#is there a reason certain spaces are mostly filled with white people? is this a place where poc could even be welcomed or feel safe. most of

[brightokyolights]

...

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hey >:) Just a thought I had while reading the child creator AU.

What if the child was actually on of the archons? like, would you imagine it being Zhongli or Venti? They be like:

Zhongli: I demand to know who the father is! *looking threadedly while holding his spear, ready to pounce at someone* Creator: *sweating and thought* It's you bu. *The other Archons arguing as to which mortal it was that laid their hands on their creator*

Creator: *looks at them, then looking at Venti* *Venti, catching the creators gaze, winked and took his tonged out, fully knowing he was the father but keeping quite. He wasn't that dumb.*

Anyway that's enough of me, bye!

Archon's son

WC : 1k, venti: 591 zhongli:594

(somehow they ended somewhat close! I thought zhongli would be longer by a fair bit)

Cw:

venti- nahida can see the baby kicking inside the belly (I heard some people feel it's like body horror so just in case)

Zhongli -reader passed out because of low iron, pica/eating rocks

I will admit that this is mostly centered around the idea that they do know that it's theirs or it's likely to but at the beginning there is something along the line of that, anyway, wouldn't it be fun if venti's child could change some features, one day he looks like you and the next he is his dad's clone

“Why is everyone so silent?” Venti fills his glass with some wine, the atmosphere thick enough to cut. You were hosting dinner in your serenitea pot, something informal and a thinly veiled excuse to strengthen links between nations, and somehow the papers written by your physician were next to the door long enough for both zhongli and the tsaritsa to read.

“Their situation implies that they shared bed with a mortal” the tsaritsa crosses her arms above her chest, the way her lips curved and the roll of her eyes show her distaste for the situation.

“If their grace wanted to be accompanied by a man shouldn't that be their choice?” Venti says out loud while feigning innocence “who are we even to judge that?”

“Surprisingly enough Barbatos does have a point, to react like this is to some extent patronizing” Nahida nods along.

“tsk!”

“They seem pleased enough with the current situation so I find no reason to meddle” Raiden speaks for the first time since being seated. As much as the tsaritsa would have liked to snap back at her, you appear from the hallway oblivious to their fight so she chooses to bite her tongue and hope you bring it up later.

“Aren't they fidgety…” Nahida mumbles softly as you pat her hair, the soft white hair mixing with her green streaks. Her head is resting on your lap as you drink tea, bright green eyes focused on the prodding against your skin, some kicks and punches from the inside.

“Mhm, I can feel it in my ribs”

“just one month more, your grace!”

“Never thought a child could be so similar to only one of their parents” Raiden watches the baby from his crib, a small wood cot that Candace sent as a gift from Aaru village.

“Well, to a certain extent I expected that” venti WAS originally a formless air spirit mimicking his friend's form, at first you didn't even think he would be able to reproduce, but here we are and hubris is your biggest sin.

“♪~~♪~” spirit form venti sneaked inside the nursery by the slightly cracked space between the window and the window frame, barely smaller than your pinky finger but just enough for him to slip inside.

A good thing of simply being a bard in his nation was the freedom he enjoys, he is known for his songs and how good they are so it isn't strange when you have him around your house or in your serenitea pot, the pretext that you enjoy music under the shadow of your garden and that your little clone gets lulled to sleep quickly by his soft tunes. Even then it would be strange for him to be around so often so sometimes he just settles for mixing between his son's plushies and watching him play around for a while, after all it isn't like he has anything better to do.

“!!” Swiftly he gets caught by his son's hand and thrown up and down like a doll. This wasn't as smart as he thought.

“Hello, baby” Venti babytalks the the 1 year old seated on the floor playing with stacking blocks when he sees him he smiles. As much as Venti loved the image he couldn't help but be slightly scared as when he opened his eyes they were now his exact same colour.

“Oh, sh-” next blink his eyes were your color, the sane he was born with “how about we make this our little secret we never talk about ever again?”

“Their condition isn't as dire as you are making it seem it's just-” Zhongli tries to calm down Raiden, who visited Liyue under the pretext of cultural exchange.

“It isn't dire? They almost passed out during a leisurely stroll”

“At most they might have gotten low blood pressure”

Baizhu lets your arm go to hush them a bit “they aren't sick, just pregnant and not eating enough iron. May I continue the check-up or do you wish to wait outside?”

“as I insisted, Raiden, their grace isn't ill, they are just pregnant, which falls under no criteria of sickness”

“I meant to tell this to everyone next month but I guess Raiden gets to be the second to know!”

“For one to be impertinent enough to dare bed their grace” Raiden snarls under her teacup, a frown on her lips.

“I must guess their couple must be Ill mannered and uncivil” the tsaritsa follows her idea, the rest of the archon were asked to visit Liyue sooner than arranged to receive an important and very unexpected news, even if they didn't wish to show you directly their discontent between them it was fair enough.

“Don't you seem too calm, Morax?”

“Not at all, I'm burning with hatred” he crosses his legs but makes the point of hitting his knee against the table “I'm so angry I can't even control my moves”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“i will be prescribing you with a herbal tea to ease the birth process, when you come out Qiqi should have them neatly portioned in the daily brew” Baizhu turns around to give Qiqi the list of flowers and roots and how much of each to put in little silk satchel. As he turns around to follow the examination he sees you close to the flowerpot on the desk and your cheek lightly swollen. A deep sigh leaves hus disappointed face, simply pointing to the pot “please, spit” and you do so, a rock falling back to the dirt. Even then Baizhu still looks disappointed.

“Didn't you tell me to eat more iron?”

“Not from dirt, my grace…”

“Then is iron ore fair game?”

“No… just simply no”

“He is a chunky baby” furina prods at your son's chubby cheek, before the time of delivery the doctors told you to expect twins but unexpectedly enough he was just a big baby around 4kg or 8.8lbs and he keeps growing as times goes.

“As heavy as a bag of stones!”

Lei headbutts your leg, his small hands scratching his scalp “please don't tell me you got lice, I told you to be careful” you settle your cup down on the table as you excuse yourself with cloud retainer, who visited to give you advice at childrearing.

“But I wasn't close to anyone with lice” quickly, your hands start segmenting his scalp looking for lice or eggs but there was nothing behind his ears or on his nape, but when you go higher towards his forehead you find two protrusions that made Lei push your hand away when touched.

“Ah? That does remind me back when Morax ripped his horn off during a fight, tte skin closed and we were so worried it wouldn't grown back, luckily a few months after a new one punctured the skin, even if he was so cranky like a child that season”

“And here I thought because he wasn't born with them he wouldn't get them”

“To suppress such minimal features shouldn't be too much work, even if this one thinks the child would prefer not to”

[starlitangels]

Lynchpin

Major spoilers for the most recent Balance episode ahead so I’m putting pretty much the whole fic under the cut. This took me less than an hour of frenzied inspiration to write. Enjoy! 1.7k words

@ryn-halo26 I’m tagging you because Morgan’s in this one but it’s major spoilers so if you haven’t watched it yet don’t read it yet!

—

Blake climbed out of his car and cast a furtive glance around the parking lot. No one seemed to notice him. The parking lot itself was mostly empty, but the grassy area just beyond it that sat between a cross section of three different buildings had a smattering of students all walking on their way to class. The Dahlia December cold wasn’t terribly frigid—mildly brisk, if Blake was being honest—but students rushed to avoid the wind.

Biting the inside of his cheek and flipping his jacket hood up over his head, he cloaked. Vanishing from sight. He wasn’t sure why. He just… he didn’t want to be seen going to the symposium by anyone he knew. Didn’t want to out himself as not actually being a Dreamwalker.

He made his way to where the flyer said the symposium was going to be. A series of three auditorium-style lecture halls that had retractable walls to open up into one giant lecture hall. Blake was fairly certain there weren’t enough Seers in all of Dahlia to fill the whole thing.

The enormous space was built into the earth, so from the ground-level hallway outside, he had to climb down a flight of stairs to take a seat on the front row.

He was a little early, and the speaker was standing behind the presentation podium, with his head down, trying to connect a laptop to a cord. Three shifters milled around him, all dressed in black and looking serious. Shaw Security was in bold white letters on the chest of their shirts. Blake bounced his eyebrows.

There were only two other people in the room so far. A girl whose aura read as that of an Electro Energetic to anyone else, but Blake felt the Seer baseline thrumming underneath, and a young man who wasn’t hiding behind anything else. Just letting his Seer aura stay on display. Blake and the girl met eyes and exchanged the knowing look of Seers who hid what they were. The corner of her mouth almost quirked before he gave her a brief nod and sat down. All three of them were on the front row in different sections of the seating.

Finally, the speaker looked up at them. “Do any of you three know how to get this to work?” He looked confused.

The girl jolted and bent down. “Do you have the right port or do you need an adapter?” She started rifling through her bag.

“I’m not sure.”

She extracted an adapter with multiple different ways to adapt from her bag and held it out. “I’m a TA. I’m used to my laptop not having the right port for this place,” she said. The speaker strode over and took it from her. She smiled.

Blake watched in mild confusion. He could See the girl’s life ahead of her—the same way she’d be able to see his. He could see the other Seer in the audience’s. The three shifters’.

But not the speaker’s. Whenever he focused his Sight on the man, all he saw was grey haze.

Obscura.

Huh. Rare.

The Seer Obscura and one of the shifters fiddled around with the adapter and the laptop got plugged in. The projectors in all three sections of the lecture hall sprung to life. The Seer Obscura beamed broadly at the girl. “Don’t let me forget to give this back to you.”

“Okay,” she said with a chuckle.

A few more Seers filed in. Some hiding their specialty, some not. As far as Blake was paying attention, it seemed an even split.

There definitely weren’t enough to fill the whole enormous hall. There weren’t enough to fill one section of it. They could have had this symposium in one of the smaller classrooms and been perfectly comfortable.

Leave it to D.A.M.N. to go overboard on pomp and circumstance for no reason.

Someone’s watch beeped the hour and the Seer Obscura smiled at the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Morgan Kyne. I’m going to be the main speaker for the symposium today.”

Blake pulled out a small notebook and a pen.

—

“Mr. Kyne!” Blake said as the rest of the Seers gathered their things and moved to leave while Mr. Kyne was handing the adapter back to the girl he’d lent it from. “Mr. Kyne!” Blake rushed over.

“Hey, watch it, man,” one of the shifters growled, stepping between them. He was more than half-a-head shorter than Blake, but densely-packed muscles and several visible scars warned he wasn’t one to mess with. Flashes of his future radiated off of him and Blake saw plenty enough to know better than to try to tangle with any of these shifters.

Morgan Kyne turned to look at Blake, then down at the shifter. “It’s alright, Mr. Greer. I’m sure he just has some questions.”

The shifter, still glowering, stepped aside. Morgan Kyne stepped closer.

“Yes?” he asked expectantly. Politely. As if he was ignoring that he probably already knew what Blake was going to ask.

“Is there such a thing as unchangeable events?” Blake asked. “Or, rather, outcomes, maybe?”

Morgan knitted his brows and brushed a stray black hair off his forehead and back into place waved back away from his face. “The very act of Seeing the future allows for its change,” he pointed out gently. More like a reminder than a rebuke.

“I know. But. Like, say, a Seer Sees that a tsunami is gonna hit Dahlia. There’s an earthquake out in the ocean and the resulting tsunami is gonna wipe out half the city. So the Seer tells the Department and the Elemental Magistrate sends out a team of their best, most powerful Earth Elementals to either stop or soften the earthquake, and places Water Elementals out of sight in the water to hopefully push the tsunami away or even pull it down before it can rise. But in doing that… I don’t know. The tectonic plates’ shaking instead just moves to right under the city on its fault line and half the city dies anyway.”

Morgan Kyne bit at his lower lip in thought for a moment. “You’re referring to the Stake Myth?”

“The what?”

“Also known as the Lynchpin Myth.”

“Still got nothing.”

“Sorry. When you’re not around Old Guard Seers as much as I am, I guess the stories don’t get passed around as much.” Mr. Kyne cleared his throat. “Even amongst Seers, this concept is considered a myth. That certain events in the timeline are… fixed. Across all versions of the time stream.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit slacks. “They’re called lynchpins or stakes—you know, like the stakes that you put in the ground to hold up a tent—because these events or outcomes are literally holding the timeline together. Theoretically, they can’t be changed. No matter what anyone does. Because if they did change, the whole timestream would completely unravel. What that would even be like to See or experience… no one actually knows. Because it’s a myth.”

“Are there any recorded instances of these fixed points? These… lynchpins?”

Morgan Kyne shook his head. “Not that the Department or the Sodality has record of. Even most Seers believe it’s a fiction created for…” He sucked the back of his teeth in thought. “Poetic storytelling. Self-fulfilling prophecy plotlines. No Seer in the history of the Department has ever reported any event that couldn’t be changed no matter what they tried.” He blinked. “Why?”

Blake shook his head. “Just curious. Read one too many books, I guess.”

“Fiction?”

“Mmhmm.”

Morgan Kyne smiled. “That would probably be it. Some empowered writers do love the self-fulfilling prophecy plot. No matter what the Seer does, they can’t stop some terrible event from unfolding. A little too tragic for my usual tastes,” he said. “Any other questions?”

Blake shook his head. “Thank you, though.”

“My pleasure. Have a nice rest of your afternoon, now.”

“You as well.” Blake scooped up his notebook where he’d left it on the fold-out desk of his seat and took the stairs out of the lecture hall two at a time. Before he got out into the corridor again, he cloaked. Not to be seen leaving the symposium.

Outside in the chilled Dahlia December air, he leaned against the wall of the building and bonked his head back against the brick. It couldn’t be a lynchpin. Lynchpins didn’t exist. Morgan Kyne was a member of the Sodality and a powerful Seer to boot. If he was confident they weren’t real, then they couldn’t be real.

He would make sure this wasn’t a lynchpin.

He would change it.

Most Seers were morose, mopey people. Their first Vision always their own death. That event haunting them with every peek into the timestreams they took.

Morgan Kyne didn’t have that problem.

Neither did Blake—but for a very different reason. Blake wasn’t Obscura. He’d seen his own death when his powers manifested. He didn’t care about his own death.

Because he’d also seen the death of his best friend—who he’d since fallen in love with—that same night. He’d seen them dying in his arms. That was what he was concerned about. That was what loomed over him whenever he looked into the timestreams. Even when he was trying to have a Vision of anything else. Their death was always lurking on the fringes.

And time was running out for them.

He had to find a way to change it.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket.

Compose New Message To: Bestie👂 Hey. You still on campus for that supplemental class?

He shoved his notebook back in the pocket of his hoodie and pushed off the wall. His phone buzzed in his hand.

Bestie👂: I am. why?

Me: I’m on campus. Did a favor for an old school friend who’s an adjunct prof here. Little Labyrinth Black testimonial. Dinner on me?

Bestie👂: Sure! Sounds fun!

Me: Where should I meet you?

Bestie👂: I’m in the library

Me: Be right there

[backalleysalesman]

What I got planned for fanfics:

Deadpool/Moon Knight:

For This Misadventures of Deadpool and Moon Knight

Depressed Wade stuff, dude is just sad and Steven comes over to check on him. Maybe Marc shows up idk. Jake does not cause Jake is a shit lord

Wade gets kidnapped and tortured and Jake saves him uwu

Then not paired with that series but still Deadpool/Moon Knight

ALSO!!!!! I’m stuck thinking about Wade getting blown up and having to regrow his body but Spider-Man is like “nah I can’t babysit you this week but I got a friend to help!” And that friend is Moon Knight (cuz why not)!!! Basically on occasion Wade’s body doesn’t grew things back correctly all the time. 👉👈 I’ve been trying to write it as a daddy kink thing as a joke since White Box keeps making daddy jokes in my other fics but I can’t do it. I’m taking too much physic damage. Imma keep trying but worse case, I will scrap the daddy bs sub plot line. This will either be a one-shot OR a mini series one-shot with how Marc, Steven, AND Jake “learning” about Wade’s new private bits LOL This isn’t a fetish thing, I’m literally trans. I could just make Wade trans for the story but where is the fun in that? I need more people to realize Deadpool/Moon Knight is such a great chaotic pairing. But I will do my best to fill the space until better writers come along. Or someone please help give me ideas.

SpideyPool:

I have a bunch of ideas. I normally don’t like writing fandom favorite pairings cause idk but when I do, I cater to myself more. Which means Peter is gonna be trans cause I’m trans LOLOL Also Peter will be 30 in every fic

Peter gets ghosted and cheated on and is big sad, Wade is a bro and is like “date me lol” and Peter is like “eh sure but I want a normal out of suit dating experience” and then they go on a date to all my favorite places as I cry as a single person

Peter gets a horrible head injury and is suffering from memory loss BUT THERES A PLOT TWIST

Peter retires as Spidey and moves far away and essentially becomes a travel blogger for some big company that is doing a multi-dimensional vacations idk in his universe there is no Deadpool and DP saves him a bunch of times cause Peter can’t use his powers cause that universe does have a Spider-Man

Isekai trope but make it Spider-Man???? (there’s a pattern, I really like multiverse stuff and I also don’t think 616 Spidey deserves Wade lol)

Wade finds an onlyfans for a spider-man cosplayer and it sounds a bit too close to the real spidey. Basically keeps shoving money at the guy to be his sugar daddy and Peter doesn’t really know it’s Wade. Spider-Man and Deadpool are best friends, DP still has his huge crush on Spidey but respects the fact that Spider-Man is not interested.

Apex Legends:

My duo and I roleplay a bit while playing the game LOL we mostly just say dumb shit that is very OOC for who we play as but it’s fun pairings would be

Seer/Mirage

Valkyrie/Loba

Bloodhound/Mirage

Crypto/Mirage

My friend plays as Mirage 99% of the time unless he is Loba or Caustic (We call him incel science man). And I really like playing as then intel gatherers... Sometimes we play Trios but our 3rd only plays Valkyrie. And then we just super goof around or get too serious. But I’ll start taking notes for some fanfics ideas uwu

Dead By Daylight:

Yui and Mikaela for my friend, I haven’t been playing much cause one I’m more of a killer main but also depression

maybe something with Felix cause he’s my favorite

Also Sadako/Ghostface sprinkle in Michael??? I have too much Sadako lore stored in me I used to own every Ringu manga, book, and movie before it vanished when I moved away

crack killers as a family trope idefk just something stupid and funny

All these will be rated M or E for different reasons but the main goal is they bump uglies (idefk I haven’t used Tumblr since the purge and I’m scared to use certain words). I’ll be focusing on Marvel stuff and Deadpool/Moon Knight and mostly write as Wade cause I suck at writing as Moon Knight.

[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!

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[honey-milk-depresso]

That Charm Shop In Liyue (Various Liyue Characters)

Fresh early morning in Liyue and someone has already entered your shop house. What type of charms do they wish for?

“Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Miss y/n,” a deep voice greeted you back.

Ah, so it’s Zhongli again.

He’s a regular customer, he comes here to see and perhaps buy one or two or all of your charms, pottery and other handmade trinkets you had made.

“Have you come here to see the charms? Have you thought of buying some?” you questioned. Most of the time, he didn’t bring the money, to which a certain someone would come in to his “financial rescue”.

“This charm,” he pointed to the brown and gold six flower knots that had a few auburn and burnish jade beads attached to the tassel, “what was the inspiration of this charm?”

“Ah that one. This charm was inspired by the Liyue god himself, Rex Lapis. It’s to bring about prosperous opportunities and benefits, find a trustworthy and loyal partner..” you spaced out.

Zhongli chuckled to which you snapped out of your own dreamy daze.

“Ah, well, that’s for mostly me and the other ladies who hope for a partner like that. Ahehehe..”

Zhongli simply gave you a small smile. “I’m sure you will.”

“Ah.”

He took a good look at the charm again. “Perhaps I shall hang this outside of the funeral parlour. So Hu Tao wouldn’t be constantly asking me how our profits are doing.”

You giggled at his remark. “Miss Hu Tao’s just worried about her company is all. I’m sure she meant no harm!”

“ Putting that aside, I would like to buy this charm.”

“Did you bring your wallet?”

“Let me-”

“No, he didn’t . Let me help you, Mr Zhongli.”

There comes Mr Zhongli’s walking wallet, Childe.

He’s the one who ends up buying the charms and other things Zhongli wanted to buy.

“Good morning, y/n! How are you this morning? Remembered to eat breakfast? If not I got some.” Childe placed a bento on the wooden counter in front of you.

“Did Xiangling made this?”

“Yeah. She said you should really eat up. She noticed how you were getting a lot more locked up in that little working studio of yours.”

“Is that so?” Lately, you’ve been getting more engrossed in your own charm making and crafts for your shop. You had so much inspiration for the past few weeks.

“ You have to remember to take care of yourself, y/n.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better. Welp, me and Mr Zhongli gotta buzz. See you around, y/n!”

“Bye Childe and Zhongli!”

========================== “Ganyu?”

“Ah! Miss y/n. How is everything going so far?”

Ganyu is not a buyer, but she comes in to patrol. She seems to really enjoy being in your shop to just chat with you, and you of course didn’t mind having to talk to her. Who wouldn’t?

”Great and normal as per usual!” you chuckled stupidly.

Ganyu giggled. “Well that’s great to hear!”

“So are you still taking lessons from Xiao?”

“Yep, still am.”

“How are things going?”

She sighed. “Alright I guess. It’s just a tad bit tiring. But I can manage.”

“Well remember to take breaks every now and then. Don‘t overwork yourself.”

“Thank you, y/n. Take care!”

“You too!”

========================== “Need help?”

You yelped in surprise as you almost toppled the box of charms you were carrying towards the trade boat.

Xiao would appear randomly out of nowhere in the evening to check up on you, for who knows what reason. It’s not that you don’t mind the adeptus’ company, it‘s just that he should really just stop startling you every 5 seconds.

”Oh! Xiao! Um, yeah! Thanks..”

He simply huffed and took the boxes from your hand, carrying it and loading it on the boat.

By that time, you scrambled back into your tiny shop house and took out a plate of his favorite dish; almond tofu.

“Thought you might have come back from your missions. Here as thanks for protecting Liyue and...er helping me carry boxes?” you chuckled awkwardly. He simply grunted. “It’s the job of an adept to protect Liyue. ” Yet he took that plate.

This softie.

You simply smiled and rolled your eyes a little. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Hmph.”

Xiao glance back to the Inn Verr worked in.

“I should get going. And thank you for... the meal.”

”It’s no problem.”

He put on his mask and leaped onto your roof before jumping back to the inn.

You had to admit. He looked really cool doing that.

==========================

“Oh, Lady Ningguang?”

“Hello, dear y/n.” She smiled warmly.

Ningguang sometimes came here to buy your charms, or simply just browsed your items while having conversations with you. Sometimes, she gives you small gifts when she leaves. She wasn’t a regular customer like Zhongli, but she definitely wasn’t a rare sight to encounter, well, at night mostly.

“I actually have an invitation for you.”

”An- an invitation??”

Now that’s something new.

“Yes. I‘m inviting you over to Wangshu Funeral Parlor for some tea. I think you need a well deserved break.”

“Oh. Well, you’re very kind Lady Ninggaung, but I’m not quite sure.” Why that place though?

“Come on now. I insist.”

You sweat dropped. Ningguang sure is persistent.

”Well, I guessed it can’t be helped..”

She beamed.

”Wonderful! Be there at 7 in the evening. Here’s the invitation.”

She handed you a white paper that had words engraved in gold. “Thank you, Lady Ningguang. I’ll be sure to come!”

” Likewise.”

===========================

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself. You had just set foot outside of your shop house, dressed nicely and presentably as can be for your chat with Ningguang.

“Y/n.”

”Ah! Xiao stop scaring me like that!”

He simply shrugged.

“Where are you going?”

“Wangshu Funeral to meet up with Lady Ningguang.”

Xiao’s eyes widened ever slightly. “Oh yes, it’s 5pm...”

“ What was that?”

“Nothing. Come, I shall help you go to the parlour.”

“You know you don’t have to, Xiao. I’ll be fine. It’s only the evening.”

“No, it’s unsafe during this hour. I’m following you regardless.”

==========================

“Huh?”

“Surprise!”

There stood not just Ningguang, but Zhongli, Ganyu, Childe, Hu Tao, and so many others. Even Keqing was there. And Qiqi and Xiangling!

“Wha- What is all this??”

“It’s to say thank you for always being out for us!” Yanfei exclaimed.

“Out for you..?”

“You’re shop has always brought a peace of mind to many of us, and we thank you for being a friend when we felt down, even if it was unintentional or indirect, we would still like to thank you for being there for us to be invited in your open arms, and for the hard work you have put in,” Zhongli stated as he bowed slightly and took your hand ever so gently, enough to make your cheeks dusted in pink over the charming gesture.

“O-oh, I, um, I never knew that...ahehehe...Well...I’m glad to hear that!”

“Mhm! This party is also for you to relax and hangout!” Ganyu smiled.

You glance at the table that’s filled with dishes of food.

“The food...”

“Don’t worry, y/n! There’s plenty of food to go around! You’ll get the lion’s share obviously!” Xiangling said.

“Yeah, we also bought you gifts! Or at least, I bought half of the gifts on that table over there,” Childe stated as he pointed to a table on the left just loaded with gifts, “not to make it look like you’re birthday, but, ehhhh, yeah.”

“Hmm?”

You looked at all the gifts, the food and everyone else who loved coming to your shop house. What did you do to deserve these wonderful people. You tear up a little, overwhelmed by emotions that couldn’t be explained through words.

“H-hey! I didn’t mean to make you cry!!”

“Way to go, Childe.”

“N-no,” everyone else looked at you worriedly. 

“I-I’m just really grateful for all this.... and you guys mostly. Thank you for also being there for me...” you smiled.

Xiao just smiled a little, but it was sincere.

Zhongli went up to you and gently cupped your face up, rubbing your tears away with his thumb. He smiled warmly at you.

“Likewise.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

okay so imagine

growing up and living on a space dockyard/naval station.

this is space station Validusia, and it floats above the beautiful blue Validusia planet, servicing naval crafts and docking ships. not exactly homey, but a good reference.

this is an imperial dockyard concept art from rogue one. i cant find the creator, so if anyone knows please tell me! there’s no official place where this is, but it looks like maybe coruscant.

the above pictures are all living quarters aboard ships, from Imperial II class star destroyed Darkest Night, Galactic Cruiser Hotel for the new resort, and the insine of the Millennium Falcon as seen on a tour given by Donald Glover.

right. so now we have a basic idea of what it would look like. definitely more living space then the two pictures, more elegant and design intent and with more windows. unfortunately, i can’t find any evidence of what i’m thinking actually existing in canon…..so i’m going to make it up.

i’m thinking there would be lots of durasteel windows looking into space. for this specific example, i’m thinking that there would be some sort of water filtration and recycling system to allow for the conservation of water and allow for the least amount of supplies needed. each apartment would have a certain room where plants and life could grow in order to allow for cleaner air and to make it seem less like you’re in the middle of space.

there would be different color schemes allowed for each family, but mostly based around white and black in order to allow for easy and removable decorations. i’m thinking bare minimum for kitchens, simply because of extreme fire hazards, but there would be a reheater. this would also be another reason for all the plants because they allow for fresh foods they don’t need to be reheated.

bedrooms would be similar to kitchens in the sense that they’re fairly minimal, with personal touches of course. definitely some built-in-the-wall-beds like the ones above to save space and because they’re cool. huge windows, compartments for clothing and storage, maybe a small sitting area depending on price range.

the main inhabitants of the ships would the families/friends of the mechanics, cargo pilots, and monitoring staff for docking bags and transport vessels. some people could decide to live there just to live there, and some more wealthy people had like..a really expensive apartment that they go to nah me once a year to be in the peace of space.

except it’s not that peaceful. the housing is all in one part away from the docking and loading, but it is still very much a neighborhood. while there’s no mess hall, there would be a central area where people could meet, and it’s always lively, whether it’s because of kids running around or late night parties. the hallways outside of apartments would be filled with people mingling and children playin up and down outside. on almost all of them there would be an unofficially assigned “teacher” for all the kids, or it would be a shared group job to whoever had anything to teach.

it would be so unlike anything else in the star wars universe and definitely in our world right now. just ahhhhhh i want to go live on a docking station.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (15)

(Happy Easter everybody!!! I hope you all enjoy the new chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Make sure to check out the mini series called Journal Entries if you prefer :)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 14 / Ch. 16 (Ao3)

Chapter 15: Someone to Lean on

Felix crept through the darkness of the mansion, careful not to make a sound. Allegra’s footsteps echoed behind him in another room, slow and taunting, growing ever-closer as she searched for them. He needed to find a new hiding place soon or he was going to get caught, and being a seeker never ended well for him, especially when the hiders were tucked away in a mansion that they all knew like the back of their hands. The only person he might be able to find was Marinette, and even that was a stretch, as she was apparently a master at this game too. (Or was she just a master at everything?)

“Come out, come out, wherever you are~.” Allegra’s sing-song voice raised the hair on the back of Felix’s neck, and he barely bit back a sharp inhale. That clearly came from the kitchen, and it would only take a few more steps for her to be in the foyer with him. Should he run for the stairs? Dive for the family room couch? Stand in a dark corner and pray to everything holy that she wouldn’t see him? 

Felix’s gaze darted around the room for an out. What should he do, what should he-

He spotted a tall coat cabinet in the foyer, not too far from where he was now. Without hesitation, he began tip-toeing towards it, casting wary glances over his shoulder. The hiding place might be a tad obvious, but it was better than standing out in the open.

Quietly, Felix cracked the cabinet door open and slipped inside, pushing aside the coats and jackets as he did. Allegra’s footsteps sounded fainter now. Hopefully that meant she hadn’t heard him-

Felix stopped short when his hand landed on something solid, something that definitely wasn’t a jacket or a coat. He yanked his hand back with a gasp, but before he could yelp or scream, another hand- one that wasn’t his -clamped over his mouth.

“No, no, it’s just me!” A voice whispered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Felix took a moment to breath, assessing the person in front of him. His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the pitch blackness of the cabinet yet, but he could scarcely make out the silhouette of a small figure with pigtails. 

“..Marinette?” He asked, pulling her hand away. How had he not noticed her before? Their chests were practically pressed together.

She nodded. “I didn’t want us getting caught. Allegra’s somewhere in the kitchen right?”

“Last I heard.” 

The two paused to listen for any signs of movement. Everything appeared to be strangely quiet now, but perhaps that meant Allegra had moved upstairs.

“Sorry for imposing.” He said once he felt the coast was clear. “I’ll go find another hiding pla-”

“Oh!” Marinette let out a soft exclamation as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him further into the cabinet, preventing him from leaving. Her gaze snapped to the cabinet door, where, right outside, they could hear Allegra roaming around. She hadn’t gone upstairs. She’d simply stopped in the foyer to listen for more sounds herself.

Felix and Marinette stood stock still in the cabinet, both holding their breath as Allegra strolled closer to the cabinet. Had she heard them talking? Was she coming to check the cabinet? What was going to happen if she found both of them at the same time? 

The steps stopped in front of the cabinet, and everything fell silent again. Anticipation twisted through Felix’s stomach as they waited for something to happen. Was Allegra going to pass by or not? Why was she taking so long to decide? Just get it over with!

“I’m going to find you guys eventually~.” The blonde sang, her steps finally receding. “You know it’s only a matter of time.”

Marinette and Felix breathed a sigh of relief when Allegra began hopping up the stairs, and Marinette let her hands fall from Felix’s shoulders.

“That was close.” She muttered. “Maybe you should stay here a bit longer? She might see you if you try to leave now.”

Felix frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Being crammed into a small space together might not be bad in the first minute or so, but standing in their current position any longer than that will most likely bear a certain level of discomfort. What if Allegra comes back before he has a proper chance to escape? He wouldn’t want Marinette to feel as though she were stuck in this enclosed space with him. 

“Yep!” She replied, carefree as always. “It doesn’t bother me at all. Do you mind, though? I know you usually don’t like touching other people.”

Felix shifted against the coats behind him. That was mostly true, but.. he’s come to realize that his preference of touch doesn’t apply to Marinette. She’d proven it to him time and again- at the aquarium, when they walked and talked together without him even realizing that they were touching. Then at the café, when she held his hand and it actually comforted him. And now, when they were so close that he could feel the brush of her breath and the warmth of her skin, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He’d never quite found a reason for the strange exception, but it was the first time he’d met someone, aside from his parents, who he felt truly comfortable being around. So, he figured, why question a good thing?

“No.” He answered, his faint smile probably lost in the darkness. “No, I don’t mind at all-”

The cabinet door flung open with a *Bang!*, causing Marinette and Felix to jump back with a slight scream. 

“Found you!” A voice trilled, but it wasn’t Allegra’s. No, this voice was far too sinister to be hers.

A woman stood in front of them with a triumphant grin, wearing clothes of whites and blues, and Felix felt his heart stop in his chest when he recognized the round mask on her face and the sharp pieces of her wind-mill-themed skirt. Only that blasted akuma from the café would wear such a costume. 

“How did you-” His question was cut off as she kicked him right in the stomach. The extra strength from her powers sent him flying through the back of the cabinet and skidding across the floor, and suddenly, everything was bright and shining above him. Felix coughed and gasped for the air that had been knocked out of him, all the while trying to find out why Whirlwind was even there. Had she been stalking them? Why? Wasn’t her priority supposed to be destroying buildings and not people? Why was there so much light in the room now?

Felix dragged his gaze upwards to see if Marinette was alright, but instead was met with the sight of buildings and streets. Was he in the city again? How was that possible?

The sun blazed down on him, filling him with panic as he realized it was now daytime, despite it being nighttime only seconds ago. Did he fall unconscious? Was that why he didn’t remember getting here? But that meant Whirlwind had to have brought him here.. What would be the point of that?

“Oh, finally! I was starting to think you’d never wake up!” 

Felix’s eyes snapped forward, immediately meeting the ferocious gaze of the akuma. Had she been sitting there in her winds the entire time?

“You should really set an alarm next time.” Whirlwind mused as she brought another miniature tornado forward. “It’s rude to keep your friends waiting, after all.”

Felix’s heart officially dropped to the pit of his stomach when he saw Marinette twirling in Whirlwind’s hold. She wasn’t saying anything, but the look on her face was enough for him to know how terrified she was. It was the café incident all over again.

Felix shook his head and took a deep breath. No. No, he could not go through this again. He refused to sit by and watch Marinette get taken away from him a second time.

In a burst of speed, he pushed himself to his feet and rushed forward, colliding with Marinette before the akuma could react. They spun in the air, but in the next second, right when he thought they were safe, she disappeared. And Felix was left holding onto himself.

He gasped and looked around, his mind racing with thoughts of where she possibly could have gone. The city was crumbling beneath his feet now, and he wondered how Whirlwind could have taken them so high in the time it took him to blink his eyes. 

“It really was a nice effort.”

His gaze turned to the akuma in question, who was fixing him with a look of feigned pity.

“But in the end, it was futile.” She smiled. “And now you will meet the same fate as your dear, sweet Marinette.”

Felix sucked in a breath. What did she mean the same fate as..

He looked to the wrecked streets below, praying that he wouldn’t find what he was searching for, but it only took a few seconds for him to see her. Marinette was laying amongst the wreckage, her back facing upwards, and she wasn’t moving. Oh, gosh, she wasn’t moving!

He didn’t have time to process his grief, because Whirlwind took that opportunity to drop him as well. Felix let out a scream and flailed around in the air, trying to grasp for something- anything -as he tumbled to his death. Was this how Marinette felt in her final moments? A numbing sense of terror as she watched her life flash before her eyes? Was this how his own life was going to end?

The wind rushed past his ears in a deafening manner, and his heart pounded against his chest. He was painfully aware of the distance between himself and the ground and the way it was rapidly decreasing, growing smaller and smaller and smaller until-

Felix jolted upwards with a gasp, his eyes darting around the darkness that he’d been thrown into once again. Claude and Allan were lying next to him, huddled up in their own blankets as they slept away soundly. A fan buzzed in the background, breaking the quiet-ness of the night with its white noise. Everything was.. Everything was fine.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. A dream.. That had only been a dream.

Or rather, a nightmare.

Felix pushed aside his covers and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake the other boys, specifically Claude. If they woke up now, they would ask questions, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Right now, he just wanted.. Well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Perhaps to find a quiet place and sit for a while. He certainly wasn’t going to try to fall back asleep. That would only lead to more horrors.

The echoes of his footsteps felt much too loud, despite him tiptoeing down the stairs, but Felix supposed anything could be considered loud in an open mansion such as this one, especially when it was the middle of the night. He crept through the foyer to the kitchen, where the moon was casting a soft, silver glow across the marble floors and countertops, and shuffled over to the cabinet for a cup. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, but it would provide a decent excuse should someone walk in on him. 

Felix leaned against the kitchen island, idly twisting his cup in his hands. The coolness of the water inside was soothing as it pressed against his palms and fingertips, and he gladly pushed the fuzzy images of his nightmare to the back of his mind to focus on that feeling. It was ridiculous anyway, that dream. The chances of Whirlwind coming back for revenge were next to none, and even if she did, Felix doubted she would be able to find them. At the very least the heroes would find her first. So why did he worry about it? Why did he continue to have nightmares despite the fact that over a week has passed since the incident? It was over. They were safe. Felix knew this.

And yet..

A chair in the dining room abruptly scraped across the floor, causing Felix to jump, and his gaze flicked to the kitchen doorway. No one else should be up at.. What time was it again?

Felix looked to the oven clock and almost fell over when he saw 4:00 blinking in a bright green color. Was it really that late? (or would that be considered early?)

“Ow..” A light voice muttered, immediately yanking Felix’s attention back to the dining room. Was that..?

The small figure of Marinette Dupain-Cheng stumbled to the kitchen doorway, holding onto the tip of her right foot as she went. She must have stubbed her toe on the chair earlier, which was honestly a very Marinette thing to do.

“Are you alright?” He found himself asking.

Marinette startled, as one would expect, and looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Oh, Felix! I didn’t think you’d be up this late.”

“I could say the same thing about you. What are you doing down here?”

Marinette dropped her foot and joined him in the kitchen. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I would just come down and get some water or a snack.”

Felix offered a small smile. “You couldn’t sleep in a bed like Allegra’s?”

Marinette chuckled. “I know right. Her bed is super comfortable.”

“So why couldn’t you sleep? Is there something troubling you?”

The same way my nightmares are troubling me.

“Oh, no.” Marinette said, idly opening a cabinet to look for a cup. “I just can’t sleep sometimes. My mom-”

“The cups are in the far cabinet on the right.”

“Oh, thanks. My mom thinks I have a mild case of insomnia.”

Felix hummed. A mild case of insomnia, huh? He wasn’t aware that one could have such a thing. Was this a regular occurrence for her? How long had she had it?

“What about you?” Marinette asked, cutting into his thoughts. “What are you doing up this late?”

“Ah..” Felix faltered. He knew she wouldn’t judge or scold him for having nightmares- Marinette wasn’t the type to do that -but telling her about them probably wouldn’t help the situation either. She can’t magically make them disappear, and knowing about them might make her feel guilty or upset. (Plus, telling someone that you dreamt about them was always an awkward conversation topic. She’d no doubt get the wrong idea, and even the right idea was a tad strange. Who dreams about their friend being abducted and murdered before their eyes?)

“Claude’s snoring.” He finally said, casting his eyes to the moonlight that lined the floors. “I swear that man can rival an elephant.”

A laugh tumbled from Marinette, and she leaned against the island next to him. “Wow, I can only imagine. Have you tried waking him up real quick? Maman always wakes Papa up when he snores, and after he repositions himself, the snoring stops.”

“No, I hadn’t thought of that, but I doubt it will help. Claude’s.. condition is quite incurable. He’s acquired a decent handful of detention slips for disrupting class with his snoring.”

Marinette snorted. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“That’s crazy.. What about Allan? Is he awake because of the snoring too?”

Felix shook his head. “Allan hardly stirs. I assume it’s because he’s had slumber parties with Claude since they were kids. Either that or he has a secret pair of noise canceling headphones that I don’t know about.”

Marinette giggled. “I’m betting on the headphones.”

Felix smiled as well, and the conversation paused for Marinette to take a sip of her water. He took that opportunity to finally drink from his own cup too. 

There were so many things that he wanted to ask her, about the akuma attack and the insomnia and several other things, but he wasn’t sure how, or if he even should. Felix had told himself to stop meddling in her personal affairs, lest he become as nosy as the others, but they were alone again. And right now would be the perfect time to get a question or two off of his chest. He didn’t have to ask anything too personal. Just a query or two about the attack. She could always say no, right?

“..Marinette?”

She glanced at him over her red mug. “Hm?”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

A hint of curiosity flickered in her eyes, and she set her mug aside. “What kind of question?”

“Well,” Felix said, choosing his words carefully, “it was about the akuma attack we got involved in at the café last week. You don’t have to answer, since I know it can be a delicate topic, but.. How did you manage to stay composed during the ordeal? You were abducted by a terrorist and dropped from the sky, almost dying, yet you acted like nothing happened when you got back.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by the question, but she didn’t turn away or become uncomfortable like he expected her to. Instead, she simply drew in a breath as she thought the question over.

“Uh.. I don’t know. Back at my old school, we sort of had akumas all the time. It was like a breeding ground for them really. Still is. So I kind of learned how to deal with the attacks on my own. It’s definitely scary sometimes, but if you let yourself panic, you get captured. Or worse, you drag other people into danger with you. And I can’t let that happen, ya know?”

A deep sense of grief twisted in Felix’s stomach, because he didn’t know what that was like, and it pained him to hear that she did. What kind of school runs such a toxic environment that akumas become a common occurrence? How have they not been sued for the mistreat of the students yet? Was this why Marinette never talked about her old school life?

“Was that why you transferred schools?” 

Marinette let out a soft chuckle, and although it was a sad one, Felix still couldn’t believe his ears. How could she possibly find this funny or ironic in any way?

“I supposed it was one of the reasons, yes.” She said, and Felix swore the air was sucked from his lungs when he heard it. She supposed? What did she mean supposed?! What did she endure during her years at Dupont that would make continuous, near-death experiences an afterthought when it came to leaving?

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be completely disgusted about the gross mistreatment that Marinette had gone through, and a good part of him was. No one should be treated that way, least of all a group of children and teenagers who were supposed to be protected. But he also held an immense amount of respect towards her. After going through so much in only a short period of time, Marinette has continued to smile and be happy and kind towards the people around her. That took a lot of strength that Felix knew he certainly didn’t have. 

She truly was amazing.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He said sincerely.

Marinette shrugged, though she offered him a grateful smile. “It could have been worse. I’m just grateful Ladybug was able to fix everything after the attacks.”

Felix held back a sigh. It could have been worse, yes, but it also could have been much better.

“..What was the other reason you left?” 

He knew he shouldn’t have asked the question, since it was bound to be too personal, but his curiosity got the better of him. What type of pain or discomfort would rank higher in her mind than terrorist attacks?

Something flashed across her features, but before Felix could place what that something was, Marinette forced at a nervous laugh.

“Uh, you- you know what? Why don’t we talk about you? I feel like you know so much about me, but I barely know anything about you.”

The dodge was more than obvious, but Felix let it slide without complaint. It was only fair, after all. Her life wasn’t any of his business. The fact that she’d answered any of his questions was more than enough.

“What would you like to know?”

Marinette hummed, her posture relaxing significantly now that the subject had changed. “I don’t know.. What about your old school? Allegra said you exchanged schools two or three years ago, right? Where did you go before that?”

Felix’s lips quirked up in a small smile. That was a decent question. “I didn’t. My mother homeschooled me.”

“Herself?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Marinette replied, strangely surprised by that fact. “Why did you decide to go to Rosemary?”

Felix heaved a sigh. “Again, I didn’t. When I became a teenager, my mother got the ludicrous thought in her head that I needed to go out and make friends. So she sent me off to that private school without letting me have a say in the matter.”

Marinette didn’t laugh outright, but the moonlight shining through the window revealed the glimmer of mirth and amusement in her eyes. “I take it you would have rather stayed home?”

Felix scoffed. “Absolutely. I’ve been suffering ever since I started attending. The students there are not only spoiled, they’re also mostly morons, which makes them incredibly obnoxious.” He tilted his head in her direction. “You excluded, of course.”

A smile graced her lips. “Of course. But what about Claude, Allegra, and Allan?”

“Oh, they’re definitely obnoxious with the rest of the school.”

Marinette laughed. “Come on, they’re not that bad.”

Felix hummed. “No, I suppose they’re not, but you can’t ever tell them I said that.”

“My lips are sealed.” She jokingly promised. “..Tell me more about your home life.”

The next few hours were spent idly chatting together, talking about him, talking about her, but mostly talking about him. Felix told her about his father’s business and his mother’s quirkiness, about the family dinners they would have and the way his mother insisted on cooking everything with his help. He told her about the books he’d read and how he’d become so engrossed in literature, and, once the topics of his home finally ran dry, he told her about his time at Rosemary and how, exactly, the trio ended up roping him into a friendship. Felix was certain he’d never talked to another person so much in his life, but he rather enjoyed it. Having someone patiently listen to your life story with undying interest actually felt nice, and the few stories that Marinette shared with him were ones he knew he would remember fondly. 

The two had fallen so deeply into conversation that they didn’t realize how quickly time was passing until Felix caught a glimpse of sunlight beginning to pour through the windows.

“Uh oh..” He muttered, setting his now-empty cup into the sink. 

Marinette turned to the window as well, and she let out a soft gasp at the sight. “The sun’s coming up already? How did it get so late?”

“You mean ‘how did it get so early’.” Felix corrected.

She gave him a flat look, possibly the first one he’d ever received from her since they met. “Don’t start with me. It’s too ‘late’ for that.”

Felix smirked. “Fine, fine. We should probably get to bed though. Allegra wanted to scout out buildings for the Valentine’s party today.”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot about that.. Do you think either of us will be able to function on two hours of sleep?”

“I’m honestly wondering whether we’ll be able to fall back asleep at all now.”

Marinette laughed. “That’s a good point. Maybe we can just lie down for a second and pretend to wake up. It’s early enough for that, right?”

“I thought you said it was late.” Felix said light-heartedly.

Marinette scoffed. “Late, early, whatever! Let’s just go upstairs and try to get some sleep.”

Felix chuckled. “After you.”

They made their way back out to the foyer, where the white floors and walls were now painted in golden rays of sunlight, and before Felix could even begin moving towards the stairs, Marinette gasped next to him and sprinted towards the other side of the mansion.

“Felix, look!”

Past the foyer and family room, through the wide, open windows, they could see the sun peeking over the horizon, shining in all its glory over the dewy grass and enormous mansions that lined the street.

Felix walked over to Marinette, who was already pressing her hands against the window with awe. Her eyes, round with amazement, sparkled under the sun’s light, and, as cliché as it sounded, the sight reminded Felix of an ocean on a warm summer’s day.

A smile crept across her lips, one that was far more blinding than the ball of fire in front of them. “It’s beautiful..”

Felix turned to the breathtaking scenery in front of them, but for some reason, all he could think about was the way the sun wrapped itself around the locks of Marinette’s raven hair like ribbons and how the freckles on her cheeks looked like twinkling stars when the morning light hit them just right. He somewhat wondered why that was, but as Marinette pushed herself back with a wistful sigh and muttered something about resuming their walk upstairs, Felix realized that he didn’t quite care. She was simply an enthralling person, one who he found himself wishing to be with more and more everyday.

Tag List:   @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07  @derbygracie  @pleaseignorejustheretoread 

[rouiyan]

𝘐𝘛'𝘚 (𝘜𝘕)𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘈𝘓. [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ hyuck’s installment of the undone at twenty-one collective ⧐

synopsis: where you and donghyuck realize that falling in love is not just a matter of time but of circumstances, impulsive decisions, and reckless emotions. well, mostly just reckless emotions. or in short, the two times you dumped him and the one time you didn't.

✧ lee donghyuck x (fem.) reader + bestfriend!lee jeno ✧ college au, slight enemies to loverz, fake dating au

✧ genres : angst, fluff, pining ✧ word count : 18.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing

✧ author’s note — months in the making and it's finally here. please make yourself a cup of tea and get toasty in the sheets because this bitch is huge.

it was a valentine's dance, a stupid valentine's day dance, where lovers would go if they truly had nothing else to do. it was where elderly couples would boast of how long they'd been together, clichéd stories and all. you'd only gone because your best friend, jeno, had been in charge of the whole event to begin with. it made no sense to you, jeno was always a sucker for parties but not the sappy, cookies and streamers, no-alcoholic-beverages ones. he had said it was because he needed community service hours, something about how it would look like he genuinely cared for the community on paper, but sometime during the night while watching him excitedly put up the red and pink balloons, you realized that he actually enjoyed this. he enjoyed watching over the dance once it was in full swing and you saw how he'd let the smallest of smiles adorn his face as he refilled an empty pitcher of fruit punch.

but you knew the exact reason he held the dance in such high regards when he slipped from your presence as some slow song started to hum from the speakers and the fluorescent pink lights dimmed. you’ve been friends with jeno’s girlfriend for long enough to know that she was such a sweetheart. jaein was the type of girl that sent her grade reports back home to her parents and always had her location on. she was the type of girl that slept at eleven and declined frat party invites. she was just the girl that'd come to these types of parties and just the girl jeno deserved and loved. to nobody’s shock including your own, the two had started dating a few months back after being so obviously head over heels in love with each other for years. 

while jeno had spent most of his time with you, he now spent an equal half with jaein and you weren’t all too sure what to do with the allotted free time. sure, busying yourself with studies was a good idea, not a very fun one though, so you resorted to attending the valentine’s dance jeno had set up, to support him as well as not to miss out on free food. jeno had tried, really, to get any one of his single (as in, ready to mingle) friends to come and try to woo you, but none had shown up, opting to go to more bustling parties than to babysit his lone best friend. none had shown up, except a specific brown-haired boy, with a shy smile and a lame excuse as to why he would choose to spend such a day here, of all places.

donghyuck. lee donghyuck. your polar opposite. to be fair though, you wouldn’t actually know all too well because you’d never particularly ventured to get to know him. every bit about him struck you as obnoxious and entirely unnecessary. he was this loud, boisterous enigma at your college, always sunshine and smiles and making people laugh at jokes that bordered between funny and offensive. you felt, no, you knew that he was no good. he was never committed in serious relationships, gaining labels such as being a ‘playboy,' and you doubted he ever had a serious conversation with anyone, much less himself. lee donghyuck was the moodmaker of your friend group and while that may rest peachy with others, you found it exhausting to have to always be in the mood to laugh at his jokes or else be deemed undeserving of his attention. truth be told, you thought he felt the exact same way towards you, seeing as how he never attempted to make conversation with you and how he simply acted like you didn't exist when in big groups. how wrong you were.

lee donghyuck was the last person on your mind when jeno had said to you absentmindedly that one of his friends could accompany you that night. jeno was clearly proud of this, with the knowledge of donghyuck's blatant crush on you, the matter being a secret to no one but yourself. donghyuck had really debated coming, not wanting to enforce one-on-one confrontations with you since he knew you disliked him a certain amount. but he also thought of all the things he could say to you, all the questions he'd been dying to ask since day one (all the questions that jeno hadn't begrudgingly answered already). for him, the whole day had been spent staring at jeno's simple text (hey, u should come keep y/n company at the dance) and tossing himself through his sheets, wondering if he should dare be bold and actually show up. 

turns out, even after deciding to go, showing up had been an astonishing feat in itself for donghyuck, having spent the last hour and a half brushing and re-brushing his teeth, styling and restyling his hair, and choosing and rechoosing his outfit. he'd settled for simple black jeans, torn at the knees, a white tee topped with a black denim jacket and white sneakers, his hair split in the middle and almost stabbing at his eyes. he felt his heart speed up while reversing out of the driveway of his house, he felt his heart speed up as he thought of you while driving, and he felt his heart almost stop when he entered the venue, his eyes narrowing in on you and almost doubling over at how gorgeous you looked. leaning on the drinks table, you were donned in a simple satin blue slipdress with chunky sneakers to dress it down, one side of your hair was clipped back with some pearly accessories and your equally pearly bag sat atop the table behind you. 

he took careful, calculated steps, stopping at the candy table to grab a lollipop, so as to seem like he wasn't beelining right towards you. stopping a few feet away from you and gaining your attention, he held out the heart-shaped lollipop, a shy "hi," slipping from his lips. you took the candy with a small thanks before fixating your gaze back on him and questioning his presence, "what brings you here?" though you knew the answer, you really doubted that jeno could convince donghyuck here without any willpower of his own. he bit down on his lower lip before giving out a shrug and untruthfully admitting that he, "had nothing else to do," and, "thought it would be a nice change, considering i really only attend frat parties."

taking the excuse as his word, you nodded slowly before telling him you didn't know if this was a good idea and that maybe you should just go because you didn't see much of a point in staying, completely missing the way his eyes rounded ever so slightly and how his lips twitched into a frown before he quickly fixed his expression. you were just about to turn away from him when his hands found themselves barely grazing your forearm, stopping you in your tracks so that he could voice out his inner worries, "i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable but…i really would like to spend the night with you." 

in his mind, he felt as if time slowed as he watched your hair rustle as you turned back around to face him, as your eyes flashed for a brief moment of consideration, and as you brought your hand up to his, effectively removing it from your arm before looking him straight in the eye to say, "okay."

donghyuck went through all the possible scenarios he'd thought up to come to a conclusion on what to say. he noted the way most people at the event were on the dance floor, slow dancing with a loved one, and thought it was a good place to start. meanwhile, you had traced his line of vision and interpreted his ideas, quickly saying, "no, we're not dancing," and effectively trashing his one and only plan rather abruptly. donghyuck's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he made a mental note to not be so damn obvious in front of you. he took a quick glance at your lips and decisively tossed out the first thing that came to mind, "then, have you eaten yet?"

you shook your head lightly and he took from this to offer, "then how 'bout we go grab something to eat? my treat." you barely considered the situation upon hearing the last two syllables, replying with a "sounds good," quickly grabbing your bag. exiting the venue, you looked for jeno and saw that he was still busying around his girlfriend. you took it upon yourself to text him whilst on the way to dinner. 

donghyuck felt light on his feet as he walked through the parking lot with you by his side. the cold air felt liberating on his skin but he noticed how you'd caged yourself within your arms, in attempts to ward off the wind. without thinking, he'd already shrugged off his jacket and propped it lightly over your shoulders. his confidence skyrocketed as you clutched the article of clothing tighter to your frame and muttered a small thanks. surprising even himself, he even replied with a, "no problem, you look good in it," his cheeks now flushing a bright red, the same color spreading to his ears. 

not much else was said as he opened up the car door for you, gently pushing it shut after you were seated. you mentally cursed yourself for being so easily persuaded but moreover, the thoughts that filled your head were akin with 'since when was he such a gentleman?' and 'what's with him all of a sudden?' the air in the car smelled like fast food takeout and the cupholders held everything but a cup, miscellaneous items ranging from candy wrappers to spare change occupying the space instead. donghyuck entered beside you and noted your gazes, feeling slightly embarrassed. he put the car in reverse and placed an arm behind the head of your seat, his own head tilting as he backed out of the spot. without meaning to, you glanced over, only to be met with his side profile, jawline and all. it was no question that he was handsome, and though you never thought you would be actively thinking about it, you found yourself at the foot of his beauty, with many other girls by your side.

the whole ride there, you were texting jeno (even though he wasn’t texting back), making small jokes about how you've been kidnapped by the man he hired to accompany you and how he didn't even bother to tell you where the two of you were headed. it's odd because to this day, you still don't know what it was that compelled you to come along with him. perhaps it was really just the food, or maybe his sudden boyish charm, or mayhaps it was even the lollipop he held out to you, a shy smile lighting his face.

fifteen minutes later, the eerily quiet drive came to an end when he pulled into a spot on the side of an empty road, expertly parallel parking in the small space between two moderately sized trucks. before you could process his movements, his hand was on your arm again and he let out a small, "wait here," before he slid out the car and briskly walked to your side, opening up the door for you once again. stepping out, you took a look at the building before you that hosted a fancy restaurant, seemingly halfway empty. you found that odd, especially since it was valentine’s day, but you put into consideration that it was located on the side of town that no one really frequents. 

“wow, when you said we were going to grab something to eat, i didn’t think it’d be fancy.” donghyuck felt a sense of pride in his chest as he opened yet another set of doors for you, replying back with sincerity. “i didn’t want to half-ass this… sorta date.” it felt weird coming out of his mouth, the word ‘date,’ even more so that the date was with you, but he caught the little quirk of your lips and he wondered if he really had to joke around all that much to get you to smile. on any other day where you’d hang out with the rest of the group, he’d never been able to get your still face to lift, no matter how many idiotic jokes he had to crack. 

meandering in, the waiter sat the two of you at the table against the front window and you felt subconscious of the people walking by, peering in at the pair of you like they were window shopping. donghyuck saw the way you shifted, eyes glancing out the window every few seconds and he raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention. “can we get another table, please?” after moving to a more secluded spot, you eyed donghyuck suspiciously before he bluntly said, “what? i didn’t wanna sit by the window.” the lie slipped easily past his lips and the almost overt hope that lined your irises diminished to a pointed look and eye roll. 

the restaurant was dimly lit, with the only source of light being the candles lining the wall and atop each table, accompanied by a small rose in a clear vase. you’ve never been on a date somewhere this fancy, the boys you’ve dated in the past being utterly incompetent, for lack of a better word. and it’s not like a fancy dinner was what you’d epitomize as a ‘good’ date, you’ve just never been pampered in a way that made it seem like you were of importance. somehow though, the way donghyuck laid his eyes on you, with care and genuine curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel… important to him, for whatever reason he hadn’t graced you with yet.

you didn’t question him as he ordered a pasta and a steak, getting the feeling that this wasn’t the first time he’s been here. “so this is where you take all the girls, i’m assuming?” donghyuck’s eyebrows shot into this hairline, clearly not expecting such a question from you. he cleared his throat before voicing, “only the ones i like a lil' more.” you scrunched your nose in distaste at his dating habits but you didn’t say anything else. he seemed to catch up on this as he fervently picked up the exchange once again, “not that you’re one of them.” this caught you off guard, pursing your lips slightly before disregarding the thought from your mind. donghyuck thought he’d said too much but it looked as if you were already past the topic, moving your hands to unfurl the provided cloth and laying it upon your lap. he did the same as he searched your expression in attempts to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable within his presence. 

donghyuck didn’t think much of the girls he dated. they were fleeting, he knew that much. and he also knew that they simply paled in comparison to you, mere pastimes while he waited out for his chance with his actual love interest. he’d never thought that you’d express dislike towards the way he chose to date around instead of committing but now that his mind was on the matter, he felt ashamed that he didn’t even seem remotely your type. donghyuck saw this in the way you always stuck to jeno, even in a platonic sense, and how your eyes always seemed to gravitate to guys that were more or less just…better than him. he knew relatively little about your love life, though he knew for a fact that you were currently single, and (from jeno) that you had dumped all the guys you’d dated before. even just liking you, he felt immense pressure and the impotent need to impress you whenever and wherever. with that in mind, he took a second to breathe before trying, at the very least, to show you his potential. 

donghyuck initiated casual conversation while the two of you waited on the food to arrive, doing his best not to seem overly enthusiastic or like he was trying to make you laugh. he kept the usual over-the-top jokes out of the air and focused solely on getting closer to you, asking questions like, “how are your classes?” or “when’s your birthday?” and giving minimum effort to reply when you’d ask the same question back. he spent most of his brain power memorizing your answers, subconsciously scheming when he could put the information to use, before popping the question he’d been wanting to ask all night, “then, what’s your type?” 

“mm, like looks-wise or personality-wise?”

“hmm, how ‘bout...both?”

“then, looks-wise, well first off someone that dresses well. i think things like facial features and body build don’t matter all that much but the way someone dresses or like, presents themselves, shows a lot about them.”

“so like, any particular style?”

“nothing particular, but nothing over the top. i think they just have to look put together and just…feel confident in what they wear. if that makes sense.”

donghyuck’s pleased with your answer, and by the way he was nodding at you, you continued your thoughts.

“personality-wise, just someone who knows what they want and someone that’s willing to put in effort to get what they want, i think that’s important.”

his eyes were just about sparkling when you finished and you wanted to ask him if he felt okay but instead shot back the same question he had asked you, not wanting to come off as fussy. “what about you? what’s your type?”

donghyuck didn’t miss a beat when he blurted out, “you.”

the waiter interrupted the moment by placing two plates (or rather platters) of food onto the table, but donghyuck could see, between the waiter’s arms, the way you bit back a smile. you snuck a glance at him, unsure of how to feel at this revelation. his eyes were unwavering on yours and you’d never felt more enticed by just the way someone was looking at you. oh, how confused you had become in such a short period of time. the boy in front of you was your type, a shy but self-assured boy that was smooth, no doubt, but more importantly he made you feel something.

dinner went as fast as it came and donghyuck paid, true to his word, leading you out the restaurant and back to his car. once in, he didn’t take off immediately. sitting in silence, the two of you exchanged a couple of looks before he said with a smirk, “let’s date.”

you were barely caught off guard, nodding minutely, and looking him in the eye. “yeah, let’s date." it was a blessed day for donghyuck, one that would always replay in his mind from that day onward. he thanked whatever higher entity graced him with just the perfect words, just the perfect actions, and just the perfect scenarios to get you from hating him to looking at him with such adoration in your eyes. all in one night.

it was a miracle day, a shared thought by the two of you.

it had been a wild forty-six hours since donghyuck had dropped you off at your apartment. the sunlit sky was just about to tip into the depths of night and donghyuck had come to pick you up to hang out with the rest of your friends. the only one of the boys who knew of the progression with donghyuck at the moment was jeno, the one boy you could never keep anything from, and he still thought that you were simply playing out a giant prank on him. you felt giddy, with the rush of newfound feelings for a handsome boy you could call your own. 

approaching his and his friend’s house, an unsettling feeling began to gather in the pit of donghyuck’s stomach. around you, he found it rather comfortable to just lay back and speak his thoughts. the last couple days spent with you had shown him that you liked donghyuck the way he was, and even though his fun side was appreciated, it wasn’t needed. but coming up to the front door and bringing out his keys, he thought of how he would act with the boys and you in the same room. 

“wow, who would’ve thought these two would come together?” it was jaemin that spoke, his eyes narrowing at you, coming in tow behind donghyuck. “imagine how awkward the drive must’ve been. y/n hates his guts.” this time, it was renjun that spoke, his lips curling into a smile as he conjured the thought of a silent, glare-filled drive. “actually,” donghyuck began countering, “we’re dating now.” 

the room fell silent as they watched donghyuck wrap his arm around your waist, your head finding a place on his shoulder. suddenly, after seven whole seconds, the room burst into a cacophony of commotion, jeno dragging you to the side to question if you were sane, jaemin and renjun laughing at the absurdity but taking time to spout a few incoherent sentences, and jisung and chenle openly gawking at the unfolding situation.

it was a whole twenty minutes before everyone started to notice how quiet donghyuck was, only talking when he was talked to and even then, replying with straight and not sarcastic answers. all the boys seemed to find it strange and renjun finally voiced, “the hell happened to you, did y/n threaten you or something?”

the world seemed to shrink around him as donghyuck felt his throat constrict, looking between you and the boys as if any of you could give him a clue as to what to say. your eyes were just as curious as the rest but he knew they held some sort of expectation. you’d grown to like the real donghyuck, not the funny, boisterous one. but the boys were all expecting him to burst into giggles and crack jokes like they were all he was made of. his head whirled, not wanting to choose between you or his friends and feeling like the entire situation was unfair. it was unfair that he couldn't rest easy just being himself. that he had to be a certain someone in front of his friends so that he could feel like a friend. but despite the inner rumbling of thoughts, he ended up plastering a wide grin onto his face, quipping back at renjun with a, “‘course she did, she hates my guts.”

the boys all glanced at you expectedly, seeing if you would laugh at what your boyfriend had said. now it was you that felt uncomfortable. squirming under all the stares of your friends, you could only give a small smile, feigning a chuckle, before the boys deemed that enough to move on. it's right then and there that you realized exactly what the fuck you'd gotten yourself into. you felt the teeniest bit disappointed, in him and in yourself. him for having all that damned pride and you, for forgetting that he had all that damned pride. 

it was at the forty-eighth hour of your relationship when you finally had the chance to drag the boy into the silent laundry room off the hall and confront him, dumping him for the first time because what the hell were you thinking? the usual, careful (not carefree) y/n that you'd known all your life had been replaced with this foreign and terribly impulsive persona in the face of a pretty boy. somehow, you’d let feeling of infatuation and desire revert all your cumulative dating experience and deem your rationality useless. all for a boy. a boy who could go on for days about how you weren’t ‘one of them’ when he really meant that he just thought you were prettier than the others. you felt like you were really just another one of his date-and-ditch girls. like he was slapping his dick in your face, and not even in a sexual way.

the last day of your weekend elapsed quickly and you had already found yourself cornered by donghyuck before your first class. you would have blatantly ignored him, had he not been screaming your name at the top of his lungs, alerting everyone within a mile radius. his face was drawn into a playful grin and you felt yourself cringe internally because you couldn’t piece together how you could’ve possibly dated a boy that would yell at you to get your attention with a goddamned smirk on his face the day after you had dumped him. 

dragging him by the elbow to the nearest bench, you forcibly sat him in the seat, looking down at him like a mother giving her child a scalding glare for misbehaving. his face now donned something you hoped was guilt but edged the line of being shameful. “why are you embarrassing me? it’s nine in the morning.”

indeed, his voice was small and he seemed upset that you used such a reprimanding tone on him. “sorry, i just wanted to get your attention.”

“and now you have it,” you huffed, “what do you want?”

once again, without missing a beat, he blurted out, “to get back together.”

your mind longed to reminisce the feeling of his eyes, sincere, on yours but even then, you felt like a joke to him. “no.”

“but y/n-“

“no, hyuck. i don’t want to be another one of your girls that you think are 'pretty enough' to take to that fancy little restaurant you frequent.”

“you’re not.”

“oh, so all of a sudden i mean so much to you.”

“not all of a sudden, i- i’ve-“

donghyuck’s throat closed up before he could let you divulge in his little secret. he knew he would’ve probably been better off telling you the truth, as embarrassing as it would be for him, but it was too early, he told himself. he wanted to be sure about your feelings for him. he wanted to build a relationship with you, not pressure you with words he knew you weren’t ready for.

“you’ve what? lost your ability to speak?”

oh, how he would’ve loved that snappy attitude of yours had it not been directed at his poor self. he gulped visibly before settling for a half truth that wouldn’t make you freak out and avoid him like the plague, “i’ve started to like you, y/n. and not the way i like the others. you’re different, i swear.”

you bit down harshly at your lip, wondering if you were destined a shitty love with a disloyal boy. shaking your head, you pulled your phone from your tote, more than ever wanting class to start as soon as possible. to donghyuck’s dismay, it was. slipping your phone back, you raised your head to be met with wide eyes and you cursed yourself for almost wanting to ruffle his hair or tug at his cheeks or pull him into a hug… anything to get that little pout off his face. but you digressed, giving him a placid smile and a, “i have class, see you later,” before turning on your heel, thankful that you hadn’t succumbed to such silly urges.

class had been uneventful, a flurry of taking notes that you would later go back to and realize didn’t even make sense. your friend and usual seat partner, dayoung, had decided that today was the day to ditch. you supposed she’d either blacked out from drinking or had an incurable hangover, the cost of her monstrous drinking habits. it was a shame, you thought while packing up, that you would have to go to the cafeteria alone and eat alone. 

exiting the lecture hall, you’re met with donghyuck once again, eyes burrowed into his phone. his brows are drawn together in concentration before he hears the shuffling of feet, courtesy of your fellow classmates, and you saw how he immediately searched the crowd for you, or you're assuming. you wanted to screech at him, what in the name of god was he thinking? picking you up after class? but you turned on your heel, almost getting ready to sprint to the back door of the building. before you could even get two steps in, donghyuck’s fingers were gently tugging at your elbow, forcing you into a spin to face the culprit of your classroom daydreams. his grip tightened as if afraid you’ll shrug him off and you saw the way he nervously shoved his phone into his back jean pocket, fumbling around for a bit until it finally slotted in. he let go of you rather abruptly, seemingly suddenly aware that his hand was there in the first place, and cleared his throat a little louder than he had aimed to.

“do you want to go get lunch with me?” his voice was shy, and it caught you off guard in the slightest because of how collected he seemed. nevertheless, you’re persistent if nothing.

“no, i’m eating with dayoung.” the lie fell past your lips like honey and you’re about to give yourself a mental pat on the back when a small, knowing smile eased onto the boy's face.

“dayoung’s at jaemin’s. she’s got a bad hangover from yesterday’s party.” damn, you would’ve been celebrating two victories, one for successfully lying and another for being right about dayoung’s tendencies, if you hadn’t forgotten that the girl was jaemin’s girlfriend and that jaemin was one of donghyuck's best friends. your lips flattened into a thin line as you grasped at nonexistent excuses to toss at him. his smile had widened, the light in his eyes shining, before he, again, took you by the elbow and led you to his car, admittedly not giving a fuck as to whether you were okay with it or not.

“come on, i didn’t wait a whole hour and a half outside to just let you go off on your own.” his little comment had you stopping in your tracks. he looked back at you, confused, the little frown on your face igniting unease in his mind. “you waited?”

“of course i did, baby.”

“don’t call me that.”

“okay fine, y/n.”

“why would you wait?”

“because i like you,” another smirk, “i said what i said and i meant what i said.”

(it’s not everyday that flustered!y/n enters the chat but when she does, god, hyuck swears he’s never been more in love with just the way someone blushes. he loves it, he lives for it.)

you escaped the gaze of his star struck eyes by stalking to the passenger side of the car, standing by the door and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle. willing himself out of his fanboy trance, he thumbs the key in a hurry and gets into the drivers’ seat with even more enthusiasm. with each progressing second he spends with you, he can't help but want more and more to get to know you. his actions were eager, putting the car in reverse, easing out of the parking spot, fingers nimble on the gear stick. as usual, the drive was dead silent off to a place that donghyuck didn’t bother to mention. you figured out soon enough though, as he parked the car in front of a local thai restaurant. as you gathered your belongings, he took the opportunity to quicken his exit to open the door for yours. “you don’t have to do that, you know. i’m perfectly capable.”

donghyuck didn’t let your statements derail him as he also opened the door to the restaurant for you. you gave him a disapproving frown, even considering to just not go in, before begrudgingly entering. the place had a cozy feel to it, somewhat akin to a rainforest cafe except without the fake exotic animals and random trees. donghyuck rushed, as if it were his life’s duty, to pull out a seat for you, and you willingly let him see your eye roll. “i know you’re capable, y/n, i just want to do it for you, really.”

you scrunched your nose in distaste and ignored his late reply, opting to skim through the thickly binded menus the waitress had set upon the table. you take it upon yourself to order this time, despite having never been to the place, but you figured a pad thai and khao pad were the way to go. his eyes were on you the whole time, watching the way you articulated yourself to the waitress. you knew this but pretended, for the sake of your heart, to be oblivious to his antics.

unsurprisingly, donghyuck slipped back into his usual persona that he seemed to portray whenever he was around you. being in his immediate presence seemed to make your heart quake these days, reminding you of his charming smiles and smooth lines. maybe it was because of this that made you think it was a bit too selfish to assume that dating him would mean that he would willingly change his entire reputation, you doubted he liked you that much. 

by the end of the meal the two of you were sporting matching shy smiles, feet fiddling with each other under the table and silent snickers with flirty cocked eyebrows. the air felt different when you were around him, the him that you adored. he made the worries on your shoulders lift and lightened the tight hold that life had on your heart. donghyuck was good to you, in all the ways that mattered and in all the ways that did not. it was a shame that you didn't let yourself fall for him sooner. 

he took the initiative to end the mini date there, briefly informing you that he would be dropping you off at your apartment before the car ride blanched out into an airy silence. it would have been outright ignorant for you to dismiss the way your heart pressed against your chest and how it beat quicker than whatever pop song that was tuning in the background of your worries. thinking, you felt it was something that you should take upon yourself to right the situation. whatever you were feeling, whatever he had told you about how he was feeling, was something you just couldn't ignore. staring listlessly into the abyss of the creamy satin that laid against your lap, you took deep breaths that shuddered the nerves on your spine. donghyuck was an ex, but you also dated and broke up with him in such a flurry of emotions that there was no way to tell if it was justified or not. 

pulling into a spot outside your building you rushed your mind to do anything, say anything. "hyuck," you began, not even in full comprehension of what you were about to say. his ears perked and his heart lurched at your usage of his nickname, the feeling of closeness boosting his confidence and affection for you. "yes?" 

"what if we- no, i-," grappling at your hair you felt the words come short as they neared being voiced aloud. donghyuck could sense the tension that you incited with your stuttering but he felt drawn to the way your eyes flitted to everything except his own. he wanted them on his own. letting his weight shift onto the middle console of the front seat, you allowed his careful fingers to caress your chin and lift your sights to him. donghyuck's eyes were warm and inviting and instead of feeling a chorus of nerves, your voice found strength in the expression that graced his features.

"yesterday... i think i made a mistake," his eyes narrowed and his fingers moved to cup your cheeks in his hand. "what do you mean by that?"

"i mean, i want to get back together. i'm sorry if it seemed like i was expecting something from you."

donghyuck openly stared at you, wanting to memorize the way your face fell shy and conserved. he wanted to be the one to open up your heart and to be the one to treasure it. he wanted it all. so while you busied yourself with rapid blinking, your mouth opening and closing in attempts to cover up what you thought might have been yet another mistake on your part, he closed the distance between your lips and his, in a fateful crash. there was a certain passion with which he kissed you with that told a tale of longing and thoughtfulness. he was as warm as he looked, his lips showing you more than he had said in words. from a small but heartfelt kiss, you saw him in so many ways you hadn't before. his sincerity leaked through the simple but profound way he subtly sucked on your bottom lip and in your state of realization, you tried your best to form words from the emotions that had dawned upon you. with a hand on his neck, light but rubbing deep circles you leaned back into his space so that your breath would tickle with his, "i don't know how much i like you, hyuck. i can't even give you an estimate but i know that i like you. that, i know for sure."

"and that's all i need to know, baby." donghyuck slid the hand on your cheek to take purchase of the crown of your head and brought your figure into his. your arms fell down to his back, encasing him, as your temple hit the skin above his collarbones. he felt like home more than anything else. years of knowing of him and only days of actually getting to know him were all you needed for your heart to calm with his gaze, goosebumps to smooth over with his touch. donghyuck, you believed, was a good man, a beautiful, sunkissed man with a hearty laugh that would ring in your ears even in the moments after.

hyuck's presence, in so many ways, was already mounting to more than you thought it ever would and it was something that nagged in the back of your mind, ever so slightly, between the waves of adoration that swept through you with every interaction you held with him. it was dangerous territory, you thought, to be left alone without his persona by your side because then you would be utterly alone. alone to all your thoughts that kept you up at night because rationally, none of this made sense. rationally, he should not have been able to penetrate through your defenses, to break down your façade, to see the real you. it was a matter of days, not weeks, not even months, much less years. rationally, liking him was a no go. and being with him in any serious context was out of the question.

"woah. dragging me into the laundry room. well that can only mean two things, honeybee." his little remark would normally incite a small eye roll but you're too far in your head to really process the lightness of his joke, the lightness of his tone. two deep breaths, keep your hands away from him.

"hyuck, let's call this off." a serious tone.

"wait what?" it's been like barely a day." his gleaming eyes seemed to take it in anything but seriousness.

"i don't think i really thought this through. i just- it's all a little quick don't you think?."

"but babe look-"

"i'm sorry, again, but i really am not looking for something serious with you. that's what you want and i don't want to be the one who drags this on and makes it harder for me and you. whatever this was. let's just preten-"

"y/n, i'm not going to pretend this never happened, okay?" a pause, "because i know something happened. maybe you can't get serious with me but i know, for a fact, that you felt something at one point or another in this… this relationship." donghyuck's eyes are glossed over now with fresh tears. the very eyes that were filled with glee not two minutes ago. despite how wretched he looks, he continues without a hitch.

"you wanna break up? fine. i respect that but don't fucking say that this never happened. don't deny that what you felt, what i saw, never happened. it happened, baby. we happened."

taken aback in humiliation, you blinked back the oncoming wave of tears that were threatening to fall. he was right, you were impulsive, and indecisive, and though it was nowhere in your intentions to be selfish, that's what you were. two times now, that you've fucked yourself over.

and with your leave, donghyuck found himself at square one. or even negative one. he dated you, he dated you and he still found a way to ward you off, again. not even four days in total had he dated you and he felt the knots in his stomach tighten and curl up against his internal organs. he fucked it up, no matter if it was you that broke it off. he couldn't help but think that he was the one that scared you away. that he was the one that pushed you to fall for him so quickly and carelessly with flirty smiles and stupid chivalrous actions. donghyuck felt the tension build in his insides because he was so enamoured with being yours, for catching your eye, you heart, that he forgot to build a relationship with you, to build trust and reliability with you.

now, if you were to even look back on your relationship with him, or to even look at him in any sort of romantic way, you would only see the boy who could win smiles and little flutters of hearts but never any more than that. he found himself in the pits of regret and utter annoyance at his past self because he couldn't take a step back, for even one second, and show you more of how much of a partner he could be. he drowned in the possibility that he would only ever mark as pretty sex appeal and quick playboy fling in your charts. peak devastation.

but you, you will never admit the twist in your heart as you slipped out of the laundry room that day. not to hyuck, not to jeno, not to yourself. whatever games you believed hyuck to be playing on you, whatever games your own mind was playing on yourself, you were through with it. there was no way around that. 

a headache, in bed. maybe a bedache. uncomfortable no matter how you positioned yourself. the sheets were crisp but cold to the touch and you found yourself drawing your limbs nearer to your torso, your arms encircling them to ensure a warmth. perhaps this bedache had been brought on by how you hadn't left the bed since early last night, how the sun had been up for awhile now, or even by the phone pressed between your left ear and those crisp sheets. radioactive stuff, you figured. jeno was drawling on and on, about what you couldn't put a finger on. if your best friend was any one thing in the world, he was a rambler. never knew when to stop and could never comprehend the general mood of the room. especially when it was just the two of you, you couldn't help but have your mind wander off onto other topics because frankly, you weren't sure if he himself knew what he was saying at this point. maybe if he could pick up on the fact that you were tired, or so so out of it then he would stop. maybe if he was a little more adept in noticing things about you, maybe if he was a little more like… like hyuck. 

hell, you would've totally crushed on jeno if he had just a bit more common sense in social interactions (it's a total wonder how he has such an attentive girlfriend). but no, if anything hyuck was more your type than any of the guys in the group. huh, hyuck. how did he even end up in your train of thought? 

sprawling your back flat upon the mattress, the cold curling up your tendons and rippling a small shiver down your spine, you thought about the events of yesterday morning. breaking up with hyuck--a good choice decidedly--suddenly seemed like a dick move on your part. surely you could've just worked through it right? you liked him, undoubtedly, why was it so hard to stay with him? the possibility of being hurt was relatively low, despite who he was, you figured because of how he acted around you, gentlemanly. the possibility of it ending up more than just a frenzied fling was also very high, with how much you had liked him in consideration. your mind was going on, still to this moment, about how quick it had been, about your secret fears of it being no more than a joke, about how you had seriously fallen for such a joking person. but then again, you couldn't just call him up and tell him, "hi, it's y/n. let's date. again. because i suddenly feel okay with it. again." (though in all honesty, donghyuck would still say yes). 

the best course of action, you decided, was to wait it out. maybe school could keep your mind off of him and before you know it, the sight of him wouldn't make you suddenly self-conscious. and the sound of his voice wouldn't make the hairs stand straight at the nape of your neck. the aftereffects of his boisterous smile would stop, for once, from making your heart disentangle itself from the hold of your ribcage and the butterflies would stop flying all together. to your dismay, monday morning was comparably awful, just godawful.

your eyes are still wide and you're only slightly panicking when you say with a flat voice, ��repeat.” donghyuck heaves another exasperated sigh. “i said,” he gives you a look that either means he thinks you’re annoying or he thinks you’re stupid (or both), “renjun thinks we’re still dating so he made a bet with me that if we stay together for a whole month, he owes me a hundred bucks.” his sneakers are tapping in such a rhythmic fashion that your eyes feel like they’ve been tranced but they’re pulled to his face when you finally process his words. “wha-“

you’re attempted response is cut short when he says, eyes rolling back, “i’ll split it if you fake it with me.” gosh, you wanted to smack him. you weren’t tight on money at the moment but an extra fifty dollars for a new dress, or the pair of heels you’ve been eyeing, or maybe even that one overpriced lipstick…your mouth seemed to work faster than your mind. “fine, a month,” his face lit up at your words, “but nothing extra, like no weird stuff when we’re alone.”

he nodded, a smirk slowly forming alongside his retort, “that is, if you can resist my pretty face.” it was your turn to roll your eyes and shove his frame farther away from yours as you were reminded of every reason you hated this kid. he was annoying, no way around that. you checked your phone and it lit up with a 9:57. you were going to be late for class.

you took brisk steps away from the boy towards your class across campus, not even bothering to bid him a farewell. "hey, wait up," he jogged to your left, trying to match your pace, "where you going? i thought we should drop by my place, renjun should be there with the rest of the boys." you quickened your steps, making sure that donghyuck couldn't distract you further before answering curtly, "i have class in like, less than three minutes." instead of backing off like he should've he only sidled up to you more saying, "oh okay, what class?" you huffed, clearly distressed that he couldn't take the hint and just go. "organic chem." 

at that, his face seemed to grow even more excited, for god knows what reason, and he caught up with your fast-moving frame with a few skips, "at the kinley building? 'cause i could drive you." this time, you stopped in your tracks, weighing your options. if you declined and walked the whole way, there was the possibility you'd be late and donghyuck would probably tag along as well. if you went with him, there was no doubt you'd make it in time. you figured you would have to suffer being in his presence either way so might as well make it to class on time. "sure,” you muttered under your breath, upset that you had agreed to all his inquiries today.

his left hand clasped around your wrist, as if to lead you to his car, but you promptly unhooked it, not even chancing a glance at his face as you followed behind him. skinship had been prominent while you and him were dating, despite the time being short, and you didn't hate it but it freaked you out nonetheless how he could be so touchy without knowing you all that well. 

approaching the parking lot, you could already spot his beat up 1998 honda civic, sporting the signature scratched navy blue paint. sliding into his car, you could recall the very first night he'd taken you to dinner. how his cheeks had been pink the entire drive there, anxious that you would notice the remnant smell of the fried chicken he had the night before. you could remember, with striking detail, how clouded your mind had been and how you'd let donghyuck's childish antics keep you from realizing what exactly you'd done.

shaking your head from the memories, you kept your gaze straight and mouth shut for the rest of the ride; donghyuck seemed to notice this and followed suit. you were struggling to think about anything except the boy next to you but you persisted to fight it because the complications were too much for you, donghyuck was too much for you.

class? uneventful. your mind? bustling. with what? donghyuck, donghyuck, donghyuck, and fucking donghyuck. the end of class signals an expectation you were pondering in class and upon exiting, you find it to be true. donghyuck is leaning up against the wall adjacent to the door to the lecture hall you were just in and he's already smiling at you, kind and sweet. the drive to the boys' house is strikingly quiet in the most uncomfortable way possible but it's immediately the least of your worries when you pull up upon the driveway of the cornflower blue painted house. donghyuck pulls the keys from the car and you don't allow him to open the door up for you, stepping out just as he reaches for the handle. his hand, hovering midair, swoops back to the curls at the foot of his neck, twirling them as if he was originally to make a dramatic gesture out of a simple act.

before donghyuck can turn the key into the keyhole, he sets an arm around your shoulders, without looking you in the eye and clears his throat. "we might wanna at least seem, you know…" his comment is received with your head on his shoulder, the same position the two of you were in while walking into this very house less than a week ago. he chances a glance down at you but regrets because his face is quite literally all up in your space. he can see the little ridges of your eyelids and the individual hairs of your eyebrows, all the miniscule details of the light makeup you adorned and the blush on your cheeks that's far too pink to be solely composed of any powder or swash. he briefly wonders if the causation is of his sudden proximity but is interrupted when the door in front of you splits open, the keys departing from donghyuck's clutches and jangling against the wood. 

his face is still mere centimeters from yours and renjun is looking, delighted and sickened at the same time so you take the liberty to peck a quick kiss upon the bridge of donghyuck's nose before shooting a shy smile at renjun and brushing past him into the house, leading hyuck by the hand. the boy himself is halfway zoned out because of the fact that you had initiated pda first. snapping from his momentary daze, he feels a sudden courage surge through his chest, his flirty sweet attitude fully consuming the doubt and insecurities that were once peeking through his composure.

"so how you guys holding up this time around?" renjun questions as he perches himself at the edge of a one person couch, already occupied by jisung. the younger boy pushes him off playfully and is, in turn, shot a death glare and a muttered curse. jisung merely shrugs which makes the aforementioned boy even more riled up, the whole situation giving you and donghyuck a few moments to give each other looks confirming who's to be answering. his little nudge gets you spitting whatever tumbles out first.

"better than ever actually, we're kinda just ignoring the fact that that first breakup happened. you know, it was just a small fight." donghyuck's eyes nearly bulge out at your slip up but he's already wracking his brain for a backup reason in case renjun catches the mistake.

"first? what do you mean first?" you can already see the smirk growing on renjun's face, preparing for his hundred bucks. thankfully donghyuck, quick-witted as ever, is right on his tail, "yeah we got broke up a few hours after we got back together, a sick joke on y/n's part."

silently, praising hyuck for how skillfully he handled the near-debacle, you follow up with a realistic, "you thought it was funny too though, don't act like you didn't enjoy my acting!" at this, renjun's quirked eyebrow returns to its rightful place and he retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket to get everyone's pizza preferences for delivery. jaemin enters at this moment. his eyes are sparkling with mirth and he's walking backwards, both hands interlaced with a noticeably tipsy dayoung. 

"shit, dayoung. already? it's three in the afternoon," you voice while ambling in her direction. you see the way she barely acknowledges you while burying her face into jaemin's chest, mumbling incoherent sentences but jaemin supplies your question by telling you that, "she had a shit day, forgot to write a whole essay and a half." blinking in somewhat understanding, you then cross the room to where donghyuck is now sitting on the couch and while he pats his lap, you take the spot on the floor in front of him so that his knees peer at the sides of your head. immediately, you feel him sit up to accomodate you by softly raking his fingers through your hair.

dayoung, currently sitting smack in front of the tv and successfully obstructing everyone's viewing experience, now speaks with a slightly more sober tone, "ya, y/n, i can't believe you didn't tell me that you and donghyuck are dating. i had to figure out through jaemin. imagine how shocked i was to hear that! i thought you absolutely despised him…" the room is awfully silent and you hear the beginnings of words come from donghyuck behind you when dayoung finishes up her little spiel, "... i always thought you liked him though, or at least thought you two looked good together." 

the rest of the boys beside donghyuck are absolutely loosing their shit because y/n liked hyuck for how long?! donghyuck is equally loosing his shit though he tries his best to suppress the blush that's sure to be washing over his features. his heart is pumping at a haphazard pace and his fingers have slid down from your hair to your neck, then shoulders. he hopes you can't feel the shakiness and lack of confidence that seeps through his demeanor, making his pupils shake and ever so conscious of how you are stilled in this moment. donghyuck wants to see the look on your face.

your face, unbeknownst to the boy behind you, holds no surprise. dayoung had said that same line to you over and over again, claiming that your dislike towards the boy was all part of a covert operation to mask your true feelings for him. in all honesty, the topic of this had replayed in your head for quite some time as well because although in the forefront of your mind you knew that you genuinely did not like donghyuck's character, you couldn't help but ponder the specifics of why exactly you always sought to be upset with him when really you could have minded your own business. and with that thought, you seldom admitted to yourself that donghyuck did draw some sort of your attention to him, attraction or just wonder in general.

you almost want to rush and clap a hand over her mouth as another of her drunken speeches comes into play but she beats you to the chase. "let's go on a double date! or triple, yes, triple! i wanna see this 'relationship' up close, y'all are suspiciously cute." 

donghyuck's heart speeds and yours drops.

turns out, drunk dayoung and sober dayoung are pretty alike when thinking, proven by how sober dayoung had no recollection of her drunken triple date proposal but had also suggested the same exact thing in a sober state. the mirrored version of you that you are so carefully inspecting at the moment looks slightly fucked up, you think. sure, your outfit and makeup are on point as usual but it's the way your stomach churns and eyes shift uneasily that give way to how you're really feeling. nervous. 

walking over to where your small array of handbags are perched upon the windowsill above your fair selection of shoes, you slip on a simple pair of square-toed picnic heels to go with your blue and white 'modern-day belle from beauty in the beast' look. your doorbell sounds throughout the apartment just as you're about to pick out a bag and you scuffle over, still trying to get your toes lined up, to the front door so as to not keep donghyuck waiting. upon opening, you give the boy a quick once-over before deciding that his simple outfit of washed blue loose fit jeans and a semi-fitting white shirt matched perfectly to your own.

"am i approved?"

a small smile graces your features before you nod lightly, turning your back to him but leaving the door open at his leisure. "you most certainly are." stepping within the confines of your space, donghyuck's face breaks into a childlike grin when he notes, "look at us, we're even matching."

you give him an absentminded chuckle in agreement, much too focused on whether a wickered crossbody or the pearled mini tote would do your coordination justice. shaking your head in a frenzy you snatch up the pearled item, astounded that you even thought of introducing a whole new color and texture into an already perfect ensemble. donghyuck watches with an amused grin but paid more attention to your actual apartment than the girl that lived in it. suddenly, you're aware that this is his first time being allowed up into the premises and how awkward this would play out in your mind now that you're aware but you do your best to shake the thought and return to loading your bag with your assigned lipstick, keys, and phone before ushering the boy out altogether.

the two of you are the last to arrive of the three couples, unsurprising to him only. donghyuck will never leave this out for discussion but he purposely drives slowly, so as to give himself as much time with you as possible, even if you end up hissing scornfully at his delayed turn and the way the space between the car you're in and the car in front always seems to increase. 

with the drive in consideration, you are slightly annoyed as you exit the car without the assistance of donghyuck and is slightly relieved to see jeno and jaein walking from the parking lot as well. catching up to them, again without donghyuck, you make small talk with jaein while jeno eyes you will curiosity. before you can jump head first into a heated debate about your shared nutrition professor with jaein, donghyuck's arms slots behind your back and you're startled for a split second. noticing the glare you give hyuck, jeno asks good-naturedly, "something happen on the drive here?"

huffing exasperatedly but relieved you get the opportunity to complain, you reply in the most sincere manner given the topic of discussion. "hyuck here, drives so unbelievably slow, i don't know how we got here even remotely on time." said boy is chuckling with an amused face but removes his arm from the small of your back and instead intertwines your fingers. he adores it when you get riled up with insignificant actions. shaking your head, you let donghyuck lead you to the end of the clearing where jaemin and dayoung are at looking across the landscape.

it certainly is the most picturesque spot for a date, the lavender fields sprawling lazily between the two hills. along the view there are several, maybe five or six, couples that seem to have gotten the same idea in coming here but you're pleased that today would be a fairly undisturbed date. your group of six quickens the pace along the trodden dirt path and you're all too aware that wearing heels, albeit low, with a stick heel was a nightmare on soft terrain. you found yourself sinking into the ground with each step of the way and it's only natural that hyuck picks up on this, being only steps behind you, hands still interlocked and now sweaty. 

he switches the hand in which he holds yours and connects his other with your adjacent. taking a large step, you feel his front press against your back as his voice pulses softly into your ears, "want me to carry you, babe?" a chortle crossed with a scoff passes your lips but before you could quip back a line on just how capable you were, the heel of your left shoe caught particularly deep in the soil and upon trying to retrieve it, your balance was replaced with incoordination. hyuck steadies you by moving his left hand around your waist and rights your stance but then slides his other arm beneath the alcove of your inner knees and swiftly removes your weight off the floor. you're not left breathless or starstruck by his smooth actions but his eyes, now matching your gaze, are enough to stop you from retorting to his kind gestures. surely, he meant nothing more of it than a simple solution to a friend's problem and a token of performative pda.

arriving at a particular grassy clearing about half a quarter mile into the field, you see that jaemin and dayoung who were at the head of the group had already spread wide the picnic blanket they had brought, the large wicker basket that jaemin had looped around his arm on the way here was seated atop. donghyuck only lets you down only when he's right at the foot of the blanket and dayoung gives you a playful grin, which you return with a shit-eating one of your own, followed by a giggle that erupts from jaein as a spectator of the scene. the weather is warm but not hot, the rays of the sun light on the skin and far from blinding, and the grass is dewy but dry enough for it to stop from clamping through the thin fabric of the pink blanket. sure, you admit, a triple date on a day like this, with a view like this, was definitely a good idea.

hyuck makes sure to grab a few napkins as soon as the basket is opened and he trods back over to where he had set you down, crouching and lifting your left shoe off your foot so he could clean the soiled heel. he does the same for the other, all whilst you're looking up at him with such sincere and loving eyes. it is far from intentional but donghyuck knows that the easiest way to your heart is found in simple but profoundly touching actions. 

an hour into the brunch, you seem to have grown accustomed to donghyuck feeding you food, refilling your drink, and just being the most attentive you have ever seen him be. you chalk it up to the fact that he's just closer to the platters of food set in the center of the blanket as well as the fact that he needs to make as much of a show as he can out of this. chatter is pleasant, the other two couples equally as enamoured with one another over the whole group in itself, giving perfect leeway for donghyuck to squeeze in some one-on-one time. 

"y/n," his voice causes your head to snap in his direction, eyes wide. "what?"

hyuck licks his lips, eyes glancing down to your own before realizing that now was definitely not the time. you felt like you could see the gears turning in his head when he answered, "let's go take pictures." nodding, you let him help you up and lead you to the nearest path, his hand guiding you slowly so as to not cause another inbalance. the path he chose ended up circling down further into the valley and he walks you down until the terrain flattened and treads back up the slope to get a picture of the flowers fanning out around you on all sides. his breath catches, keeps catching, with each second he stands there, focusing more on the little you on the screen than the picture he was taking of you. a few shots later and jaemin and dayoung had rounded upon the spot as well, jaemin offering to take some photos of the two of you together.

a light smile forms on donghyuck's features as he nears you, eyes glistening at contact with yours. perhaps it’s the way love simply works but he swears that even mother nature kneels before you, outlining your skin with a glow that could only be achieved with true happiness, the rays of light reflecting in your eyes gleam like pools of honey, and the way the flowers fan around you that made your figure seem even more sublime. hyuck blinks his running thoughts away as he makes haste to set an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. he can quite literally feel your head turn to look at his side profile, your nose barely dusting the heights of his cheekbones. he sucks in a breath and turns face-to-face with you as well, momentarily slowing time and the whole 'posing for a picture' scheme escaping his mind. 

"okay, i got it. you guys looks so good together, who knew!" jaemin squeals, effectively drawing your attention away from his stare. you pick up on the small, "i knew," that dayoung lets out in a distaste full tone and exchange a funny glance with her. bringing hyuck's arm from behind you and lacing fingers with him instead, you beam up at the other couple as you offered to take a few shots of them as well. 

the six of you only spend an hour longer at that destination, being full-time college students didn't exactly allow full-fledged dates but with the time considered, you had fun. slipping back into the passenger seat of hyuck's car, with the boy closing the door shut behind you, you rummage through your handbag to find the packet of blotting paper you are sure you put in there. just as you see it, your eyes catch onto a bright red, packaged candy lodged in the far corner. donghyuck returns to his side of the car just as you withdraw the stick from the bag, eyes gleaming as you held it out for him to see. 

"that's-"

"the lollipop you gave me, that day, at the valentine's dance." you give a small childlike chuckle before unwrapping the candy. he looks almost distressed, "and you're eating it now?" 

"yeah, why the heck not."

"i mean, i thought that you'd save it for, you know, sentimental value." your eyebrows raise with his comment.

"huh, i never pegged you as one who cared about that kinda stuff." 

"i- well, i guess there's never a better time to learn."donghyuck took a deep breath.

"how 'bout this then?" you position the lollipop up and slightly to the left of his face as your other hand busies around the bag for your phone. swiping to the camera, you take a few shots of donghyuck's confused, enlightened, and then smiling face before withdrawing, "how's that for sentimental value?"

his eyes are in full acknowledgement of your cheeky attitude but he's thrown off guard just a few seconds later when your phone is thrust in his face, your lockscreen the same picture you'd taken moments ago. "cute, right?"

donghyuck's hands are shaking as he reverses the car from the parked spot with feigned ease. "yeah, real cute," he mutters under his breath but just at the right pitch for you to hear. the small smile that graces your snickering expression just shoves it further into his face that any way he tries to rationally run from you, he'd end up right back in your presence, drawn to you in ways even he cannot yet comprehend. he knows that no matter if he tries to avoid the fact that every moment spent with you further solidifies his daydreams into reality or tries to delude himself into thinking that he's in this solely for the fifty bucks, either way, he's fucked. 

donghyuck's beyond stressed and more than ever wishing that time could work in his favor for once and pick up pace past the worrisome week ahead. he has an inkling that the library is already packed to the brim but he's convinced that if he wishes hard enough for a spot, one will magically clear itself for his studies. with no time to waste, he power walks past the information desk, past several rows of rich literature, and into the open field of desks. his suspicions, as they turned out, were right. each and every seat was occupied by one of many equally stressed out college students, cramming for the first day of finals that marked just under eight hours from now. donghyuck takes a roundabout the whole floor, just to make sure that he wasn't missing out on one of the coveted cushioned seats by the walls if any happened to be free. he's about to exit the premises, regret lining his already deteriorating mindset at the thought of having to  memorize two months of information with chenle's music blasting from above, all three of jeno's cats taking purchase of his lap, and jisung entering every four minutes for entertainment purposes. 

he really is about to exit, that is, until he sees you at the far corner of the establishment, earbuds tucked in securely, a sprawl of two computers, a tablet, three open books, and a whole ass stationary store displayed in front of you. in between two tall shelves and peering through a few books, he knows that if anyone were to comb their eyes about the room, they'd think him to be stalking. weighing his options, he decides to let you study in peace, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on in that organized mess of yours. 

donghyuck contemplates though, with the consideration that you had to have been at the library for a fairly decent amount of time to have secured such a good spot. the second the idea is brought to mind, he rushes out the building, almost sprinting and earning a few dirty looks thrown in his direction.

he really wishes he had driven his car instead of biking here, something jeno had convinced him was a good idea, but he makes do with what he has and pedals furiously to the convenience store on campus, a good nine minutes away. there, he buys a few bottles of energy drinks, other extremely caffeinated stuff, candy bars, and decides after a good minute, that chips were not the way to go, the loud packaging would give away to the strict eating policies all too easily. a stupid bright smile is plastered across his face, even as he finds himself paying an extra dollar for a bag to hold all the items. again, pedaling back furiously, he manages to make it to the library in only eight minutes this time but it's for naught since he spends the next fifteen with one knee propped on the seat of the bike, using it as a makeshift table to write and rewrite a little note to accompany the goods. 

stuffing the paper bag into his backpack and switching it so that it's strapped on his chest rather than his back, he hurries into the vicinity to find that you're still there. donghyuck waits. he picks up a book on graduate level psychology and attempts to read it with one eye on the text and the other on you, not that that's how it works, both his eyes are really on you. he does this for a total of forty minutes until you finally get up for the restroom and on cue, donghyuck makes sure to be discreet when sliding from between two bookshelves and placing the paper bag upon your seat. he leaves promptly.

donghyuck arrives home with his heart thumping loudly, reminiscent of the feeling after running a whole marathon. his phone dings and his first thought is of you. instead, it's a reminder: religious studies final, 8:00 AM. the time above it reads 1:09 A.M., so much for 'no time to waste,' he thinks.

you're relieved that your quick restroom break was quick enough that your stuff wasn't cleared out by the snappy librarian or any other crazed undergrad. but to your confusion, your spot has now been replaced with a brown paper bag, medium in size and clandestine in contents. with careful hands, you slit open the bag, keeping your distance in the unlikely case that it was a motion-activated bomb (a valid fear, may i add). surprise lights your face as you see a few of your favorite candies, as well as a bundle of energy drinks that you so desperately need. a post-it is tacked to one of them and you pluck it up with two fingers and bring it to sight. 'hope this helps, don't get in trouble for eating tho. -ldh.' 

you pause, your breath halts. a small hand accompanies your gaping mouth that regresses into a soft smile. this boy, he was really something else. your dedicated studies continued, but were futile given the fact that all you could think about was lee donghyuck, a sweet, sweet boy who waited god knows how long for you to take a restroom break so he didn't interfere with your concentration. lee fucking donghyuck. dissolving your emotions so you could dutifully return to your misery, you let your shoulders sag, letting out a sigh, what a mess you were in. 

with finals out of the way, you're now facing the second big event of the month. a heavily anticipated move. the apartment you're currently occupying is quaint, but small, cozy, but inconvenient. unfortunately, jeno had already headed back to his hometown, having one less class and therefore one less final than you. none of your other friends were equipped with the abilities to be hauling heavy furniture to and fro so you were left to either pay someone or find someone. much of your conscious had already decided who that someone would be but you lacked the courage to carry the proposition through. 

you pondered the situation while driving to your new place that was closer to campus, larger in size, and with thicker walls so you wouldn't have to hear your neighbor pounding her boyfriend in 8D audio with only a cardboard wall to separate your eyes from the scene. pulling into a parking space you steeled your resolve and dialed the number.

he picked up in one and a half rings, "y/n? hey, what's up?" donghyuck's voice comes out raspy on your end.

"shoot did i wake you up?"

the boy clears his throat, lying he replies, "no i was just packing, do you need anything?"

"uhh, yeah. a favor. if you could, i just need someone to go to ikea with me to help carry furniture and stuff. and since jeno's out of town, i just thought i'd ask you."

"oh," he sits up straight in his bed, "yeah, yeah i can go with you. when?" 

"maybe like...now? sorry, this is so last minute.”

donghyuck is already on the move, unearthing your favorite sweatshirt of his from his already packed suitcase, "no, not at all. i'm basically done here anyways."

"right, cool. i'll text you the address. when will you be here?"

"ten minutes," he blurts out, "i- is that good?"

"okay, see you." you hang up, heart hammering in your chest. 

you wish the mirror in your new bathroom was full-length because you are currently stood atop the rim of the bathtub adjacent to it, the crown of your head unceremoniously shoved against the rail of the shower curtain, trying to get a good look at whether your ensemble is fit for the occasion. a baby blue mini crop top with a pair of loose sweats drapes your figure and you wonder if furniture shopping with the boy you like requires something a little more cohesive. sighing, you figure that all your worrying was in vain, since the moving van you ordered with all your packed up clothes in it isn’t scheduled to arrive until 6 in the evening. 

just as you finish reapplying your gloss, the doorbell sounds, the unfamiliar ring causing you to yelp in surprise. you answer the door, donghyuck's face lit with humor, "i heard that." your cheeks flame a tad bit before you realize with a pout, "oh, guess the walls aren't as thick as i thought then." donghyuck smirks, an expression that you miss but you go on to list to him the things you were planning to buy that you didn't already have moved in yet. a couch, two lamps, a nightstand, and four very specific potted plants. he watches you with sparkles in his eyes, as if they were reflecting your own.

"right let's go, then," nodding, he snatches his keys.

"your car or mine?"

"mine, the trunk's bigger," he reasons and you nod.

minutes later, you stand dumbfounded as you stare at his 'bigger trunk.'

"so you're saying, that you're gonna shove a whole ass couch in here."

"that's right, sweetie." not even thinking to correct his term of endearment, you slam the trunk door shut, nearly decking him in the head. "if it doesn't fit, i'm having you ride the bus back with the couch."

"sure thing, babe." he answers nonchalantly, seeing as you haven't caught on.

"and alone too, i'm not bouta be seen in public with a man carrying a couch on a bus."

"got it, honey." he’s beginning to enjoy this.

"shit, maybe i'll even have you pay for it if that happens."

"fine by me, love." his smile is on the verge of splitting his ears.

shutting the car door of the passenger seat closed, "gosh, what if i just send you to get the stuff by yoursel- wait, what did you just say?"

donghyuck's face shines golden in the afternoon light, "nothing, dear." 

"hyuck, you gotta be kidding me." 

"kidding about what, babygirl?" he looks as if he is to burst of happiness.

"lee donghyuck, i'm being serious." but the little smile that edges on your face gives it all away so he goes on.

"as am i, lovebug."

shaking your head, you turn to look out the window in embarrassment as donghyuck pulls out of the parking spot with the stupidest grin on his face. it isn't until you guys are halfway there that he returns to a normal calm but fails to guard his mouth from saying anymore. "you good, sweetpea?"

"hyuck…"

"c'mon, say it back, princess, i know you want to." he gives a few quick glances in your direction, eyebrows jutting up playfully.

the smallest of smiles adorn your face as you let out a, "geez, baby," muttered under your breath. the same old stupid smile is back on his face now, his ears are perked, but you can tell he’s nowhere near satisfied yet.

"what'd you say? i couldn't quite hear you."

silence.

"y/n, c’mon, what'd you say?"

"... i said...geez, my lil’ bitch."

he breaks out into ripples of harmonious laughter that ring in your ears like the first few chords of your favorite song. you follow him, peals of laughter emitting at just the sight of his joyous face. this marks the first car ride you share with the boy that isn’t bathed in complete silence but instead, smiles and comfort and bouts of flirty tension hanging in the air despite no one spectating. 

the trip to ikea is straightforward in its purpose, you point and donghyuck carries. he masks the fact that he really isn't the one for heavy lifting jobs pretty well by wiping the sweat off his forehead when you're not looking and taking gargantuous swigs of water when you're too busy measuring dimensions and surveying durability. he also makes sure he has a say in the pieces you decide on, wanting something for you to remember him by whenever you look at the extra flower print pillow cases he convinced you to buy. while you're paying at the checkout, he makes it his job to buy two vanilla ice cream cones for you to commemorate hard work. the smile and shy thank you that you give him makes him feel a good deal important. 

donghyuck ends up exerting a lot more energy than he thought he would on this little venture, shoving the gigantic box of unassembled couch half into the trunk and half into the backseat, the rest of your purchases having little to no space to themselves. you notice his fatigued state and offer to drive home in his place. he's hesitant to agree but feels the weight of his arms and complies. as soon as the car doors are shut and the overhead light goes out, the two of you take a few minutes to collect yourselves. 

"thanks for today, hyuck."

he closes his eyes, head leaning back on the headrest, "my pleasure, sweetheart." you start up the car. 

halfway into the drive you notice that donghyuck has started to nod off. feeling a little more courageous at the thought of him being unaware, you slip a hand into his, one still securely on the wheel. you smile to yourself, nodding along to the upbeat song playing on the radio, the volume turned down to the lowest dial. you pride yourself for being able to get away with the action but you only think you do. donghyuck knows the feeling of your skin on his. he knows the unmistakable sparks that ignite in his little belly of butterflies, and even if he is half asleep, he feels you more than anything. he loves you more than anything.

you convince hyuck to take the guest bedroom for the night, laying newly washed sheets on the bed just seconds before he passes out on top of them. oddly though, you yourself are woken up the following day by a string of curse words that come from the living room. groggy and barely awake, you trudge into the open space to see donghyuck with an instruction manual inches away from his face, his eyebrows drawn in. parts of the couch are sprawled all around him and you wonder when and how he woke up in the first place.

"hyuck, what're you doing?" your voice is still heavily-laden with sleep and you cross the room to the kitchen, reaching for the first water bottle you see. "woke up a bit early and thought i'd do this for you since i have to leave at 10 for my flight and i didn't want you to be doing this alone."

you crouch on the floor beside him and offer him the water which he takes. "that's...very thoughtful of you." he doesn't answer but continues assembling the pieces with a proud smile on his face. meanwhile, you busy yourself by making a small breakfast with what you have in the fridge, a simple egg, cheese, ham english muffin sandwich. he eats it gratefully by shoveling it down hurriedly so he can get back to work, giving you a few feel-good laughs. he's done in about an hour and, not without your help, the couch is up and running (or sitting) and the two of you are reclined upon it, the new-couch smell overwhelming your senses. donghyuck checks the time and mumbles a quiet, "oh shoot," before he stands up abruptly, turning to tell you with sullen eyes that he has a flight to catch. you nod and walk him to the door, standing just across the threshold from him, dolefulness apparent in your expression as well. 

"i guess i'll see you in a few weeks then," he voices as he looks up at you, tying his shoelaces.

"yeah, i guess so," your eyes never leave his, "make sure to tell your little siblings that y/n says hi okay?"

"psh, you've never even met them," donghyuck stands up straight now and you're craning your neck a little at his height.

"oh, so that one time over facetime doesn't count now?"

donghyuck gives a breathy laugh, he goes in for a hug that you reciprocate warmly. reluctance lies in his countenance as he draws back, not wanting to leave you so soon. you notice his lingering stare on you and instead of teasing him, or pointing it out, you urge him on with a hand on either side of him, "just go hyuck, i promise i'll call you later this week."

his stomach does little flips, "oh, okay," he says with a small voice, "i'll get going now then."

"okay, be safe."

"i will, babe." he just stands there looking at you with eyes full of mirth.

"oh my, hyuck, just go!" a small pout begins to form on his lips and you get the sudden urge to kiss it away.

"right, i'll be on my way." he turns away from you to walk to his car, but it's this time that you spin him back around to place a quick kiss to the lips, the smile on your face never leaving. feeling the blush beginning to seep into the skin of your cheeks, you rush back into the confines of your new apartment, leaving donghyuck to his own, flustered, devices. his feels lightheaded the whole flight back and it isn't until he is greeted at the door of his childhood home with the face of his mom, that he is brought back down from the heavens.

"donghyuck oppa has a girlfriend," his youngest sibling drawls out the last syllable as if to prolong the shock the simple statement has already inflicted upon him. his eyes are rounded and searching for any sign of disapproval in his parents’ demeanors but more so because he never intended for his family to know of your existence, seeing as it would be imminently irrelevant in just a few weeks. not only was it to dodge otherwise unimportant questions but his resolution was also linked to the fact that making you known to his immediate family felt like solidifying the ever-so-fake bond that persisted between you and him. surely, even though your relationship with him was anything but real, though was portrayed in the most real fashion, he couldn't admit to himself that the idea of you as his girlfriend in the eyes of his family brought him joy. 

he watches as his mother claps her hands together in glee, exclaiming with full vindication, "how could you not tell me, hyuck!" she asks for a picture of you, your name, last name, major, how he had come to know you, when did this happen, (did you guys do it yet), and most importantly, if he loved you. he answers a quiet yes to his mother's last question but she seems to have moved on to intently stare into his phone screen that's displaying a picture you posted on your instagram a few weeks prior at the flower field. the first being a solo shot, your hair billowing lightly in the winds that seemed to blow solely for you, the gaze of your eyes fell heavy and serious, a stark contrast to the picture a swipe away, of you and donghyuck gleaming with matching smiles that rivaled the brightness of the sun, the caption reading 'my pooh bear <3.' looking back at the picture now even, he really does understand his mothers coos and 'aws.' you did indeed look ethereal.

he blushes at the thought of you and spends the rest of dinner steering conversation away from you and you-related topics, not wanting to delude himself any further from the truths that were itching in the back of his mind, that no matter how much his mother loved you, or even how much he loved you, it'd be hard for him to say that you held the same intense emotions for him as well. donghyuck retires into the confines of his childhood room as the general buzz of his family lowers into the night and he finds himself staring at pictures of him in high school, before he had met you. he wonders, for the first time, if he liked life better back then. chubby cheeks and a terrible smile, he still remembers looking in the mirror and thinking, handsome, but it's only been a few years in college and he can't remember the last time he looked in the mirror with his first thought being something other than will she think i look okay? donghyuck's string of consciousness derails further into the depths of despair, looking back on the lengths he'd gone to get a girl to getting the girl and loosing her, getting her again and loosing her again, and having to sever his true feelings from his façade just so that he could still claim you as his.

but then he's reminded of you, and how you're so dedicated in your studies but somehow still making time for friends and family. how when you care for people you care and especially of how he feels when he is the subject of your attention. donghyuck brings his little emotional escapade into a full circle when he realizes that he would still do anything to claim you as his because he simply cannot have it any other way. that despite the consistent feeling that he might never be enough for you, he would try to prove himself wrong, time and time again. that despite being dumped twice and a soon-to-be third time, he would still stick by your side, persistent if anything. he didn't just have feelings for you, a part of who he is today is built up by the successes you seemingly made him chase to become a better person in the name of you and for that, he could never see you in a different light and his heart will never fail to fail him at the sight of you.

but tonight, it's the contact name, my love, that lights his phone screen that makes his heart stutter. it's the way that your scratchy voice cracks through the speaker that makes his heart whimper. he gets up in fluid motions to shut the door of his bedroom closed, to allow himself to revel in your attention, undisturbed.

"hey there, i told you i'd call so i called," your think your voice sounds dumb, having rehearsed that same line a few times prior to actually following through with it. donghyuck loves it though, doesn't even acknowledge the rehearsed tone as he takes this as a chance to dive into a piled up vent on how his damned little sister, who shouldn't even know what girlfriends and boyfriends are, had outed his relationship with you in front of his whole family. he's nervous, but for only a split second because your hearty laughter fill his ears and suddenly sets the whole world still and at peace. he sighs in comfort as he listens to how your older brother brought his own boyfriend home and had been received just as warmly. he talks of how his mother's roast duck was slightly undercooked and how right in the middle of dinner he snuck it into the kitchen for an extra minute in the microwave. the two of you laugh at how chenle's proposition for a movie night gets widely left on read by everyone else in the group chat, though you end up feeling bad for the boy (and for laughing) and end up replying and setting up a time for when everyone returns to campus. 

you feel a warm squirm in your heart and for once, you know what caused it. the boy on the other end of the line is so very endearing that you have no space for second guessing anymore. perhaps, perhaps.

talk dwindles down as you both get ready to go to bed at a starking 2:17 a.m. but it seems that sleepy you has more than enough to say. your eyes are on the brightly lit moon that's hanging out your window frame adjacent to your bed. you'd like to think that donghyuck is looking at the same moon, thinking the same things. it's a new but welcomed feeling that enters your heart, blooming into your lungs so that at the occurrence of every breath you take, you are reminded of the warmth he brings you. it's a sappy and deeply rooted feeling that you only now realize has been with you for ages on end and with this realization comes the courage to voice it aloud.

"i love you, hyuck. i fucking love you to bits and pieces."

you think he's already fallen asleep, the quiet that he's offering not doing any good to ease your wavering thoughts. not that you regretted saying what you said, it was truly what you felt for him, whether the relationship was real or not. but you weren't sure if he felt even remotely the same so staying under the umbrella of a fake relationship gave you the opportunity, should the times ever call, to recant your words in the name of performative indication.

the seconds were whizzing by quickly and your anxious mind counted to four minutes. four minutes of dead silence on his part. it's fine, you think as you hang up at the fifth minute, he probably just fell asleep. a weird feeling settles in the pits of your stomach that night. lee donghyuck likes you, that's for sure, but maybe you were the one that was rushing into it this time around. maybe hyuck expected you to bring up the fact that the two of you were still unofficially dating. or maybe he just liked to play around with your feelings while he could during this month. it was a mind boggling mess but you refused to let the boy get the best of you as you drifted off into sleep.

only god and lee donghyuck himself know that he heard you loud and clear that night. the three words he'd been yearning to hear finally and in actuality formed from your lips, for him and him only. but fate tells him it was only a figment of his half-asleep imagination, and only god knows that what he heard wasn't a dream. 

huang renjun beckons lee donghyuck into the kitchen before the movie marathon begins. today marks one month. donghyuck pulls his phone out to see the hundred dollars even that renjun had transferred, he then transfers fifty of that to you. "so you guys still going strong?"

hyuck feels guilt and worry trickle between his grasps on confidence, "better than ever."

"she actually likes you back, huh, i can't believe i thought y'all would break up." renjun is pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, his gaze is turned towards the living room where everyone is gathered when donghyuck sees his eyebrows furrow. "shit, i forgot chenle invited mark." donghyuck turns to see his 'girlfriend' being hit on by one of his close upperclassmen. you seem to be oblivious but it's horridly obvious whenever mark attempts to flirt. seeing you smiling at his corny pickup lines, not quite laughing but not quite rejecting him either, donghyuck feels tendrils of unwelcome jealousy and hopeless distress as he traverses on light feet to where you're at, placing a hand on your lower back.

"hi, mark. it's been awhile, how're you these days?" he watches and, in what he knows is sick relief, mark blinks in surprise at the placement of his friend's hand that is plainly indicative of a relationship. "i've been pretty good, you?"

"great actually," donghyuck might've said that a little too enthusiastically, "i saw you were talking to y/n here. i don't think i've introduced you guys yet. mark, this is y/n, my girlfriend, y/n this is mark, a good friend of mine." he sees the pointed look you give him and is suddenly overcome with embarrassment. mark takes a few more minutes of your time before moving on to talk to renjun, the latter noting the tension between you and donghyuck and willing the boy away. 

"donghyuck, what the fuck was that?" you're upset.

"what? he was being weird with you, i couldn't just sit here and pretend he wasn't." hyuck's attitude is snappy right off the bat and you can't help but seethe at how immature he's proving to be.

you retort, with equal force, "yeah, so what if he was flirting with me? what does that have to do with you?"

donghyuck starts to realize that there might be more to the reason you were so defensive in the first place, something having to do with the fact that in the most technical terms, he isn't exactly your boyfriend anymore. "y/n, why are you being like this?"

"like what? i think i'm being pretty rational."

"no. no, y/n, but he was outright flirting with you and you didn't even tell him you had a boyfriend." he knows he's grasping at loose strings but he needs to pry this out of you. to see how you really feel.

"hyuck, we need to talk about it. it's been a month."

as if you had laid it out straight for him, donghyuck feels the desperation crawl beneath his skin, "y/n, please." his tone is all of a sudden soft and you lock your eyes onto his. "let's not talk about it right now, please, not now." he watches as you bite your lower lip in contemplation and then as you nod lightly. "okay."

donghyuck isn't sure if his impulsive decisions have made him feel more relieved or afflicted with current circumstances. as the lights dim and the movie begins to run, he settles into the corner of the sectional that he claimed earlier that evening with his arms open wide. you don't hesitate to curl up on top of him, the warmth of his skin, all too familiar. both of you are ever so aware that this might as well be the last time your bodies are pressed against one another. and both of you are equally tormented by how true that may come to be.

the clock reads 3:37 a.m. when the movie ends and donghyuck is glad to see that the rest of the boys are quiet in exiting the room to their respective bedrooms. he can still feel the rise and fall of your chest on his and he's oh so careful not to move too abruptly, in the case that you might wake up and realize just where you had fallen asleep. he wishes that he could've spent a few more minutes, at least, admiring the curves of your face in the limited color the dim lights allow to reflect but it all passes too soon as someone (chenle) hits something (a doorframe) with some part of his body (his pinky toe) and wails out in pain (loud shrills), alerting you awake and anyone else that had the pleasure of falling straight asleep. he curses under his breath without realizing that you were right there and awake now, only feeling the embarrassment wash over him as your soft chuckle fills his ears. 

"sorry, 'bout that. go back to sleep." his voice is low and you're so close to slipping back into unconsciousness but you will yourself to prop your chin up on his chest, directly above his quaking heart. "i'm hungry, hyuck."

he almost laughs at the absurdity of your statement. he guesses it's not completely unwarranted though since you have been asleep for the past nearly five hours but he still feels a small part of his subconscious mind tug at just how cute you are. so very cute.

"okay, princess. let's get you something to eat," he says as he dips his hands that were loosely looped around your back underneath your thighs and hoists both your combined weight up. your eyes are gleeful as he pulls you even closer to him, your own arms settling upon his shoulders. crossing the length of the room, he sets you down upon the kitchen counter. allowing himself to bask in your unadulterated attention for a few moments, he realizes the eerie silence that envelops the two of you. he slips his phone out from his sweatpants pocket and thumbs around until he lands upon a random playlist of his on spotify. hitting play, he sets the phone on the counter next to you, lowering the volume just a bit so that it wouldn't disturb the others in the house. 

as donghyuck rummages through the fridge for some food, you fiddle with the zipper of the hooded jacket you're wearing. you're hit with the realization that the jacket isn't even yours to begin with and that it's hyuck's, the garment having been such a staple in your closet for the past month that it barely smells of him anymore, that it really is all yours at this point. looking around the dark room, you find yourself identifying everything you see in relation to hyuck. before you knew it, this little fake dating stunt had become so real that it was hard for you to swallow the feelings. 

attempting to push past the oncoming wave of emotions, you focus your attention on other things. donghyuck's now throwing what looks like a years old hotpocket into the microwave without a plate. his back is turned to you but instead of getting lost in his messy bed hair and broad shoulders you notice the new song that replaces the previous one. it's mellow and soft and it takes you four seconds to realize just what song it is. slow dancing in the dark (by joji). maybe it really is about time to come clean with your feelings, no matter if they could be rejected or reciprocated. it isn't fair to be dragging this on, when it was fated to be ending right now, a reason to which you had broken up with him before anyways. for all you know, donghyuck might even be waiting for you to call it all off, in annoyance since the fifty dollars had already been done deal. looking around, you figure it's now or never as you slide off the counter, landing carefully on sock-clad feet. padding over, you wrap donghyuck in a snug back hug, hoping that he catches on to the situation.

he does, eventually, after you spin him about and lace your hands around his neck, swinging him around in exaggerated and silly motions. he responds with a hushed, "oh!" and continues prancing around with you before finally settling against the steady beat. the song does its job so well in calming your heart that you almost forget the reason you were a jittery mess in the first place. you prep your sappy, truth-laden speech with gruesome effort, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. little do you know, donghyuck is planning the same monologue, equally as gruesome.

the beep of the microwave resounds in the background, alerting you of how you came to this situation in the first place. but with this, his head dips into the crook of your neck as the song comes to a slow and you move your hand from his back to cradle his head. "what's wrong?" the kitchen is now silent, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and your feet shuffling around the tiled floor. donghyuck is silent himself, an inner debate ensuing your question. his chest feels heavy, the burden of a thousand lies resting upon it whilst he can only hold back his tears. he has everything he's ever wanted from you. to rest in your arms, to land a smile upon your lips, to hear an 'i love you' escape those very lips. he feels his emotions bubble up within him, threatening to spill before they really do, in the form of a soft, "i love you, y/n. that's what's wrong, i love you."

he raises his head causing your hands drop down to his back and he instantly misses the way they caressed the locks beneath his ears. he meets your eyes, through the thick haze of blackness that shrouded the room. "and i love you too," you say, voice equally soft but treading carefully; you're still unaware of the problem he's presenting, "what so wrong about that?" you tiptoe so that your foreheads meet and he has to suppress the urge to kiss you right then and there, to evade the hurt he knows will come, and so he simply hugs your body flush against his, as a substitute to his desires. your breaths tickles his nose and he closes his eyes, relishing in the moment before inevitably breaking it by saying, "because i mean it… and you- you don't. not in the way i do." your eyes penetrate his and your mouth parts to voice a response but he cuts you to it. "y/n, my love for you is real. it's always been. and i knew what i was getting into asking you do this with me but, i really wanted a second chance. i wanted it so bad and when renjun brought up the bet, even if it was fake, i just knew i had to take it. and i know this is shitty of me to just drop this on you while we're having this- this moment but i can't keep lying and pretending that my love for you is just- that it's conditional."

donghyuck lets out a breathy sigh as your hands fall from his back, his heart falling with them too. he can't see the expression on your face anymore, his eyes are glossed over with tears that are at the cusp of falling, but he isn't sure that he wants to. he's mad at himself for ruining the most perfect moment, for ruining such a calm night. the tension in the air is almost palpable but it's ripped to shreds as your hands return to cup his cheeks. tilting your head a little, you lean in for a sweet kiss, a small smile lifting the corners of your mouth as you withdraw. "who says i don't love you for real?"

it takes more than two minutes for donghyuck to collect himself, still in doubt of whether he's dreamt up the whole situation or if you are, in fact, being real. you're standing in his arms to remind him that you really are, sneaking small kisses on his cheeks every time he thinks he's finally calmed down. it's a lover's dream to be lee donghyuck, and y/l/n y/n can only fall deeper in love with every blossom of a blush rosing the tips of his ears. 

you thank god, or whoever blessed this boy upon your life, that donghyuck was there that night at that stupid, stupid valentine's dance. and above all, you are endlessly indebted to renjun for his stupid, stupid bet. but mostly, you can't contain the utter awe you hold for donghyuck for simply being the perfect man he is. contrary to everyone's belief (and even your own, up until recently), donghyuck isn't an insufferable person. what they see is just a shell of a man who's too afraid to be the center of attention in any way other than 'the funny guy.' and realistically, it's only with the girl who's stolen his heart that he knows it's more than okay to be vulnerable and that maybe, just maybe, it's the only way to steal her heart back. 

y/n and donghyuck share a love story they know they're lucky to be able to tell their kids and maybe even their grandkids. and if they have anything to learn from it, it's that falling in love is not just a matter of time but of circumstances, impulsive decisions, and reckless emotions. well, mostly just reckless emotions.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — i got my first few likes on this blog a few days back and while i can say with full confidence that i do not write for follows and likes, it made me happy in the small yet extremely gratifying ways that simply writing and posting cannot. so for those few people who interacted with the teaser for this fic as well as anyone else who read up till here, guys, gals, and non-binary pals, i hope each and every one of you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing this. with love, rouiyan.

[disneylanddilettante]

The Disney Renaissance Killed the Disneyland Star

This post has been brewing and stewing in my brain for some time.

We here in the Disney theme park fandom are prone to lament the modern attraction design philosophy that says everything must be based on a movie. Aside from spectacularly clueless comments about “a random mountain in India or whatever” and misuse of the term “barrier to entry,” the reason behind it seems to boil down to: That’s what guests want. On the one hand, this is very clearly an excuse to do what Marketing wants (because film IPs are proprietary in a way that broad concepts are not, and can be merchandised accordingly), but on the other hand…it seems to be…kind of…true? The vast majority of the public, in my experience, does think of Disneyland (which I am going to use as synecdoche for all Disney parks, because it’s the one I grew up with, it’s easy to say, and because I can) as a place where you see Disney characters walking around as if they were real, and go on rides based on Disney movies, and anything else there is just to, idk, fill space until they can think of a cool movie makeover for it.

I have spoken to people online who quite enjoy Disneyland, but also think the Enchanted Tiki Room should become a Moana attraction, Tom Sawyer Island should be something to do with The Princess and the Frog, and the Matterhorn should be turned into Frozen. When I challenged them as to why, they didn’t seem to understand the question—what did I mean, “why?” Isn’t it self-evident? A couple years ago, one of the Super Carlin Brothers (I don’t remember which one; anyway I couldn’t tell them apart if you put a gun to my head) made a video expressing bafflement over the use of Figment as a mascot in Epcot because “He’s not from anything.” As if a ride in that very parkwere nothing.

So there is something to the assertion that film IP tie-ins are what regular guests expect and want. But the question remains as to why they want that—after all, it didn’t used to be that way. Costumed characters and rides based on movies have always been part of Disneyland, of course, but in past decades, the most elaborate and promoted attractions were the ones based on unique concepts that had nothing to do with the movies. The reasons to love Disneyland were things like the Haunted Mansion and the Mark Twain and Space Mountain…not so much the chance to meet Mickey Mouse. So what gave the public the idea that it was all about movies and characters? I’m sure there are several reasons, but I’m going to focus on one that I don’t see brought up that often.

I’m going to blame the Disney Renaissance.

Let me give you some personal background. I’m a young Gen-Xer, born in 1977. I was a child of the 80s…and in the 80s, Disney wasn’t doing so hot. Feature Animation had dropped to a cinematic release about once every four years, the live-action division was even less productive, and the corporate raiders were pawing at the door. In those days, when I saw a Disney movie in theaters, probably four times out of five it was a re-release of an older classic. (Anyone else remember when that was a thing?) There wasn’t much new at Disneyland either. The biggest thing to happen in the first half of the decade was the remodel of Fantasyland, which added one new ride—based on Pinocchio, a 43-year-old film—and otherwise just rearranged and refined what had always been there. On the other hand, the big Imagineering projects of the 60s and 70s were mostly still going strong.

The upshot is that if you were a Disney fan in those days (there weren’t many of us, even in my age cohort), you were a fan of the older movies and/or the parks. And for all its genuine quality, that stuff was showing its age. It was made in decades past, and there was a corniness and a quaintness to much of it. Most of the kids my age considered Disney “baby stuff” and were eager to put it behind them. It seems to have been a widespread phenomenon, because I don’t remember the park being very crowded when I was a young kid. Queues for even the roller coasters tended to top out around 45 minutes and it was very rare that we didn’t have time to do everything we wanted on a given visit.

And then, the year I turned 12—the year my age bracket hit puberty and could definitively be said to have outgrown cartoons altogether (except for the weirdos like me)—The Little Mermaid hit theaters.

Two years later, we got Beauty and the Beast.

And the hits kept coming. Suddenly, Disney was the hottest thing in entertainment again. Not just kids—by this time the generation that would come to be known as Millennials—but their parents watched these movies and went wow, this is really good. Disney is better than I thought. Maybe we should rent some of those older movies that I remember from when I was a kid. Maybe we should go to Disneyland… Unlike in the past, when families went to Disneyland because it was advertised and known as a family destination, families went to Disneyland because the kids were going gaga over the new Disney movies and the parents wanted to make them happy.

So a whole new generation of fans flocked to the parks, most probably never having been before, or not recently. They didn’t know what to expect. They just knew they loved these new movies with their endearing lead characters (so much more full of personality than Snow White or Alice or Pinocchio) and their big bombastic Broadway-style musical numbers (so much more in line with current musical tastes than the Tin Pan Alley ditties from Cinderella or Peter Pan or The Jungle Book). That’s what they wanted from Disney, whether they were paying six bucks a head plus popcorn, or fifty bucks a head plus lodging.

And that would have been fine but for the fact that endearing characters and big bombastic musical numbers are really hard to build traditional dark rides around. What you can do, though, for people who want to meet their favorite characters, is build dedicated character meet-and-greet spots. What you can do for people who want to sing along with Academy Award-winning songs is create huge colorful parades and stage shows that feature those songs. Best of all, if you are certain people who shall go unnamed, these sorts of things are much cheaper to create and operate than rides. Corporate was more than happy to meet, rather than try to exceed, the expectations of this new wave of fans.

The newer guests got used to seeing more-or-less verbatim (condensed) film content in the form of these shows and parades. The classic dark rides began to look decidedly odd to them—why are the movie events out of order? Why doesn’t the main character show up more? Why don’t we get to hear all the songs? And no one was there to explain it to them, because the older generations of fans had largely drifted away and the internet wasn’t quite a household staple yet. Rides that weren’t even based on a movie seemed even odder—what does a Wild West roller coaster have to do with Disney? What does a submarine ride have to do with Disney? I thought this park was supposed to be for kids, but my kids don’t recognize this stuff! They should build a Lion King ride! They should build a Toy Story ride! That Snow White ride isn’t suitable for kids; they should do something about that! I didn’t pay all this money to stand in line for an hour and a half and go on a ride that my kids don’t get!

The pattern was set. IP tie-ins were what the people wanted, and they closer they hewed to their source material, the more guest approval they got, simply because people didn’t know any different. And it has snowballed from there. The Disney Renaissance was amazing for the art of animation, but I think it was a net negative for the art of theme parks.

Tl;dr The Disney Renaissance changed guest expectations for Disney entertainment products in ways that were incompatible with classic Imagineering principles.

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 5

Walking down the street is harder without your own personal Radio Demon parting the crowd for you, but you make do as you near your sister’s boutique. At first you wanted to be alone, but that’s kind of hard in the most crowded place in the universe, and as you continued on your mindless walk through the Pentagram you realized that being alone might not be the best thing. What you needed right now was a hug and someone to tell you that you deserved far more than whatever Alastor could give you. You couldn’t be alone with your thoughts right now.

The neon from Molly’s sign hurts your eyes from a block away, and like moths to a flame shoppers flock towards the pink light. Molly’s Miracles is the place for those in Hell with an eclectic style and a preference for the sexy. It’s very rare that you find yourself actually stopping by for a reason other than checking in on your sister, but that excuse will have to do for now.

Just like the sign, the amount of glossy white furniture and sequined clothing forces you to blink and adjust your eyes. There aren’t too many people inside, thankfully, just a moth demon posing for her friend in a red dress with the deepest v you’ve ever seen. Not your thing, but the friends cheer and squeal at the sight of it, so Molly must know her clientele quite well. 

“(Y/N)?” Molly emerges from the back, her arms full of some green, glittery fabric. She all but drops them on the checkout counter so that she can properly engulf you in a hug. It’s scary how fast she can traverse a room with all those legs, but your desperation for a proper hug is too great to be startled right now. 

“I didn’t know you were coming by today!”

“I just,” you sniff, “wanted to check up on my baby sister.”

“Aww that’s so sweet!” She squeals. “But I thought you were out with a certain you-know-who? Is he here?”

You shuffle out of her arms and embrace yourself with your own.

“Who told you that?”

“Angie did. Text me this morning that you too had a little date,” she coos.

Of course Angel would find a way to blindly inform your sister about your love life. Except that it wasn’t your love life. Just life. Normal, regular, loveless life. 

“He just happened to have some business to attend to at Rosie’s at the same time as me.”

“But he walked you there.” 

“Molly--”

“And he didn’t have to! But he did! That is so cute!”

“It’s really not, Molly,” you grumble and move deeper into the store. You trail your fingers through the silks and tulle, pretending to be interested in something from the wracks when you and Molly know there’s only ever one article in the store at a time that you would actually wear.

“You okay, hun?” She trails you through the store.

“I’m fine, Mol. Just fine. I made a great deal today, dad will be really happy. Things are going well at the hotel.” You turn to her with a sigh, hoping with expulsion of breath you will also rid you of the sobs bubbling up in your throat.

It works for a minute.

“I’m fine. I’m doing fine.” Your voice cracks at the end and Molly rushes you again, except this time you’re also being surrounded by the moth demon and her friends who apparently can’t mind their own business.

“Oh sweetie, did he hurt you?” The moth asks.

“Men are fucking pigs!” One of her friends -- a wolf -- cries.

As these complete strangers surround you with man-hating indignation, Molly rubs your back and strokes your hair.

“I-It’s okay. It’s just a guy,” you gasp.

“That’s right, it is just a guy. You don’t need him and his nasty ass.” Another friend -- a blowfish -- says as the rest of the friends and your sister release you from their grasp but remain in a circle around you like some Sisterhood Against the Radio Demon.

Oh, if only they knew that was the man they were bad mouthing right now. Actually, you kind of wish Alastor was here right now. You’d pay money to see his reaction to the Sisterhood calling his ass “nasty.” Probably confusion, mostly.

"You know what you need,” Molly chimes in. “A new outfit!”

The friends cheer and you really wish you could just melt into the clothing racks. They’re all sweet, impossibly so, for helping out a complete stranger just because of the universal experience known as “guy problems.” But the last thing you want is to be surrounded by eyes scrutinizing your body in new clothing. Your heart feels like it’s about to implode in on itself and if one person says anything about your love handles or your back fat you are definitely going to ignite this entire city block on fire.

“Molly, that really isn’t necessary--”

“I know the perfect thing! You just head back into the changing room,” she says, making her way to a shelf of silk blouses. Your eyes dart to the door, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Molly.

“Don’t. You Dare.” Her eyes flash a brief red, so you shuffle over to the changing rooms.

---

Alastor sits in Rosie’s office, well, it’s more like he’s lying down on her chez, moaning towards the ceiling, and clutching his gift to you tightly as if it were the last piece of you he had left.

Rosie watches him from her desk, looking wholy unimpressed by this display from the all-powerful Radio Demon.

“Why did I even--”

“I don’t know, Alastor.”

“I never should have--”

“No, you shouldn’t have. As intelligent as you are, dear Alastor, you can be exceptionally dumb.”

Letting out another long whine, he grips the gift box harder and rolls over onto his side. He’s an Overlord. He should not be debasing himself like this in polite company. Or anyone’s company for that matter. But this is Rosie, who was for so long the only person in the history of human existence who he could trust with his truest emotions. But even this exhibitionary indulgence is a new milestone in their relationship, one he wasn’t even ready to take right now. He can’t help it though. Not when his heart feels like it’s being gripped and twisted between two fists. Not when his stomach has taken on this horrible, aching feeling, as if he’s being repeatedly kicked there. 

The worst part is the empty feeling that has been growing deeper and wider since you left him at Rosie’s. For so long now it’s been just this nagging little spot that formed when you first met, situated in the center of his chest, reminding him that he no longer owns the piece of himself that once filled it. You do. And as long as you were with him, close to him, that hole stayed the same, was comforted by its close proximity to its missing piece. But now you were gone, and the hole has become so gaping and so hollow without you, with the thought of truly losing you forever.

“You could always go find her,” Rosie implores, shoving away the paperwork she’s fruitlessly been trying to complete.

“She said she wanted to be alone,” he moans. 

“And since when were you one to respect others’ personal space?” She doesn’t get a response. He just rubs his face deeper into her chez, ruining the fabric with his blubbering. Part of her wants to relish the sight of her egotistical, maniacal, normally heartless friend reduced to a weepling in front of her. But the bigger part of her just really wants to get back to her work and Alastor’s need for validation is in direct conflict of that. 

“Alastor,” she sighs, “I know she wanted to be alone, but honestly, this might be an appropriate time for you to tell her how you feel. Or at least to try and remedy the situation a tad.”

Alastor sits up, shoulders hunched.

“Really?”

“Yes, you emotionally obtuse oaf. Go! Be romantic! Be spontaneous!” Get the Hell out of my office, she wants to add. 

Rosie goes over to him and all but yanks him off the chez. She places a jovial arm around his shoulders but is shoving him quickly through her store, past her girls, and outside.

“Good luck, darling!” She calls as she pushes him onto the street. He whips around, eyes briefly flashing her his radio dials but her motherly wave quickly reminds him of the task at hand. 

The dials disappear but he shoots her an uncharacteristic glare before he puts on his smile. He summons a shadow to traverse the Pentagram in search of you. As his shadow wiggles off, he begins his stroll through the streets roughly in the direction you were heading.

---

Molly brings you a red silk blouse and a red and black plaid pencil skirt. They seem modest enough but you dread the way the skirt will make your curves look, the lumps and thickness it will accentuate. The blouse is nice though, if not a bit tight around the stomach, but it makes your chest look amazing. You try looking for the flared skirt you came in with, but not so mysteriously, your clothes seem to be missing. Thanks, Molly. 

You have two options now. Go out into the store in front of strangers and in front of the giant windows Molly has in the front, or squeeze into the skirt, suffer through it for five minutes, and then demand your clothes back.

Once you actually have the skirt on it’s not... that bad. It digs into your waist just a tad, making your back straighten to make breathing easier. The fabric is thick, wool-like, but soft to the touch. It comes to your knees, probably the only skirt in the store that does so, and much to your surprise, it smooths out every piece of pudge even without tights. You look at yourself in the mirror and you look... lovely. Elegant, with a hint of sexy that looks good on you for once. 

Peaking your head out of the room, you see Molly and the group of friends -- Ramona, Hugh, Paul, and Chandler, you’ve since learned -- eagerly eyeing the dressing rooms. They’re all sitting on the pink, crushed velvet couch Molly has set up for shoppers, their knees bouncing with anticipation. 

You move your body out inch by inch, as if to step out of the room too quickly would cause your body to burst into flames. The closer you get to the main room, the hotter your body burns with embarrassment, the harsher the feeling of invisible eyes feel on you. You know that Molly won’t tease you, that she is a constant purveyor of how naturally gorgeous you are. But somewhere in the back of your head, the harsh words of your mother hammer away. You can just imagine that Ramona and Hugh and Paul and Chandler and whoever peaks through Molly’s windows will have some awful things to say. It wouldn’t be anything new, you’ve heard it all. Doesn’t mean you want to keep hearing it.

Molly spots your hair poking out of the doorway and squeals. Your “new friends” squeal in response and then it’s just a chain reaction of everyone squealing and cheering at you. You creep further into the room and Molly pushes you the rest of the way onto the fitting pedestal. 

“Do a twirl!” Molly yells and the rest of them start chanting until you do, in fact, twirl on the pedestal. More squealing. Their joy and support become infectious, and slowly you pull your arms away from their place shielding your stomach. 

You look head on at the three full length mirrors set up opposite the couch, you don’t shy away. You’re loving how you look in this moment, you find it impossible to fixate on the lumps and bumps anymore. It feels as though you made to look like this, still so completely you and yet as beautiful as you always wished you felt. It’s perfect now.

“Go off, girl!” Chandler yells.

“Your man is going to wish he had you back,” Hugh cheers.

“If he bothers you again you call us and we’ll all beat his ass,” Ramona says and her friends whoop in agreement.

Behind you, you can hear the jingle of the bell hanging from the door. Raising your head to stare at the door through the mirror, (e/c) eyes meet glowing red ones, wide with shock. He has a sheepish smile, not all teeth like his “going out” smile, but just as wide. He has that damn box in his hands, his claws tapping the sides. 

Everything goes quiet and you might as well have been the only two people in the room. Molly ushers Ramona and her friends into the back room before the terror can fully set in and you’re grateful. You don’t really want anyone nearby for whatever is about to happen. 

Once everyone is out of the line of fire, you sigh and turn to face him, willing the confidence from your little fashion show to sustain you for just a little longer. 

“Alastor.”

He doesn’t say anything back, eyes still trained on you, because what is he supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry for taking you to a cesspool of women thirsting after me?’ ‘I’m sorry I’m such a tainted, wretched soul who is so undeserving of you?’ ‘I’m sorry I’m too much of a coward to tell you I love you?’ He pulls the box closer to his chest. 

“You look stunning,” is all he can muster. Not horrible, probably not the best thing either, though.

“I know,” you say back, keeping your face stern.

His smile grows wider but remains sheepish, maybe even bashful, which is impossible because when has Alastor ever been bashful? 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs.

“I’m really fine, Alastor,” you lie. “You don’t have as much of an effect on people as you think.” Another lie.

“There are millions of dead souls who would beg to differ but--”

You send him the most seething glare you can muster and he pulls back. He looks back down to the gift, eyeing it as if it has all the answers, the map to getting back what’s been lost between you.

“I apologize if you were uncomfortable. That was not my intention.” 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you seethe. “I wasn’t anything except tired and overcome with a desire to see my sister.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he says as he starts to roam around the store while remaining a safe distance from you. In the mirror, you catch the red glint in your eyes and blink to force it away.

Words start to pour from your mouth, recklessly and unhinged, “And you don’t owe me anything. I don’t need you following me around town after I explicitly told you not to follow me. I don’t need you to “escort” me to meetings just so you can see your girl toys. I’m not an excuse, I’m not a guise. I can take care of myself, lord knows I’ve done so for decades without you.”

“I know.” You were expecting the room to burst into flames and for the sound of radio static to overwhelm you, not for him to remain smiling down at the floor, albeit with a hint of melancholy.

“You know?”

“I know.” He starts to take small steps towards you. “I know you don’t need me, you proved that today. You are more than brilliant and poised and powerful in your own right. I know that. But I’m afraid that what has happened is rather the opposite.”

He makes it to the pedestal and even with the extra inches you are barely as tall as him. But he has never seemed so small to you in this moment.

He is not a man who cowers, he does not beg, that shows weakness and he learned from a young age that you cannot afford weakness. Don’t show your neck, don’t bow your head, stand as tall as you can and bare your teeth. He can’t do that, though, not with you. What you need is openness and vulnerability from him, signs that you bring out something that no one else can.

“My dear, you do not need me,” he whispers and holds out the box to you. Somehow you tear your eyes away to focus on unraveling the bow and peel back the packing paper. There, glittering on a small slice of foam, are two necklaces: one a heart with a keyhole cut out, the other, the matching key.

Alastor dips two claws into the package and takes with him the heart-shaped lock, and to your surprise, he clasps it to his own neck.

“But I, dearly and desperately, need you.” He plucks the key from the box and holds it out to you in the palm of his hand. 

“Alastor...”

“You can say no. You can throw this in my face and I won’t stop you,” he smiles sadly. “But you will always, in a way, have it. You will always have me.”

You’re not an impulsive person, not really, and not compared to your siblings and friends. Now that you think about it, you’ve never actually had an urge like that. Until now. Until the feeling of something glowing and bright moving up from the pit of your stomach, through your throat and your vessels until they reached your chest.

You surge forward, pull him down by his lapels, and kiss him. He tenses initially, and you hear the familiar pop of a radio cutting in and out, before he melts against you. One arm encircles your waist and the other goes into your hair, keeping you securely against him. The kiss itself is a little sloppy on his part, inexperienced and cautious, which makes sense considering his aversion to intimate activities. But there’s a relief in the inexperience, in knowing that you’re one of, if not the, first one to do this with him. It doesn’t go any further than passionate lip-locking, but the way he clings to you and you to him, like two cogs sliding together, is more than enough for you both. 

When you pull away he chases after you and his arms tighten. He’s not quite ready for you to be any less than a few centimeters from him. You release a giddy giggle and lean your forehead against his own, noses nuzzling, heartbeats sharing. You feel cool metal against your neck and look down, spotting your half of the necklace resting against your chest.

“We should go,” you whisper.

“Mm, go where?” He asks as he begins to sway your entangled bodies back and forth.

“Somewhere far away from the eager ears of my sister.”

Alastor’s ears perk up and his eyes dart to the back room, where he can just catch a retreating shadow, presumably belonging to Molly.

“You might be right about that, dearest.”

[anonymousdrabbler]

"Chameleon" - Drabble for my Foundling Ahsoka AU

Notes: I named the Mandalorian I used in the last drabble Spirik Kosh. I imagine him having mostly grey armor with a faded red outlining the visor, for now. You'll see. :]

--

Drifting in space, both literally and mentally, Kosh finds himself, elbow propped on the metal workbench as his hand supports his head, watching the baby, who was perfectly content sitting there, just wriggling her tiny digits in awe.

She was his ad now. He felt much too old to be doing this, to be raising a baby. But neither of them had much choice in the matter, did they?

Kosh thinks of Ahsoka's people as he sits there, watching but not really seeing.

The Togruta evolved over time to have an interesting range of skin tones. This lets them camouflage themselves, to hide themselves when they were hunted, or when they were hunting.

Ahsoka was prey now, Kosh thought with dread.

He might not be associated due to his swift departure, but the child had a target on her head now, as the last survivor of her village. He had never wanted a foundling to care for, but he was all she had standing between her and the murderers that razed her village, should they or anyone else choose to come after her. The galaxy was not like Shili. There would not always be patches of red and white turu grass to hide her in. The mountains could not always tower over her, an old and watchful guardian.

Kosh needed to be that for her now.

So, with Ahsoka as his witness, Kosh rose from his seat very briefly to collect some buckets of paint.

His armor had become scuffed, dirty, and faded over the years. It had seen many battles, many worlds, with the colors of his aliit. He no longer had that to go back to, though. There was no reason for him to hold onto the dead any longer. He could not be defined by his past now, only what he chose to do from here, to protect the child.

Kosh placed the paint buckets on one side of the table. Then, he very carefully unsealed his helmet, removing it as the child stared at him, unblinking, with fascination twinkling in her eyes.

He places his buy'ce beside the child, and she crawls over to it, looking into the visor curiously.

While she gazes at her own, slightly distorted, reflection, Kosh removes the lid to a bucket of rather bright orange paint, then opens another filled with dark brown.

He dips a gloved finger into the first bucket, then retracts it, letting his hand hover over the table as the paint slowly drips off. The child notices this after a moment and shuffles over to watch the paint splatter in tiny droplets onto the table.

"What do you think?" his rumbling voice suddenly fills the space, captivating the child. "Too bright, yeah?" he tilts his head, mulling it over.

He grabs a nearby glass and fills it with some of the orange paint, then pours a bit of the brown paint into it, mixing it carefully. The two of them just stare at the glass for a moment.

"Muh!" the child suddenly exclaims, throwing her hands in the air and sitting down abruptly.

Kosh nods. "Yeah, I agree. We need to blend in, not become a radiant beacon."

He pours more brown into the glass, mixes it for a few seconds, then sits back with a thoughtful hmm. Ahsoka looks over to him, eyes bright and curious.

Kosh purposefully spills a bit of the mixed paint onto the table, and watches Ahsoka tentatively approach the small, steadily growing pool. She places her hand beside the puddle, and Kosh smiles down at her.

Her hand and the paint are the same color.

As the puddle expands and seeps closer to her small hand, Ahsoka retracts it, as if almost burnt, and looks up to Kosh with wide eyes.

"Perfect," he says with delight, patting the child's head, which elicits a happy squeak from her.

They did the same method of mixing paints to find the right shade of blue together. Once they found it, Ahsoka fell asleep in Kosh's lap while he worked, mindful to not spill any paint on the resting child.

He painted most of his armor to be the same color as Ahsoka's skin and highlights his helmet, especially around the visor, and his arm and leg pieces, with white and blue.

He redoes the highlights many times, doing his best to match the patterns on Ahsoka's montrals and lekku. The montrals looked like little nubs, crowning her small head, and the lekku did not travel far. However, Kosh knew, one day, Ahsoka would be a defined woman, proudly bearing the features of her people, as her lekku and montrals would certainly grow with age.

Wistfully, he thinks and hopes he will live to see her become grown.

But he knows he is getting old now. He resolves to stick around, as if passion alone could force his body to stay in good health, until she is old enough to take care of herself.

If anything is certain, it is that Kosh will certainly not be letting himself outlive Ahsoka.

The first time the two leave the ship together, the Mandalorian is carrying the Togruta, who is wrapped in a dark brown blanket, close to his heart. The man's armor does not shine, painted to specifically lack any luster.

There were no mountains, no turu grass, on the planet.

Instead, there was a mostly orange Mandalorian and his foundling. He would always watch over her, an intimidating protector, and he would always hide her from those who sought to hunt her. He would be her mountains, her grass. Her home.

--

Translations (from Mando'a):

ad - child, son, daughter aliit - clan, family buy'ce - helmet

[pastelwitchling]

Under the Sea bonus story! I had so much fun returning to this world and these characters. I just really wanted to write a little epilogue sort of chapter. If you enjoy reading at all, please comment and share, it always makes the world of a difference 💙

               Alex heard the laughter of dolphins in his ears, the rush of bubbles against his cheeks as fish swam past. He opened his eyes to treasure; stones of different colors and sizes covered the ocean floor, seaweed, coral, sea creatures of all kinds floated past.

               Once upon a time, Alex had feared the ocean as he feared nothing else. Now he knew he was safe in its waters, for the love of his life resided there. He felt hands on his hips, pulling him back against a warm chest, even under the cold water, and he laughed. He was safe, a bubble of air protecting his head down to the base of his neck.

               “Have you no decency?” Alex asked even as he tilted his chin up, giving Forrest more access to his skin.

               “I wish to kiss my fiancé,” murmured Forrest with a grin against Alex’s neck. “Am I not allowed?”

               “Not here,” he huffed, “where someone might see us.”

               Forrest turned Alex around, making him laugh. He held his face in his hands, the gold band on his finger cold against Alex’s cheek. Forrest’s long blue and gold tail swayed calmly in the water below them, but his voice was in a near growl when he spoke, “I care not who sees us. Let them envy me, for I am the one to marry the most handsome man in all of the oceans and on land combined.”

               Even under the water, Alex’s cheeks heated and he hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder. “Honestly . . .”

               “Don’t you dare look down,” Forrest whispered, tilting down so that his forehead pressed against Alex’s, the blue and gold in his dark eyes glimmering with an overwhelming fondness and love that threatened to kill Alex in the best way.

               As he neared, Alex’s mouth instinctively fell open, and he found himself closing the distance between them, eager to taste Forrest’s lips in his, when suddenly –

               “Oi! Can’t you keep your hands off each other for two bloody minutes?!” Kyle appeared, his green and gold fin swimming behind him. He grabbed Alex’s arm and tugged. “Stop hogging him all to yourself!”

               “Oh, leave them alone, Kyle,” Maria sighed dreamily. “They’re in love.”

               “They have their entire lives to be in love!” Kyle demanded. “I have only another short moment while Alex is a free man!”

               Forrest wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, his smile in place, but his eyes dark. “And what exactly do you assume will happen between you and Alex?”

               “Don’t be such a stiff, Forrest,” Kyle rolled his eyes, tugging Alex, and therefore Forrest, closer. “I just want to talk to him. Without you.”

               “That’s simply not going to happen.”

               “Don’t you trust me?” teased Alex.

               “Implicitly,” said Forrest without a moment’s hesitation, and narrowed his eyes at Kyle. “It’s his wandering hands I don’t trust.”

               Alex laughed and kissed Forrest’s cheek. He nuzzled his neck. Even underwater, as fish tickled his feet and the world turned to a peaceful silence around them, Alex could still smell Forrest. Even down here, he smelled like the ocean.

                “Who knew,” teased Jenna, the white pearls in her hair making her look like an angel, “that Forrest could be so possessive?”

               “I did,” Kyle huffed, “since we first found Alex and he wouldn’t let any of us near him.”

               “I was being protective,” Forrest insisted. “Oh, enough of all of you. Come along, my love. We’ve been down here long enough and soon people will start to wake. We best get back to the surface so that I can change to my human form.”

               Alex nodded, but accepted the hugs from Kyle and the others first. Forrest had been right in that Kyle held on longer than the others, squeezing him tightly enough to make him laugh, and then he had his arms around Forrest again.

               “Hold on tight to me, my love,” Forrest whispered into the space between them. Alex remembered a year ago when Forrest had said the same thing to him before saving him from the cavern and returning him to his home. Alex had held on trustingly. Forrest had been his one small relief, even if he hadn’t really known him.

               Now, as they rose to the surface together, Alex was filled with laughter, his chest overflowing with love for the merman before him. When they broke the surface, the cold hit them first, but Alex clung to Forrest’s warmth.

               “Go on,” Forrest encouraged him, his lips against Alex’s ear. “I’ll be right behind you.”

               Alex nodded, and let go of Forrest. He swam to the shore, and walked up the rest of the way. As he stepped out of the waves, he saw the water change color, as though someone were shining a bright blue light underneath the surface, and he turned to find Forrest standing in the water, the waves lapping around his naked waist. His blue hair and the blue glow of his eyes were gone, and his still-glowing blue seashell nestled in his collarbone. Alex smiled. He loved this version of Forrest just as much, for the magic of the sea never seemed to leave him no matter what form he took.

               Alex reached for the hidden clothes he kept wrapped in a towel behind a boulder, and handed them to Forrest. Once they were both dried and dressed, they made their usual way up the far left stone steps to the street above.

               The marketplace was still mostly bare, but Alex spotted a merchant here and there, preparing their stall for the day. Some waved good morning to him and Forrest, some congratulated them, some merely ogled.

               “I hate when they stare,” Alex murmured.

               Forrest grinned. “They can scarcely ignore your beauty, darling. Don’t begrudge them for it. I can hardly resist staring at you myself.”

               Alex blushed. “That’s different! And it’s not me they’re watching, it’s you!”

               He laughed. “So you’re jealous, then?”

               “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and kissed Forrest’s cheek for good measure.

               When the wooden sign for Le Gateau au Chocolat – Gregory and Isobel’s pastry shop – came into view, Alex and Forrest decided to race the rest of the way. They both reached the door out of breath with giggles. Alex had won by only a small margin. Forrest had been getting much better at using his legs.

               “Oh, Alex, good,” Gregory called from behind the counter. “I’ve decided to change the chicken to beef for tonight.”

               Alex faltered. “Isn’t beef expensive?”

               Isobel came in from the kitchens. She wiped her hands on her apron and put them on her hips. “Don’t you go worrying about that. We’ve taken care of it.”

               Alex looked to Forrest, suspicious. “You didn’t . . .?”

               Forrest leapt onto the counter. “Oh, I certainly offered. What’s the point of being a king with riches if I cannot spoil my love? But no, your brother and sister would not hear of it. This time.”

               “Stop it,” Gregory scolded. “We’re older, we take care of you, that’s how it works.”

               Forrest hummed, and his eyes brightened. “Until Alex and I are married. Then he’s all mine.”

               Alex caught Isobel’s amused look, and turned away, his face red. He cleared his throat. “Anyhow. What time’s the dinner?”

               “Eight,” Gregory pointed. “Do not be late, both of you. Oh” – he dusted some of the sand off Forrest’s jacket – “and try not to mention any merpeople, will you? The last thing we need is for Liz and Max to know the truth, too.”

               “They wouldn’t tell anyone,” Alex defended.

               Gregory and Isobel shared a look, and Isobel sighed. “We can’t risk Michael finding out, Alex. I love my brother, but . . .” she shook her head. “Ever since you announced your engagement, he’s been . . .”

               “He isn’t happy,” Gregory said. “Let’s put it that way.”

               Alex sat down, and looked at the band on his finger. A circle of gold with an aquamarine jewel imbedded in the center. He hated to admit it, but in the moments after his excitement at marrying Forrest had faded, Michael had come to mind. What he would think, how he would feel, react. He’d been anxious, and now he knew he was right to have been.

               “It’ll be all right though, won’t it?” he asked, hearing the plea in his own voice.

               Forrest’s smile dimmed. He never liked the mention of Michael, but he leapt from the counter regardless, stumbled, then came to sit in front of Alex. He took his hands in both of his and kissed his fingers.

               “Everything will be perfect, my love,” he promised. “I’m certain he will come to this dinner with kindness and happiness in his heart. He will be happy only that you are happy.” He hesitated, then, “You . . . are happy, aren’t you?”

               “Oh,” Alex breathed, and wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love you more than I can say. I’m sorry, my darling, I don’t mean to imply any different.”

               “Really, Alex,” Isobel assured him, “you’ve no reason to worry about Michael. I’ll make sure of it.”

               Alex sighed, resting his head on Forrest’s shoulder. “I just want everything to be perfect.” He played with Forrest’s fingers. “You’re a king after all, you must have standards.”

               “I do,” Forrest nodded. “Absolutely. If it’s not Alex, then I will not have it.”

               “Oi, keep your distance, you two,” Gregory warned with his wooden spoon. “We have customers coming in soon, and this is no pub!”

               Forrest had Alex’s face in his hands, and was nuzzling his nose. He whispered, “I don’t see any customers now.”

               He took Alex’s lips in his own, one hand reaching into his hair, the other cupping his neck. Alex whimpered in the back of his throat, and Forrest tilted his head to deepen the kiss, their mouths slotting perfectly together, Forrest’s tongue sliding against his own.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s chest, and then Gregory threw a rag over their heads. “Were you not listening?” he snapped. “Your engagement dinner’s tonight, can you not contain yourselves?!”

               Forrest pointed at Alex’s face, incredulous. “Have you seen him?”

               Alex hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder, embarrassed, as Isobel laughed loudly.

                 “Which looks better?” Liz asked, holding up a deep green dress, and a bright red. “This one? Or this one?”

               “I think you look beautiful in both,” Alex said cheerfully. Forrest sat next to him, eagerly shoveling down the biscuits Gregory had given them to have after lunch. Every so often, he offered Alex one, Alex shook his head, and then he ate the entire thing in one bite.

               “Mmh – yes,” said Forrest. “Beau—ifful.”

               “Oh, you both are useless,” Rosa sighed from where she sat on the counter. “Obviously, the red is terribly unsuitable.”

               Liz frowned. “Is it?”

               “Yes!” she took a biscuit from Forrest’s plate. “This is an engagement dinner. The red should clearly be saved for the wedding!”

               “Do you think so, Alex?” Liz asked.

               “Er – actually –”

               “What’re you asking him for?” Rosa huffed. “You know he’s too nice to tell you the truth!”

               Liz opened her mouth to argue when the front door swung open. Max smiled at them.

               “Good afternoon, all!” He ruffled Alex and Rosa’s hair, and kissed Liz’s cheek. “Afternoon, darling.”

               “Did you see the suit I put out for you?” Liz said in lieu of a greeting.

               “Yes, darling.”

               “Don’t you dare wear it until the dinner.”

               Max’s smile widened. “Yes, darling.”

               “We have to look our best for Alex and Forrest,” she said. Then she mumbled something incoherent to him and they glanced at Alex, as though afraid he’d heard. Max merely nodded in response.

                “Honestly,” said Alex, leaning against Forrest’s side. “You don’t have to go through all this fuss. It’s just going to be a small, comfortable dinner.”

               Liz put her hands on her hips. “Then why did Flint order a new navy-blue coat for the occasion?”

               “Did he?” Alex blinked, and flushed. Since their last voyage, he had feared for his relationship with his brother, the distance the truth about their mother’s death may put between them. He had seemed happy to be invited to the engagement dinner, but Alex had feared it had been an act. To know he cared this much, it gladdened Alex’s heart more than he could say.

               Rosa scoffed. “Well, I won’t need any help preparing. I know exactly what to wear.”

               “Yes,” Liz said testily, “but will you know how to behave?”

               “Oi!” she argued. “Don’t you start with me, it’s Michael you should be concerned about!”

               Liz shot her a sharp look, while Max turned a nervous smile on Alex and Forrest. Forrest had stopped eating.

               “She’s joking,” Max assured them. “Michael’s really happy for you, Alex.”

               Forrest smiled, but it was polite and cold, not at all what Alex was used to. “I trust he will be on his best behaviour.” Then he grumbled, “If not, I’ll throw him into the middle of the ocean.”

               Alex hooked his arm around Forrest’s and kissed his shoulder. “Are there any more biscuits left for me?” he murmured.

               Forrest’s eyes lit up at once, and he handed Alex the largest he had. “I saved it for you, my love!”

               Alex laughed, his heart and the atmosphere of the shop lighter at once.

                 Forrest insisted on watching the sunset before dinner, but Alex had not needed much persuasion. Once they’d excused themselves from the shop, they made their way down the street, Forrest’s arm hooked around Alex’s. There was a time he had clung to him to walk, but now he stayed close for the sake of staying close itself. Forrest played with his fingers, and Alex kissed the back of his hand.

               “Congratulations, dears!” Mrs. Valenti called for what felt like the millionth time, as she liked to congratulate them whenever they passed by. “Isn’t it so exciting, Mr. Higgins?”

               “Eh?” Mr. Higgins chuckled good-naturedly. “Yes, yes, terribly happy for them!”

               Forrest’s eyes lingered, once again, on the frozen fish in Mr. Higgins’ market stall, but at a kiss to his cheek from Alex, his eyes brightened once again.

               Instead of going down to shore, they sat on the brick wall that overlooked the ocean, their legs dangling over the end. The sand below was soft, so there was no fear of falling. Nonetheless, Forrest kept a tight arm around Alex’s waist, and Alex felt safe.

               The sky turned to rose and violet and gold as the sun fell behind the ocean’s surface. Alex asked if Forrest had seen plenty of sunsets before.

               “I try to,” he confessed, “but there’s quite a risk of being seen by sailors, even so far out at sea.”

               Alex shuddered as he thought of Forrest tied to a ship’s mast, at sailors who were happy to harm him because of what he was. He burrowed deeper into his side and nuzzled his neck.

               “I will never let anyone touch you again, sailor or otherwise,” he promised in a whisper.

               Forrest kissed the top of his head. “And I will protect you with my life.”

               “Will I ever see your underwater kingdom?” Alex asked.

               Forrest laughed. “Certainly,” he said. “I will have a room prepared where not a drop of water would dare to enter.”

               Alex closed his eyes and let the sun’s warmth bathe them both in gold. “I don’t fear drowning with you at my side.”

               “And you never shall have to,” Forrest told him, his hold tightening and promising a king’s protection.

               They kissed in the setting sun until their lips swelled. They kissed until Forrest’s hand sought out the hem of Alex’s shirt, and Alex realized that if they did not stop soon, they would not stop at all. Then all those walking on the street behind them would have a true reason to stare. They kissed until Alex started to want nothing more than to fall to the sand below with Forrest in his arms, and forget the engagement dinner entirely. To prove their love another way.

               Then he took Forrest’s wrist and pressed their foreheads together, the two panting, and pulled them both to their feet at the first signs of the evening stars. They went hand-in-hand, laughing, back to the pastry shop.

               Alex told Forrest about the gold coat he’d asked Liz for him to wear, and Forrest told Alex about the deep blue ocean flower he’d acquired for Alex’s coat pocket.

               Then a voice cut through their conversation like knife through ice.

               “Alex,” Michael said with a nod. “Forrest.” His eyes fell on Alex and Forrest’s intertwined hands. “Am I too early?”

               His voice was subdued, and Forrest’s eyes had darkened.

               “Good evening, Michael,” he said, his grip on Alex’s hand tightening. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

                 “Are you nervous?” Forrest asked from where he sat on the edge of Alex’s bed. Alex watched him through the mirror’s reflection.

               Alex pulled on his coat and took a seat beside him. He interlocked their hands. “Are you?”

               Forrest smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Only that you will change your mind.”

               Alex raised a brow. “Do you truly imagine my heart so fickle?”

               Forrest’s grip on his hand tightened. “I imagine that there is no one who can love as you can. I know it. It is for that reason that I cannot help but worry. He was your first love.”

               “And you are my last,” Alex told him. “That carries far more weight, in my opinion.”

               Downstairs, they could hear the muffled clinking of cups and plates as the sky turned dark and stars peeked out. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shore softly, a comforting reminder that there was always somewhere they could escape to, somewhere where the troubles of land could not follow.

               Forrest said nothing for a long while, then, “I do not want to see you harmed.”

               “I could only be harmed by losing you,” Alex promised him. “I am marrying a king, it is you who has far more prospects.”

               Forrest scoffed half-heartedly. “I will tell you what I’ve already told your brother; have you seen you?”

               Alex burst into giggles, his face warm. He felt the soft touch of Forrest’s lips to his cheek. The laughter faded as they pressed their foreheads together, Alex’s eyes closed as he breathed Forrest in.

               “Stay close to me,” he whispered.

               Forrest nodded once, his lips brushing Alex’s. “Forever.”

                 Dinner had started off well. Alex and Forrest descended down the staircase to the shop where a long table sat and fairy lights had been hung up. The table lay covered with platters of beef, cheese, fruit and bread. Glasses of wine sat at every chair. Isobel and Gregory had truly outdone themselves.

               Liz sat between Max and Rosa. Beside Max was Michael, Isobel, Gregory, and Flint. Forrest pulled out Alex’s chair for him, making him blush, and kissed the top of his head before taking the seat beside him. Alex did not dare glance at Michael.

               For the most part, they shared in their stories, and though Forrest could not share many of his own for fear of exposing himself, he seemed quite content to listen to Alex’s versions of his bravery and kindness.

               “I hear you were responsible for helping to save Alex,” Michael told Forrest, for he had but one of the many different stories of Alex and Forrest’s first meeting. He bowed his head once. “I sincerely thank you.”

               “I could not see anything happen to him,” Forrest said, smiling at Alex. “It was love at first sight, you see.”

               Alex hoped Michael would not respond, but then he said, “Yes, I understand the feeling.” He was looking directly at Alex, his gaze pointed as though he was trying to share a secret message with him.

               Then Forrest took Alex’s hand and kissed the aquamarine bracelet he’d given him so many months ago on the shore. “All right, darling?” he whispered, and Alex nodded, the smile returning to his lips at Forrest’s eyes on him.

               “Goodness, Alex,” Liz sighed. “I do love that bracelet. Forrest made that for him,” she told Michael, “did you know?”

               “Purely for selfish reasons,” Forrest confessed. “I’ve always wanted to see Alex in aquamarine. He looks so beautiful with it, doesn’t he?”

               “Where did you get that?” Flint murmured. “Bottom of the ocean?”

               Gregory nudged Flint with his elbow, but the five of them were already laughing at the private joke.

               “Honestly, Forrest,” grinned Isobel, “do you care about anything but Alex?”

               Forrest hummed, eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” he asked, genuinely confused when everyone save for Michael started laughing, “Is there anything else to care about?”

               “I would think someone of your position would have plenty,” Gregory thoughtlessly said.

               Rosa frowned. “What do you mean, of his position?”

               Gregory’s eyes widened and Alex tensed. Forrest, after all, was a king. He had plenty of concerns, yet the others at the table did not know that.

               It was Isobel who chuckled nervously and said, “Well, you see, Forrest is very wealthy. He has so much to tend to back in – er –”

               “Paris,” Gregory quickly finished. “Because, as you all know, he is from Paris. Isn’t that right, Forrest?”

               “Certainly,” Forrest nodded. “I am from Paris.”

               Everyone returned to their meat and potatoes when all of a sudden a loud CLANK! drove all other conversation away. Michael had roughly set his fork and knife down.

               “Is that why you chose him?” Michael asked, breaking the heavy silence. “Because he’s so much wealthier than I am?”

               Alex was staring, brows furrowed. He set his utensils down delicately. When he spoke, his voice was cold to his own ears, something fierce and protective overwhelming him. “I beg your pardon?”

               Michael scoffed, shaking his head. There was nothing humorous about it.

               “Michael,” Max warned, but Michael was already seething.

               “I thought it was odd,” he said. “You’d known him for such a short time, yet you fell in love so quickly. Is that why, Alex? He could take better care of you than I could?”

               “Michael,” Isobel hissed, “enough.”

               “Is that why you wouldn’t even give me another chance?”

               Forrest stood at once, but Alex took his arm. He’d never seen Forrest’s glare so full of anger.

               “I will thank you,” Gregory said darkly, “to mind your manners, Michael.”

               “I’m sorry,” Michael said, crossing his arms on top of the table, his eyes on Alex. “I’m sorry that I’m the only one who will acknowledge that there is too much about Forrest that we don’t know. I’m sorry if I’m the only one who wishes to make certain that Alex is not throwing his life away at the first man to offer him comfort after heartbreak.”

               “No, you’re right,” Flint said, slumping in his seat. “I’d much rather my brother stay with someone who hurt him.”

               “Please,” Alex said quietly, and the table turned silent. He raised his chin and held Michael’s gaze. “Forrest saved my life in more ways than I could say. I did not know of his wealth until I’d already loved him, and even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

               “Alex –”

               “You are a guest,” Alex told him sternly, “in my home. Forrest is my fiancé, and I expect you to treat him with respect.” His shoulders fell, his tone turned pleading. “I want you to be a part of my life, Michael. Please don’t make me push you out of it.”

               Michael stared back for a long moment, his jaw clenched. Then he stood, murmured an apology, and left.

               Forrest wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him close. He pressed soft kisses to his ear, his cheek, his jaw as Gregory and Isobel made quick work of returning the rest of the table to cheerier conversation.

               Later that night, Alex woke in bed to find Forrest’s side empty. He sat up, looking through the house, and softly called for Forrest in the shop. When he did not find his fiancé at home, panic began to rise in his chest until he forced it down. His father could not harm Forrest any longer, yet Alex knew he would not rest until he saw his love’s face again.

               Realizing there was only one place Forrest could be, Alex quickly threw on a coat and his boots, and made his way down to the shore. There, with his knees pulled up to his chest amongst the waves, sat Forrest, staring out at the ocean. His blue seashell glittered at his neck.

               Alex hesitated, then came and sat beside him.

               “Are you upset with me?” were his first words.

               Forrest frowned. “What in the soundless seas for?”

               “The dinner,” he said. “I told Michael I – I wanted him in my life.”

               A smirk tugged at Forrest’s lips. “That is no secret, Alex. I’ve known it since before I met you. Don’t you remember?”

               Alex did. Forrest had told him that that was when he had first fallen in love with him; when he’d heard Alex speaking of Michael to the stars.

               “Forrest,” he said, “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. Stronger than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

               Forrest chuckled. “You dove into the ocean to save me, Alex. I don’t question your love.”

               “Yet you’re here,” he said, his chin on Forrest’s shoulder, “instead of in bed with me.”

               Forrest turned to him, kissing his nose. “I fear the mess of my thoughts might’ve troubled your sleep.”

               “I am only troubled when you are not there,” he murmured, and kissed Forrest’s shoulder.

               “You will never regret me?” asked Forrest.

               Alex clenched his jaw. “You are a king. I am a mere human. What could I possibly offer you?”

               Forrest cupped Alex’s cheek fiercely, his hold tight. He let his hand fall down Alex’s jaw, his neck, and settled on his opened coat collar. As he leaned in, he whispered the words, as though he was shocked Alex did not know the answer already.

               “You.”

               Before Alex could say anything else, Forrest kissed him. Their lips pressed together again and again, and when Alex felt Forrest’s tongue slide against his own, a moan escaped his lips. When Forrest began kissing down his chin, his neck, Alex looked around to make certain that no one was watching. But then this was the middle of the night. He didn’t think anyone would be awake for hours.

               The waves turned suddenly warm as they washed around Forrest and Alex, as their kisses deepened, as Forrest’s fingers undid the buttons of Alex’s coat and gently pushed him onto his back. The kisses turned rougher, more eager, and Alex felt as though they would never move away from one another again.

               Alex released a breathy moan as he ran his hands up Forrest’s naked back. He imagined them, lying nude on the beach, Forrest thrusting into him, licking a line along his neck, the cold quickly turning to heat so thick that Alex couldn’t breathe and was happy to suffocate.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s bare cheeks, urging him in deeper. He was so in love he could hardly stand it. This man, bathed in moonlight and showered with drops of the ocean, was to be his husband.

               Alex took Forrest’s face in his hands and kissed him as he’d never kissed anyone before. Forrest was all his, the beautiful merman of blue and gold belonged to him. He never imagined, that year ago when he’d first embarked on his father’s voyage, that he would find such joy. When he’d fallen over the ship’s edge and his world had changed forever.

               The ocean waves hit the shore with a gentle shushing sound, protecting Alex and Forrest from searching eyes. They were safe here, Alex was safe here. With Forrest, with the ocean, with the life he’d been given when it seemed he’d been destined to drown.

               “Hold on tight to me,” Forrest told him. And so Alex did.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Have you been asked yet to rank Trust eps? Cos I'm asking! But your the criteria for ranking I leave to you to decide.

Ahahahaha I’ll have you know I put way too much thought into this. :-D

Ok so first of all, there is no such thing as a bad episode of Trust. The whole thing is really tightly written, every character and plot thread has a purpose, and even the episodes that I haven’t watched over and over again are important to the overall story. And a lot of the impact of the show comes from things that are cumulative over multiple episodes.

That being said, I do have favorites. Since the definitive ranking of Primo’s outfits has already been taken care of, here is my ranking from least to most favorite based on some nebulous criteria of artistic/narrative effectiveness and emotional impact, my judgement of which is obviously highly subjective and also correct.

Under the cut because this got ummm unbelievably, ridiculously long.

10. The House of Getty (episode 1)

Sorry Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy, the pilot is my least favorite episode. Still think it was the wrong choice to open with a flashy (and, I can tell, expensive) sequence showcasing the death of a character we literally never see again. And, look, I’m an impatient viewer. If I don’t get someone to root for/emotionally identify with/otherwise catch my interest early on in a narrative, I’ll tune out. And Old Paul is not only unlikeable--far from a mortal sin in dramatic storytelling--he’s boring. I don’t care about any of his rich people problems, and I’m not the kind of viewer who can be kept engaged just by hating someone and watching them be terrible.

Some of the secondary characters in the Getty household do have interesting plotlines, but we don’t get to learn very much about them in the first episode. And I do think things get interesting once Little Paul shows up (although I maintain that the whole episode is more interesting if we understand what the stakes are for Paul getting the money), but if I had started watching this show with no context I wouldn’t have made it past Old Paul’s pre-coital erotica listening routine.

If this had been anything other than the first episode I might not have ranked it last, but extra penalty points for leading with your least interesting characters.

9. Lone Star (episode 2)

This episode is, I think, saddled by the fact that it has to do a lot of heavy lifting in terms of exposition and setup. It mostly works because Chace is an entertaining narrator, and once we get to Italy with Gail I think things zip along at a pretty good pace. Opens with an attempted rape to show how Bad the Bad Guys are, which is...not my favorite trope.

Once again, I think a lot of the information in this episode would have worked better if episode 3 had been episode 1. (We’d already know who Berto was when Chace meets him; we’d already know about the box of guns in the apartment; we’d know when certain characters are lying.) This whole show runs on the suspense of the audience being the only party who knows what’s going on with all the characters at once; I think trading mystery for suspense here was the wrong move. I also can’t help thinking there was pressure to front-load the well-known American actors in the beginning of the show at the expense of the strongest narrative choices.

Imo the best thing about this episode is the sort of...multiple competing images of Paul that emerge. His mom sees him as an innocent victim who couldn’t possibly have planned any of this. Chace sees him as a spoiled rich kid trying to swindle his granddad. Neither one of them has the complete truth.

Next we get into some episodes that are certainly not bad, but their greatness is more on the level of some bangin’ individual scenes than a whole package.

8. John, Chapter 11 (episode 6)

Again, this isn’t a bad episode. The main reason I put it near the end of the list is that the first time through I got sort of impatient during the first half. We, the audience, by virtue of our extra-textual knowledge, know that Paul can’t be dead, and we spend about half the episode before we know what really happened to him, which felt a bit too long to me.

This episode does have some fantastic individual scenes including: Leo talking Primo down in the farmhouse, Leo and Paul’s conversation about Angelo’s death, Gail being an absolute badass, and the meeting between Salvatore and Old Paul. A lot of these scenes are essential on a thematic level, but I don’t think the episode as a whole is the most streamlined.

7. Consequences (episode 10)

I debated for a while where to put this episode because the overall feeling of 57 Chekov’s guns going off in the space of one episode is SO satisfying, and the resolutions of some of the individual plotlines are delicious. Ultimately I would have liked more space for Paul and Gail and less Old Paul being grumpy about his substitute child museum’s mediocrity (although the scene with the bad reviews is hilarious). Once again I feel like the show creators felt they had to pull the focus back to Old Paul to wrap things up and I just. don’t care.

That being said. The resolution of Primo’s storyline? SO SATISFYING. And tbh I don’t dislike the scenes that exist with Paul and Gail; even the happy scenes have this poignant tone to them. I think they were trying to deal with the fact that his irl story is just...incredibly fucking tragic, and you can see a bit of the strain showing.

6. Kodachrome (episode 7)

I know episode 7 is not one of your personal favorites, but it’s the one where I think jumping between multiple plotlines/sets of characters is used to the most satisfying dramatic effect. It has this sense of dramatic irony that feels like some Shakespearean family tragedy. The whole episode, we are hoping that Paul Jr. will finally do the thing we want him to do, which is stand up to his father. And he does it--but at the absolute worst, most selfish and destructive moment possible.

Paul Jr. may be the literal worst, but I do have compassion for him in the flashbacks, mostly because it seems painfully apparent that no matter what he does, he will never be able to please his father. But he doesn’t seem to realize this, and he keeps trying, even as it’s destroying him and his relationship with his family. Credit to Michael Esper for his performance for making me feel a smidgen of compassion for this bastard.

I think the other thing this episode shows is how both of Paul’s parents keep putting him, a child, into roles and circumstances that he shouldn’t really be in. He’s wandering around through what seem like very much adult environments with his dad and Talitha in Morocco. In the Trust version of events he’s there when Talitha ODs and is the one trying to revive her while his dad is having a breakdown in the corner. Gail seems like the more responsible parent but there’s something about her bringing Paul as her “date” on a night out, and the understanding that this is a thing that happens regularly...to me the disturbing part is not so much bringing a young kid to a party with adults but the unspoken expectation that Little Paul will fill the void of companionship that his father has left empty. (Gettys expecting Little Paul to step in to cover for the failings of his father is a repeated theme, and it even plays into the ear thing. His family has failed to pay the ransom, so this is now a problem he has to solve himself.) Combine this all with Leonardo going, um, excuse me but what the actual fuck is wrong with your family? and I think it makes a very effective episode. And the last couple minutes had me yelling NOOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT because you can see what’s going to happen and you’re just watching it unfolding like a car wreck. Also has one of my hands-down favorite scenes, of Paul and Primo in the car waiting for the ransom.

5. White Car in a Snowstorm (episode 9)

The ~ D R A M A !!! ~ This episode is an opera. I mean this whole show is dramatique but episode 9 really leans into the vivid imagery--that snowy highway in the mountains above the sea, the all-white ransom exchange, Paul clinging to the pole at the shuttered Getty gas station, some Very Serious Mobsters throwing the ransom money around like idiots in a moment where you’re encouraged to be happy along with them.

This is also one of my favorite episodes for Primo and for Primo and Paul’s weird sometimes-alliance. Primo walking away from Salvatore to go tell Paul “they always pay in the end”? Primo and Paul teaming up to argue with Salvatore about why Paul shouldn’t die? Primo being all threateny to the doctor treating Paul because somewhere deep down he is worried (that’s my take and you’ll never convince me otherwise)? Primo dressing up to fake-scab on a postal strike in order to find a misplaced severed ear? All gold.

Fun fact: the letter Gail writes to President Nixon did happen in real life, but as far as I can tell the phone call did not. The real details of who convinced Old Paul to finally pay (some) of the ransom are considerably less cinematic. They’re the same amount of sexist though!

Ok now we are getting to the top tier...

4. That’s All Folks! (episode 4)

This is definitely the episode that took me from “ok this is fun” to “oh holy shit I’m invested now.” It’s the episode where we get introduced to most of the Calabrian characters and their world. It’s also the episode where we start to realize that Primo is not just a fun antagonist but is really a parallel protagonist to Little Paul, with his own set of relationships and motivations that we start to see from his POV. (I’d argue that, with the exception of his very first scene, we’ve mostly seen Primo through other characters’ gaze up until episode 4, and this is the point where we start watching him as like, the character whose pursuit of a goal we’re following over the course of the scene.)

This episode ranks high for capturing so much of the weird mix of tones that makes Trust work. It can be very funny. (I never fail to fuckin lose it when Fifty is on the phone with Gail the first time and when he’s talking to the thoroughly unimpressed newspaper switchboard operator.) It has this weird unexpected intimacy between characters you wouldn’t think would connect with each other. (Primo and Paul, Paul and Angelo; in retrospect the arc of the relationship between Primo and Leo gets started in that scene in Salvatore’s kitchen.) And it has one of the show’s absolute best record-scratch tone shifts when Primo gets the ransom offer. I remember saying “oh FUCK” out loud the first time I watched the end of that episode, when Primo comes back to the house, visibly drunk and clearly furious. We’ve seen him be violent plenty before now in the show, but always in a controlled, calculated way. This is the first time we see his potential for out-of-control rage-fueled violence and he’s terrifying!

3. La Dolce Vita (episode 3)

I stand by my claim that this episode (with a few minor continuity adjustments) should have been the pilot. Can you imagine a title card that’s like “Rome 1973” and then away we go with Paul snorting coke and taking racy photos and jumping on cops and fucking his girlfriend in what is definitely not proper museum etiquette, and then the smash cut to Primo intimidating and robbing and murdering people? And that’s the opening of the whole show? And you’re like how are these characters connected and then they meet each other and it’s the fucking sunflower field scene??

Anyway aside from the fact that I think knowing the information in this episode would have made episodes 1 and 2 more interesting...it’s just a great fucking episode. It’s kinetic and propulsive and funny and tense and violent and features Primo’s sniper skills and his ass in those cornflower blue trousers. I rest my case.

2. Silenzio (episode 5)

I’ll be honest, I went back and forth on the top two a bunch. Silenzio is definitely my personal favorite episode, and I’d argue that it’s the best written, in terms of what it accomplishes narratively, which is to keep you emotionally invested in both Paul and Angelo trying to escape with their lives, and Primo and Leonardo hunting them down. That’s so fucking hard!! And yes some of it is great acting but it starts from the foundation of the writing. It’s just such a perfect little self-contained horror movie, and it has this profound sense of fatalism to it, because you know from the beginning (if only by virtue of only being halfway through the series) that Paul is not going to escape, and you sort of know that there is only one way this will end for Angelo. And yet they escape by the skin of their teeth so! many! times!

It’s also the episode where you see how much power the ‘Ndrangheta has over people’s lives in this community: Salvatore is like God, calling his servants to him with the church bells. Combine that with the visuals of two characters running for their lives mostly on foot through this unforgiving landscape, and you really get the sense of this environment as a harsh place where most people have a very constrained set of choices, and the claustrophobia of that. You get the sense in this episode that everyone is trapped in these expectations of violence and duty and honor. Angelo did what anyone with compassion would do, and saved Paul from what seemed like certain death, and he’s doomed for it. At the same time Primo is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in response to a subordinate who disobeyed him. In some ways the end of the episode feels inevitable, unsurprising, and yet they do SUCH a good job of winding up the tension until the literal last seconds of the episode, and then releasing it with a big dramatic bang. It’s so good!!

1. In the Name of the Father (episode 8)

Ok I’ll be honest the ONLY reason In the Name of the Father edged out Silenzio for the top spot is that it is really clear they pulled out all the stops in terms of making this episode feel extra heightened in a show where everything is already heightened. Like, the cinematography is different? They still use handheld a lot but I swear there are more still shots and more extreme, editorial camera angles like that shot of Francesco looking upward in church where the camera is looking down from above him. I can’t tell if they actually tweaked the color grading or if the bright white and blood red just stand out against the Calabrian color palette which is mostly earth tones, browns and greens and blues.

There are just. So many layers to this episode. The imagery! The literal sacrificial lamb at the beginning, Francesco being guided by Leonardo through an act of violence against an animal, something that I’m sure they don’t even see as violence but just part of farm life, part of survival and in this case part of a celebration, but something that fathers teach their sons how to do as part of becoming a man in this world. Paul as the metaphorical sacrificial lamb later, drawing parallels to Jesus (the lamb of God), Isaac (a father sacrificing his son), any number of martyred saints, pick your Catholic imagery. The blood of the lamb on the tree stump and Paul’s blood on the stone. The communion wafer (the body and blood of Christ) and Francesco at the end with Paul’s blood and a literal piece of his body held in his hands the same way.

And then there is like, the suspense of watching everyone marking time through the steps of this community ritual that’s supposed to be a joyful, communal celebration, while we know that there is a secret ticking away under the surface. The slow unfolding of the lie told to one person spreading to everyone in the village, and then the knowledge that Salvatore knows spreading to all the people who’ll be in trouble for that. The relationship arcs between the main Calabrian characters...not resolving, but sliding into place for the final act. Primo finally being done with Salvatore. Primo and Leo’s alliance being cemented and Leo physically stepping between Primo and Salvatore, to protect Primo. (No one ever protects Primo!! Still not over it!!!!) The confirmation celebration as a mirror of the Getty party in episode 1, the parallels drawn between the 3 Pauls and Salvatore-Primo-Francesco and how Primo reacts to being passed over as heir vs. how Paul Jr. reacts. Little Paul having two whole minutes of screen time and managing to break your heart with them. Regina! Just...Regina’s whole everything. The music going all-instrumental for an episode and having this haunting, dreamlike but still tense quality to it. And the fact that we never cut away from Calabria to another plotline gives the whole episode this hypnotic, all-encompassing quality. It’s just. SO GOOD!!!!