the large hall of the worn castle you decided to reside in. “And don’t be mistaken, I don’t need ten pretty, Russian words to turn that side against you.” Silence before your final blow, “Your trauma will work just fine.”

That seems to be the trigger as he lunges forward, raising his hands and turning them to claws before you take a few steps back and halt him with a simple palm in the air.

“ –Careful,” you warn with deadly calm. “Every time you show people that short fuse of yours, you make it so easy for someone to grab onto it and light it on fire.” Short puffs of air leave his flaring nostrils and you purse your lips to repress the sadistic smile spreading over it. Until you realise you don’t care, letting the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

“Look at you,” you mock, “still depending on the control exercised on you for years. You have no idea how to take the reins yourself.”

“You don’t think I can exercise control?” The question is his way to take back his power, having had quite enough of you pressing where it hurts. His voice is clear, sharp, the gravel in it completely gone.

Bucky’s face, to your disappointment and his credit, remains stoic and you have no idea how lucky you are he has learned to restrain himself even just slightly, because you don’t know how dangerous Bucky becomes when he is genuinely pissed. Sure, he’s grumpy and harsh all the time and you’ve seen him channel Hydra’s fury, but hardly ever does his own rage come out to play.

“A smart and well-trained assassin doesn’t dive at his target like that. Any chance you’re still as good as the Winter Soldier without Hydra telling you what to do?” A small part inside you is warning you to back off, to not test the dangerous man any further. Just because you know exactly how to push the Bucky Barnes past his limit, doesn’t mean you should.

“The Winter Soldier was created to kill. I can do much more damage.”

“To yourself?” You nearly snort.

Bucky grits his teeth harder. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“Let me ask you an important question,” he starts, his voice awfully cool and steady, “what on Earth makes you think I need to control myself when I can so easily control you instead?”

And now you know where that voice, the confidence, comes from. You clench your jaw tightly when the heel of your right foot dips down in the open grove between the floor and the heightened platform. A grove that has crumbled down into the depths of the ancient building, where you know the dungeons are. So far down with so much debris at the bottom, one wrong step and the fall would instantly kill you. Even as you are – a super soldier just like Bucky, yet chosen different paths – you won’t survive that fall and Bucky knows it.

You should have known not to pick this location to hide in – shouldn’t have picked the ruin you passed in the way through the mountains. Bucky guided your arrogant self straight into a trap what he assumed is of your own making. The bastard was always manipulative enough to get people to fall into the grave they dug themselves. So pretty, so skilled and somehow… so, so clever.

Sure, you can be impulsive at times, but it isn’t like Bucky is giving you any other choice than to whip out the nearest blade and charge at him. Smirk on his face, Bucky settles into fighting mode and opens his stance to welcome you in. Not giving him any time to realise that he had you fair and square, you summon decades of training into your limbs. Your head goes quiet, eerily still, as muscle memory takes over and your feet and elbows and hands crack into every open spot that Bucky has.

Quakes of pain hit you at every defence he puts up, but you soothe it over with your next blow. Hit after kick after punch, you work Bucky back into the main hall, away from your previous battlefield and trying not to lose all that space you fought for.

Hesitate and you die. Hesitate and you die. The mantra keeps repeating in your empty head and you scream and grunt and yell with every powerful thrust of your fists, only for all of it to be blocked by Bucky. There is more than anger coming to the surface. This rage – this ancient rage at yourself, at the world, at Hydra–

Bucky doesn’t get any time to retaliate, but you know better than to think you can exhaust him with fighting techniques he has memorised himself. So you switch to the sharp end of the blade and you twist and turn it within your hand as you jab and stab for the soft bits of skin on his body.

Your bones shudder when the knife jams between the plates of his arm and Bucky’s hand flies to take the knife during the abrupt pause your body found itself in. But you’re nearly as strong as he is and definitely faster, so you twist the knife with Bucky’s own power to angle against his chest and jam it there.

The blade tugs at the fabric of his shirt and Bucky’s eyes harden as they fall on yours. You narrow your own eyes at him and grit your teeth as you put pressure behind the stabbing instrument. Your gaze lowers to your hands.

His hand is wrapped around yours almost in a gentle way, the length of his fingers curling around your fist which is clutched around the handle of the blade. The touch makes you shiver and you focus all your attention on staying rigid and exercising enough power to remain in your current position. Both your breaths are shallow and the stare you’re exchanging is so sharp, you’re sure you can see a bolt of electricity shoot from your irises to his.

Slowly dragging your hand down half an inch, he wraps his other hand around yours as well, two of his hands now securing the blade against his own chest. You try not to let it show how much his actions confuse you, apprehension burning in your stomach. His flesh hand is warm, radiating heat from his skin to yours, callouses scraping slightly.

“Right here. Through the ribs and into my heart.” His voice is soft and calm, coaxing a paradoxical reaction from you. It makes you want to prove to him he has no reason to be this calm, but his tone calms you down all the same. He trusts you enough to hold a blade to his chest, yet has no faith in you to drive it through his ribs.

Always these games…

Bucky hisses through his teeth, "Kill me then. I fucking dare you." Though his tone is just as calm and quiet as before, private almost, there’s an impatience to his voice. Like he wants you to put him out of his misery.

“Got something to run from?” you purr with a sympathetic head tilt, eyes still narrowed in on his. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“On the contrary. I have all the time in the world,” he whispers and you notice his head moving closer just an inch, his scent making your eyes flutter. He didn’t seem like the type to smell exceptionally good – but boy, were you wrong.

“Should I make it a slow death then?” you taunt and he smirks.

“Whatever makes you feel the most power.” Damn him. He knows those words strip the power away from you in an instant. He knows it and he knows you know it, too. “But that leaves you with none, doesn’t it?”

You hold your breath to keep your defeat from slipping out with it. Eyes on the blade in your hands with a look as sharp as the dagger itself, you tighten your fists around the handle.

And all of a sudden it dawns on you. Fear. Gut-wrenching, horrifying fear. Not of Bucky. But losing him. The consequences of allowing yourself to plunge that knife into his body. It’s ridiculous, really. You barely know him. Yet–

Yet he is the only one like you. The only one with emotions and personality traits abnormally heightened like your own, with that goddamn serum tainting his DNA. The only other person in constant war within themself - war between good and evil. Good won in him. Evil won in you. Because the world is so awful, so endlessly painful. And Bucky knows that – has been a victim of that awful nature. Yet good won.

He’s good.

And you want to jam a knife between his ribs.

So you do the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do if you were ever in this position, because it would make you lose your resolve: you look up into his eyes.

Grey-blue.

You remember, from all those times staring him down and trying not to think of their colour. That beautiful, innocent colour that you knew he could flatten with just a look, a drop of his brow. All brightness and light gone and eyes empty. But it is there now. You don’t get where the light comes from that shimmers in his eyes. It’s a dark room.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asks, his voice merely a whisper. You never heard him sound like this before.

“I’m not.”

“I could have killed you five times over by now,” he reminds you, his hands twisting around yours, showing you just how easily he could redirect the knife’s target.

“You won’t.”

“I won’t?”

“You won’t,” you breathe.

A pause.

“I won’t,” he breathes back, his eyes dropping down. You swallow and the room seems to shrink, so much so, you hear your heartbeat echoing around you.

You don’t get to release the air lodged into your throat as Bucky lunges again, this time to cover your lips with his own. You hadn’t realised that your grip on the knife was completely depending on Bucky’s hands, until the weapon clatters to the floor the second his hands grab your face to drag it up to his.

You want to enjoy the feeling of his lips, but the rush you feel and your ramming pulse make you feel impossibly dizzy. His tongue taking advantage of the gasp you let out makes you dizzier, and you let out a whine. He groans back, walking you backward in an attempt to get closer to you. This large, solid man pushing and pushing and pushing as he strips all your bodily control from you with his bruising kiss.

You think you’re kissing him back, you aren’t sure, but every step he takes forward, you flee back. Step after step, you refuse to close the distance, his mouth so wild and feral against yours. Until you gasp again, your back hitting a crumbling pillar and Bucky crushes his entire frame against yours, his nails digging into your scalp as the kiss deepens.

Then it hits you. And it overwhelms you now. Your hands clawing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck – closer, closer, closer. God, he tastes like fire and stone and that ancient fight. You moan desperately and he grinds his hips into yours, making your knees nearly buckle over from the pleasure it ignites between your thighs. You need more of that, of his arousal against your own.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you realise that this was your fight all along. This was the very thing you needed to settle. A compatibility no one can match. And you want to tell him that, mock him for it when his lips leave yours, but they attach themselves to that spot below your ear and your eyes roll to the back of your head with a low moan.

This man…

“Who would have known,” he murmurs against your skin, accentuating his words with the scrape of his teeth, barely making you able to register them, “those moans might be the thing that actually kills me.”

You almost want to laugh, but he’s right. If your moans kill him, his mouth will kill you. Your heart is beating so loud, so hard, the organ might give out entirely. Your fingers hurt from clutching onto him and you can’t feel your legs. All he’s done is kiss your neck. His grip on you is so tight, so full of frustration and passion–

“Bucky,” you rasp and he freezes.

His forehead drops to your shoulder. “You’ve never said my name before,” he grinds out, his voice rough. “Do it again.”

“Bucky.”

“Again.”

“Bucky.”

His head lifts from your shoulder, his hands still holding your face and his eyes connecting with yours. “I am not going to stop until you have no voice left to say it with.”

He isn’t asking for permission. Not at all. This was a warning – for you to prepare, to finally settle this. You cling to that last piece, that last little shred of dignity and defiance.

“Who says we won’t leave this battle unfinished like all the other ones?” you ask, albeit breathlessly, clinging to that mechanism that keeps him away and angry.

Bucky narrows his eyes, dragging them over each of your features in a slow, deliberate swoop. You feel like your skin might peel off if he looks at you any longer. He can see it, can see the facade. The grip on your face is tight and you try not to swallow away the dryness in your throat.

Then he smiles.

“Nice try,” he nearly whispers, “but now that we’re here, I’m not planning on any unfinished business with you.”

This time you do swallow, eyes fluttering as you look up at him. You try to snap your walls back up, push him away, but your body isn’t listening. It’s whining for him, crying out for that spark. That final puzzle piece. The one man that can handle you. The only one that is still standing there in the end.

You feel it shift– your alliance.

“Shut up,” you snap and crash your mouth to his, fingers clutching to his shirt.

He laughs against your lips and his hands slide around your waist now, dragging you closer and conveniently dragging you up so one of his thighs slots between yours. The touch of his firm muscle against your throbbing core makes your knees tremble and you would melt to the floor if it wasn’t for Bucky’s hold on you.

The shuddering breath you let out has Bucky knowing enough. He never saw this coming, never even considered this. But he felt the shift – he was sure it was your scent that made his body betray him. Somewhere, his mind was screaming at him to not be stupid and drag that fucking knife away from his heart. Yet his intuition, trained for decades and somehow sharper than ever today, had muffled that scared voice and told him to trust his gut. She isn’t going to do it. And it was right. Just like he wouldn’t have done it.

And now – this powerful, deadly, untouchable woman is in his arms. So pliant, so desperate, so needy. He couldn’t feel more powerful himself. Not a serum in the world, not a stronger metal for his arm could grant him the feeling of power he has now. With you on his side, he is unstoppable. You can make him do anything.

He has something else in mind, however. He wants to show you exactly what anything entails, how much he is actually willing to do for you. And the strangled moan against his hungry mouth when he drags your hips over his thigh again, settles it for him. There is nothing like the pride and hunger that rushes through his veins when he hears that noise.

Maybe one thing. When you say his name.

“Bucky.”

Fuck.

Digging his fingers into your body so hard he’s sure he is leaving temporary bruises –Good, you’re his now– he lets out an animalistic growl and gives a hard thrust against you. Your body moulds perfectly between him and the pillar. The answering grind of your hips against him, brushing his cock so nicely, has his heart coming to a stop. The kiss turns messy, tongues and teeth and bruised lips, he doesn’t know what to do with that endless, dreadful need. Both your breaths are uncontrolled and low noises of need slip from both of you. He doesn’t know where his body ends and yours begins, so entangled with each other as he mindlessly grinds you further into the crumbling stone.

“I swear to God, if you don’t take off your clothes soon,” your growl surprises him and he lets out a low laugh at the desperate command. The only reason he doesn’t mock you for it, is because he agrees. Why are his clothes still on?

Quickly setting you down, he starts making work of his clothes, both of you ripping at yourselves to get rid of that last barrier. But Bucky gets distracted and helps you undress instead. And when you’re left in just your underwear and a lose hanging shirt that sags over your shoulders, all Bucky has managed is to shed his weapons and to unbuckle his belt. Earning an unimpressed glare from you at the lack of nudity, Bucky lets out a growl in answer.

“I’ll fuck you slowly later,” he grunts and is on you again.

You want to protest, you really do, but the words escape you the second his lips connect with yours again. Oh, this man is trouble. Softer and languid this time, his mouth drags over yours, tongue taunting and tasting. You slacken against him, your fingers around his forearms to keep from slipping to the ground. Trouble, trouble, trouble.

In such a daze, such a trance from that sinful mouth, you hardly notice his hands slipping between your thighs after his leg pushes them apart. That first touch, so deliberate, so specific, of his fingers to your aching pussy, has you visibly shudder against him, nails digging into his skin.

“I was wrong,” he breathes over your lips. His fingers slip past the flimsy fabric of your panties and a long finger slips through your folds, dipping into your hole tentatively before teasing you further. “This is going to be the thing that kills me.”

And with that painful confession, his finger slips into your dripping hole so easily, so smoothly, so goddamn deep, you lift to your toes and stretch to make it bearable.

It’s unbearable, the pleasure that sparks all throughout your body. You need him to move, need him to– to–

“More,” you plead, unable to open your eyes back up, “more, more, more.”

You can almost hear his cocky grin as he slips another finger in and curls it against a spot deep inside of you. It releases a moan so sudden, you couldn’t have stopped it if you tried, your eyes flying open. Bucky’s brows shoot up with intrigue, pressing his fingertips against that spot again and almost making you curl up into a ball against him. Fuck. He’s going to kill you.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he breathes, his forehead falling to yours after watching that look of defeat on your face, “I got you.”

Thoughts having left your head, you can only nod breathlessly, tilting your head back against the stone as his fingers start working inside of you. The involuntary convulsions of your cunt around his fingers make your neck and cheeks warm, the loss of control making you feel beyond vulnerable. But God, you can’t find it in you to care too much. The way he stuffs you full, the way his mouth works messily against the column of your neck, the heavy breaths that come from him from just pleasing you – it all builds up in your abdomen. Tightening, fluttering, aching. Your toes curl as his fingers move faster, the friction against your entrance so filthy in combination with the sound of your wetness.

Bucky groans, impatience straining through his cock as he wants to feel you around his fingers. He can feel you flutter, he can hear your breathing getting impossibly laboured and he should, he really should, want to drag this out more. But there is this wild, primal part of him that wants to get you to your next orgasm already, and your next, and the one after that.

He sighs deeply, channelling all of his restraint to keep calm and savour this moment. This moment of weakness for you. Weakness within him. Fuck, you’re his weakness. His fingers keep moving into that spot that seems to make you stutter and stumble, his wrist turning to make you feel that stretch, his tongue darting out to touch that spot under your ear. And then, he presses his palm to your clit, thrumming with need, and the shudder that rumbles down your spine has him stand on alert instantly.

Rotating his palm against your clit, his fingers ramming into your spot, he watches in awe as you fall apart around them. The way your eyes roll back, the breathless scream from your lips, the tension building and building and building in your body before weakening to near paralysis. Oh, that does things for Bucky’s ego.

Fingers trembling and bottom lip aching from the assault of your own teeth, you try desperately to get some air back into your lungs. You can’t feel your legs, your head is buzzing and your pussy won’t stop contracting around Bucky’s fingers, even as they have stopped moving.

“Oh my God,” you whine softly, eyes still closed.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, burying his face in your neck. That was the best thing he’s ever done. Screw making amends, screw being good, this made it all worth it. He doesn’t know why or how, but this makes that neglected part inside of him hum with delight.

But he’s not done. Oh no, not with his cock groaning at him to explore you a bit further. Not with only his zipper in the way of that warmth that is still wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, how good would his fingers taste right about now?

He’s not waiting to find out and then his eyes lock with yours, darkness and light shimmering in them simultaneously. They flutter to close at the taste, at the way you bite your lip as the sight, but he is not losing you out of his sights.

“Winter soldier,” you breathe, a calm sort of power tainting your tone.

Oh, he likes it when you call him that.

You do not need those ten Russian words. At all.

He smirks, “Ya gotov otvechat.”

[littleshadowlucy]

@voidbeau got it right, the inspiration for my last drawing of Argos was Possibly in Michigan! So they get a gold star ⭐️

More specifically this shot of it ⬇️

And because I am very happy with how it turned out, I wanted to talk about my art thoughts this time! :D

A little fact about when it comes to my artwork is that I draw it traditionally first before making it digital since it’s just easier for me, which means that these drawings can be in the making depending on my schedule and motivation, and this one took a while since I recently got a new job!

And while I was drawing this one I decided to go against having the flowers scattered around Argos since unfortunately flowers aren’t my strong suit and I didn’t want to repeatedly draw a single type of flower since I wouldn’t know what flower to choose so instead I decided to have Argos laying a flowerbed with things related to the series around him-

Now there are two obvious exceptions-

That being the barts spells and charms advertisement and the top left corner, so I’m going to explain why they’re there.

The flower in the top left corner is suppose to be a tuberose, though it’s probably not obvious since again, flowers aren’t my strong suit, the reason why it’s there is that apparently tuberoses can symbolize attraction, lust, and obsession for someone else, or the very least illicit and dangerous pleasures, and I thought it would perfect thing to add considering Mr. Plant and Argos’s relationship especially with the knife and letter we saw in Gardening with Argos 10 also scattered around!

While Bart’s spells and charms were added since Argos canonical has a shrine for Mr. Plant where he did manifestation to get Mr. Plant to think of him/want him and considering the fact that it’s hinted that they have other charms, I feel like Argos would have been the type of person to buy up their love charms if they have any and if he had access to it! Another fun fact, it was originally going to be an advertisement for Secret Admirer Mail since I fully believe that Argos was on the other end of the phone calls in that but decided to leave that idea for its own drawing in the future:)

Now Argos is holding three things, these being a photo of Mr Plant, a rose with noticeable thorns and the heart shop guy’s face

The rose is probably the easiest to explain since roses are the flower for romance, but I decided to make the thorns fairly noticeable to get the pain and pleasure symbolism, as well as every rose has its thorns symbolism, paired with a picture of Mr. Plant, it makes it obvious who those feelings are directed to

And I had Argos holding the head near his heart for the same reason, holding something close to your heart means that someone or something is very important to you, and I believe that it’s Argos’s most prized possession since when Mr Plant gave it to him, he realized that his feelings were returned and that’s when he and Mr Plant started dating

The soulmate flowers are there cuz when you think about it, it could honestly symbolize Plargos, atleast when looking at it with Argos in mind, Argos says that a soulmate flower would die if they don’t connect with another flower, and who was suppose to die in the series until their relationship came to save them? :)

the covetous flower is there since they just like Argos fr, atleast when it comes to Mr Plant, both of them are lovely to talk and they get attached and jealous fairly easily, I mean we never did see what the letter Mr Flower sent said 👀

Lastly the hearts around Argos are suppose to be the ones he got from the heart flower that he gives to Mr Plant, a continuous show of his love for him ❤️

Overall this was a fun art to draw and hopefully I can make more of these for y’all in the future, it feels my heart with such joy when people are enjoying my art, and it’s been such a godsend for my mental health

[skyland2703]

Here’s some BillySkull ABSOLUTE SOFTNESS Headcanons and soft things

They do so many affectionate things. Things that just become custom. For them. Like they don’t even realise they’re holding hands, warm hugs, just. Staring at each other. Admiring each other.

The way Billy Looks at Skull. He’s never realised it himself, but one day, Kim was clicking pictures, when the entire team + bulk and skull + Kat, Adam, Rocky Aisha, were out on a picnic, and she’d brought along her Polaroid camera, and was just doing random candid shots of the friends— and then this one shot popped up, where Skull was on the barbecue grill, having the time of his life, with the biggest grin imaginable, and there was Billy, standing in the background, arms folded across the chest, and just… just staring at him. Admiring him. Simping for him.

They put that Polaroid on their refrigerator.

Billy never says this, but he notices every little mannerism of Skull. The way his eyes become adorably big, and widen a little when he listened to billy ranting about things Skull didn’t understand, the way the corners of his lips turned up before showing the most beautiful smile, the way his hair looked in the morning, the way his voice always sounded a little too high pitched. Billy notices everything. Billy cherishes everything.

Back in Highschool, for fulfilling credit requirements, Billy was required to join music class, because he was lacking the extra curricular credits because of ranger things. The first second he entered the practice Room, he realised he didn’t know a single person in there. Filled with dread, he took his seat, his introvert tendencies feeling more and more useless, every second.

Then a boy popped in, completely drenched, with ONE dry Spot on him, his hair dripping over his face, holding a trombone, and wordlessly sat in an empty seat in front of Billy. It was when he spoke, did billy realise— he’d been thrown off by the spiky jacket, yes, but a confirmation was nice— it was Skull. The only person who he actually knew in the entire class. and he decided to just stick next to him…. For the rest of the semester.

And Skull took him under his wing, like a mother hen.

Little Spike Skullovitch actually really adored Uncle Billy. He was the one who suggested he get together with Skull. Spike was eight, when Billy and Skull met again, years after being apart. And somehow, Spike immediately took a liking to him, and went “MINE!”

Billy loves spending time with Spike. While Skull is somewhat of the “discipline” Dad, Billy is the “Chill” dad. Spike loves arranging Little flowers in Billy’s hair, every time they’re out in a field of flowers.

They’re out in a field of flowers once in a few weeks anyway, btw. Billy saw some videos and got inspired to just. Hike. He’s discovered this really beautiful hill nearby, and while he’s a ranger who can teleport, he always hikes to these spots— with Skull, with Spike. Skull sometimes asks him to teleport him back home, when there’s a climb ahead, but billy is always like “NO THE FUN OF IT IS IN COMPLETING THE TREK”

As if Skull is the one screaming and howling in knee pain at nights.

Skull gets tired easily, but he’s more fit. At least he doesn’t have joint pain from mid thirties. “God— are you a ranger or am i—“

When billy got stuck on another planet, with the Cosmic Fury team, Skull went into a full blown panic, because “HE IS NOT ANSWERING HIS PHONE OR HIS COMMS THAT IS NOT LIKE HIM Q_Q”

when they got the systems working again, Billy had to spend an entire two hours convincing his panicky husband, that they’re okay, he’s OKAYYYYY~

Oh and while billy shut himself up in the workshop for working on the cosmic morphers??? He had Skull on videocall the entire time.

The ULTIMATE long distance relationship. They did ALL THEIR WORK together that day :3

Every time Skull cooks, Billy is always sitting on the granite kitchen slab, juuuuust smiling at him, and annoying him, and eating sugar from the little box that’s labelled “Coffee”, because it got messed up once, and nobody bothered to change it.

And Bonus:

One of the only things that keeps Skull sane, in the world of the Coinless, is a Little Blue Ghostie, that floats around him, talks to him, pulls him back, when he feels like jumping off cliffs, reminds him to eat properly, hugs him when life feels wrong, and shares his bed, always giving him a feathery light, soft, but comforting touch. And sometimes hammering some sense into him.

And DOUBLE BONUS:

Skull: OMG I FINALLY DID THE THING!!!

Billy: what thing??

Skull: THE THING I BEEN PROCRASTINATING ON FOR SO LONG!!!

Billy: Oh Nice! Was it difficult??

Skull:

Skull: it took me like, two mins.

[zealouscanonindeer]

11. The Final stretch

I awoke some time later with a curse, having until that moment been in the grip of a nightmare about horrid little imps jabbing me with pitchforks. The reality wasn't much different - someone was probing my bruised sides for broken ribs. I groaned.

"You know," Emily said from somewhere above me, "For all your great intellect, you can be such an idiot sometimes."

I opened my eyes (the right-hand one felt a bit puffy and would probably be swollen shut by that evening) and looked over at her. It was ill-lit where we were, but I could see her well enough; Watson has commented on my apparent ability to see in the dark - it is merely a matter of training the senses. She knelt by my side in her shirtsleeves (the coat was probably the bundle I felt rolled up behind my head) and though she appeared to know what she was doing - I had learned at least that much from getting patched up by Watson - her bedside manner left a lot to be desired. She had opened my own coat, and I felt her slender fingers probing my ribs, managing to find every single bruise with admirable expertise.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the nurturing sort," I murmured.

"I'm not," she replied immediately.

"I can tell," I shot back.

"But one learns a lot when one lives with five male cousins."

"When you visit America."

There wasn't even a flicker of surprise; this was no perpetually surprised Dr. Watson. "My Aunt Clarissa - my mother's sister, I think she was - was constantly having to patch them up, and enlisted my help on more than one occasion." She smiled. "Of course I got my share of medical aid as well, since my cousins all tended to treat me like one of the lads. Of course, that sort of got awkward as I grew older."

"I expect so." I paused diplomatically. "So what was this about me being an idiot?"

She paused in her examination and leaned over me like a vampire preparing to feed, or else like a guardian angel - I couldn't decide which it was just then.

"You attacked a man twice your size," she said.

"I promised your father I'd keep you safe," I replied coolly, "And I intend to do just that."

"There is a fine line between chivalry and stupidity, you know."

"I have yet to find it."

"Right." She smirked and settled back on her heels. I grunted as she probed the last few ribs on each side.

"And what of you?" I asked, to keep my mind off the aching, "What would you call a young woman jumping on the shoulders of a man easily four times her size?"

"I call it being scared."

"You have an odd way of showing fear."

"I was afraid he'd killed you," she said, with a note of concern in her voice, "As it is I'm surprised nothing was broken."

There was a long pause as I mulled over this statement.

"I have had worse beatings and as you can see I survived them well enough. What of you?" I asked, "Are you hurt at all?"

"A few bumps and bruises," she replied, "Probably a split lip. And I lost the tips of two fingernails."

"My condolences."

"Don't be sorry. I left them in that grizzly bear's face."

"Capital. Now we'll be able to prove that he at least assaulted us." I sat up, ignoring my protesting ribs as I rebuttoned my coat.

"But what about the stolen jewelry?"

"I think I have a theory about that as well." I stood up, helped Emily to her feet (though according to her report she was capable to taking care of herself) and glanced around at what appeared to be a basement. "Now... how long have we been down here?"

"Search me. I woke up about ten minutes before you did."

"Very well. Next question - are we locked in, and if so, how?"

With my mind once again occupied with a puzzle, my injuries seemed to fade into the background, and I mounted the cellar steps easily and tried the door. It was, of course, locked - I hadn't expected any different. It was a relatively simple lock, I noted as I peered through the keyhole, and the door opened into a dingy corridor, one which I had noticed from our initial excursion through the front door of the establishment. I turned back to Emily.

"Third question: Have you a hairpin I might borrow?"

She snorted. "Of course I do. What proper lady would be caught without one?"

I took the proffered tool and set to work on the lock.

"So what do you plan to do if he's still up there?" she asked as the lock clicked a the door drifted open. I didn't need to ask who he was.

"I don't believe he is up here still," I said casually as I pushed the door open the rest of the way and looked around just in case I was wrong, "Had you been listening, you would have noticed the lack of heavy footfalls above us which would have indicated a man of his scale moving about."

She followed me up the cellar stairs. "Well, the last time I had any sort of opportunity to listen for his footfalls I was jammed in a closet with you, if you recall. And even then he still managed to sneak up on us."

"That was not for our benefit," I replied, "It was to prevent his co- workers from hearing him."

"So... he wasn't looking for us when he opened the wardrobe?"

"He would have had no reason to look in there, unless he feared for the safekeeping of something within."

She emerged into the gaslight of the ground floor. She had, as she'd indicated, not emerged from the fight unscathed. I winced slightly when I saw the bruises on her chin and over her eye, and the split lip which had by this time stopped bleeding and clotted over, though it was starting to swell.

"That bad, huh?" she asked, noticing my expression.

"Your father is going to kill me," I said, only half-kidding.

"I'll deal with my father. For now, I believe you were saying something important about the wardrobe."

"Yes... you no doubt noticed that the interior of the wardrobe was rather cramped - it was shallower than most wardrobes," I amended hastily, turning towards where I estimated the storeroom was from here before she could see my expression..

"Well, I don't really know if two people can ordinarily fit into an otherwise empty wardrobe," she replied dryly. "Most wardrobes are built to a certain depth," I explained, before the train of thought could get any more awkward, "In order to accommodate the shoulders of the garments. Three feet is average. I estimate that the wardrobe in the storeroom was closer to two feet in depth. Now, what does that suggest to you?"

"A false back," she replied after a thoughtful pause.

"Precisely. And between that false back and the true back is where I expect we shall find the stash of stolen jewelry."

By this time we had arrived back at the wardrobe. She immediately reached for the left-hand door, but paused half-way and instead opened the right- hand door.

"Good," I said, "You remembered the squeaky hinge."

"It does make sense," she replied, "If the man is right-handed he would naturally use the right-hand door, while the left hinge rusts from disuse. Until, that is, you threw both doors open last time."

I had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Ah!" she said suddenly, "I was wondering where I'd dropped my stick." She retrieved the fox-headed walking-stick from the floor of the wardrobe, where it likely had fallen when we had been discovered, and handed it to me. She leant back into the wardrobe, this time to probe the rear wall, which was decorated with two rows of large recessed squares. One of these shifted slightly under her hand, and she glanced at me over her shoulder to see if I'd noticed. I nodded in satisfaction.

She shifted the panel aside, and it slid on well-greased runners into the false back. There, in a cubicle that measured a foot in each direction, a small cardboard box lurked. Emily took the box out and opened it. As I had expected, it was partway filled with jewelry, and her eyes lit up, but then clouded again as she noticed something amiss.

"Something wrong?" I asked, already fairly sure of what the answer would be.

"Well," she said slowly, "There must be loot from two or three burglaries in here... and I think I found the matching necklace and earrings for that bracelet you showed me..."

"But?" I prompted.

"Nothing in here is mine."

*****

I placed the lid back on the box and took it from Emily's hands as I returned her stick to her. "You don't look the least bit surprised," she accused.

"I'm not," I confirmed as I placed the box back in its hiding-place, to be discovered later by Scotland Yard, "This fits in with the theory I've been forming of the burglary."

"What theory is that?" I could understand that she was upset; to the untrained investigator, this discovery had to feel like finding an empty hole at the place on a treasure map where a fortune was supposed to be.

"My theory," I said gently, "Is that your jewelry is still in your house."

"WHAT!" The word fairly exploded from her mouth and for a few moments I thought she might leap at me as she had the man I'd fought. To prevent this, I gently seized her by the shoulders.

"Everything shall be explained in due time," I told her quietly, "Right now we need to determine how long Leopold will have to delay his upcoming visitors."

"What-?" she began, but I was already out the door in search of one of the Irregulars, moving at such a pace that she had to run to keep up with me.

As for myself, I was like a bloodhound who senses his quarry is near, and Emily's discomfort (and my own, for that matter) was reduced to a minor issue. Time was of the essence.

By the time I heard Emily catching up with me, I had found one of my scouts, who reported that the man had set off in a cab towards the decorators', about forty minutes ago. I sent the lad sprinting off towards Scotland Yard with a message to Lestrade to have three men meet us at the Cartwright Estate. All but a very few of the Irregulars could neither read nor write, and anyway I didn't wish to waste any time with paper and a pencil, but I had trained them well to retain a verbal message and repeat it to its intended recipient.

"Forty minutes," I said, thinking aloud, "From here to the decorators' is about twenty minutes, and from there to the Cartwright Estate is forty minutes. If we secure a cab quickly, we may get there in time to intercept them. Come, Emily!" And with that I grabbed her by the arm and half led, half-dragged her to the street-corner.

It took us an infuriating fifteen minutes to find a cab who would take us, and even then I had to toss him a sovereign in advance (a rather surprising donation from such a slovenly-looking character as myself, no doubt). I promised to double it if he got us to our destination as quickly as possible. During that interval it appeared that Emily's adrenaline rush had worn off; during the cab ride she leaned against my shoulder as if she was dozing off, though later she denied doing any such thing. The tempest was subsiding, it seemed, or else she was saving her energy for the final confrontation we both knew had to lie back at the Cartwright Estate.

Either way, I felt certain that the burglars would rue the day they had set their sights upon the Cartwright Estate.

****

Can't believe we're so close to the end of this series! 🥺 only another 2 chp to go...

[brucebocchi]

Ranking every new anime I watched in 2023, Pt. 1: #29-21

hey, i just started a ko-fi for my writing and possible other creative outlets. this post will also be available there, as will future entries, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i'm currently between jobs.

I have watched a frankly hilarious amount of anime in 2023. I got back into it as a medium in a huge way last year, and in addition to watching new stuff as it airs, I went back and caught up on a lot of what I'd missed when I thought anime was cringe. I watched existing shows come back for new seasons. I even read manga before watching some shows! I dove headfirst into romantic comedies, finally dug into some hype shonen, and even indulged in a few isekai.

If I ranked every anime I watched in 2023, we'd be here forever, so I decided to stick to the ones that came out in 2023. I have not watched all of them, because I had a job. I kept up as much as I could with the stuff that came heavily recommended and hyped, but I was unfortunately unable to watch all of them. I couldn't find the time to watch Vinland Saga or Pluto, and this list is long enough as it is. We'll be sticking to a very untidy 29 anime series that aired this year.

I'll be breaking the full ranking up over the next few days. This is publicly available, but if you liked what I had to say and you'd like to throw a couple bucks my way, I'd really appreciate it.

Let's get to it.

29. FLCL Grunge/Shoegaze

I absolutely adore the original FLCL, but I’ll cop to not having watched its sequels, Progressive and Alternative, until earlier this year. I knew going in that people hated the reboot and then forgot about it. For me, the experience was similar to when I saw Spider-Man 3 a week or so after the backlash died down: Nothing great, but I tempered my expectations and enjoyed them just fine. Didn’t hate them, didn’t love them. I had similarly mild expectations for Grunge and Shoegaze, and the six-episode run came and went without anyone really having anything to say about it. That was probably not a good sign.

I really wanted to give Grunge a shot, even though I was unimpressed by the trailer, but I found myself only watching it out of obligation midway through the first episode. I'm not as hard on CGI in anime as others, and I know that entirely-CGI anime has come a very long way since the likes of even recent works like Ex-Arm (you’ll see my thoughts on Trigun Stampede much, much later in this list). You can imagine my disappointment in saying that Grunge is fuck ugly. Character models are rigid and inert, the settings are unimpressive, and the only time anything on screen looks any good is in the little moments when they swap out the CGI for something slightly more FLCL-ish.

This one plays out like the original release of Arrested Development’s fourth season, each episode focusing on a single main character until they all culminate in the same explosive climax. That's an admirable enough storytelling ambition, but Grunge is three episodes long. That's not enough to get me invested in any of the characters, and it makes all their respective personal struggles feel more like lazy attempts at emotional manipulation. I just came away depressed. What’s worse is that this framing ends up placing Haruko, fucking HARUKO, as the main character, which is one of the worst mistakes anything calling itself FLCL can make.

I'll be real for a second: I'm very easily manipulated by nostalgia. There were moments in the final Evangelion Rebuild and this year’s Nier Automata anime that brought me to tears by calling back unexpectedly to moments I’d loved in previous entries of those respective franchises. When I first watched FLCL Progressive, the instant the Pillows’ iconic “Little Busters” first started playing, I immediately got misty-eyed because the song’s inclusion in the original FLCL was so formative to me as an adolescent. When the almost-as-iconic “Last Dinosaur” gets a needle drop in Grunge, I just rolled my eyes because the wool had already been pulled back from them. 

Everything Grunge did, it did wrong, and it could not be more naked of a nostalgia grab. Haruko didn’t need to be there, the Pillows didn’t need to be there, and the FLCL branding didn’t need to be there. Worst of all, it’s fucking boring. FLCL Grunge, plainly, was a mistake.

Shoegaze, on the other hand, turned out to be a full-on sequel to Alternative, generally considered the better of the first two sequels (it also goes back to traditional animation). We get to see Kana as a grown woman, fully involved with the bureau that handles disaffected teenagers like she once was. It's neat to see a version of FLCL where one of its protagonists has actually grown up, and I do appreciate it when a long-running franchise acknowledges that its viewer base has gotten older and attempts to grow with them, but it feels cheap here because Alternative came out all of five years ago. There's a lot of additional shenanigans involving time and dimension travel around our two younger protagonists that could’ve been very fulfilling on their own even without the Alternative connection, but again, three episodes.

While Shoegaze isn’t all that great, it still kind of stinks to slot it this low, but Grunge was such a palate destroyer for what followed that it made me more annoyed that Shoegaze didn’t take up the entire six-episode run. Maybe watch it if you really liked Alternative, but otherwise this stinker of a miniseason is not worth your time. Grunge isn’t even worth a hate watch. I want my hour back.

28. KamiKatsu: Working for God in a Godless World

Speaking of fuck ugly visuals, here’s KamiKatsu. To be fair, that was actually the hook for me! I'd heard about and seen examples of this show’s intentionally low-quality, uncanny visual gags and I had to see what this trainwreck was about. Overcoming a cheap animation budget for laughs can actually work to an anime’s advantage if it’s done well, and Cromartie High School is legendary proof of that.

KamiKatsu, in reality, is nothing to write home about outside of its wacky visual meta-gags and a halfway decent premise. I generally steer away from the bloated wasteland that is the isekai genre unless a specific work either comes highly recommended by trusted sources or draped in the sash of “no seriously, this shit is bonkers, you HAVE to see this.” 

KamiKatsu is the latter: The son of a cult leader is ritually sacrificed, reincarnated into a world where nobody has heard of religion, nearly executed, and saved by a goofy shitty goddess (think Aqua from KonoSuba but looks like a 10 year old) who can only carry out miracles if she has enough followers. Our protagonist, whose name I will never remember again, uses his prior knowledge of cult tactics to cultivate a following for the goddess whose name I keep forgetting so she can protect their village from outside threats.

Even putting the shitpost-y visuals aside, this show is… sloppy. There's a whole lore to this that isn’t really worth diving into outside of a system of elites that can attain similar benefits by amassing followers. It’s an uneven, poorly-defined power system and it kinda doesn’t matter. A lot of this doesn’t matter. Pretty much everyone is a weird pervert. There's a decent emotional arc among a pair of characters later on, and a few of the jokes land, but for as outlandish as KamiKatsu can be, it just kinda slides off the brain once everything is said and done.

Other than the aforementioned visual gags (such as PS2-quality monsters and animals poorly implemented into hand-drawn scenes and the rotoscoped combine harvester you see above), the only other thing I can really commend the anime for is the voice performances. The cast is genuinely great; there are some pretty darn good performances by seiyuu titans like Junya Enoki (more on him when I cover Girlfriend Girlfriend and Jujutsu Kaisen), Kana Hanazawa, Aoi Yuuki, Rie Takahashi (MUCH more on her as this goes on), and the legendary Megumi Ogata. I won't be so flip as to say they’re better than this show deserves, but they definitely help it punch above its weight.

Points for originality in concept, ingenuity in working around a low budget, and some very good performances, but something this consistently insane really shouldn’t be quite so forgettable. Shouts out to the writer of the subtitles in the version I watched, though, for actually using the word “cummies.” That took gumption.

27. Mashle: Magic and Muscles

Man, I really wanted to like this one. “One Punch Man goes to Hogwarts” should be a fucking slam dunk concept for an action-comedy shonen. It gains its footing as the season rolls on, but honestly, I'm unimpressed.

In a world where magic dominates everything and those without any magical aptitude are culled, a very un-magical young man is raised in secret to train the only asset he does possess, which is his very strong body. He’s found out as an “other,” and with the old man who harbors him under threat of penalty, he enrolls in a very familiar-looking school for young wizards for reasons I've already forgotten so he can save his adoptive father. Extremely mild hilarity ensues.

Mashle doesn’t look all that good, the action is so-so, and worst of all, it’s utterly convinced that it’s funnier than it actually is. The characters are solid, the lore is kinda interesting, and I have to give the original mangaka credit for ripping off Harry Potter so blatantly and shamelessly. I really wish I had more to say about this, but I'm coming up short. That's all I've got because that’s all the show gave me. Your mileage may vary.

Guess I'll be watching season 2.

26. KonoSuba: An Explosion on This Wonderful World!

I’m not as high on KonoSuba as many other anime fans. It’s one of a select handful of isekai I’ve watched by choice, and I had a fun time with it, but it’s far from the best or funniest anime I’ve seen. I was excited, though, that it was finally back from a four-year hiatus, and so soon after I'd picked it up. What I got was… not quite what I'd anticipated.

While I, along with most other fans, would’ve preferred a proper third season rather than a spinoff (and we’re getting one in 2024, thankfully), Megumin is pretty much the only member of the main party tolerable enough to spend an entire season with (and yes, that includes fucking Kazuma). This season covers Megumin and Yunyun’s backstory prior to their travels to the starter town, beginning with their education in the Crimson Demon Village. The 2019 movie did a very good job fleshing out Megumin’s family and the origins of the Crimson Demon race, which turned out to be one of the best jokes in the series, so I was looking forward to learning more.

What we got, unfortunately, is pretty mid. The story largely revolves around the onset of Megumin’s obsession with explosion magic and her stubborn refusal to learn literally any other spells despite her prowess, and above all, the negative effect that stubbornness produces for everyone around her. Although Megumin is probably the least shitty of KonoSuba's main cast, the show doesn’t hesitate to remind its audience that she’s still a piece of shit. She's still likable, relatively speaking, because she constantly finds herself surrounded by freaks and perverts, but she is also wildly capricious and selfish. The only person Megumin is even remotely nice to is her precious little sister, Komekko, and any time with that little shit is time well spent. Everyone else is grist for the mill, easily sacrificed or left for dead so Megumin can make some quick coin or save her own hide.

Which is honestly fine, especially when the Crimson Demon protagonists find themselves in the resort town run by the Cult of Axis (who are, uh, much more pedophilic than their appearance in the second season led us to believe). I'm not opposed to media where everyone is shitty and kinda hates each other; that’s really the whole bent of KonoSuba to begin with, but everyone in this season just plain kinda sucks in an unfunny way that left me watching out of obligation. We also see the genesis of Yunyun’s one-sided rivalry with Megumin, and honestly, this spinoff just left me feeling even worse for Yunyun than I already did. It's never been a secret that her “rivalry” was really her way of trying to make friends with Megumin, but the explosion gremlin is so consistently frustrating for her to be around that I really wonder if it’s even worth tailing her.

Rie Takahashi (there she is again) is familiarly excellent in her fourth go as Megumin, and doesn’t hesitate to depict her as somehow even more unhinged than she was after joining Kazuma’s party. Unfortunately, that’s really all this season has to hang its comically large witch hat on. There were so many teases of the main series’ other protagonists that by the time it was over I was ready to see Darkness, Aqua, and yes, even Kazuma again. This is a fine stopgap en route to the overdue third season, I guess, but it’s far from essential unless you’re a hardcore KonoSuba fan.

25. Girlfriend, Girlfriend, season 2

In my grand Get Back Into Anime quest that started a year and a half ago, I spent a lot of my downtime really digging into what I’d missed; the stuff that came highly recommended and really took me for a ride. Mob Psycho 100’s absurd action scenes and emotional highs, Serial Experiments Lain’s thematic vagaries and alarming prescience, and ODDTAXI’s multilayered, constantly-unraveling mystery are all well and good, but I'm getting dumber as I get older. Sometimes I just need to turn my brain off.

Girlfriend Girlfriend is so unrelentingly stupid that I fear I may be unable to turn my brain back on, and that is genuine praise. Naoya, an entirely-too-honest high school boy, finally got his lifelong crush to agree to go out with him, only for another very adorable girl to confess to him shortly thereafter. Rather than hurt either of their feelings, his solution was to date both of them, and because everyone in this show is very easily convinced (and to be fair, he’s a very convincing person), he manages to bag Saki and Nagisa at the same time. The three of them navigate the relationship together, with Naoya working overtime to ensure both of them receive equal attention while the girls make sure he doesn’t blab about their situation to anyone who’ll listen.

The first season was insanity from top to bottom, but the second takes a slightly slower pace as it focuses on the two girls who aren’t simultaneously dating Naoya. The first half is about Rika’s continuing (and extralegal) attempts to woo Naoya away from his girlfriends, and the second focuses on the main five’s trip to Okinawa as Shino wrestles with her emotional attachment to him. We can all see where this is going (Girlfriend, Girlfriend, Girlfriend, Girlfriend), but the manga lasted for 16 volumes, so the show will take forever to get there, if it ever does. He doesn’t even get to kiss one of his actual girlfriends until the penultimate episode of this season.

Rika’s sociopathic attempts at wooing Naoya are unfortunately more of the same, and while her appeal and feelings for him are plainly obvious and even understandable, her antics (inasmuch as you can classify her repeatedly kidnapping and hogtying Naoya as “antics”) in the second season don’t do anything to make me want to root for her or really even see her at all anymore. Shino’s struggles, on the other hand, are entirely internal: She’s had a crush on Naoya for as long as she’s known him, but her friendship with Saki only complicates things. She wants him to get serious with Saki so she can let him go, but she can’t let go of the nagging feeling that there might be room for herself as well. Shino still hates that Naoya is two-timing her best friend in plain sight, but she sees what a thoughtful and caring young man he can still be and can’t seem to let it go.

Shino’s side of the story is all well and good on paper, and Rie Takahashi turns in a characteristically great performance (Junya Enoki kills it as Naoya as well), but by the end of the season I almost didn’t care anymore. It’s always good when a romantic comedy actually takes its time to delve into the angsty side of things, but it felt like it put the brakes on the larger story so hard that by the end of the season, I had fully forgotten Nagisa’s name. Even this season’s better comedic moments felt like more of the same from the first, and you can only eat the same junk food over and over again so many times before you’re tired of it.

I do try to address each of the shows I talk about in a vacuum, but Girlfriend Girlfriend’s second season was done no favors by having to air at the same time as The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, [...] Really Love You, which frankly blows it out of the water in both concept and execution. On its own, I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say this show “fell off” in its second season; it was cheap junk food to begin with, but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for the third.

24. Shangri-La Frontier

I gave this show four episodes because it seemed to carry some hype around it. I couldn't tell if I liked it or not. I left it for a few weeks, watched up to episode ten, and still couldn’t tell if I liked it or not. We’re now an entire cour into the show and I still cannot tell you whether or not I like this show. I can say definitively that I don't hate it, but I really don’t know why I kept watching it.

The premise is not “deceptively” simple so much as it is too simple: A gamer who specializes in the broken and buggy world of kusoge (literally “shit games”) decides to take a breather in a full-dive VR MMO that shares the show’s title as his first real experience with a kamige (“god game”). He takes a wrong turn and gets waxed by a roaming elite boss, and by a quirk of his equipment he finds himself able to access an emergent scenario that nobody else in the game seems to have found yet. 

Because the curse he’s received from the boss prevents him from wearing anything but his original meme gear, he’s instantly recognizable, which makes things harder once he starts running around with an unknown bunny NPC that makes him the target of real-life acquaintances, player-killers, and of course, a guild of furries. The rest of the show is, and I cannot stress this enough, watching this guy play his way through a video game.

I’ll be fair: This is, by most objective measures, a very well-made anime. The action is excellently choreographed and animated, almost every joke lands, and the music is killer (especially the rabbit blacksmith hymn). I'm still yet to find the hook, though. Maybe it’s because I'm not an MMO guy, but I really am struggling to find a reason to care about this guy’s trek through a video game when there’s not really anything at stake. It’s probably a more relatable experience to those of you who enjoy MMOs; there’s plenty of stuff from the Universal Gaming Experience in there like getting cheesed by cheap boss mechanics or making a mad dash to a checkpoint while on the brink of death to make you go “ah ha, I do that.” 

It just isn’t there for me though. This feels like an extended advertisement for a game that doesn’t even exist. Of course, not everything in anime needs to be high-concept; I'm a big fan of slice-of-life, for instance, but I really can’t find a reason to keep watching into the second cour beyond a sunk cost fallacy. If I do continue watching Shangri-La Frontier, it would be in search of a reason to continue watching Shangri-La Frontier. I guess that really is the MMO experience.

At least the bunny is cute.

23. Level 1 Demon Lord and One Room Hero

I love it when anime can be both high-concept and extremely stupid at the same time. I watched way more fantasy anime this year than I'd anticipated, and almost all of them follow an unseen, Dragon Quest-y “yay the hero’s party beat the demon king” prologue. The turn this one takes, though, was so hilariously goofy that I had to go check it out.

Ten years after the fearsome Demon Lord is taken down, they reincarnate as a three-eyed, gender-ambiguous little gremlin thing. Though weakened and diminutive (and wearing a seifuku because it was the first outfit they were given), they go to seek vengeance on Max, the hero who befell them. After flying over a suddenly very technologically-modern town, they hone in on someone who looks an awful lot like the strapping young hero, except now he’s a shut-in slob with a beer gut and a porn addiction.

Turns out the spotlight of postwar celebrity was a bit too bright for Max and he got himself canceled like a half dozen times before deciding to go full NEET off his earnings. The unnamed Demon Lord, rather than taking advantage of an easy opportunity for revenge, just kinda… feels bad for him. Rather than seek revenge right away, DL instead goes the domestic route, to Max’s chagrin. They cook and clean and urge him to get back in touch with his old adventuring buds, which he’d rather not do because there’s some serious political turmoil going on outside with two of them on opposing sides.

I may have oversold the “high concept” aspect a bit, but I really do like the idea of an archetypal sword-and-sorcery JRPG protagonist having to survive in a modern media environment. What's more, there is some bizarrely potent romantic tension between Max and the Demon Lord (who can transform their appearance into that of an attractive young woman, which makes it look slightly less weird) that should serve as catnip for the enemies-to-lovers crowd. It’s also not quite as slice-of-life-y as the initial premise suggests; that political turmoil I mentioned is much more than a background element, and Max and DL keep getting dragged into the squabble to the point where it takes over the entire plot.

I went and read the manga midway through the season and realized that all of the flashbacks to Max’s adventuring days were entirely original to the anime, and they went a long way to padding out a frankly thin plot. The action and political intrigue are well and good, but I was so taken in by the silly domestic aspect of the show that I kinda hoped it would be the whole thing. Still, it’s a nice light watch (if surprisingly horny sometimes) and a nice palate cleanser for some of the richer stuff coming later in the list.

22. Reborn as a Vending Machine, I Now Wander the Dungeon

By all accounts, this shouldn’t work. The title alone yields a pretty expected response: “Jesus Christ, the isekai genre is really out of ideas.” It’d be a throwaway line in 30 Rock if that show made anime jokes that didn’t involve James Franco. And yet! And yet it works, and it’s… fine.

I will commend the author of the original light novel for actually exploring what can be done with the very silly premise of someone being isekai’d into a fantasy world as a vending machine. Yes, it’s a silly title that can steal some quick cheap views on Syosetu and Bookwalker, but credit where it’s due for digging into the questions the title raises: How can he move? How can he communicate? What use does he have in this world? Do the people there know what a vending machine is? Do they even know Japanese? 

These questions are all answered in a short time as our vending machine protagonist, soon assigned the name Boxxo, helps protect a strong but clumsy adventurer named Lammis from a trash mob ambush. She soon realizes that Boxxo is more than a simple inanimate object, and that strapping a fucking vending machine to her back improves her balance and accuracy in battle, so she takes him back to town to meet her friends. He soon becomes an invaluable part of daily life in Lammis’ little pastoral community and adventuring party, providing rations and creative solutions along their quests.

Once the initial absurdity of the premise settles in a bit, this show works out nicely as a cozy turn-your-brain-off light fantasy story. It’s very fun seeing Boxxo figure out how to work his and the party’s way through challenges, especially as he learns to transform into different types of service machines (including air pumps, defibrillators, and condom dispensers), but nothing ever feels too high stakes. There’s conflict, there’s action, but none of it really feels like life or death. The rest of the show is just the story of a girl and her quarter-ton box. I refuse to rephrase that.

If there’s any reason to watch this, though, it's Lammis. She’s so goddamn cute.

21. Horimiya: The Missing Pieces

The original run of Horimiya was excellent, but very condensed given that it got only 13 episodes to adapt all 16 volumes of the remastered manga. It hit all the major beats of Kyoko Hori and Izumi Miyamura’s uneventfully-blossoming romance, but left out a good handful of the side stories and characterization of less-central characters.

That's more or less where Missing Pieces comes in. I flippantly refer to this as “the DLC season” but that’s effectively what’s going on here. While the aforementioned romance is the centerpiece of the story, Horimiya is always at its best when you get to just hang out with its ensemble cast. The original run of the show did eventually settle into the more slice-of-life rhythm of the manga, but this season really dives into those. 

It’s not quite a sequel, nor does it really stand on its own, but it’s necessary viewing if you developed any attachment to the cast from the original anime or manga runs. We see a lot more of Miyamura’s friendships with his classmates, student council antics, Shu Iura’s hilarious home life, and even Kyoko’s parents. There’s plenty more of the titular relationship, of course, with a little extra focus on what a holy terror Kyoko can be, even to her boyfriend.

It’s more Horimiya. I really shouldn’t have to say anything else. If you liked Horimiya, then watch this. If you haven’t seen Horimiya, then go watch Horimiya, and then watch this. Or find a watch order so you can watch both seasons at the same time.

Part 2 coming in a couple days!

[anantaru]

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬‘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗞 !

˖˚˳⊹ they‘re drunk feat. childe : ayato : kaeya : diluc : kazuha : heizou : itto : xiao : venti : cyno x fem! reader

˖˚˳⊹ genre: fluff : crack : mentions of alcohol

drunk! childe who assured you that he can take another shot. The both of you were at a banquet hosted by the fatui after all, he had to stay longer and taste all the beverages available, it’s to show that he’s truly cherishing and admiring the cryo archon —that’s what he told you after gobbling down the fifth shot—, now babbling incoherent words of weird shit you weren’t able to decipher even if you tried your hardest. You did know it was something about a dark secret of his, (that’s how he made it sound like if you were being honest) before he bursted out screaming that he was horny.

drunk! ayato who was so cocky at first, kind of ignorant if you squint, telling you that he’s not getting drunk easily, what’s a few gulps of those tasty wines after all? thoma got it from mondstadt for him to taste and relish in, what kind of lord would he be if he weren’t going to drink it since it‘s a gift he got. To your surprise he did hold up a bit longer than expected, yet in the end he was starting to get a bit weird. Was giggling about literally every single thing you said like it didn’t even matter what it was (you could just say one single random word and he‘d go HAHAHA), —and his cackles were so loud as well—, cheeks a cute rosy tint and if you were being honest, in a way he was fucking adorable in your eyes!

drunk! kaeya who was way too happy that you were accompanying him to the tavern tonight. He loves quality time together after all! Resulted in him ordering way too many drinks though, —to show you his favorites and impress you a bit hehe—, yet while you stayed with the drink you ordered, somebody had to get rid of the rest that kaeya so carelessly bought. The way he gobbled them up was beyond belief if you were being honest, it didn’t take him long to finish the drinks and that’s when it hit him like a truck in an isekai anime. Cheeks heated up, radiating warmth while he was getting utterly clingy, hugging you tightly while introducing you to literally every single person in the tavern as his s/o. <3

drunk! diluc who’s fighting with himself right now. He’s drunk as fuck but literally tells himself that he isn’t. He would start babbling weird shit to himself too, something like, —you’re not drunk diluc, get over yourself—, over and over again in hopes to trick his mind somehow yet that’s not how it worked. You felt bad for laughing but it was way too funny watching him try his hardest to play sober when in reality his mind was threatening to turn blank. Diluc was absolutely disgusted by alcohol, yet even he had to consume it sometimes when important guests would come to visit the winery for some quality beverages. He’s writing himself a mental note to switch it up with grape juice and pretend for it to be alcohol again for the next time.  

drunk! kazuha who's a little sleepy head, as we all know by now. He just can't help himself, really. His head just grows so heavy, thank the archons you're by his side so he can properly rest it on your shoulder. The way he's slowly unraveling into a little whiny baby is beyond adorable, cooeing sweet things against the shell of your ear before slowly dozing of in a deep slumber, —don’t forget he’s still on your shoulder though—. You truly couldn't get enough of his precious facial expression but at some point you got to get him home safely somehow, good luck with that because he‘s not going to be much of a help!

drunk! heizou who’s tripping over every single second, getting him actually home was a much harder mission than you at first anticipated. "step, step, step." he‘s giggling while chanting that word, over and over again. If he wasn’t that cute you would’ve smacked his head by now, you were sure the word 'step' would be stuck in your head forever now mixed with the random melody heizou was adding on. Finally reaching your home, you had to stop him from actually tripping over again the moment he headed in before he fell flat on the couch, knocked out immediately too. The way he was laying there made his hair strands hanging loosely around his beautiful heated up face, he was so pretty even when drunk like this! bewitching almost when you took the blanket next to him to cover his body, so he wouldn’t catch a cold. <3

drunk! itto who made a bet to drink those three bottles of fine liquor, if he managed to not pass out he’s going to be gifted an amazingly strong onikabuto for his collection. It was no other than kamisato ayato himself who made him do it, —probably well knowing that there wasn’t a way for itto to actually stay awake after gobbling those three bottles up—, yet itto was determined, he‘s the greatest after all! not even you could’ve talked him out of ayato‘s scheming so there he was now: on the floor, two bottles empty while the other one was still tightly closed, he just couldn’t do it anymore. Itto lolled his head back a bit, mumbling about the random onikabuto he wasn’t going to get now while ayato cracked himself up next to you. While shooting the yashiro commissioner a deadly glance to shut him up, you advanced forward to itto to bring your silly boyfriend home before shinobu was about to find out what had happened, which if you were being honest would not only get him in trouble, but yourself as too!

drunk! xiao who said he couldn’t get drunk, he’s a yaksha after all, have some respect. But once actually being one bottle and a half in, he realized his mind was getting hazy, foggy almost. What was that witchcraft😩, is the first thing he thought to himself before you assured him that it was the alcohol messing with his brain. Xiao refrained from drinking anymore then, he also plopped back against the bed to feel the soft sheets underneath him engulf him. When drunk, he turned a bit more opened up, taking your hand in his and holding it close without saying anything really. You could’ve sworn you even saw a little smile painted across his features once you locked gazes. Xiao isn’t saying anything right now, the intimacy was rising up slowly while the both of you drifted away, dozing off in a deep slumber engaged in each others arms. 

drunk! venti who's normal as always, you don't even realize he was a bit drunk when you first met up with him. Yet after destroying yet another bottle of fine dandelion wine, —which no one knew how he afforded it himself—, venti started singing and musing in a louder tone. He'd chant, praise and hum around the tavern with the people listening closely at his enchanting voice. Don't be fooled though, venti isn't doing that for free, he eyed yet another bottle behind the bar and figured that if he were to put on a show, he might get it for free (he didn't get it for free), in the end you had to practically drag him out since you figured diluc was starting to get fed up with venti's voice.

drunk! cyno who only wanted a drink after a long day of work, tasting the sweet n bitter liquor on his tongue and finally being able to calm down. You joined him of course, knowing that it might not stay at one glass, your assumption being turned true once you saw him rest his head on the palm of his hand, cheeks rosy with his lips curved up in a playful smile once eyeing you. He's so loud, screaming out your name so you'd come over to sit next to him (if he wasn‘t so cute you would’ve turned around and dipped) also now buckle up !!! because cyno will literally burst out different kinds of jokes to make you laugh, —since he adored seeing you smile—, just be aware that most of them are going to be painfully bland and unfunny, making only cyno laugh while you were looking at him like 🧍‍♀️. Yet he was adorable that way, loosening up a bit every once in a while was something he needed to stay sane. <3

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

[adobe-outdesign]

Pokemon Worldbuilding Headcanons

Exactly what it says in the title. Some are based on the game, some on the anime, and some directly contradict both because the Pokemon lore is made up and your feelings don’t matter.

Biology

Pokemon heal faster when unconscious or asleep--thus, they faint easily from pain or exhaustion in order to recuperate.

During evolution, a Pokemon converts itself into energy and reforms itself. Evolution is optional, and a Pokemon can choose if and when it evolves. Evolution is triggered by both an environmental circumstance (ex: winning a battle), and by the Pokemon storing up energy over time until it has enough to transform.

Stress evolutions are when a Pokemon evolves prematurally in order to win a battle or when they’re in a life-or-death situation. This can result in the evolution being smaller than normal and possibly weaker as well.

“Trade evolutions” are a loose grouping of Pokemon that typically evolve when they start working with a new trainer. The exact reasons for the evolution varies by individual, and therefore can have multiple causes.

Ex: a Pokemon may evolve after it learns something from someone else. While the easiest way to achieve this is through trade, they may also evolve by training under a wiser, older Pokemon.

Trade evolutions are somewhat rare in the wild, but not unheard of.

Pokemon that evolve via stones cannot store enough energy to evolve naturally. The stones contain extra energy that they can tap into in order to aid in evolution.

Everstones work similar to sponges; they absorb the extra energy a Pokemon would normally store up to evolve, thus preventing them from doing so. They’re mostly used for medical purposes (as a Pokemon evolving when badly injured could worsen its injuries) and to help prevent stress evolutions in Pokemon that don’t want to evolve.

Pokemon types are based on the type of energy they utilize, rather than moves or appearance. Ex: Charizard is not dragon-type despite looking like a dragon because it doesn’t use dragon-type energy. New energies are discovered all the time and Pokemon are reclassified as needed.

Pokemon typing also changes as they (Darwinian) evolve. A Pokemon that’s normal/grass used to be normal-type, has started to gain grass-typing, and will eventually be only grass-type.

Humans are descended from Pokemon. They used to be psychic-type before becoming normal-type and then losing their typing all together. At this point they no longer are energy-based nor do they lay eggs, so they’re considered a separate-but-related family.

This is why some people still show psychic powers; those abilities never completely went away in some bloodlines.

Pokemon have been domesticated for so long that there’s actually no such thing as a “wild” Pokemon anymore (with the exception of legendaries). Wild Pokemon are technically feral, and any given Pokemon will quickly adapt to living with humans if caught.

Pokemon used to look different hundreds of years ago, and have slowly undergone Darwinian evolution over time as they were domesticated.

“Most trainers will legendaries shortly after their journey starts” statistic false. Most trainers will see no legendaries in their lifetimes. Ash Ketchum, who’s seen every single legendary in existence, is an outlier and should not be counted

However, areas where legendaries are known to live are oftentimes marked as no-catch conservation areas. People will oftentime travel to these parks to admire “common” legendaries (such as the bird trio) in their natural habitats.

Battles

Not knocking out a Pokemon you’re trying to capture is more of a honored rule than a law. The reason it’s done is to give the Pokemon ample time to flee--otherwise, someone may one-shot a Pokemon that doesn’t want a trainer, resulting in the Pokemon being unfairly knocked out and the trainer wasting their time.

If you give the Pokemon time to flee and it chooses to stay and fight, it’s potentially interested in accepting you as a trainer and you just have to prove yourself. If it flees, you should leave it alone.

Pokemon used for battles are specifically trained to not cause permanent harm or injury to their opponents (ex: that fire blast isn’t as hot as it could be, so it’ll only cause minor burns instead of third-degree ones). While the attacks used might look violent and cause some pain, serious injuries are very rare.

Wild Pokemon are also pretty good at restraining themselves if they’re just battling for fun or to test a trainer. They will not, however, restrain themselves if they feel threatened or are hunting. Trainers are advised to use caution when fighting wild Pokemon and return their Pokemon to their balls if necessary.

Psychic-types (Mr. Mime especially) are used to create protective barriers around arenas/trainers to protect people from flying debris and stray attacks.

Refs always have a few Pokemon on hand that know moves like stun spore or sleep powder in order to stop any fights that get out of hand.

Pokeballs

While some trainers different Pokemon by using different types of Pokeballs, decorating them is also a popular way to do it. Some people draw symbols or initials on the buttons, some add stickers, some paint them, ect.

Stores also sell semi-transparent hard shells that snap over the balls. These come in different colors and designs, so you can have a Pokeball that has a galaxy design on top instead of plain red if you want.

Most trainers keep about 40 some Pokemon or less, which they rotate between their party, the PC, and daycares/Pokemon sitters to keep them enriched and active. Some people keep more, but they generally spend all of their time caring for them and therefore aren’t trainers.

The general rule of thumb is to not leave a Pokemon in the PC for more than two weeks. If you fail to take them out after a month, they will be automatically removed and released back into the wild.

Pokeballs create little miniature simulations of nature, making them feel bigger on the inside. Different types of pokeballs have different or more advanced simulations, which may increase how much a Pokemon likes being in it.

Pokeballs create an invisible “tag” for the Pokemon by altering their energy when they’re first caught. These tags affect nothing, but Pokeballs are programmed to automatically check for one before they’ll activate.

Many poachers and other illegal groups produce their own illegal Pokeballs that do not check for tags before capture.

If a Pokeball breaks, it automatically releases the Pokemon inside and removes their tag.

Tags fade after about a month to allow for other trainers to capture a Pokemon after it’s been permanently released. The tag is automatically refreshed every time a Pokemon is brought back into its ball.

The standard Pokeball pattern is based off of the patterns of the Foongus line. Pokemon are very attracted to their markings, so the balls are painted the same to make the Pokemon like them more.

Eggs

Rather than combining genetics, Pokemon reproduce by combining their energy together (this looks a bit like two Pokemon evolving at the same time). Because of this, they lack reproductive organs and chromosomes.

Gender is a loosely defined concept for them. Pokemon can change their sex upon evolution if they want to, and some will change their sex over time (ex: legendaries are usually genderless, but will gain a sex to breed and then lose it again afterward).

If a Pokemon doesn’t display sexual dimorphism, the only way to determine their sex is to have a Pokemon Center do a blood test.

Eggs aren’t laid, but created. The pregnant Pokemon fosters energy in their body. When ready they separate the extra energy from themselves (once again, looks a bit like evolution), which forms into the egg. This causes them no pain, and means they have short gestation periods.

This also means Pokemon never look pregnant. The only way to tell is by getting them tested or paying attention to changes in behavior. Many trainers end up with eggs out of nowhere because they had no idea one of their Pokemon was pregnant to begin with.

In the wild, some species of Pokemon will lay hundreds of eggs (such as fish and bug Pokemon) to ensure their survival. In captivity, Pokemon rarely create more than 1 or 2 eggs at a time, likely because they understand their young are safe with their trainers.

Pokemon develop more quickly in their eggs than IRL animals. They can technically hatch shortly after the egg is made, but they usually spend extra time inside maturing. By the time the egg hatches, the baby already has fur/feathers/whatever, and can walk and eat solid food. This helps ensure their survival against predators.

Young Pokemon are differentiated by being “mature” or “immature”; an immature Pokemon will still gradually grow and change appearance, while a mature one is fully grown until it evolves. A Pokemon cannot evolve until it’s considered mature (excluding mega evolution for single-stagers).

To use Vulpix as a canon example: a newly hatched immature Vulpix is about 8 in tall and has one white tail. A mature Vulpix is about 2 ft tall and has six red tails.

In the wild, Pokemon mostly breed amongst their own species. The exception are Pokemon with uneven gender ratios (so if a Pokemon is 7:1 male vs female, the males will actively breed with anything in their egg group). Inter-species breeding among captive Pokemon is much more common, and usually based on the Pokemon’s personal preferences.

Hybridization in Pokemon born from two different parents is very rare, but it does happen from time to time. It’s more common in Pokemon that look similar or are distantly related.

“Perfect” hybrids, Pokemon that have equal amounts of traits from both parents as well as typing and abilities, are more sought after than shinies. They usually can’t breed due to their mix of energies.

[danydragons21]

The Undoing: Chapter 2

An Elriel Modern AU Fic

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 2: Exhibits

Elain’s new boss is going to be her undoing.

Sure, he is Chicago’s most infamous private investigator. His resume is chock-full of solved cases upon solved cases, more so than any other investigator in the game, and to do that he has to be ruthless. Unshakeable. Actually, she admires these parts of him. Admires his tenacity and no-nonsense attitude.

And yeah, he is also ridiculously, insufferably handsome. Cheekbones that could cut glass and satiny brown skin that gleam golden in the right light with eyes that can read you from a mile away. He is so beautiful that sometimes it makes her heart hurt.

But more than anything - more than his accolades or his beauty - he is, to put it simply, a fucking asshole.

The first day they met, she had (stupidly) thought he was rather interested in her. There had certainly been some sort of spark when they’d met eyes, when they’d shaken hands. Certainly been some sort of visceral connection, the likes of which she’d never before experienced. But if Elain has learned one thing recently, it was that hate and love were two closely intertwined emotions, and one could be easily mistaken for the other.

It has been three weeks since she officially began working as Azriel De Valois’s assistant at Night Agency. Or, to put it another way, it had been three weeks of straight hell.

She can not comprehend why he hates her so much. She shows up 30 minutes early to work - at a minimum - every day. She always has a cup of steaming hot coffee ready for him (black, no sugar or cream, with an extra shot of espresso; she’d made sure to memorize his order the very first day). She’s organized and diligent and dedicated to the job, and yet, for some unknown reason, he positively despises her.

She isn’t being paranoid, either. He doesn’t even try to hide his dislike.

Exhibit A: He only ever calls her “Ms. Archeron” in a tone of voice reminiscent of someone being forced to say a particularly unsavory swear word.

Exhibit B: Her desk is right outside his office, and while he usually keeps his door closed, on the rare occasions he does not, she can see right inside. And if she ever glances up to find his eyes on her, there is no mistaking the burning loathing he looks at her with.

Exhibit C, and perhaps the most damning of them all: He refused to take her on any of his investigative missions. Rhys told her her position was going to be a mentor/mentee situation, with De Valois taking her as he went and tracked down those who were seemingly untrackable.  It’s been three weeks, and Azriel still has not taken her with him on a single mission. Nesta, who is working with his associate, Cassian, has gotten to go on practical missions every single day since starting. And yeah, that might be because Cassian obviously has a massive crush on her, but whatever. Elain deserves to go on a mission, too.

Elain is so used to being liked by everyone that fine, she’ll admit it - this unexplainable loathing (and from her boss, of all people!) bothered her. Tremendously so. Bothered her so much that she had trouble sleeping at night, tossing and turning as thoughts of his hazel eyes burning a hole through her. Sometimes she’d wake up in the middle of the night, panting and sweating, the finer details of her dream slipping away but the sinking feeling in her stomach remaining.

Fine. Maybe it did a little more than bother her.

So on her 22nd day of working at Night Agency, Elain decides enough is enough. She’s tired of reorganizing the same paperwork day after day. Tired of her sister’s immediate success in the agency while she has not even been given a chance to prove herself. Tired of her boss looking at her like she’s a disgusting piece of trash he’d like to throw away.

It’s nearly 5 o’clock on a Friday, and almost everyone else in the agency has gone home. Now or never, she thinks, bracing herself. Taking a deep breath, she stands up and smooths down her plaid jumper.

You can do this, she tells herself as she walks to Azriel’s closed door. Hands shaking, she knocks before she could talk herself out of it.

The door opens. De Valois stands there, towering over her, his face an icy mask of indifference.

…Or maybe you can’t do it, Elain’s conscience whimpers. Traitor, she thinks furiously, then realizes she is talking to herself.

“Hi!” she squeaks out.

He raises a perfectly-arched eyebrow.

Okay, not off to the strongest of starts, but Elain is nothing if not resilient.

“I was hoping you had a moment to chat?”

Instead of replying like a normal, sociable human being, De Valois merely opens the door wider and returns to his desk, crossing the span of the room in a few lengthy, loping strides. He sits in his large leather chair and faces her expectantly. Gods, he really is immaculate, isn’t he? She’d studied abroad in Italy a few years ago and the sharp contours and grooves of his face made her think of the chiseled marble statues lining the halls of the Vatican.

“Well?” he prompts dryly.

“Oh!” she starts, cheeks reddening. Trying to recover, she slides into the seat in front of his desk as gracefully as possible, crossing her legs and clasping her hands over them. His eyes flick downward for a moment, as if scanning the expanse of her bare skin, before returning to meet her gaze. His expression looks darker than it did a moment ago, and Elain swallows nervously.

“Well, Mr. De Valois, I want you to first know how grateful I am for these past few weeks. I’ve learned so much, and the experience is truly invaluable, and -”

“Get on with it.” He waves a hand impatiently.

“Pardon?” she asks, stricken.

“You didn’t come in here with your hands shaking and cheeks all dusted red just to tell me how ‘valuable,’” he hooks his fingers, “this position has been for you. Whatever’s on your mind, just speak it and stop wasting my time.”

Any semblance of respect left in Elain’s body dissipates at his harsh words and harsher glare. She sits up straighter, throwing her shoulders back.

“I’ve been here nearly a month and you have yet to take me with you on a single mission. Nesta has gotten to complete practical work every day since we started. Meanwhile, I’m stuck at a desk sorting your paperwork that is already perfectly sorted, as you very well know. It’s a waste of my time and frankly, it’s a waste of yours.”

She nearly gasps aloud at her audacity. But for some reason, De Valois isn’t looking angry; if anything, he looks slightly amused. His head is tilted slightly to the side, lips curving up ever so slightly as he appraises her. Unfortunately, this only incenses her further.

“I assure you, Mr. De Valois, that I am incredibly capable. If only you would give me a chance.”

She’s not sure why, but something about her words hardens the bemused expression that had fleetingly taken over his face. Now he’s back to looking at her like she’s a bug, and he’d like nothing more than to stomp her underfoot.

“I’m not your sister’s supervisor, so I have no say over what sort of tasks she completes during her work day,” he says coldly. “I am, however, your supervisor. And I don’t think I’ve seen enough of your ethic to approve you for practical missions yet.”

She blinks. “Excuse me?”

“It’s nothing personal,” he says, but the way his eyes penetrate her very soul make it feel anything but impersonal.

“Is there something unsatisfactory about my work performance?” she asks stiffly.

“You’re just not ready. To be a private investigator, especially at the level I’m at, and to work at the intense cases I do…you have to have a certain toughness. A grit. And I just haven’t seen that in you.” He shrugs. Like everything he’s saying isn’t breaking her spirit. Like he thinks she’s the weakest thing he’s ever seen.

Don’t cry, don't cry, don't cry, she wills herself, even as hot tears prick traitorously at her eyes. Usually she is so good at keeping her emotions tamped down, but then again, she’s never been reprimanded by a boss before, and certainly never been criticized so severely. So unfairly.

“Well,” she says thickly, “I appreciate the honest feedback.” She angles her head downward, praying to all the gods she can make her escape before he notices her watery eyes.

Silence. She takes a deep breath and is about to stand up when his deep voice echoes through the office.

“I have hurt your feelings.” His voice is low, so low she is surprised she can still understand what he is saying.

“No. You haven’t. It’s fine.”

“You are upset.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think there is something like regret lacing his words.

“I’m not.” She swallows heavily and looks up, pasting a fake smile on her face. “Like I said. I’m grateful for the constructive criticism. Even if it was much more critical than it was constructive.”

She watches as a vein ticks on the side of his hardened jaw, a quickening pulse that quickens her own.

Exhibit D: He is harsh, and cruel, and has made her feel more worthless than she’s felt in a long, long time.

It’s suddenly painful to sit in this enclosed space with such a cruel, caustic man for a single moment longer. She jolts to her feet.

“Thank you for the time, Mr. De Valois. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Elain, wait.”

She’s out the door before she even realizes he called her by her first name.

[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!

[tteokggukk]

golden hour → jjk

» pairing: photographer! jungkook x reader

» genre: smut, established relationship, pwp

» words: 3.4k

» warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, some dirty talk, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), deepthroating, cunnilingus, penetration, teasing, edging-ish, jungkook is kind of??? a dom, jungkook loves kissing, use of ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ as pet names, tattooed and long haired jungkook (which isn’t rlly a warning but just in case??), and a boudoir shoot.

» summary: when your boyfriend jungkook is stressed out over a certain project, you decide to comfort him and help him de-stress by taking a mini-photoshoot during golden hour. what you don’t expect is how he turns your innocent suggestion into a boudoir shoot.

» a/n: hello omg this is the first time i’m ever posting smut and all i wanna say is i tried. this is like a practice shot or smth but i swear i’ll learn askldlaskdjl feel free to leave comments and suggestions :’> AhAHAGSGHA

permanent taglist: this is the first time i’m posting with a permanent taglist and i’m tagging just in case but since this is a smut please let me know if you’re not comfortable with smut works so i can only tag you in non-smut ones, thank you! @mochisjoon​ @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

Sundays were one of your favorite days of the week. It was your chance to unwind and ease yourself before preparing for work again the next day. It was also one of the days where you could spend your time just lying down on your bed with your longtime boyfriend, Jungkook, where you felt the safest in his arms. Today though, Jungkook was focused on his desk retouching pictures he took for a client.

It was a quiet and peaceful day in your apartment. You didn’t have much to do, so you decided to catch up on some reading while lying in bed partnered with a cup of tea on the side table. You loved how you respected each other enough in your relationship that neither of you minded or intervened the other when working on your separate interests. You could do your own thing while he would do his, so it was nice to still have that sense of freedom and independence. The two of you spent the whole day focused on your separate agendas.

Neither of you realized how the sun was beginning set, slowly dimming the room into a warm tint of orange.

From time to time, Jungkook would ask for your opinion on the shots he was fixing and you’d give him your honest opinion (you’ve picked up photography terms and technicalities that you learned from him when you first started dating). He was glad that you were of help, kissing your hand every time he heard your input, but you couldn’t help but notice how stressed he was over this one project. He’d make a low, grunting sound every hour and run his hands through his hair in frustration. Occasional clicking noises and sighs would slip from his mouth and it bothered you to see him like this. He was normally excited and quick when working on projects, but this one in particular was putting him at his wit’s end.

Getting up from bed, you decide to give your boyfriend some comfort in a way that you could. Placing your book aside, you walked over to him. You positioned your hands on his shoulders before applying soft, circular motions just below his nape, causing him to hum in pleasure and tilt his head back. He lets you massage him for a moment until he takes both your hands and rests them on his chest.

“I’m sorry I haven’t spent much time with you today,” he apologizes.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, “I know how important this is to you—but you seem really stressed about it.”

“The client has so many requests and they keep making changes at the last minute, I can’t really figure out what they want,” He sighs, obviously exasperated at the client he was currently handling.

“How urgent is this?” You ask.

“Not very?” He turns his ergonomic chair around to face you, pulling you close to make you sit on his lap, “I just wanted to get it done as fast as I could to leave some days for readjustments.” Of course, he was always such a perfectionist and you admired that about him.

“So why don’t you take a break? Watch some shows, lie down, or take new pictures as a “palette cleanser”,” You suggest, noticing how his eyebrows raise at the suggestion of taking pictures. Jungkook looks out the window before looking back at you, “Well it is golden hour,” he grins.

“Can I take pictures of you?” He asks with his doe eyes beaming brightly, making it impossible for you to say no to him.

“Sure, why not?” You agreed and got up while he followed after you with his personal camera.

Thanks to the huge window in your apartment, the warm color of the setting sun hit all the right spots in your room. The bed was well lit, so you two decided to hold the mini-shoot on it. You knew exactly what kind of poses Jungkook liked in pictures, it made your heart flutter every time he praised you for doing so well. His favorite shots were always the ones where you modeled in them—you were his muse, after all, and there hasn’t been a single shot of you that left him dissatisfied.

It didn’t take long before you were fully immersed in switching to different poses for him, you hadn’t noticed how the strap of your silk camisole began sliding off your left shoulder. Jungkook, however, took a clear notice on the simple slip of your clothing, rousing an interesting idea in his head.

You watched as Jungkook scanned the pictures, not quite expecting him to ask, “Do you wanna try a boudoir shoot?”

Your eyes grow wide at the question, unsure with what kindled the suggestion. His eyes meet yours and he mistakenly reads the expression on your face for hesitance, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, babe. It was just an idea.”

“No, I do,” You said quickly. You weren’t nervous at all, and honestly you were determined to help him get his mind off the stress he’s been through the whole day—you thought you’d do just about anything, “I was just wondering why you suddenly thought of doing that kind of shoot,” you laughed.

“So should I take these off then?” you held onto the hem of your camisole, making Jungkook smile and nod in response.

As you slowly began to undress, Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at you while you disposed of the clothes that covered every outline of your body. After all these years, seeing your body always felt like the first time for him—it was something he never got tired of, his amazement at your figure never faded.

“Maybe I should change into lingerie,” You muttered, realizing you were only wearing your plain, nude-colored underwear. Jungkook stopped you before you got out of bed.

“I think you look perfect in those,” He says, a fond look in his eyes. You slowly moved back and sat down again, a blush creeping on your cheeks. “Psh,” was all you could say, making him chuckle at how you were flustered by the comment.

Taking boudoir shoots wasn’t exactly your forte, so Jungkook had to guide and direct you on what you had to do with your body. He’d gently move your arms and feet to his desired angle, and though it was awkward at first, you eventually got the hang of it.

You were definitely a quick learner, and Jungkook noticed that. Through the lens, he started seeing how you got comfortable with the intimate poses and how your facial expressions could easily capture the mood. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare at your eyes before his gaze trailed down to your pink lips, where you lasciviously bit on your finger. He had to clear his throat before he finally took the picture.

The light coming from the windows did more than just reflect the golden hour in his shots. From your perspective, the lighting made it impossible not to notice the bulge forming in his grey sweatpants, which cast a shadow near his upper thigh. You bite your lip at the sight, your heart beginning to thump rapidly at the thoughts racing in your head.

A coy smile tugs upon your lips as you position yourself in a new pose, bringing yourself to your knees. Jungkook watches as you slowly remove the straps of your bra from your shoulders, leaving yourself to hold the cups in place. He gulps nervously and tries to hide it with a cough, but this only urges you to do more.

You continue teasing him by curving your back and gripping on the sheets, causing him to let out a frustratingly deep breath. This goes on for a couple more minutes with several other poses until he couldn’t take it anymore—with the simple movement of holding your hair up and exposing your nape, which you knew drove him wild, he brings the camera down from his face.

“You’re getting too good at this, aren’t you?”

His voice was much deeper now than it was previously as he begins to walk over to the bed. “Am I?” You ask, pretending not to notice his eyes that were now a shade darker along with the outline of his length protruding from his sweats, “Are we done? Did the pictures come out good?”

“Mhm,” he hums, sitting down on the edge of the bed to face you, leaning into your neck to whisper into your ear, “Really good.”

“Then I take it you’ll probably get back to work now?” You asked, leaning backwards to look at him, “You seem de-stressed enough. Good luck, babe!” You playfully peck his cheek before turning away from him as a joke, bringing the straps of your bra back to your shoulders.

“Not quite,” He says sternly, “Let me help you with that.”

With one swift movement, Jungkook immediately unhooks your bra as a gasp leaves your lips. He watches you clutch onto it, trying to cover your nearly exposed chest. You turn back to face him only to be met by Jungkook’s soft lips crashing into yours. He starts leaning into you, leaving you lying down on the bed with your bra still (but only barely) covering your chest. He was towering over you now, a smirk forming on his lips as he notices your cheeks turning into a darker shade of red.

“Nice try, you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he says darkly while raising a brow. You bit your lip and felt the urge to start kissing him, but the way he leaned back clearly meant he had other plans.

“Such a good model, aren’t you?” He moves back and takes your right leg, peppering your inner thigh with kisses as he steadily moves up towards your stomach while his long hair tickled your skin. He then moves up to your chest until finally reaching your collarbone, “Is this what you had in mind to relieve my stress?”

He starts planting soft kisses on your neck, gradually turning them into harsh sucking and leaving several marks on your skin. A small moan escapes your lips as he finds that sweet spot on your neck, the sound making him smirk in confidence. His left hand is pressed onto the mattress for support while the other cupped your face.

When his mouth leaves your neck, he looks into your eyes for a brief moment and gently takes your chin to pull you in for a kiss. His soft lips that move against yours so perfectly partnered with the musky scent of his perfume were enough for your mind to go in a haze. Your hands move up to his neck before slowly moving up to gently tug on his hair, making him hum in pleasure. Jungkook’s tongue begins to glide over your lips, and you take this as a cue to open your mouth and give him access to your tongue.

He breaks away for a moment to take his shirt off, the sight of his bare torso making you crave him even more. The way his muscles flexed certainly did things to you, you wished you had the ability to see his gorgeous back while simultaneously looking at his toned abdomen.

He notices the small tug on your lips after removing his shirt and sends you a teasing smile, “Well aren’t you enjoying this?”

“Always,” you sighed, making him giggle. He leans forward once again for your lips to meet. Softly, you bite on his lower lip before he makes his way towards your cheek, then down towards your neck, and finally to your chest where your bra laid atop your breasts. He takes the garment between his teeth and takes it with his hand, tossing it over to a nearby chair where it perfectly hung over the backrest. You don’t know why, but that act alone caused your arousal pool even more—you had to resist gasping out loud in amazement.

His tongue begins to skillfully swirl over your nipple and your breath hitches at the action. His tattooed hand takes your other breast and cups it, lightly kneading and squeezing it.

“Mmmh, that feels good,” You moan softly while your fingers run through the strands of his hair. Once his lips leave your breast, he gives you a quick kiss before moving down to your thighs where he slightly spreads them apart.

“Oh, babe,” he purrs while playing with the waistband of your underwear, “This wet already?” He continues to lightly peck your inner thighs while his hand rubs on your pussy that was still covered by your undergarment. Your breathing had turned heavy as you waited for his next move, but he seemed to enjoy teasing you like this.

“Jungkook, please...” Your voice almost came out as whisper.

His eyes look up to meet yours, a “Please what, baby?”

“Please me,” you whined.

“Please you? And what do you want me to do?” He smirks, rubbing the garter of your underwear between his fingers as if he were about to pull them down any second.

“Take it off,” you begged.

“These?” Slowly, he begins to pull them down and slides them off your thighs. You push yourself up to watch as he takes your underwear in his hands, tossing them to the same chair where he threw your bra. The outline of his cock appeared to be even more protrusive now, and you couldn’t help but slightly salivate at the sight.

He slips his fingers into your folds and brushes them past your clit while quiet whimpers begin to fall from your mouth. Jungkook leans forward as he starts to gradually rub in circles, his eyes focused on yours as he watches the expressions on your face with amusement.

“Ah—fuck,” You fail to bite back a moan as Jungkook begins to pick up the pace, stroking his fingers up and down exactly the way you wanted him to. “Just like that,” you pant.

“Is this what you want?” He whispers into your ear before pulling his hand away, “Or should I get back to work and stop?”

“God, Jungkook, no—!” You cried.

“No, what?” He growls, “Use your words, ___.”

“No, don’t get back to work,” You whined.

“Then what should I do?” His hands continue to slide through your arousal while waiting for your answer.

“Touch me, please.”

He chuckles darkly at your impatience.

“So needy.”

He begins to run his digits along your clit causing your breathing to become unsteady as louder pants escaped your lips. Seeing the veins on his arm while his tattooed fingers worked their way onto your sweet spot turned you on greatly, you found yourself moaning out every profanity you knew. Jungkook slips two of his long fingers into your pussy, causing you to cry his name out loud followed by another curse. He licks his lips at the arousing sound of you blurting out vulgar words while his fingers curled inside you.

“This is what you wanted, babe? For me to fuck you with my fingers, huh?” He inserts a third finger in and you feel the burn from the stretch, hissing at the slight pain. He quickly moves down and positions himself to face your arousal, using his free hand to further spread your legs apart.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” He stares hungrily and runs his tongue across your folds, “Tastes so good.”

Your hands grab onto Jungkook’s soft hair while he continues lapping you up, his tongue skillfully flicking over and sucking on your clit. The motion of his fingers slipping in and out of you paired with the movement of his tongue sent your mind in a frenzy—you could hear just how wet you were and felt your pussy pulsating at his touch.

He continues to delve his tongue into you, humming in delight as he takes in every bit of your arousal. The vibrations from his mouth felt even more stimulating, and though you wanted to feel much more of him than just his mouth, the high you felt was too much for you to be able to push him off.

“W-want you,” You stuttered. Jungkook looks up at you and breathes out a deep laugh, another smirk forming on his lips.

“Me? Where do you want me, babe?” He positions himself above you to plant kisses along your neck which made you smile. Your hands trail all over his torso before sliding down underneath his sweatpants, feeling the length of his cock in your hands. Jungkook lets out a low grunt and crashes his lips back into your neck.

“Want you inside me,” You hum, rubbing his cock underneath his sweats. Jungkook’s breathing begins to turn ragged at your touch, but he manages to pull himself back and take his pants off.

“Kneel, baby,” He instructs, holding your hands to pull you up. You kneel in front of him and watch as he begins to stroke himself, biting your lip at the sight. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Pushing his hand off himself, you wrap your lips around the red tip of his cock. His hand grabs a fistful of your hair as you bob your head up and down his length, your hand pumping the rest of his size. Low groans begin to emit from his mouth while your tongue swirled around the head, and to show him just how much you wanted him to be inside you, you dared yourself to take him deep inside your throat.

“F-fuck, ___, you’re so good,” He breathes out in shock at how much of him you’re taking in. Slight tears form in your eyes as his grip on your hair tightens, momentarily gagging you.

Jungkook’s hands finally frees the strands of your hair as he leans forward into you, pushing you back onto the mattress. Prying your legs apart, he takes his cock in his hand and teases your entrance, brushing the tip up on your clit and causing heat to form in your stomach.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whined, unable to wait any longer. Another smile tugs on his lips at your eagerness and before you knew it, you were gripping on the sheets while Jungkook sank deep into you. The movement of his hips thrusting into you has your back arching and your toes curling while you moaned his name in pleasure.

Jungkook continues to pick up the pace. You could feel the way his cock moved against your walls, hitting the exact spot that sent lightning through your veins while your fingernails dug deeper into his shoulders—the groans and heavy breathing coming from your boyfriend turning you on even more. His eyes meet yours for a quick second and for a moment he thinks about wanting to capture you just like this.

“So beautiful,” he pants, “And so, so needy.”

It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself reaching your climax, and it’s brought even closer by the sudden circular motion of Jungkook’s digits rubbing against your clit. A strangled moan comes out of you as he continues to thrust even deeper while his fingers added pressure on your bud. Your body starts to shake as your orgasm ripples through you, causing you to scream his name out for who knows how loud. Your walls clench around him as he continues to fuck you through your high and fills you up, followed by the sound of his own moans. His hips begin to slow down and he eventually pulls out of you.

Jungkook’s lips crash into yours before lying down next to you, pulling you in so you were lying down on his arm while covering the two of you with a blanket. Neither of you noticed how dark the sky had turned and how the only light coming into the apartment were from the streetlights outside. The only sound in the apartment came from the cars outside and you two catching your breaths.

“You’re amazing,” he sighs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” You grin and curl your legs with his, “Are you good, now? Feeling better enough to retouch pictures?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jungkook chuckles, “But those aren’t urgent.”

“I thought you wanted to get it done as fast as you could?” You laughed.

“I know, but it’s already dark out, so I should be spending time with you,” he says and plants a kiss on your temple. From underneath the sheets, you could feel his hands travelling to squeeze your inner thigh just as he moves closer into your ear before whispering in a low, inviting tone.

“…and one round isn’t enough, don’t you think?”

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