#like 'i got an A in my macbeth paper cause of you!!' 'youre the smartest person ik' 'i got another A' 'i wish you could actually teach me'

[thatsnotahoodjason]

imagine tim drake passing his english lit classes purely because of his stalkerish obsession with jason todd leading to him hacking into jason's laptop and reading all his old lit essays and book blog

#dick: you got an A in english lit? i thought you hated that subject. how'd you manage that? #tim: i had a really good tutor #jason finding out years and years later when he remembers his old blogs and logs back into it to find spams of comments from tim #like 'i got an A in my macbeth paper cause of you!!' 'youre the smartest person ik' 'i got another A' 'i wish you could actually teach me' #and jason freezes like.. why tf did tim find my blog 5 years ago and use it like a tutor #dc #tim drake #jason todd #batfamily #batman #robins

[rosegold-thorns]

poker // h.s.

guys i love harry styles

Word Count: 1,034 words

College!AU Harry Styles

***

Harry wasn’t the type to say much. Around his friends, sure, a snarky comment here or there, but his charm was all in the brooding, quiet, hard exterior that many had tried to penetrate, yet failed. He had a poker face that would give any poker champion a run for his money, and dark, long eyelashes that protected his emotive eyes from any onlookers.

He was currently sat in a small lecture hall of about one hundred students, aimlessly twirling a ballpoint pen between his fingers as he waited for class to start.

Harry soundlessly watched as college kids entered the hall, either in groups of restless chatter or as an individual in a flustered state raced to make it to a seat before they were late.

His hooded green eyes landed on a willowy, blonde figure. On his right, a couple of rows down, said figure was currently opening her laptop with a sweet smile on her face as she intently listened to her friend beside her. Harry watched as her eyes lit up and her face scrunched with laughter at something her friend must’ve said, something he couldn’t make out.

The scattered sounds across the lecture hall ceased to exist as their old, wrinkly, yet strict, professor made his way to the front, placing his briefcase on the table and clearing his throat as he held out a stack of papers, presumably the lesson plan.

Harry forcibly moved his eyes from the girl ahead of him and resumed his bored state as he listened to the professor drone on about Shakespeare, staring at the rings that adorned his fingers, which became increasingly more interesting as the minute hand on his watch migrated clockwise.

The current conversation at hand didn’t strike Harry as anything relatively unique or intriguing, and with already finishing Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Harry just couldn’t bring himself to listen to elementary commentary on such a masterpiece.

Or at least, until she opened her mouth. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a smooth, melodic voice in his life, let alone in a dreary eight AM lecture.

“Lady Macbeth was human, she was hurting, and she’s probably the most powerful woman in all of literature. Definitely the smartest. ” She spoke softly, yet confidently, and you couldn’t help but melt in the direction of her voice, hanging onto every last word.

“She was a psychopath.”

All eyes followed the source of the voice, surprisingly landing on Harry, the man of few words. In all honesty, Harry was surprised the words left his mouth, too. He never spoke in discussions, and he didn’t know what made him challenge the beautiful girl across the room of spectators.

Amused, she quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that?”

Harry disentangled his fingers from the pen he was still absentmindedly playing with and gently laid it in front of him, leaning forward onto his elbows to meet her eyes with his own.

“I do, actually. She was a madwoman. She convinced her husband to commit a murder, and constantly belittled him for feeling remorse.”

She leaned forward to challenge Harry’s stance. “Do you take into account anything that proved her emotions? Her own paranoia? Her own inner demons? They weren’t limited to the ‘hero’ of our story, you know.”

He smirked. “You mean when she lost her marbles? Couldn’t face what she’d been an accomplice to, the mastermind behind the scenes?”

She threw back a smirk of her own, tossing her own pen onto the keyboard of her laptop as she leaned back in her chair. “Exactly. She was a mastermind. She was too smart for her own good, and it got the better of her.”

Harry shook his head slightly, stray curls flopping side to side. “I’m gonna have to disagree with you, love.”

Even with the distance of rows between them, Harry could see the light rose color that dusted her cheeks, and was surprised at his immediate desire to make her blush again.

The professor cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention after being practically hypnotized as the lecture’s two quietest students went in a heated match over literature.

“Very insightful, you two, thank you. Would anyone else like to comment?”

After that, Harry went back to his normal routine of twirling his pen and inspecting his rings until the hour was up.

He took his time standing up and getting his materials gathered, leisurely making his way to the door. In part because he was lazy, and in part because a certain blonde was taking her time as well.

They made it to the large wooden doors that served as their exit at the same time, until the strap of his still nameless girl’s bag slipped down her shoulder, spilling out a couple of pens and such out of her bag with a gasp.

She knelt down to collect her belongings, and Harry didn’t know what about her intrigued him so, but he knelt down alongside her and collected some pens and what looked like her wallet.

“Thank you,” she said with a gracious smile.

“My pleasure...” Harry trailed off, waiting to finally catch her name.

“Peyton,” she supplied quickly, tucking a blonde lock behind her ear so she could better admire the very attractive boy who was giving her more attention than she could ever dream of.

Harry wasn’t the type to say much. He had a poker face that would give any poker champion a run for his money, and dark, long eyelashes that protected his emotive eyes from any onlookers.

But in this moment, Harry smiled genuinely at the shy, yet fiery, girl in front of him.

“Well, Peyton,” he rolled the name around on his tongue experimentally, deciding he loved the way it sounded, and Peyton would never admit it, but her name never sounded more delicious than it did when it fell from this mysterious boy’s lips. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Handing her the last of her belongings, Harry made his way out the door, until a soft voice caused him to look back one more time.

“Wait!” Peyton called. “I never got your name.”

He tilted his head at her with a teasing smile. “I’m Harry.”

***

well there it is folks

#harry styles #fanfic #college au