#put the fucking fic down there's plenty of stuff that's going to be better
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a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take
#my google calendar and Carl bot (and my friends) have been kind enough to inform me today was the estimated posting date of heist au#suffice to say that is not happening#it would have been rad to make a habit out of the co-occurrence of starting a new job and starting to post a finished WIP but alas#that will not be happening for a while longer#I have no idea when will I find the time for writing between two jobs and the big bang but. we'll work something out.#but hey it's good to give your projects breathing space so your brain can do the work in the background and solve the problems for you#I'll probably need to go back and revamp the whole last chapter I've been working on#but I'm still too sick and jet lagged and sick to be thinking about that so I'll consume some more media in the meantime#and complain about how bad the fic I'm listening to is. like god it's supposed to be so romantic and cute and he's literally#depriving her bodily autonomy and her friends support him I want to leave a strongly worded comment so bad#I will not be doing that but god it's so awful I should have stopped listening to this fic long ago. so that's a lesson learned.#put the fucking fic down there's plenty of stuff that's going to be better#hot take I sure no one saw coming sometimes things that are popular are actually bad#anyway have some stream of fucking consciousness /ref to another fic I'm fighting hard to keep discontinued#I know I won't like it why is this so hard#heist au should have been posted today based on maths btw. maths I did wrong for the first time which means it should have been posted#a year ago really#not like I have the proper structure to do a heist au daily#but it would have been fun to post the first chapter on the exact day it takes place. idk just for flavour#does all this make any sense? hardly. this is a diary entry and my two braincells are firing random thoughts at each other#that's fine though. it's all fine. here have some popcorn to go with all this nonsense 🍿🍿🍿 <3#(and also all the drama in the new shadow and bone season. ugh it's so good I love Wesper SO. MUCH. or just Waylan. and Nikolai.#he's my blorbo assigned at first relevant information. relavant information: he's my friend's blorbo#but gods he's so my type it's scary. of course I'll have him as my blorbo. of course of course!#*puts him on a shelf next to Adrien Draco and Hunter*#*steps back to think before putting Waylan there too and sitting Zuko on the far end*#war crimes look so good on them :3#miaing#heist au
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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.
For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!
With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)
The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.
Mutual Pining
Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.
2. Alternate Meetings
There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?
3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink
This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!
4. Canon Fix-It
All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.
5. Hurt/Comfort
Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️🩹
6. Canon Compliant
Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!
7. Beach Divorce
Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!
8. Domestics
Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.
9. Found Family
The real heart of x-men!
10. Time Travel
There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.
11. AU
Love a good AU!
12. There Is Only One Bed
Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?
13. Genosha
By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.
14. Declaration(s) of Love
Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?
15. Jealousy
Need I say more.
16. Reunion
These two have absolutely no chill.
17. Soulmates
Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.
18. The DOFP Aircraft
The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?
19. Gay Mutant Road Trip
You already know.
20. Body Swap
SO fun when people have superpowers.
21. First Kiss
When? How? Who initiated it?
22. The Mansion
Mansion!content is a genre of its own.
23. Conflicting Ideology
Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.
24. Sebastian Shaw
A trope unto himself.
25. Team As Matchmaker
They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?
26. Cooking
Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…
27. Hurt No Comfort
Plenty of scope with these two 🥲
28. Growing Old Together
Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!
29. Making Up
*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe
30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know
Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.
I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁
*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)
If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.
Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!
#revivecherik#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#xmfc#james mcavoy#michael fassbender#x men days of future past#x men#charles x erik#magneto#professor x
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I need help writing the league of villains for a fan fiction. Like can you give me tips on to write their dialogue and stuff like that
Thanks for the ask! Here are some things that I think would be helpful, but please be aware that it's my approach to writing the League the way I interpret them. I'm sure there's people who finds my fic wildly inaccurate in terms of characterization. Sometimes I go back months later and disagree with my own stuff, given new information or outlook. You'll have different interpretations than me, and that's okay. And thus,
Tip #1: First of all, it’s fanfic, it’s fun, and it’s yours. You can do whatever the heck you want! It does not matter at all what you do with the characters, their dialogue, their personalities, their relationships, etc. I’ve read plenty of AU fanfics where I could not recognize Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko, despite the character having the name, but I still liked the story okay. Really, it’s all up to you and what you want.
That said, to actually answer your question:
Tip #2: Re-read the manga. Read the scanlations - multiple versions from different scanlation groups. Read the official. No version will be perfect, some are better than others (Viz Official has its issues, but it is done by a professional translator and I tend towards it; Fallen Angels (Chapters 1-150s) was the first to scanlate and iirc they even included translation commentary at the end of their chapters; I found mangastream to be more accurate than Jaimini (Chapters 150-250s)), but having a variety of translations will give you insight into the intention of a dialogue, and different ways of achieving it. Read the original Japanese, if you can.
Tip #2.5: Best way to figure a character, I find, is to describe the panels they’re in as if you’re writing a very plain, objective, impartial image description. Now you have an overview of their outward behavior, their actions, their dialogue. Using that, you have the basis for developing their motivations and personality. It’s the difference between ‘Shigaraki used gamer lingo a few times here, so he is a gamer... therefore he’s obsessed with games and that’s all he does’ and ‘In the first 100 chapters of the story, despite speaking sometimes like a gamer, Shigaraki is actually seen reading newspapers rather than holding a game console’.
Put another way, don’t assume generalized descriptions or traits for a character and write them based on that. You risk writing a trope or archetype or situation rather than the actual character.
When a loved one dies suddenly, people will be in shock, before sobbing and weeping uncontrollably. That’s generally true, but the character may manifest grief in a different way. Someone close to Toga is killed - what does she do? You can write her breaking down crying, that’s perfectly reasonable. But if you look at the manga, when Twice is killed, she doesn’t cry right away. She gets angry; she lashes out. She’s deeply hurt by his murder, of course! But the tears she sheds for his passing are few in the immediate aftermath - her grief mostly takes the form of slicing Heroes’ throats.
Tip #3: Read everything else, for inspiration, for background knowledge, for tone, for your own gain outside of fandom.
Just the other day, I read Real, the wheelchair basketball manga by Inoue Takehiko. Its three main characters are marginalized by proper society - two because they’re disabled, one because he’s a high school dropout - and there were moments where I was reminded of the League’s situation. In the first chapter, the high school dropout makes a final visit to school where his teachers didn’t think much of him, and his classmates looked down on him. As he leaves, he thinks to himself that everything he does ends in failure and he’s an idiot, all the while he takes a dump at the school gates as a parting gift.
While I can’t see anyone from the League doing that exactly shot for shot, the spirit of it - being seen as a fuck up, being unwanted, being defiant in face of that, even in a inadvisable way - is similar.
Tip #3.5: Another book I’ve read years ago is Codes of the Underworld: How Criminal Communicate. It was very informative, and I think back to it sometimes when I write for the League.
Criminals face severe constraints on communication imposed by the action of the law, and, unlike the rest of us, cannot easily develop institutions aimed at circumventing them. This central feature of criminal lives makes communication and above all reliable communication exceptionally hard to sustain. For instance, the same secrecy that protects criminals from the law hinders their opportunities to advertise their goods and qualities… In the underworld, moreover, punishments for mistakes and irrational behavior are harsher than they are elsewhere. In the world of regular business, failures of communication can lead to a loss of business, but in the underworld they can result in years behind bars, or worse.
I don’t follow it exactly, because the League is in a children’s fantasy story, and maybe this was obvious but now that it was written out to me, I know how to give the Villains an “edge” to them that a non-Villain might not have, because as Villains, they do often logically would to be secretive and brutal and cautious. Dabi walking around in broad daylight meant their hideout was discovered and All Might literally took down the wall to the bar; a breakdown in negotiations with Overhaul meant Magne dying and Compress getting his arm blown off.
Tip #4: Related, let the League be assholes, because sometimes they are. Let them be mean and cruel and problematic. Sometimes they’ll be jerks to each other. Nearly all of them grew up in bad circumstances where they probably were not taught important lessons and details about respect and boundaries and being nice. They are definitely not going to be aware of the intricacies of fandom's (oft-American and oft-terminally-online) consensus about problematic behavior. And that’s fine.
I remember once receiving an ask about why Shigaraki would pull Twice’s mask off in Chapter 224. Wasn’t that terrible of Shigaraki? Yeah, it was. It was also the quickest, most efficient way to get Twice to quit his arguing with the rest of the League, so Shigaraki can announce that they are going to rescue Giran (what Twice was arguing for). After that, he puts the mask back on for Twice. If you ask me, I’d say Shigaraki thinks this evens out - he does something mean that he knows will freak out Twice for a moment, but it’s because he’s arguing for Twice’s side, and he’s putting on the mask back at the end.
You and I would likely never do something like that because we know taking away someone’s important assistive aid, even for a moment, hurts them and we don’t want to cause them pain for even a second if we could help it/there’s not ‘evening it out’/it demonstrates a power unbalance that perpetuates ableism/there are other ways to stop someone and grab attention/we know not to touch someone even the slightest without permission/etc. But does the character you’re writing know all this? Does he care? Does he think it’s worth following these rules? Does he have time for it, does he have incentives for it, does he have the lucidity, does he think he’s an exception because of this and that, etc, etc.
A lot of things, most people often just don’t know until they’re taught to be specifically aware. As an example: When I was younger, I knew broadly that taking things without permission was bad; but what if I took these pair of scissors from my friend’s desk and used it and put it back before the owner knew? The owner is my friend. They once told me it was okay to take it, so it counts even today, right? It was just a pair of scissors, a common household item. My friend did not care; still does not care. But knowing what I do now about things like violations of boundaries, explicit consent, the continuation of these concepts for the most trivial and mundane things even in the deepest of friendship or familial ties - I feel the need to ask to use something. That’s me and what I’ve learned through the years, though. It’s probably not going to be [fictional character].
And sometimes the League are just bad people. Shigaraki tried to kill Toga and Dabi at their first meeting. Mr. Compress is seemingly a-okay with kidnapping and murder despite his ancestor being more of a Robin Hood type. Spinner likely knowingly doomed his family to even worse ostracism and harassment from his fantasy-racist hometown when he ran off to join a group of well-televised terrorists.
That’s also fine. They’re not real. They’re fictional Villains, and you’re temporarily using them as hand-puppets to tell a story.
Tip #5. For dialogue, it helps knowing what each character’s voice/speaking style sounds like. Some basics:
Shigaraki:
“Shigaraki speaks with the normal masculine contracted speech, but with a sinister tone. Surprisingly not very cussy. He likes aggravating other people though.”
Caleb Cook notes that Shigaraki talks like an overgrown kid. (In comparison to ReDestro, who “uses more SAT words, since he’s had a formal education.”)
He can be a sarcastic smartass.
Kurogiri:
“Kurogiri is Extremely Polite”
He only refers to Shigaraki as ‘Shigaraki Tomura’. Always the full name, always just that.
He speaks very formally and respectfully; however, there is also a nastier side to him that comes out when he faces off Heroes: Saying to All Might, “I can't say I like the idea of having blood and guts inside my gate, but… if they're yours, I’ll happily oblige.” (Chapter 18); mocking Eraserhead and Mic when they're being sad over him, “Have you mistaken this place for a confessional of some kind?” (Chapter 254)
Dabi:
“Dabi is like Shoto but ruder, though not to Bakugo’s extent”
He calls people names: Toga most often, as 'crazy'; he called Spinner 'lizard' once; when he first met Shigaraki, he said 'gross'.
Note that all the examples above are people younger than him; as far as I know, Dabi refrains from name-calling his allies who are older than him: Compress, Twice, Skeptic.
He inexplicably politely calls Ujiko ‘Ujiko-san’.
Compress:
“Compress is kind of like Sero. He’s got that trickster tone to him. Gets rougher when things don’t go his way.”
Likes to call himself an ‘old man’ at age 32; talks like an older gentleman as well.
Twice:
Twice contradicts himself a lot. Generally, he says one thing, his alter then says the opposite of that immediately afterwards.
However, when things are urgent or serious, his alter’s speech fades. See Chapter 148, when he confronts Shigaraki about the Overhaul plan - he spills out his feelings with no contradiction. See Chapter 224, after they find out Giran’s been kidnapped - when arguing with the League about whether to say Giran, he’s completely coherent.
Twice argues back with the alter sometimes, rather than the alter simply blurting out the opposite of what he says.
After he gets over his clone trauma, the alter seemed to have…integrated into himself? He still speaks in contradictions, but less so, and it doesn’t seem to be a separate voice speaking out involuntarily
Spinner:
“Spinner also speaks the normal masculine contracted speech like Kirishima and Kaminari, but he talks like Tokoyami during the Forest Lodge arc because he’s a Stain chuuni.”
An average, normal guy, compared to the rest of the League: not very polite, but not particularly rude; no great wit or affect (after he stops being a Stain fanboy), but not unintelligible; game references infrequently.
Giran:
“Giran is also like speaks the normal masculine contracted speech similar to Shoto, but he’s a lot more mature.”
He calls Shigaraki “Shigaraki-san”, being polite towards him as a customer.
He calls Twice by his last name, ‘Bubaigawara’, likely because they seem to be friends beyond just business.
Toga:
Toga is a generally polite girl, talks like a teenager.
She can be bad at explaining herself! Seems to forget the people are lacking context for the things she says. “Hey, my best friend Jin just got killed by a Hero, which makes me sad, as well as worried that I'm going to be cut down like nothing as well, especially because I've been told how abnormal I am, even though I think I'm a normal person just like you, because I have emotions like love and fear, as any regular human does, and that lifetime of repression has hurt me.” -> Whatever she actually says to Uraraka in Chapter 289.
Only Toga uses first names with honorifics with the other League members. This is her being cute and desiring familiarity, but still polite.
◦ Twice is ‘Jin-kun’
◦ Shigaraki is ‘Tomura-kun’
◦ Dabi is, at first ‘Dabi-kun’; after she finds out he’s Touya, he’s ‘Touya-kun’
◦ Spinner is ‘Spinner-kun’
◦ However, Mr. Compress is simply ‘Mister’
Conversely, only Mr. Compress and Twice call her ‘Toga-chan’. All the 20-somethings dudes call her just ‘Toga’.
*Note what the League calls each other. They all call each other using Villain names. If the male members of the League are using first names and honorifics for each other, they’ve either gotten extremely close and intimate and weirdly polite, or they’re being possessed by AFO.
Tip #5.5. Instead of fretting over writing good dialogue right away, just write whatever you need to get a scene over with. You can go back later to change the tone and speaking style of the sentence.
Here’s a line I had for Dabi at first:
“Whatever hospital he works at should be shut down for incompetency in background checks.”
Wayyy too formal. Here’s the line after I went back and fixed it:
“Whatever hospital he works at should be shut down for being shit at background checks.”
Still not my best shot, but better. Sometimes all you need is just to change a word.
Tip #6. Humor. The League is ridiculous and hilarious. Always try to have fun with their interactions and antics.
#ask#asked#answered#anon#anonymous#nalslastworkingbraincell#League of Villains#Shigaraki Tomura#Spinner#Shuuichi Iguchi#Toga Himiko#Mr. Compress#Sako Atsuhiro#Dabi#Todoroki Touya#Twice#Bubaigawara Jin#Giran#Okuta Kagerou#Kurogiri
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The Regular Surprise (Jake Lockley)
Content Warning: Major Self-Harm Themes, Su*cidal Ideation, PLEASE proceed with caution
Summary: The OC is a waitress at a retro diner on the outskirts of the city. Life is hard and she’s struggling to cope with everything, plagued by depression and self-destructive tendencies. On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope. (Based on a request. Asker wishes to remain anonymous.)
Content: Angst with some resolution, substance abuse, verbal abuse (yum), extreme language. I don’t know how to describe this fic other than to say it's dark, sad, and cathartic for a select few. Fictional festival based on the one I used to go to as a kid.
Word Count: 7.0k
An Author’s Note: Please PLEASE do not read this if there’s even a chance it could be triggering to you. I have plenty of other content that you could read instead, and there’s loads of other talented writers on here that you can go and support as well. Stay safe <3
I woke up way too early.
Not that that’s out of the ordinary. I served breakfast at the diner three days a week. Today was one of them. My alarm went off at 5:00, ripping me from my sleep with absolutely no gentleness. My head was pounding, of course, but I couldn’t complain about that because it was my own choice to drink half a bottle of bourbon the night before. Honestly, all things considered, I was holding my liquor pretty well. Didn’t even feel sick.
But I did feel tired.
There’s nothing fulfilling about working at a diner at six in the morning. Sure, there are a few cheery regulars that keep you in mind, ask you about your folks and if your home loan got approved, or whatever. But they can also be so grating. When are you having kids? You’d be much better off if you found a nice man. Say, are you coming to work high? Most waitresses are on drugs, right? I can’t tip today, hope you don’t mind. We’re friends, aren’t we?
Then there’s the tourists. Grabbing breakfast on their way in or out of town, their kids screaming because they’re up too damn early and we don’t sell chocolate milk. Or the honeymooners who stuff themselves in one side of the booth, sharing their waffles with one fork. Give me a fucking break.
But when I walked into work that morning, there was one familiar face that didn’t entirely make me want to rip off my own skin. He wasn’t exactly a regular. He’d show up every morning for several days in a row, then we wouldn’t see him for weeks on end. More often than not, he wore a grey or brown flat cap and on particularly dreary mornings you could hear him whispering to himself, sometimes in Spanish. My manager had told me once to refer to him as “Mr. Lockley.” Not sure exactly why, he didn’t seem that much older than me, but she was adamant. So that’s what he was called.
Today was a double shift. I worked from 6-10, and then again from 5 until we closed at 9 o’clock. It wouldn’t have been too much of a big deal—more hours means more money, right?—save for the fact that the annual Cherry Blossom festival happened to be that night, and I really didn’t want to miss it. I’d technically have a bit of time to catch the end after my shift, but the sun would already be set and the biggest vendors and entertainers would have dipped by then. Plus, tired and drunk festivalgoers would be pestering me for some cheese fries for the whole night, and we were definitely going to run out sometime after 7 p.m.
“Morning, sugar.” Mr. Lockley put on a sleazy grin as I came to take his order. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t one of those perverts that said rude things to his waitresses, but he had a mouth on him. A severely unfiltered one. “What’s the special today?”
“You get a piece of toast for free if you order eggs.” My owner didn’t do specials. Everyone was struggling to make ends meet around here, and creative marketing was far down on the list for a desolate joint like this. Every Tuesday was free toast, though. But that’s only because the truck came in on Wednesdays and everything in stock was going stale.
“Okay, I’ll do that, then. Two scrambled and some coffee if you have it.” He gave a tired smile, though he seemed very awake considering the time. I’d never given much thought to what he might do for work. He was so cryptic anyway, there was too much to wonder about. “And uhh… do you have turkey bacon?”
“Sorry, honey. Just regular.” He didn’t have his hat on today; I noticed for the first time that he had quite curly hair. It almost didn’t match his face, which was so contorted by stress and lack of sleep that it certainly made him look older than he was. Like I said, though, he was barely older than me, maybe ten years at most. There was no grey in his hair, but there was a bit peeking out of his stubbly beard. Don’t get distracted. He was asking for turkey bacon?
“Scratch that then, sweetheart. I don’t do regular.” He unfolded his newspaper, sliding his knuckle along his lips as he read. I wrote his order down.
“Eggs and toast, then. And coffee, coming right up.”
I pretended not to notice him staring at my ass as I walked back toward the kitchen. I know I said that he wasn’t a pervert, but he was still a man. They tend to look, and I try not to dwell on it in this line of work so long as I don’t feel unsafe. I slid the ticket to Bernie, the cook. He gave me a familiar smile. He was too old to be working still, but like I said, we’re trying to make ends meet.
The mug shook in my hand a bit as I poured the coffee for Mr. Lockley. At this ungodly hour, there weren’t too many other customers, and my coworker had already taken care of most of them. There wasn’t even a manager in yet; the owner, David, wouldn’t be here for a while. The lazy shit showed up whenever he wanted to. I brought the man his coffee.
“Thanks, sugar.” His smile was kind of offputting, not in a creepy way. He just seemed kinda unhinged. He took a sip, hissing at the heat. “¡Carajo!”
He swallowed hard, obviously having burnt his tongue. Mr. Lockley seemed embarrassed that I had seen that. He tried to distract me.
“You going to the festival tonight?” Why was I even still standing here?
“Uhh, yeah. I’d planned on it.” Now I know, you’re not supposed to tell the customers what you’re doing when you get off work. What if they’re some kind of stalker, right? But honestly, if Mr. Lockley had wanted to kidnap me or something, he’d had multiple months to decide that already. So forgive me for my vulnerable honesty. “How about you?”
“I’ll be around. But I got work tonight, so no dice.”
I don’t really remember that much of my morning shift. I had enough coffee and ibuprofen to keep the hangover at bay, but it was still the crack of dawn. Even by 10, I would have rather been in bed. But that was also largely unrelated to my shift. I spent a lot of time wishing I was still in bed.
I spent a lot of time wishing I wasn’t anywhere at all.
Of course, I was having a rough time, you know? I was a fucking waitress in my twenties, with no solid plan to get ahead and I was borderline an alcoholic. Life was just so damn exhausting. My family was no help, not that I would dare ask them for help. It takes a village to raise a child, but at the end of the day, no one in the village wants to take responsibility for the fucked up way that the kid turned out. They want to take credit when money’s tight though, and they can ask the kid to spare some of her paychecks because “hey, I fucking raised you, didn’t I?”
Yeah, no. I was going at this alone. And it was eating me alive.
On this day, I was teetering on the edge. I’d struggled with self-destructive action for most of my life. There was no one around to teach me a healthier way to deal with shit. I didn’t have the money for a habit like cigarettes or drugs; plus, I’d seen enough of the horrors of addiction through my folks. The alcoholism was an accidental thing. It had started in high school, and who was I to turn down the sleazy attention of older boys who liked to party? It was attention, and I needed that.
I didn’t see Mr. Lockley leave. I was too busy with the morning rush of all those nine-to-five people. He’d left his newspaper on the table alongside his empty plate, but at least he’d been nice enough to fold it back so that I didn’t have to. By this time, David had gotten around to coming in. What a fucking asshole, that guy. I hated the thought of making a profit for him, but I was doing all I could. Looking ahead for better days.
Except I wasn’t looking ahead.
When I say that that day was bad, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I was about three minor inconveniences from putting a pistol in my mouth or taking a handful of Bernie’s blood pressure pills. Everything was so overwhelming as my own ambitions were underwhelming. Seriously, it was a fucking dreadful day, and I was just unhinged enough that it could have easily been my last. It very nearly was, too.
I was less than a half-hour from my shifts end when last night’s bourbon caught back up to me. I was carrying plates for a table of four, two snot-nosed kids and their wealthy grandparents on some god-forsaken vacation. Someone had spilled their drink in the floor with out telling any of the staff, and I couldn’t see it for the food in my hands. Luckily I didn’t drop the whole thing, but the grandpa’s meal was a goner as soon as my foot hit the water.
He seemed a little more upset than was necessary; entitled boomer thinks its cute to yell at the wait staff. I just kind of stood there and took it, numb to being berated by customers at this point. It wasn’t that that made the first strike, though it did start there. No, it was fucking David’s reaction to the whole experience.
“You fucking watch where you’re walking.” He was spitting at me in the back room. “Gonna keep losing money by working your clumsy ass here. Don’t think I’m gonna forget how often you show up off your game.”
That wasn’t fair and he knew it. I never showed up to work drunk, even if I desperately wanted to. He couldn’t hold against me what I did on my own time off. I did have some respect for my job, though admittedly not much. I knew I couldn’t afford to be fired right now.
“I don’t want to see those goddamn tears.” Of course I’m gonna cry. You’re tearing me a new one. “Wipe that shit off your face. I swear to God, you fuck up again tonight and you’re out of a job. You hear me?”
I knew he wasn’t gonna fire me, but I nodded. He needed the help, and with his attitude it was unlikely he could hire a new waitress to replace me in a timely manner. He let me off my shift after that—I don’t think he could stand to see my face anymore. So I sauntered off to my car, not even saying bye to Bernie, and certainly not stopping to ask if that table needed anything else.
See, this is where I knew it was bad. I would have seven hours before returning for my shift. I should have done something really therapeutic, like treat myself at a coffee shop or gone window shopping at an antique store. But I couldn’t be bothered to do that. I shut myself into my car, not bothering to turn on the radio or even the AC. For a little while I didn’t turn on the engine, I just let myself continue to cry until no tears were left. I was really so goddamn tired.
I know that I shouldn’t have done what I did next, but like I said, I was never taught better. That excuse only goes so far, doesn’t it? Either way, I did what I did and I gotta own up to that. When I couldn’t use alcohol to numb myself—say, because I had another shift to stay sober for—I would simply amplify the pain. It wasn’t logical, really, but it made me feel like I was in control. If the world was gonna hurt me, at the very least, I could do it better.
So that’s what I did.
Like I said, I don’t smoke. The smell alone is so offputting to me and I can’t support the habit in this economy. But I did have a lighter in my car. You know, the one that comes in the little charging port thing? I don’t know exactly where I got it, maybe it came with car when I bought the damn thing. Regardless, it was perfect for this. I knew that. It wasn’t the first time that I’d done it.
I had a little line of scars right above my waist. A nasty habit, I know, but it’s better than shooting heroin I guess. It was the same concept as drugs; it fucked with my hormones in just the right way, gave me an adrenaline rush. So I pressed the little lighter into the skin right across from my belly button. It hurt like shit. Of course it did.
And then I did it again. I don’t know exactly how many times, but I remember that it made me feel better. No, it decidedly made me feel worse, but at least I was feeling something. Also, my headache was magically gone. Either that or my brain just wouldn’t allow me to process both at the same time.
I sat there for a while. Then I got a fucking call from David.
“I need you to switch shifts with Miranda.” He didn’t ask. He just told.
“Why?”
“Just do what I say. She’s got a family emergency or something. I need you to come in at three. You’re off at seven.”
Maybe the day wasn’t so shit after all. I could make it to the festival for sure, now. I was hell-bent on a candy apple at least, as well as one of those plates of fried Oreos. I didn’t care that they would probably make me feel like shit.
Well, then. That brought seven hours of free time down to five. What to do? Go back to my apartment I guess. So I did. I didn’t do much else, just used my time to make myself lunch, pay some bills and do some dishes that my roommate had left in the sink. The time went by pretty fast from there. Except for when my mother called. It went painfully slowly for that.
I could already tell when I got back to the diner that the shift wasn’t going to end well. Strike one had hit me like a fucking train. I would say that the second was already halfway struck, just from the rain that followed me up to the door. It was gonna clear out by sunset, though. The festival was going to be dry. And warm.
David looked as annoyed as ever to be blessed with my presence, but he didn’t say anything to me as I clocked in. Three is one of those weird hours where hardly anyone is there. If anyone, a few teenagers would stop by on their way home from school. Or camp. Or wherever.
The monotony wasn’t good for me. Even if the seating area was empty, David forbade me from being on my phone. Just one of those things, don’t look like a piece of shit while you’re on the job. Doesn’t matter who sees.
Strike two happened suddenly. Around 6, some dirty executive thought he was being funny and pinched my ass. I don’t put up with that shit. I politely told him to leave. Well, as polite as could be reasonable.
“Awe, I’m just poking fun, sweet thing. Say, what time you get out of here?” His teeth were yellow and gross. He was with some buddies from work who thought he was the funniest person in the room. I wasn’t impressed.
“I don’t disclose that information.” He frowned. His eyes were bloodshot, but not in a drunk way. A different kind of way. It was scary. “Now I need you to leave. We don’t tolerate physical harassment here.”
“Harassment? Now you’re being shy on me? I can’t help you look so good, sweetheart.”
God help me for what I’m about to do.
“Dave!” I yelled just loud enough to startle the man closest to me. His friends shut up real fast as David walked into the room, pissed as all hell that I’d bothered him. The pig wasn’t amused.
“There’s no need for that, sugar.” He grimaced at David and patronizingly scoffed at me.
“What’s the problem here, sir?” David put on his customer service voice with absolutely no intent of keeping it on. As shitty as he was, he didn’t fuck around with creeps. I tried to steady my breath.
“This man grabbed me under my skirt. And he refuses to leave.” I didn’t have to look Dave in the eye for this. Thank God for that, at the very least. The ugly man’s friends looked like deer in headlights, but he just looked smug.
“Yeah, no. Get the fuck out.” That’s what I thought.
“You’re gonna talk to a customer like that?” The man was shocked that another guy would dare call him out like that. What an absolute fucking pig.
“You’re not a customer anymore. Get out. All of you, as a matter of fact.” Save for Bernie and himself, everyone who worked under David was a young woman. He’d gotten used to sending perverts on their way, and he’d walk me to my car if he absolutely had to, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.
He wasn’t happy about losing the business, either. Even if the people leaving were the scum of the earth. He side-eyed me for the remainder of my shift, as if I’d somehow tried on purpose to seduce the man.
And then we make it to strike three.
It’s a goddamn lucky thing that I don’t own a gun. Or sleeping pills. Or anything else I could overdose on. But do not get me fucking wrong, I was determined by the end of the night, as tragic as that sounds.
My shift ended and there was no sign of the men, so David didn’t bother to stick around. He wanted to see the festival, too, and he never stayed until closing anyway. It was dusk when I got outside. There was enough light to see, but not enough to feel safe.
And my fucking car wouldn’t start.
I started sobbing on the spot. Visceral, ugly, snotty crying that made it hard to breathe in. It was the second time today that I had cried in my car. It was my absolute breaking point. I was a mess. An illogical mess.
I punched the steering wheel until I was sure I had bruised my hand. After that, I held my head in my hands until the tears were all gone. Not because I felt better, but because there wasn’t anything left. The headache was back now, by the way. There was no way in hell that I was walking from here. I wasn’t going to the festival either.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
I was so done. Really, truly done. Realistically, I don’t think I would have done anything to hurt myself—in the permanent way, I mean. But the thought was at the forefront of my mind. Images flashed through my head. How would I do it? Would it be quick? I wasn’t thinking logically. I was struggling to think at all.
Okay, here’s what I need to do. It’s too fucking far and cold for me to walk back home. I’m gonna call a cab.
Cab’s didn’t stop too often near the diner. I wasn’t in the city-center, but I was close enough that they would find their way there every half hour or so. At least, that was what I thought. In reality, there happened to be a cab right then and there. It was parked on the other side of the block.
I waved it down, noticing a silhouette in the front seat. Maybe he was on his break? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I had wiped the tears and other stuff from my face, but the aggression of the sobs had left me a complete wreck. My head was pounding, my tongue was stiff and dry. My stomach still burned.
The cabby pulled over to me.
I checked the window just to make sure that it wasn’t some kidnapping scheme. That’s not unheard of, and with my luck that’d be the cab that found me. Sure enough, though, the cab was registered legitimately. I sighed in relief as I opened the door.
“Where to?” He met my eyes in the mirror, but I didn’t look back at him. That is, until he turned his head to me. “You having car trouble or something?”
I knew the face staring back at me. This was not in my plan for the night. I didn’t know how to feel.
“Yeah, I am.” He looked just as confused as me. He was wearing his hat now. I noted that. “I didn’t know you were a cabby, Mr. Lockley.”
“Call me Jake.” He was still turned to look at me. I felt myself blushing at the way he was peering into me. “Now, come on. Where to?”
“My apartment. I guess.” I gave the address. This was unexpected, but it didn’t change anything. It was a weird feeling, though. Vulnerable. I felt ashamed to be involving him in my shitty, self-destructive night. At the time, what I was half-convinced was my last one.
“I thought you were going to the festival, señorita.” He looked prettier in the fading light. I couldn’t see the circles under his eyes.
“Change of plans.” He furrowed his brow, but turned back toward the front. He didn’t start the meter.
“This one’s on me, yeah?” It almost sounded like pity. That’s great, I really wanted that.
“No, Jake. I can’t accept that. I’ll pay.” There’s that line in that Alanis Morissette song, right? A free ride when you’re already late. That’s kind of what this was like. Was the universe trying to stop me, or trying to mock me?
“¡tonterías! If you can’t afford a tow truck, I doubt you can afford a cab ride.” Okay. Mocking me, for sure.
“Don’t rub it in.”
“This one’s on me.” He repeated, slower. Then he put the car into drive. Fine, work for free. That doesn’t change my night. It doesn’t matter anyway.
If I had more sense in my head, I would have seen that he noticed how dreadful I was. My mascara had run, not completely wiped away to the best of my ability. My shirt was untucked, my hair was a mess, and the crescent moons on my palms were leaking blood. Not that I’d noticed that. I had spiraling tunnel vision.
What was I going to do when I got home? The thoughts were jumbled and racing through my mind, but I was too exhausted to catch all of them. I was crawling in my skin, half-convinced that I was possessed or something, but I also felt numb. The kind of calm you feel when you have nothing to lose.
I didn’t own a gun. There weren’t any pills. There wasn’t any rope. But there were… kitchen knives? None of the thoughts stuck around too long, they just played themselves on a loop, attacking my brain.
“You seemed excited about that festival. What’s keeping you?” His voice rang in my ears. My head was hurting so bad.
“I’m just tired.” I lied. I couldn’t tell that he saw right through that. He was too observant for his own good. I pulled my flask from the bottom of my purse.
Yeah, I know. This was certainly a wrong move. Jake Lockley was upset by this, for sure.
“Hey, no open bottles in my cab.” I hadn’t even gotten the damn thing to my lips. I thought I’d try to be cute with him.
“It’s not a bottle. It’s a flask.” I downed a swig before shutting the lid.
“Put it away.” Whatever, man. I pushed it back down in my purse, not hiding the way I rolled my eyes at him before doing it. The calm was warping into something else, but I didn’t know what. The possessed feeling wasn’t going away, though.
“You worked a long shift today, huh? Considering I saw you here at the crack of dawn.” Why was he trying to make small talk? Just leave me alone. You and the rest of the world, leave me alone.
“Wasn’t here the whole day. Opening shift and closing one, supposed to be anyway.” I just mumbled the first words in my brain. He was asking a lot of me in this state.
“The diner closes at nine.”
“Like I said, supposed to be.” Why did he know that the diner closes at nine? That’s a weird thing to remember, especially for someone who only shows up for breakfast. Maybe it’s a cab driver thing. They know the open and close of places around.
“It’s a little early for you to turn in, then. Why don’t I drive you on to the festival and let you have some fun?” You’re overstepping, Mr. Lockley.
“I said to take me home.”
“So you can do what exactly? Drink alone?” I was starting to feel uneasy. I’d never made small talk with this man beyond when he ordered his food. Now he was flirting with me? Or calling me out? I didn’t exactly know. Weirdly enough, I felt safe, but I also felt exposed.
“That’s none of your business.” We were almost at my apartment. He slowed to a stop, not yet close enough for me to get out of the car. He looked angry. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not sure I should let you leave.” He didn’t say it in a creepy way. I know that’s hard to believe. How could he say that and it not be creepy, right? But I immediately knew what he meant.
“You gonna kidnap me then?” I didn’t have the energy for this. And it wasn’t any of his business anyway.
“That depends. Will that keep you alive?”
“Okay. I think you’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?” He couldn’t possibly know what was in my head. I hadn’t even made the decision yet myself. This man was way outside of bounds here, but I couldn’t prove him wrong. We stared at each other for a long time.
“Let me take you to the festival.” Why did he care so much about this? About me?
“Why does it matter to you?” Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Just leave me alone. I don’t want to be here.
“I have a conscience, you know.” He talked to me like a dad might. That really made me feel bad. “I can’t drop you off here if I think you’re in danger. I can’t live with that.”
“Why do you care? I’m a stranger to you.”
“Just come to the festival with me.” Jake’s eyes were pleading. That instantly made him look younger. A lot younger. Child-like.
God damn him.
“Fine. Don’t do anything weird, though. I have pepper spray.” That was a lie. I did not.
Cherry blossoms lined the street where the vendors were parked. I could smell the carnival food before we even got to the point of the roadblock. Jake Lockley parked the car, coming around to open my door for me.
“Wait, aren’t you on duty or something?” He took my hand to help me up. What a gentleman. I think I should feel thankful for that. If only I could be bothered to feel.
“I drive a cab. I can work when I want.” He put his arm around my waist for support and I tried to conceal how his hand set me on fire as it touched my burns. I couldn’t be bothered to hate the gesture, though. It was the sweetest touch I had felt in a long time. I’m pretty sure he was only holding on to keep me from making a run for it. Jake was convinced I was a danger to myself.
The street lights illuminated his face in a new way. He looked a lot more vulnerable in the dim crowd, but he held himself with confidence. I got the feeling that I was safe with him. I noticed now that he was wearing gloves. That made sense for a cab driver, right? They had crescent moons on them, little white shapes right on the knuckles, disturbing the black of the leather. What an odd little thing.
“Is there something, in particular, that you want to see?” He led me down the street with his hand barely grazing my side, but I was firmly in his grasp. The lights were too bright. The crowd was too noisy. I couldn’t concentrate.
“I always get a caramel apple.” I tried to search my brain for what I’d normally be doing here. I was elated before, right? There had to be some ideas floating around in there somewhere. It was hard to find any, though.
“Okay. Let’s get one, then.” For all it was worth, I could have been drunk. I’d had the one swig of booze, but my state of mind was far gone regardless of that. That was probably a good thing. I couldn’t make any rash decisions if I couldn’t think at all. I turned my head to him as we made our way through the swarm of people.
Why was he so concerned? Sure, he knew me from the diner, but I meant nothing to him. Just some waitress in the background of his life. He could have just dumped me at my place and let whatever was going to happen go ahead. But he didn’t, and I couldn’t understand why.
“Two caramel apples, thanks.” I heard him say to one of the vendors, but I was so out of it. I reached for my wallet, but he swatted my hand away. That’s on him, too, I guess. I kept my eyes on his face.
He was a fairly short man. Not that there was a problem with that, I had just expected him to be tall. Mr. Lockley had the energy of someone with a bigger physical presence. He was some kind of tan, maybe Mexican? He spoke Spanish, I knew that. He must be some kind of Latino, then, I guessed. I didn’t really dwell on that thought, but he was pretty, whatever he was.
Yeah. He was pretty. His face was pretty, his curls were pretty, his muscles were pretty, and these thoughts were those of a deeply tired, not-thinking-straight woman. I felt warm at the idea that he was my arm candy tonight. Even if he was holding me against my will so that I didn’t try to off myself.
I don’t think he liked that I was staring. He handed me my apple and ushered me over to the tent-covered benches that were set up for people who wanted to eat sitting down. There was music coming from the stage nearby. Not good music, but it was live music, which was something. He paid it no mind.
“How are you feeling?” Jake had that same child-like look from before. Was he that worried about me? I let my mouth continue to act before my brain, as it had gotten me this far.
“I don’t know. The music sucks, though.” I took a very large bite of my apple. I kept talking, even with the food in my mouth. “You’re kinda rude, y’know. What kinda cab driver gets to pick the rider’s destination? That seems… abnormal.”
“The kind that’s not taking your shit. Look me in the eye and say you weren’t going to hurt yourself.” What a nosy motherfucker.
“Maybe I was. What does that have to do with you?” He kind of blushed when I said that, which made me feel powerful. I made Mr. Lockley blush.
“You think I could live with myself if I dropped you off knowing I could have stopped you from that?”
“I don’t know. You’d have gotten over it. I’m just a waitress.”
“No you’re not.” He blushed even deeper, taking a bite of his own caramel apple. I was stuffing my face, the sugar making me feel better as it took away some of the cloudiness.
“What do you mean?”
“Well… you’ve served me breakfast a hundred times.” Even he didn’t seem convinced by that answer. I scowled at him.
“Yeah. That still makes me just a waitress.” It was amusing to see him stumble on his words. As the sugar reached my head, it brought energy elsewhere, too. Particularly to my aching stomach.
“Can you just not act disposable for one second? You’ve got to mean something to someone.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Yeah. I really don’t think that’s true.” He took a patronizing bite. How that was possible, I’m not sure. “I’d surely miss your pretty face over my coffee.”
“Someone else can serve you coffee.” I was kind of getting pissed because he cared. Why did he get to care when I didn’t?
“I don’t think I want that, though.” This was pointless. I just wanted to go home, still. Though I was beginning to want something else, too. I tried to distract him.
“What else is there to do here?” I hadn’t thought that one out. The festival had lots of vendors, but it seemed a lot less vibrant than I’d imagined it would be.
“Dunno. You want me to win you a stuffed animal?” Now there’s a thought.
“I’d certainly like to see you try.”
I learned a lot of swear words in Spanish over the next half-hour. More than would ever be useful, that’s for sure. But the man did it. It cost him three times what the stuffed monkey should have cost, but he did it. I found myself giggling at the way he so clearly felt he was above the rigged dart-throwing game. He was giggling, too, in between the swears. I don’t think he’d played a carnival game in a long time.
He did that thing where you talk to the stuffed animal like it’s a person. I don’t know if he thought it would be funny or if he was pissed about spending so much money on the game. Whatever the reason for it, I was entertained.
“You are more trouble than you’re worth, pequeño.” He stuck his pointer finger into the belly of the toy, a playfully stern look on his face. “You’re not even that cute.”
“He’s the one I wanted, though.” I took the monkey out of Jake’s gloved hand. Really, what was up with the gloves? The plush toy felt cheap in my grasp, but he was meaningful. “What should I name him?”
“el cabrón,” Jake muttered under his breath, grinning. I didn’t know that word, but from the cheeky tone in his voice I had to go with no on that one.
You know how they say that adrenaline drains everything from your body? I didn’t know it, but that was what was happening here. I’d gone through so many emotions through the day, and so many cups of coffee, too. The devastating tiredness had plagued me from the cab ride to the apple truck, and now there was exhausted giddyness. When I say that I could have been drunk, that’s truly the most accurate description. They say sleep deprivation mimics inebriation. By that metric, I was nearly at the black-out stage.
I was holding on to him like a little girl as we walked back to the cab. There was an unspoken agreement, I guess, as he saw how fucking tired I must be. He had to be pretty tired, too. The sky was totally dark at this point, and both of us had been awake since before the sun had come up this morning.
“Why don’t you sit in the front, cariño?” He asked me gently. I followed his request, hopping in the front seat as he opened the door for me. Jake was still treating me like something fragile. I didn’t really have the frame of mind to realize that I was. There were just isolated thoughts swimming around.
We took the entire ride in silence. I guess there wasn’t much that either of us really had to say. I ran my hand along the thread of the monkey toy; I had decided to name him Button because of his eyes. I don’t know. Drunk thoughts. The thread felt soothing under my skin.
He turned off the engine when he got to my drive. I raised by eyebrow at him, but he had one of those looks like it wasn’t really up for debate. My tongue felt like it was stuck in my throat.
Jake didn’t take my hand or open the door for me this time. He just let me lead the way up the steps with the keys in my hand. I know I should have felt more uncomfortable about the whole thing than I actually did. My roommate wasn’t there; I don’t know where she was gone to. We only lived together for the money. We didn’t make conversation that much.
“Do you want something to drink?” I mumbled at him as he followed me through the door. At least I had done the dishes, so the place wasn’t a total wreck. My roommate’s cat meowed angrily at me as we made out way into the living room. She probably hadn’t fed him all day. Jake’s eyes lit up at the sight.
“Who’s this little princesa?” He bent down to scratch the cat’s head, swooping him up into his arms. The little bastard drank in the attention.
“Artichoke. He belongs to my roomy.” I plopped onto the couch. I would feed him before bed. Not right now, I was too tired.
“My bad, man. Eres el gato más bonito que he visto.” Jake’s lips parted over his teeth, his eyes crinkled in a wide smile. Arty was purring under his touch. I’d never seen such a soft smile on Mr. Lockley’s face.
I was starting to really like this man. Sure, I’d seen him lots of times before, but it was so impersonal and he was normally much cruder in the way he spoke. I guess I’d given him a good scare. My mind was out of spiralling thoughts, but the chaos lingered in spite of the absence of self-destructing tendencies. He sat down beside me, and Arty leapt off the couch.
I thought of one thing that might make me feel better. Might make me feel something.
I fucking tackled that poor man. I smashed my lips into his, pushing my weight over top of him. My hands found their way to his hair. He was shocked for a second, then he reciprocated for another before pulling back altogether. His grip was surprisingly strong, and suddenly I was separated from him.
“Don’t do that.” He didn’t look angry at me, but he did dawn a look of disappointment. I fucking hated that look. Jake’s arm held me away from him.
“Why not? I know how much you stare at me when you come by to eat.” It was true. He never hid how he ogled at me. Like I said, severely unfiltered. That didn’t mean he was a bad man.
“You’re not in your right mind. I didn’t come here for that.” I winced as he stood up off of the couch, tugging off his gloves. His face and neck were bright red. He threw the gloves on the kitchen counter, right beside my bottle of whiskey.
“Consider it payment for the ride.” I reached my hand out to him, signalling him to come back. He just stared down at me. “It’s not like I’m drunk.”
“But you’re not thinking straight.” He ventured into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He poured me one, too, and I noticed his fingers tense against the cold of the glass. Jake walked over to me and handed the cup down to my hands, which I was noticing by now were very weak with exhaustion. I took a sip, carefully.
“What are you here for then?” I don’t know exactly what I wanted him to say. He was there, though, and that mattered a lot. He really didn’t have to be there.
“I don’t know. I want to make sure you’re safe.” I couldn’t fault him for that. He’d given me a free ride, bought me dinner, won me a prize, and then he’d endured my unwanted advances. It would have been quite rude of me after that to repay him by hurting myself.
“How long are you gonna stay?”
“Until I’m sure.”
And that’s what he did.
#moon knight#jake lockley#moon knight x you#moon knight x reader#jake lockley x reader#jake lockley x you#triggering themes#Mr. lockley#triggering content#tw#masterlist
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your the only fanfic maker who is my go-to anytime i need anything like shitt bro. ok anywasy.
aage regressing reader..,…x michael…….
reader has like clothes at the bottom of their closet and michaels like ok weird whtever clean ur closet obozo and under it is just shoeboxes with fucking LEGOS AND STUFFED TOYS AND SHIZ 😋 michael dznt. know but WALKS IN DURING WREGERESS ❤️❤️❤️❤️‼️‼️‼️❗️❗️
ij you do this fic then ill love u more than i already do /p
( tbh i've never written anything like this before but as someone who's an age regressor I feel..weird writing this? it ain't out of my comfort zone but I hope u enjoy this!! [and no this just means i’ve never and i mean never wrote anything like this] )
[yes,i’m putting a TW in case people just don’t read, if age regression/little space makes you uncomfortable don’t read.]
- ima start of with headcannons then onto the fic!
so,michael is a calm dude when he first finds out..hell people gotta cope with life somehow and yours is just going into a space where you feel young again. tbh he’s also a great caregiver. he’s patient with you and tries his best to understand what you need and what will comfort you in the moment. he may even play with you if you asked him to.
he’s sweet about it!! if you ever end up regressing around him he’s happy you trust him enough to even do that type of stuff around him. he’s a calm person to be around so if you end up regressing around him he’s..just sweet.
but he’s also paranoid about it,yes he hates feeling like a ‘dad’ figure. (also making up for that,he enjoys when you call him mikey,,)
michael always buys you new things on his way to work or from work. you want a new plush? he’s gonna find one he hopes you like. he’s the same way with toys or simple things like blankets,clothes..(he’d always go for comfy clothes and blankets though,fuzzy blankets and loose clothes)
michael also won’t care to feed you,help you bathe..tbh he’s relaxed about it as i said. he’s always gonna see you as his amazing no matter what you do to cope or simply to feel comfortable. you’re his amazing s/o after all.
he enjoys drawing with you or putting legos together. he likes to draw you little drawings,always happy to see your smiling face as you ramble on about how much you love the drawing of a fluffy dog he did. he helps you build lego builds as a small activity to pass time plus he finds it enjoyable.
he also uses small nicknames for you such as ‘dear’ or ‘honeypie’ when you’re in little space. he’s always so sweet to you plus he enjoys how you always use silly nicknames for him but his favorite is when you call him ‘mikey’ or ‘mike’.
as i said before,he won’t care to feed or bathe you. if you’re very picky about food he’d ask you if you’d like to join him at the store so you could pick out the things you like or even the bathing products you prefer. tbh he spends all his money on you but he’s happy-
michael had been helping you clean up your room since you had asked him to,considering it was his day off he agreed to it..he had nothing better to do after all. he had moved onto your closet and once finding the stuffed toys and toys in general,he didn’t think much of it. he’s an adult and he has plenty of them shoved in his closet from childhood so he assumed that till you told him. once you started to tear up over explaining it to him he wrapped his arms around you. “y/n,i really don’t care what you do..love,i’d rather you be comfortable in your own skin and not stressed. now,how about we sort out all these toys,yeah?” you nodded to his question,sitting down with him. as you two sorted out the stuffed animals you always told michael the names you gave them which made him smile softly..as much as he hated plushies due to his childhood it’s nice seeing you happy again.
#fnaf x reader#michael afton x reader#michael afton#michael x reader#tw little space#tbh im worried this isn't good enough cuz i got a lil lazy with it#i did get more lazy on the fic tho..i feel bad about that-
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Hello Jd, I would like to know all these as well!!
✨🛠💌🤗🥰💥🛒
thank you!
Haha bet
✨ Give you and your writing a compliment.
I actually quite like my style! It usually does get a heavy edit, I tend to indulge the first time around, but the foundation I feel is very strong. Someone who read some of my original work actually called it kind of modern neo-noir, which put me over the moon, haha. It’s very that- over dub of dramatic internal monologue, one line of dialogue follows.
🛠 What tools/programs do you use to write?
Microsoft Word, BABEY! Ride or die. The only other thing I regularly use is the OneLook Thesaurus, which is god’s gift to man imo. I’m so fucking wordy that halfway through writing a chapter I’ve used up all my adjectives lol. I also have a ‘zero’ chapter to keep track of things like names, locations, or research I’ve done.
💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?
I’ve always enjoyed comments! Before now I hadn’t really answered, I think I was too embarrassed haha. My current fic is also the longest thing I’ve written, so comments come in regularly. I think that’s why I started answering. Plus, I actually thing ND is pretty okay, despite my personal annoyances with it, so I’m less worried about being an actual presence.
🤗 What advice would you give new fanfic writers that are just getting started?
DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY.
I AM NOT JOKING.
At least not in the beginning. Your first fic is going to be the hardest, probably, and there will be quite a lot of fretting, I imagine. I know that was true for me. But try to remember that it’s just fanfiction, you know? It’s something done in spare time for fun. If you aren’t having fun, don’t do it. And don’t worry so much. If you end up taking it seriously, and plenty of folks do, try to remember that you should still enjoy what you’re doing.
🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?
Oh I’m always down for questions! I didn’t interact much before this, but it’s super nice and cool that people are invested enough to have questions in the first place lol. I also think the fact that the stuff I write tends to be really heavy motivated me to be more of a person, too. Like waving a banner around promising I’m a normal person lol
💥 How do you feel about criticism?
Im not overly fond of the term ‘criticism.’ I don’t think it has positive connotations. What I’m more than happy to receive is feedback, as long as it’s given with good intent. I do not abide assholes at all, but if someone has genuine thoughts on any shortcomings they see, I’d happily talk about it with them. My girlfriend reads all my original stuff and gives me feedback all the time. There’s a big difference between “I don’t like this for XYZ reason,” and “XYZ left me confused.” Criticism should be something an author can work on, or address, or even ignore in favor of their own preference. I have a ready example from Non Disclosure, actually. I’ve gotten a couple of comments saying that I had run-on sentences- something super easy to address. But I feel that the length of my sentences adds something as a stylistic decision, so I didn’t make the adjustment.
🛒 What are some common themes you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.
Angst. I mean…come on lol. My bread and butter. My favorite treat. Tasty tasty emotional upheaval. I’m a conflict fiend. Misunderstanding, misreading, misinterpretation, spoiled relationships, blame, regrets, lies, secrets, aggression, anger. All so yummy. Obviously internal monologue is big to me too. I also pretty exclusively do perspective writing, which shouldn’t be too surprising to anyone lol.
And a little thing I do is use the word ‘aspartame’ to describe something. Every narrative piece of writing I’ve ever done has it, I think. I love it. There’s no better way to say something feels or is slightly off. “His smile was broad and full, but reminded her of aspartame. Sweet, but not sweet enough.” “The lies lilted off her tongue as sweet and fake as aspartame.” “His presence lingered like the disappointment of aspartame.” “She hated him. In a world full of sugar, he was the aspartame. The Pepsi to the Coke. The fat-free to the cream. The movie to the novel.”
Actually that last example is fucking good I’m going to save that lol. The first one is actually a good, too. Maybe for a horror snippet. I can taste aspartame, so that probably helps lol.
Fanfic author ask game. Still plenty left 👀👀
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Fic Excerpt "The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves" (Jason/Dick)
"Trouble in paradise?" Jason asked.
Dick took a sip of his lukewarm drink. "We don't…work. In some ways."
Jason raised an eyebrow at that. "What ways?"
Dick huffed. "Kinda personal," he said.
"Ah. Trouble in the bedroom ."
Dick stalled his answer by taking another sip of his beer. Jason waited patiently and Dick was starting to feel even looser, so what was the harm in answering? His inhibitions were drifting up and away like helium balloons.
"Bedroom trouble," he said. "She says she doesn't have any complaints. But I…do. Have complaints."
"Woman like that? What's to complain about?" Jason said, looking skeptical.
Dick sighed and slouched on the table. "I know I sound like a jerk. You're right: she's great. Beautiful, brave, smart. She's a dream girl."
"But?"
"But she's got a weird idea about faithfulness."
Jason looked surprised enough that Dick wanted to laugh. He held his hands out, pleading for understanding or asking for forgiveness for gossiping about a teammate. Both. Who knew? The alcohol was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
Jason ruffled his gray streak, then pushed it off his face. It was still wet enough that it stayed slicked back, a sleek look that made him look like a hawk. "It couldn't be such a surprise. She's pretty chatty about stuff like that. Her people don't do monogamy, right? Thought you'd be…accepting of other cultures and customs or whatever," he said.
"I'm plenty accepting," Dick said. He thought, then added, "Or I was. Not feeling like being so accepting anymore. I want someone to…bend for me. Does that make sense? Someone to make a sacrifice for me. Give up something for me."
When Jason said nothing, Dick let out a long, slow breath, like releasing pressure from a valve. "I know I sound selfish," he said.
Jason lifted one shoulder carelessly. "Nah. You don't sound selfish. You sound like a guy who knows what he wants."
"I do," Dick said. His tongue was just starting to feel clumsy. "Or I did."
"And now?"
"Now I'm just fucking horny," Dick said and laughed at himself. He laughed harder when Jason let out a surprised bark of laughter, too.
"Damn," Jason said, shaking his head. "How long has it been, man?"
"Like three weeks. Wait, maybe four. See? I'm losing my mind here."
"Oh, poor you," Jason said and rubbed his eyes. He was looking a little loose himself, the beer making his features go soft.
"I'm not used to sleeping alone, to be honest," Dick said.
"I can believe it. You've got a reputation."
"Do I?" Dick said, still chuckling. "Huh. I guess I do."
Jason said, "A real heartbreaker, right?" and pulled a face.
"Well this heartbreaker is this close to watching porn and jerking off. I never usually have to," he said. His tone was matter-of-fact, and only a little self-pitying, he decided. He held his thumb and pointer finger an inch apart to show how close he was to the unthinkable.
"This is serious. This is end of the world talk," Jason said. He seemed to be enjoying playing along with Dick's joking, pity party moment.
Dick hiccuped and laughed again. "We're all doomed."
"All because you're randy."
"Yep: all because I broke up with Kory, and now I'm randy."
Jason leaned forward and he didn't look so soft and drunk now. In fact, the hawk look was more intense than before. "Well, I can fuck you better than she can, anyway," he said.
Dick stopped laughing. He went very still. Jason was watching him, green eyes dark and sharp. They regarded each other in silence. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the wind whistled through the alleys below.
"Don't joke like that," Dick said at last.
"I'm not joking," Jason said. He put his beer down, tossed the ducky towel to the ground, and peeled his jacket off. He folded it loosely and placed it by his hip. His damp t-shirt clung to his body, a second skin showing off the lines of his muscles, the shape of his powerful physique. He licked his lips slowly, then his eyes traveled up Dick's body before locking with Dick's. "What makes you think I'm joking?"
Read the Whole Story Here:
The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves
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for the deep fic writer ask meme- 1, 4, 6, 9, 14, 19 -wires
[ask prompt]
1. what's the fic youre most proud of?
I'm gonna go with Long Live the Queen. It's a lot of milestones for me. First writing I've publicly shared (in it's entirety), first reader piece, first explicit sex scene, first kink/bdsm writing, first monster fucker, first sci-fi, the shortest completed piece I've ever written. Idk it started off this whole really fun hobby for me, and I'm just really proud that I just went "fuck it" and made that.
4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort?
For comfort? That's a tough one bc "comfort" is not the emotion I was going for when I wrote these lol. Uhhh, I guess if we go with "reassuring myself of my writing abilities" I would go with either Long Live the Queen (for all the reasons above) or On Earth. The latter of those two because Adrian is a comfort character, as I explained in another ask, but also because I really love his and Hector's dynamic and other people seem to enjoy it too.
6. what's the hardest part of the writing process for you?
In general, it's not going on an ADHD ramble and infodumping. I want to badly to make this big beautiful world and tell everyone about it, but part of me doing these little pieces was to challenge myself to keep it short and not give more info that is necessary. Kinda failed at that with Lunch Break but I hope it came off as good world-building in a natural feeling conversation and not infodumping. I have a feeling I failed there, but you gotta learn from your mistakes. At least y'all got a demonic blowjob out of it.
9. what's your writing process like?
Well first I start out with either a prompt, or just whatever I'm horny for. Then I commit word crimes.
Tbh I don't really know? The prompt usually becomes the main focus, and then my brain just kinda fills in the rest on it's own. I don't know what makes me choose the settings or how far back from the main event I start the story. I'm just adding caffeine shots to my mountain dew and my brain goes "hey you know what would be fun?" and then my little gremlin hands hit the keyboard at random until porn comes out.
Even better if I'm high. Because then I don't second guess a single word that ends up on the page until it's time to edit. You ever look at my stuff and go "jesus christ was was this fucker on when they wrote this?"
The answer is weed.
14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way?
I used to compare myself very negatively and put my work down, but I think I've gotten a lot better at that. Either I can now just appreciate a work without comparing myself, or I can put it in a positive light. If I feel like someone is doing something better than me, I take it as an opportunity to learn instead of putting myself down about it. I do slip up every now and again, I'm not perfect, but I'm getting better at noticing it when I do.
19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?
I am a slut for angst and hurt/comfort.
I'm also just a slut.
So plenty of smut. But also not gratuitous amounts or it loses its luster imho. So ideally it would have a good, possibly slow burn, lots of denial, a very cathartic sex scene, followed by OH NO levels of feels, more denial, possibly some outside force to generate angst and/or interpersonal drama caused by Not Talking (but for legitimate reasons in line with each character's motivations, trust, and understanding of other characters. Not "let me not talk to my loving partner who I trust implicitly for no discernible reason"). All within a consistent and understandable universe.
But that's if I could, which idk if it's actually within my abilities. But that's everyone else's problem bc I'm gonna do it anyway.
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Sad Drarry Fic Rec List 😩
Hello friends!
Let me ask you this: Are you pissed off at the gorgeous spring weather? Do you wonder, sometimes, if the shiny new buds on the trees are mocking you, pretending to grow and flourish only to wither and die and crumble into dust a few short months later, serving as a cruel reminder of the temporary nature and futility of all things? Is the sunshine giving you a migrane? Do you just want to claw your way back into the dead of winter so you can spend more hours in the suffocating darkenss, feeling the cold grab at you like a shivery precursor to the endless night we all have waiting for us on the other side of the veil?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, do I have some fic recs for you! 🎉🎉🎉🎉
I’ve compiled a list of the saddest, most depressing fics I’ve ever read. They’re good ones, well-written, and sort of make you want to tear your hair out and rend your garments. There is hurt with no comfort. There is whump with no un-whumping. There is a lot of death, a lot of cruelty, a lot of awful, horrible things that happen to our beloveds in these stories.
And isn’t that just fun sometimes? Isn’t it sorta cathartic to just WALLOW on occasion? So, if you’re feeling over it when it comes to your own relentless, exhausting plod along the highway of life and want to see Harry and Draco suffer along with you, if you have too many boxes of unused tissues in your house, or if you’re simply looking for a good wallow, give these a go. You WILL regret it. But in the best way.
If you like your emotional trauma quick & dirty (fics under 10k):
Powerful Men by Frayach (E, 8.5k) - okay, look. I fucking love Frayach. But you’ve got to be in, shall we say, a bit of a mood for their stuff. Because although the storylines and lengths of their fic vary widely, one thing never changes: the fucking soul-deep darkness that permeates all their works. There are some happy ending fics mixed up in there, but plenty that aren’t, too, and either way, it’s gonna hurt. I like this one in particular for a few reasons. First of all, it’s told in first person/present tense, which is a tricky combination to get right but can be used to incredible effect, making everything feel immediate and close, like surround sound for the written word. Frayach nails it. We never even know the name of our narrator -- he’s just some random rent boy who happened to room with Harry for a while in this apocolyptic-type world where Voldemort won the war. According to our narrator, the big bad Minister of Magic has just been put down, and the world’s about to get better, except no. Not for our Drarry purposes it isn’t. This poor prostitute’s tale will make you wail by the end, once you’ve sorted through what, exactly, has happened.
Last Offices by @tackytigerfic (M, 6.7k) – you know this one’s going to be a toughie right away thanks to the summary. Basically, Harry’s trying to navigate a bunch of pureblood funeral rites for Draco while also grieving. Despite the depressing-as-fuck premise, this fic manages to be both heartfelt and bittersweet, mostly thanks to a collection of memories that Harry relives during the rites. The relationship between Harry and Draco feels much fuller than the length might suggest, and very, very real. Any idiot with a keyboard can make a Drarry lover a little sad by killing off one of our faves, but it takes a deft, masterful hand to really immerse you in the feeling of loss, to make your poor little reader’s heart heavy with it like it was your own. Tacky manages to do just that, navigating the pitfalls of both oversentimentality on one side and remoteness on the other to deliver this short but impactful rumination on death and legacy and carrying on.
Yours, Draco by FeelsForBreakfast (NR, 3.5k) – Draco writes Harry a series of letters before his execution after the war. The most painful part of this little heartbreaker is that these letters are so full of life. They are so Draco, the version of him that I adore, in which he is snarky and funny and a little bit rambly. His personality feels so big, so vital, that it seems utterly impossible to imagine the world without him. But, of course, that’s exactly what Harry must do.
I Am Your Shadow by eidheann (M, 3.1k) – let us step away from actual death for a moment to appreciate emotional death. In this fic, both our boys are suffering intensely in the aftermath of the war. Draco is a meek, terrified shadow of his former self and Harry can’t feel anything. Of course, their aversion to life causes them to crash into one another and they end up in bed together. The way Harry behaves afterward, and how Draco reacts to his behavior is devastating and also makes complete sense. It’s difficult to be too mad at Harry because he’s obviously traumatized himself, but still. It hurts. It hurts so much. The ending is left fairly open, so maybe there’s a HEA for these two messes? But given the extent of their trauma, I wouldn’t bet on it.
In Death’s Dream Kingdom by kedavranox (M, 7.3k) – Harry became the painter we all wanted him to become and is married to Draco, who fights crime. Hooray, right? WRONG. Because an enemy Draco’s made on the job attacked Harry and now Draco can’t stop until he gets revenge. It is so much worse than you think. So, so much worse.
The Death You Carry by @magpiefngrl (M, 2.7k) – It’s a second person POV cancer fic, so right away, you know this one’s going to leave a mark. Draco has a terminal illness and he’s living out his last days, and it’s devastating and devastatingly realistic. One of the worst parts is watching how Harry handles things from Draco’s perspective. Harry’s struggle is absolutely heartbreaking and beautifully rendered, and Draco’s feelings of powerlessness and rage will have you in tears. The fic is impactful because of how true it is to life - I mean, how many people are facing something like this at this very moment? Who doesn’t relate to this on some level? Not to be a downer or anything 🙂
Free To a Good Home by @onbeinganangel (T, 1k) – Dealing with the (natural) death of Draco is not like dealing with war trauma, as Harry soon finds out. It’s a lot less about nightmares and fear and a lot more about the gaping, empty chasm of his soul. He tries to manage his grief and his feelings while also having to deal with practical matters such as selling the house and giving away things he won’t need anymore, which only leads to more grief. This little 1k fic packs a lot of angsty punch throughout, but the last line had me spiraling.
The Kiss by Frayach (M, 5.1k) - I started this section with the Eternal Emperess of Drarry Darkness and I’m finishing with them, too. This little number made me stop reading Frayach for a good few months because I had such a strong reaction to it. It’s a mind-fuck, it’s terrible, it’s hopeless, it’s the WORST. And by worst, I mean best. It’s guaranteed to make you hate the world, the justice system, death, and basically everything else.
If you like your emotional pain to fully consume you and linger endlessly (long fics):
Brief Encounter by @maraudersaffair (E, 45k) – I’ve recced this fic before, and I’ll do it again and again until I the day I die. The premise is simple: Harry and Draco are married to the women they’re married to in canon. Then they embark on an affair with one another. Angst ensues, you know the drill. But this one is darker than most infidelity fics. Maruadersaffair does not gloss over the cruelties Harry inflicts on Ginny, nor do they make the relationship between Harry and Draco easy to witness, either. It’s all-consuming, passionate, and painful. The ending made me cry like a little bitch (more than once – I’ve read it a few times now and even though I know what’s coming, it still gets me. Damn it!).
Dreaming Darkly by @quicksilvermaid (E, 40k) – holyfuckingshit, this fic. This fic is good. The whole premise is incredibly unique: Draco runs an illegal den of dreams, hidden behind a pub. He uses his legilimency to give people relief from real-world hurts, to take them to a place where their children were never killed, where their lovers never left them, where the world is beautiful and bright once more. Auror Potter, of course, is on the case. Not that he’s been assigned the case, mind, because this version of Auror Potter is not exactly winning at life or doing much to impress his bosses. But he is determined to find out what Malfoy’s up to anyway because, come on guys, it’s Malfoy. This could be an adorable little rom-com story, but OH BOY IT IS NOT. Prepare to go to the dark side. Prepare to cry. Prepare to rail at the unfairness of it all and taste the tang of bitterness on your tongue. Because this one’s going to hurt like hell.
Beautiful World by Lissadiane (M, 70k) – I’ll just tell you, because Lissadiane tells you in the tags: Harry’s gonna die, guys. He’s gonna die, he knows he’s gonna die, and there isn’t a damn thing Harry or you or ANYBODY can do about it, and it’s sad and horrible and you just have to sit there and take it. Meanwhile, Draco gets roped into spending Harry’s last hours with him and, of course, they have the most beautiful realizations about each other and it’s all very romantic. If this was a GallaPlacidia fic, first of all, it would be Draco dying, but second of all, the boys would kiss just before the curse finished Harry off and all would be well and love would save the day. This is not a GallaPlacidia fic.
Nightingale by michi_thekiller (62k) – From what I understand, this was a fandom classic back in the day (at least for those who liked to cry a lot). I read it about a month or two into my Drarry addiction, and I’ve thought about it ever since. Not to be overly dramatic, but it really did make me question my own sense of morality and the difference between right and wrong and what, exactly, makes a person culpable. In this story, Draco was tortured during the war, and is now situated in full-time care because he has the mental capacity of a child. Before the war, Draco and Harry were romantically involved, in that I-love-you-I-hate-you sort of way. It involved a lot of rough sex, and a stinging emotional closeness that they never discussed, and then Draco left school. Harry resents the hell out of Draco for not defecting and letting the Order protect him. He also harbors feelings of guilt over the whole thing and those feelings threaten to crush him throughout. He’s angry and sad and so, so lonely that it hurts to read about it, and when he takes Draco out of care and brings him home to stay with him, he feels like it’s the first good thing that’s happened to him in forever. But he wants the old Draco back. Only that Draco no longer exists, and the one in front of him is defenseless as a lamb and so, so innocent. MIND THE TAGS and prepare to have this haunt your dreams for months if not years. PS, if anyone wants to discuss their OWN trauma after reading this fic, please let me know. I’d like to start a support group.
Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound (M, 44k) – how could I not include this fic? I’ll be honest, though - I almost didn’t, because I didn’t want to read it. I put it off for a long time. I didn’t want to read a long fic where one of our boys was already dead, you know? Because that sounded depressing! And guess what? IT IS! And guess what else? It’s also worth it, because it’s an incredibly well-written story that rings truer than almost any rumination on grief that I’ve ever read. If you’re putting this off for the same reasons that I was, I get it. But it really is as good as everyone says it is. I will never stop thinking about the cup set out on the table under stasis. Never. On my death bed, I’ll be thinking about that damn cup. And ffs, I need to stop thinking about death!
Anyway, does anybody want to recommend some nice fluff? Pretty please? I think I broke myself reading all this shit.
#drarry#hp fic rec#listicles#crying#ugly crying#sad#depressing#death is all around us#halp#fantastic fiction#fanfic writers are the worst and best#emotional trauma#spoiler alert: everyone dies at the end
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Open Door Policy - One Shot
a/n: so, I love a good professor!harry fic, but I don’t always love when he gets involved with a student, so y/n is his TA. He’s 26, and she’s 23, so not too weird, right? Anyways, this took me a few days to write, and I didn’t mean for it to be this long, but here we are. This is a slow burn fam, like...buckle up. Reblogs are always very kind and helpful! Not proofread.
Warnings: angst, fluff, and smut!
Words: 21.5K
It was Y/N’s second year in grad school. She knew how to handle her workload on top of still making time for fun. She was still able to go out to the bar, and party with her friends. However, she was serious about her research. She had a “big girl” apartment that she shared with two friends, each having their own room. Grad school was expensive, and even though she had a decent job working at the local café, it wasn’t enough to cover her bills. Luckily, she got a grant to be TA this semester, which was perfect because she was interested in teaching at a collegiate level at some point. Her excitement dwindled slightly when she got the email about what professor she’d be paired up with.
“Who is it?” Nessa asks, plopping down on the couch with her.
“Dr. Styles.” Y/N groans.
“Tell me, why is that a problem?” Charlotte asks, coming over with a bowl of popcorn so they could start their movie night. “He’s so fucking hot.”
“Exactly! How am I supposed to concentrate?! I had him my senior year for an elective and it was awful. I was flustered all the time. He’s such a nice guy too, I missed a class where we had a test and he let me make it up, no questions asked.”
“Great, so he’s a good professor to learn from.” Nessa says. “Oh, maybe you’ll get a closer look at some of his tattoos.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Y/N, he’s only a few years older than us, you know?” Charlotte shrugs. “Maybe you’ll fall in love.” She teases her.
“Mhm, yeah, because I’m sure a guy who has his PhD in Computer Science is just dying to go out with a girl who’s only a TA so she can afford her last year of school.”
“What class are you even helping him with? You’re not specializing in CS.” Nessa says.
“Apparently it’s for the section of Web Expressions he teaches, that was the class I took with him. It was really easy, you just learn the basics of HTML and then build your own website.”
“Did you just say that was easy?” Nessa scoffs.
“My older sister ended up helping me a lot because she had a myspace back in the day, I guess you needed HTML for that.” Y/N shrugs. “It’ll be a good experience for me.”
“Okay, but you’re just specializing in Curriculum and Instruction, so-“
“Yeah, that involves Instructional Design, so I know about this stuff. I’m just not looking forward to doing it with him.” She sighs.
“Could be worse.” Charlotte smirks. “You could have gotten with some old fart who would let you flounder.”
“Very true.” She closes her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Alright, let’s get this HSM party started.”
//
A week later Y/N received an email from Dr. Styles to meet with her so they could discuss the class and make sure they were on the same page about the syllabus. She was a nervous wreck. Y/N used to avoid his office like the plague, too afraid to be alone with him. It’s not that Dr. Styles was a creep or ever put off any inappropriate vibes, he just had this sort of intimidating stare to him. Even when he’d laugh, seeing him soften was intimidating. The sound of his deep, raspy voice was almost a little too soothing, and she was obsessed with his sense of style. His nails were always painted different colors, and he had the cutest pair of round glasses that would sit on the tip of his nose.
Even though it was August, and still very hot out, Y/N wanted to make a good, professional impression. So, she decides on a pair of white slacks that have a tie in the front, a white tank top tucked in, and a navy blue three-quarter sleeve blazer. It was too humid to leave her hair down, so she puts it up in a cute, messy bun. She puts on a little makeup, grabs her laptop bag, and out the door she goes. She puts her sunglasses on immediately, almost getting blinded by the blazing sun.
She had never been in an academic building at this point in the summer. There were a few faculty puttering around, getting their offices situated for the semester. She smiles at a few of them as she takes her sunglasses off. She heads up to the third story where Dr. Styles’ office was. There was no a/c in this building, but luckily the room they’d be teaching in would have it due to all the computers.
His door was open, and she nearly walked right by him. She back peddles and already feels weak kneed. He had his glasses on, pushed closer to his face than usual, a small fan on his desk blowing the hair that wasn’t in the little sprout on the top of his head back, and he was wearing a white t-shirt.
“Um, Dr. Styles?” She nervously taps on the outside of the doorframe. He looks up from his computer and smiles.
“Miss Y/L/N?”
“Yes.” She smiles back at him.
“Come on in, have a seat.”
It was the accent, that fucking British accent that she remembered was the most distracting part about him. He had this drawl to his voice that was irresistible.
“Do you want me to, um…” She points to the door.
“No, no, too bloody hot to have that thing closed. The little window I get barely opens so I only have this fan to really keep me cool.” He frowns slightly at her appearance. “Why’d you get so dressed up? You must be sweltering.”
“I’m okay!” She blushes, and takes the seat in front of his desk. “I just…you know, wanted to look nice.” His eyebrows raise slightly. “I mean, like, not nice, but professional.”
“Well, don’t feel like you need to be dressed up like this all the time. I want you to be comfortable. You don’t see me all dressed up.” He smirks.
“You’re a tenure-track faculty, you can do whatever you want.”
“Not true.” He leans forward and rests his chin on his palm. “I can’t call a student an absolute moron when they ask me a stupid question.”
“I thought there were no stupid questions.” She smiles.
“God, there’s tons.” He scoffs and sits up straighter. “But we have to encourage students to speak up when they’re confused, so.” He shrugs. “Anyways, let’s look at the course, yeah?”
“Okay.” She takes her laptop out and sets it on his desk, scooting closer.
“I added you to the moodle page, so you should have full access to everything. You’ll be grading a bit, so I wanted to make sure you knew how to get in there.”
Once Y/N logs in, and clicks into the course, she smirks.
“What?”
“Looks at the exact same.”
“What do you mean?”
“I actually, uh, took this class with you a couple of years ago.” She furrows her brows at the page. “You know, you should really update this, it’s lazy to use the same design year after year.” She sort of says it without thinking and then feels embarrassed when she looks back up to meet his intimidating gaze.
“Interesting, usually I’m good with names…yours doesn’t ring a bell at all.” He looks at his own computer and crosses his arms. “And it’s not that I’m lazy, I don’t have a lot of control over the physical design. The assignments are much different, those I keep fresh.” He turns to look at her again. “I also teach eighteen credits worth of courses, I don’t exactly have time to sit and revamp all of them.”
“Well, maybe I could do that. I’ve taken a lot of Instructional Design courses.” She says brightly. “Studies show that students do better when their course pages are more inviting.”
“Alright, since you’re the expert, I’ll let you take the lead on that. Can we get back to the material itself? I have to make sure you know what you’re doing.” He squints at her. “You really took this class?”
“Yes.”
“And I was your professor?”
“Yes, Dr. Styles.”
He plucks his fingers over his lips.
“I feel bad for not remembering you.”
“It’s okay, I sort of kept to myself. You late me retake a test that I missed once, though.”
“Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “You missed class because you had a bad stomach bug.”
“Yeah.” She blushes.
“Poor thing, those are the worst when you don’t have mum around to help take care of you.”
“It’s alright, I recovered.”
“Clearly.” He smiles.
They spend the next hour or so going over the course and the materials. He tells her what he’ll need from her specifically. He’ll do most of the teaching, and she’ll bebop around helping students with questions. Oh, and grading, she’ll be helping with a lot of grading. He notices her wipe some sweat from her brow, and he frowns.
“Do you want a water? I have some in the fridge.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
He wheels over to his mini fridge and tosses her a water bottle. As she takes a sip, she notices him still looking at her.
“You can take that off, you know?”
“What?”
“Your blazer.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m, uh, only wearing a tank top underneath and I wouldn’t feel comfortable being so…exposed.”
“Oh!” He blushes. “I’m sorry, I hope my comment didn’t-“
“It’s fine.”
“I just hope you know I wasn’t trying to-“
“I didn’t.” She clears her throat. “So, I have full reigns to redesign some things?”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “Just as long as I can still navigate it.”
“Isn’t your PhD in Computer Science? You should be fine.” She closes her laptop and sticks it in her bag.
“Right…” He pulls his calendar up on his computer. “What’s your class schedule like?”
“With this one, I only have one other class that’s in person, the rest are online.”
“Perfect, then it should be easy to build in some office hours for you. We’ll have to share mine, I hope that’s alright. Not every TA gets their own office, but there’s plenty of room in here for two. This office actually used to have to people in it, I’m having a small desk brought in for you.”
“Oh, um, thanks. I also work a lot at the café down town, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You work at Bento’s?”
“Yeah.”
“I go there all the time, how have I not seen you?”
“I work in the back as a baker.”
“Oh cool, I actually worked in a bakery when I was younger.”
“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “You used to mention it all the time in class.”
“I did?”
“Yes.” She chuckles. “You made it sound like so much fun it’s actually what made me apply to Bento’s in the first place.”
“Ah, well, glad I could help.”
They decide on the office hours that will work best, and then he dismisses her. Just as she’s about to leave, he says her name.
“Yeah?”
“When it’s just us feel free to call me Harry. You and I don’t need to be so formal, alright?”
“Okay.” She smiles. “See you next week.”
The second she gets outside the building, she rips her blazer off. She gets back to her apartment as quickly as possible, changes into a bathing suit, and gets in the pool outside. Charlotte and Nessa were already out there, sitting on chairs in the shade. Y/N gets out and towels off, sitting down with them.
“Needed to cool off after your time with Dr. Styles, huh?” Charlotte winks at her.
“Shut up.” Y/N nudges her friend. “It was so fucking hot in his office. I know it’ll cool down eventually, and I was also way overdressed. He only had a t-shirt and jeans on.”
“Did he remember you?” Nessa asks.
“Not at first, but of course he remembered the reason I missed class was because I had a stomach bug, how embarrassing.”
“Why is that embarrassing?” Charlotte asks.
“I don’t want him to think about me being all…icky.”
“Do you seriously still have a crush on him?” Nessa asks.
“It’s not a crush, he’s just insanely attractive. He looked so cute being all casual today.” She whines. “It doesn’t matter, he’s twenty-six and probably has a girlfriend or something, how could he not?”
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t wanna date a guy smarter than me. He probably man-splains all the time.” Charlotte says. “I bet he’s good for a quick fuck, and that’s about it.”
“I guess Y/N will find out.” Nessa giggles.
“You two are the worst.” She groans.
//
“Hey, Y/N!”
Y/N was in the back at Bento’s getting some bread proofed and ready for the morning crew. One of her coworkers was calling for her.
“Yeah?”
“There’s some guy out front asking for you?”
“What?” She wipes her hands on her apron and walks out front. She freezes when she sees Harry. She had a hairnet on, her face was laced with sweat, and she smelled like bread, which you would think would smell good, but it doesn’t. It had been a couple of days since their meeting.
“Sorry, had to see it for myself.” He smirks.
“See what, Dr. Styles?” She walks around the counter to speak with him.
“Harry.” He corrects her. “See you in action, of course.” He takes a sip from his drink. “I see you’ve already made some changes to the course.”
“Yeah, uh, it was pretty easy.”
“Well, it looks fantastic. I was going to email you, but I was stopping in here and I thought I’d see if you were working so I could just tell you in person.”
“Oh.” She blushes. “Thank you, that means a lot.”
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He waves as he leaves, and she stands there stunned.
“Who the fuck was that?” Her coworker asks.
“Um, I’m his TA this semester. He wanted to tell me I did a good job on something.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“He’s gonna fuck you.”
“Stop!” She swats her hand at them. “Go take drink orders, I’m going back to the proofer.”
Harry was just being nice, and maybe he was looking for a good laugh. She shakes the thought from her head, he didn’t want to fuck her. He was way more professional than that.
//
On her first day as a TA, she decided on a pair of jean capris, and a light blouse. She left her hair down since it wasn’t humid. She felt more like herself, which was good. She goes to her now shared office with Harry first, just to drop her things off.
“Good morning.” She says shyly as she comes in. The small desk he had brought in for her was there, and there was a small plant waiting for her on it.
“Morning, Y/N, are you excited?”
“More so nervous, but yeah. What’s this?” She points to the plant.
“Got you a little something for your desk. It’s really easy to take care of, should only need water once a week.”
“Oh, thank you.” She tucks some hair behind her ear and sits down.
“Since it’s syllabus week, today will be really easy. We’ll go over a few things and then I’ll probably let them go early.”
“Alright.”
“I’ll give you a couple of minutes to introduce yourself too.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a water bottle with you or anything?”
“Yeah, right here.” She takes it out of her bag.
“Great, a little trick I learned when I first started teaching is that sometimes you can end up answering a question you ask the students because you’re so nervous when no one answers right away. So, if you take a moment to take a sip of your water it gives them more time to speak up.”
“Thanks, that’s a really good tip.”
“You’ll do great.” He looks down at his watch. “Come on, we should head to the classroom, make sure all the computers are working.”
Y/N nods and follows him out. Her eyes drift down to how his butt looks in his khakis. He had a simple green t-shirt tucked into them. He was effortlessly handsome. The cool of the a/c in the computer lab helps snap her out of ogling. After they check the rows of computers, only one wasn’t working, so Y/N takes a DO NOT USE sign onto it.
“Brilliant.” He says to her.
Students start trickling in, and choosing their seats. The class was mostly boys, and only a couple of girls. Unfortunately, that was typical for courses like this, even if it was just a gen ed that literally anyone could take.
“Morning everyone, I’m Dr. Styles, and I’d prefer you call me that. I worked a long time to be called that, so please don’t call me by my first name. You can call me professor, though, if you feel comfortable.” He smiles at the class. “We’re very lucky this semester, I have a TA that will be able to help you with assignments.” He gestures to Y/N.”
“Hi, yeah, my name’s Y/N, you can feel free to just call me that. Um, I’m in my second year of grad school. I’m studying curriculum and instructional design. I’m excited to be with you all this semester.”
Y/N takes a seat to the side of the room while Harry pulls up the course and the syllabus on the projector.
“Now, who here is a CS major?” Most of the class raises their hand. “Right, try branching out for your gen eds, your eyes will bleed if you don’t.” He jokes. “What about those of you who aren’t CS, just shout it out.”
“Communication.”
“Undecided.”
“IT.”
“Psychology.”
“Wonderful, glad we’ll have a little bit of variety. Y/N redesigned this class, so I’m hoping you’ll appreciate what she’s done to make things easier for you.”
Y/N takes attendance, and then sits back down so Harry can go over the syllabus and explain some of the more intricate assignments. He also explains his door is always open for anyone that needs extra help. He wanted to make a good impression since he knew some of the students would end up in some of his higher level courses.
“Please take some time to go over some of the basic codes and short cuts we’ll be using quite a bit. For our next class we’re going to work on a site together, alright?” There’s a hum of agreement throughout the class. “Great, and just so you know, Y/N will be doing the majority of the grading, so it’s not my good side you’ll want to be on, it’s hers.” He grins. “Alright, you’re all dismissed, enjoy the nice weather.”
Everyone files out, and Y/N takes a deep breath. She walks with Harry down to his office and she plops down in her seat.
“Seems like it’ll be a good group.” He opens one of his drawers. “Here, forgot to give you a key. You can come here whenever you want, feel free to do your homework if there’s nothing to be graded.”
“Thanks.” She takes it from him and puts it on her key ring. “It’ll be nice to have a quiet space, actually. One of my roommates is getting her master’s in theater education, and my other roommate is getting her master’s in music education, so it gets kind loud from time to time.”
“Then definitely come here anytime you like.” He smiles and sits in his chair.
“When does your next class start?”
“I’ve got about an hour or so before I need to go back to the computer lab for my computing fundamentals class. I teach two sections of that back to back. Then that’s it for today.”
“Does it get annoying to teach the same class back to back?”
“Not really.” He shrugs. “I’m used to it by now anyways.”
“Dr. Styles?” A female student taps on the outside of the door. “How was your su…oh, you’re in here with someone.” She frowns.
“I sure am, Melanie.” Harry seems to look a little nervous. “I’ll be rather busy today, but we can catch up soon, alright?”
“Oh, okay.” She glares at Y/N before leaving. Harry sighs heavily once she’s gone.
“That’s one of my frequent flyers.” He rolls his eyes. “Her and a couple other girls try to come by and chat…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m actually kind of glad you’ll be around, I’ve seen her fly out of here so fast.”
“Does she…have a crush on you or something?”
“I’m afraid so.” Harry sighs. “It’s partly why I keep my door open when I meet with students. I used to keep it closed to have some privacy, cause sometimes there’s personal things students want to talk about, but she came in last year…I don’t know, I just keep my door open now.”
“That sucks.” She turns to her laptop to start getting some work done. “Such is the life of the hot, young professor, unfortunately.” Once again, Y/N said something without really thinking about it. She really needs to work on a filter. When she turns around to look at him to apologize, he was looking at her, face flushed. “I’m sorry, I just meant-“
“I have some emails to catch up on, so I’m gonna put by earbuds in and just focus on that.”
Y/N nods and turns back to her computer. She sighs heavily. The last thing she wanted to do was make the poor guy feel more tense than he already did. It must be painfully awkward to have students throwing themselves at you all the time, and what’s worse is that he feels so uncomfortable that he feels like he can’t even close his door. Y/N wanted to know what exactly Melanie did. It couldn’t have been so bad because she was still coming by to see him. Maybe Harry just picked up on a vibe, and got ahead of the problem before it got worse.
Forty or so minutes later, Harry tells Y/N he’s off to class, but she can feel free to stay if she wanted. She smiles and continues working on a paper she already had assigned for one of her courses. It was really nice to just have a space to work.
“Dr…oh…is this not Dr. Styles’ office anymore.” The girl standing in the doorway frowns.
“Oh! No, it is. He’s teaching right now. I’m his TA, Y/N, so we’re sharing. Can I help you with anything?”
“No, um, I was just coming to say hi, but I’ll catch him later.”
“What’s your name? I can tell him you stopped by, then he can email you or something.”
“It’s Bridget, and he doesn’t need to email me. I was just coming to say hi and chat about summer.” She sighs. “Sorry to bother you.”
Before Y/N can say it wasn’t a bother, the girl is gone. Harry really seemed to have a fan club so far. Y/N had professors she loved, but it was the first day of classes, she never went around trying to catch up with them. She decides to close the door a bit, maybe if people came by they would just assume he wasn’t there.
Y/N’s eyes start to feel droopy. It hits her that she’s been up since four this morning, having pulled an early shift at Bento’s. She decides to cross her arms on her desk, and rest her head on them. Her music was playing softly in the background, and her eyes eventually flutter closed.
Harry comes back from his second section of Computer Fundamentals and is confused when he sees his door only open a crack. He opens it the rest of the way and stops short when he sees Y/N resting peacefully. He wonders how long she’s been asleep for. He didn’t want her to be too groggy. He also knew some students from his previous classes may stop by for some clarification, so as he much he didn’t want to, he had to wake her up.
“Y/N?” He says softly, tapping her on the shoulder.
“Mm?” She grunts.
“Gotta wake up, love.”
Her eyes snap open. She sits up and watches him as he sits at his desk, pulling some papers out of his bag. She knew it was a pet name often used where he was from, but holy mother of God did it sound good hearing him call her that.
“Sorry, I…oh wow, I slept for way too long.”
“You didn’t seem so tired this morning, are you feeling alright?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I worked an early shift at the bakery this morning, so it must just be catching up with me.” She stretches her arms out. “I think I’m gonna head out now. Oh, some student named Bridget came by earlier, but you were in class.”
“Alright.” He sighs. “Thanks, see you Wednesday.”
“See you Wednesday.” She smiles, gathers her things, and heads out.
//
At the end of the first week of classes, Harry was exhausted. It was always like this by the time that first Friday hit. The faculty meeting was the most draining part of it. He didn’t subject Y/N to it since she wasn’t helping with a major course. He had whined about it in front of her, though, so when he got back to his office he found a cupcake from Bento’s waiting for him.
It took a couple of weeks, but Y/N was able to relax around Harry. He noticed this right away. She was way less nervous, and he felt happy knowing he wasn’t making her feel intimidated. He was also happy for the help. She was able to field a lot of questions for the students, and her grading things was already saving him a ton of time.
The semester was off to a great start. Y/N would often bring Harry extra pastries from Bento’s, and he would praise her for how good they tasted.
“If those whole Instructional Design thing doesn’t work out, you should just open up your own bakery.” Is what he would often say after stuffing his face. It would make her giggle and blush. She enjoyed pleasing him.
They were having a peaceful Tuesday afternoon, holding office hours. Mostly working on their own, but occasionally chatting. Well, it was peaceful, until someone walked through the door.
“Harry.” An angry woman holding a small shih tzu and a large bag says. “I can’t take care of him Max anymore. I’m moving and my new place can’t have pets.”
“Kelly, let’s go out into the hall, yeah?”
She looks over at Y/N, who was stunned. Harry was standing up and walking around his desk to lead the woman out, but she won’t budge.
“Make whoever this is leave, you have an office for a reason.”
“I don’t have an office for personal matters, come on.” He takes the dog, Max, from her and cuddles him to his chest. Harry gets a lick to his chin. “Aw, you miss Daddy, Maxy?”
The woman rolls her eyes, and lets Harry lead her into the hallway. Y/N hears some muffled discussion, the woman raising her voice more than him.
“You could have looked for a place that allowed pets. This is so typical of you. You fought me on keeping him, and the second it got difficult you wanna just dump him with me.”
“I’m never home, Harry! It’s not fair to him.”
“And you think I’m home more?”
“More than me.” She scoffs. “You don’t have a choice, I leave at the end of the week.”
“You don’t even look like you’re going to miss him.”
“I thought I wanted him, but every time I looked at him I just thought of you, and now I can’t stand him. I’m moving to have a fresh start. Whatever happens to him is up to you now.” She drops the large bag full of Max’s things at his feet and walks away.
Harry sighs and kisses the top of Max’s head. He leans down to grab the bag and walks back into his office.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay.” She extends her hands out. “Can I hold him? He’s so cute.” She pouts.
“Um, sure.” Harry hands Max over to Y/N.
“Oh my goodness.” She gets a lick on her cheek. “How old is he?”
“A little over a year.” Harry mumbles as he goes through the bag. “I have no idea how I’m going to make this work. I can’t bring him with me every day, it’s not allowed. Once in a while is fine, but it’s not like he’s a therapy dog.”
“I can help! My apartment is pet friendly for small dogs. I could just meet you here and you can drop him off to me.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that. You have so much going on between this, your own school work, and Bento’s.”
“I really wouldn’t mind, I know you end up staying here late a lot of the time, I could take him for walks and stuff, tire him out so you can just have a snuggle with him when you get home.” She holds him up to her face. Lucky dog, she thinks to herself.
“You’re my TA, Y/N, not my dog sitter.” He sighs. “I’m sure I could find another student that needs some extra cash-“
“Wouldn’t need to pay me.” She smiles. “Please, he’s so cute, I really wanna help. It won’t stress me out, I promise.”
“We’ll see, it would only be on my busy days.” He takes Max back from her, and pulls his dog bed from the bag. “Go on, get comfy.” He sets him down and pats the top of his head. He takes out his water bowl and pours some into it for him.
“Feel free to not answer, but who was she?”
“My ex…” Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He sits down and watches Max lap up at his water bowl. “She insisted on a small dog because they’re easier to take care of.” He rolls his eyes. “But I missed him a lot, so I’m not complaining. We were together a couple of years, lived together for a bit, thought it would be smart to get a dog like a lot of people do when they’re getting more serious. But we started fighting a lot, we both got busier, neither of us wanted to compromise, and so it goes. She took him with her. We both got new places and have barely spoken.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, we weren’t right for each other, and he sort of made us realize that.” Max yips at Harry. “That’s right, buddy.” Harry chuckles. “We called it quits roughly six months ago, it’s all good now. I thought I’d miss her, but I missed him more.”
“I get that, I dated this guy for a bit in undergrad, but I definitely didn’t see it lasting.” She rolls her eyes.
“Guys at that age are really immature, anyways. You’ve got plenty of time to meet someone.” He turns back to his computer and gets back into his emails. He looks over his calendar and groans. “Alright, I’ll definitely need your help with him.” He turns back to her. “I give a lecture on Thursday evenings, so no one would be home with him literally day.”
“No problem at all, I can bring him home with me and I can just drop him off to you.” She smiles. “My roommates love dogs too, they’ll be excited.”
“I’ll need your phone number, just to get updates and stuff, it’ll be easier than email.”
“Sure!” She hands him her phone immediately. “Feels silly to not have exchanged numbers sooner.”
“Was sort of trying to keep a level of professionalism between us, but I suppose you’re gonna be helping me with my pup you’ll be more than just a colleague.” He puts his number in and texts himself. “You’re sure this won’t be too much for you?”
“Not at all.”
“At least let me pay you.”
“No way.”
“Y/N.” He sighs. “I’m gonna pay you, just deal with it, alright?” There was that intimidating side of him again. Y/N just swallows and nods. “Good.”
//
Nessa and Charlotte loved when Y/N would bring Max home with her. They teased her a bit at first because it was like her and Harry now owned this dog together, but she explained she was just helping him out.
“At least now you know for sure he’s single, and that he’s not afraid of commitment.” Nessa winks.
“Oh stop.” Y/N nudges her.
“He has your number now, does he ever text you about anything other than Max?”
“Not really, although he’ll send a funny gif as a response sometimes. He’s got a good sense of humor. You should see him in class.” Y/N’s phone buzzes and sees a text from Harry. “Speak of the Devil.”
Harry: I’m running late tonight, I’m so sorry. Would it be too much to ask to have you just get him settled at my place? There’s a spare key in the plant by the door.
Y/N’s eyes grow wide.
“Oh my god, he wants me to bring Max to his house tonight.”
“It’s happening!” Charlotte squeals. “Have you eaten much pineapple lately?”
“Would you shut up?! He doesn’t want to fuck me. He’s way too professional.”
Y/N: of course!
Harry: you’re a lifesaver. I’ve got some frozen pizza, feel free to make yourself at home until I get in. I won’t have you waiting too long.
“Oh wow, I’m gonna be there until he gets in…” She looks at her friends. “Maybe I’ll go shave my legs, you know, just in case.”
//
Y/N finds the key quickly, and walks into Harry’s home. He didn’t live too far from campus. He had a nice town home. Max scamps inside and immediately goes over to his toys in the living room. Y/N takes her shoes off and leaves them in the mudroom. Harry kept his home clean, and it made Y/N smile. There were some papers on his kitchen table that had grade marks on them. She wondered if he had a home office or not.
She goes into his freezer to find the pizza, and preheats the over. Once the pizza is baking, she plops onto the couch, pulling Max into her lap and turning the TV on. He has Netflix, so she click into that. She pouts when she sees he watches a lot of Rom Coms, it was too cute. She puts on The Office and has a slice of pizza. She didn’t need to work until tomorrow afternoon, so she didn’t mind that it was getting to be a little later on a Thursday, and it wasn’t like she went to raging parties anymore either.
Eventually, she dozed off. She couldn’t help it. Harry had a really comfortable couch, and plush blanket to curl up in, and Max was just as cozy to sleep with. Harry had texted Y/N, but she didn’t answer because she was asleep. The lecture he had ran late, and then he had to meet with some students to help them. Not to mention it was raining heavily, and he needed to drive a little slower than usual. So he didn’t pull into his driveway until 10PM. He sighs, feeling terrible that Y/N was still there.
He quietly enters his home, but it didn’t matter because Max hears him, wakes up, and starts barking. This startles Y/N awake.
“Shh, Max, it’s just Daddy.” He scoops him up and walks into the living room. Y/N was rubbing her eyes, trying to wake up. “I’m so sorry, I-“
“It’s okay.” She yawns. “I wrapped up the pizza and put it in the fridge for you.”
“Oh, um, thank you. Think I’m about to pass out though.”
“Don’t be silly.” She gets up and stretches. “You need to eat something.”
She brushes by him to go into his kitchen and take the pizza out. She puts a paper-towel over it and pops it in the microwave.
“I really am sorry you’re here so late.”
“It’s okay.” She leans against the counter. “What’s the lecture for, anyways?”
“It’s actually a graduate level CS systems course. I couldn’t turn the money down when they offered it to me. I figured since it’s only once a week it would be terrible, and it’s not, it’s just exhausting.”
The microwave beeps, and Y/N take the plate out for him, removing the paper towel.
“See, now it’s not all dried out.” She smiles.
“Neat trick, I’ll have to remember that.” The rain taps violently on the window in the kitchen.
“Yikes, I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain tonight. It wasn’t like this when I drove over.” She bites her bottom lip and looks outside.
Harry finishes his pizza and puts the plate in the sink. He sets Max down and he runs upstairs to his dog bed in Harry’s room.
“Listen, uh, if you want I can set up the pull out for you. Or I could sleep on it and you could take my bed…if you don’t feel safe driving home.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your bed.” She turns to him. “But I may take your couch. I was sleeping on it fine as is, no need to set it up.”
“Well, let me at least get you a proper pillow and something to change into, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“Right, um, well you know where the bathroom down here is, feel free to use whatever to wash up. I’ll run up to grab what you need, be down in a sec.”
Harry changes into his own pj’s, and finds some spare pants and a t-shirt for Y/N. He’s even able to find a spare toothbrush. He hustles back down and see’s Y/N bending over to charge her phone using the plug behind the tide table next to the couch. Harry clears his throat to get her attention.
“Here, you can wear this, and he’s a toothbrush.”
“Thanks for letting crash here, I get nervous driving at night when it’s like that outside.”
“It’s the least I could do, you gave up your Thursday night to…” He looks at the TV screen and his cheeks grow hot. Y/N looks over at the TV as well and wonders why The Office might embarrass him.
“Is it okay that I used your Netflix?”
“Yeah, I…god, it’s just, you’ve seen what I watch.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“I didn’t snoop or anything, promise.” She smiles and takes the clothes and toothbrush from him.
He opens up the coffee table to take out a pillow and another blanket.
“Well, I’ll be right upstairs if you need anything…um, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
She wanted to ask if he wanted to watch a little TV with her, but he looked so tired. She lays on the couch after getting changed. His bed clothes swam on her, and she loved it. They smelled just like him and it made her smile. She texts in the group chat so the girls know what’s up. They tell her just to go crawl into his bed, and she rolls her eyes. She falls back asleep after another couple of episodes of The Office.
The next morning, her eyes flutter open when the light from the sliding door in the living room hit her. She hears Harry shuffling around upstairs.
“Gotta be quiet, Max. Y/N is sleeping.” She hears him whisper and it makes her smile. She decides to pretend to be asleep as to not rile the dog up.
She hears the door open and close, and that’s when she knows Harry’s gone to take Max for a walk. She gets up and folds the blankets, and puts the pillow on top. She figures he’ll want to wash it. She goes into the bathroom to do her business, but doesn’t change just yet, she didn’t want to leave the comfort of his clothes. She does, however, put her bra on. She didn’t want to bounce around and make him uncomfortable.
Harry comes back in with a beanie on, cover the beautiful curls Y/N adored so much. He was wearing grey joggers, and a black t-shirt. Max runs right over to Y/N.
“Morning.” Harry says.
“Morning.” She pats Max’s head.
“Sleep alright?”
“Mhm, thank you.”
“I’m gonna make some breakfast, you hungry?”
“Sure, I could eat.” She smiles.
He smiles back and opens up the fridge. Y/N grabs the dog food and gets Max’s bowl filled. She sees Harry starting up the coffee pot, and then going back to the fridge for eggs.
“Eggs and toast alright?”
“Sounds great.”
Harry gets a pan heated up and cracks four eggs into it.
“You working at Bento’s today?”
“Yeah, not until this afternoon though, no worries.”
“Oh good, I would have felt bad if I was keeping you.”
“You’re not.” She sits up on the counter and watches him cook the eggs. He moves to the toaster and puts for pieces of bread in. “This is a nice place.”
“Thanks, sort of found it in a scramble, but it gets the job done. Would have liked more than one bedroom, but oh well.” Harry flips all of the eggs over so they’ll be sunny side down. “Want cheese?”
“Yes, please.” She hops off the counter to grab a couple of mugs for the coffee.
“I have to apologize, I don’t have any cream for that.”
“Sugar?”
He slides the sugar bowl down to her and she smiles. Once everything is done they sit down at the kitchen table.
“Mm, this is delicious, thank you.”
“S’just a fried egg.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad you like it.”
“Do you have to go to campus today?”
“Not technically, but I will just to get some work done. I’ll bring Max with me. He likes the little dog bed I’ve put under my desk.”
“He’s really such a love bug. Snuggled with me last night and everything. My roommates love him too.”
“You’ve been such a big help in so many ways. Don’t know what I’ll do without you next semester.”
“I’m applying for more TA positions, maybe they’ll stick me with you again.”
“Wouldn’t you want more experience with a different class?”
“It doesn’t really matter.” She shrugs. “It would be cool to work with you over winter break to redesign your other courses.”
“Man, if I didn’t have to do that myself…hm, maybe I could put a good word in. That is, if you don’t mind being stuck with me again.”
“Stuck with you? Hello, this is going way better than I thought. I was sort of nervous to be your TA at first.”
“You were?” He frowns.
“You’re a little intimidating.”
“I don’t mean to be.”
“I know, it’s just the way you come off sometimes. You’re hilarious when you want to be.”
“Thanks.” He smirks and continues to eat. He looks at her and furrows his brows. “Feel free to keep those.”
“What?”
“The clothes I let you borrow, feel free to just keep ‘em if you want. I don’t much wear those pants anymore, and I have a dozen t-shirts.”
“Oh, um, thank you. Might take you up on that, I’m pretty cozy.”
She helps clean up the dishes and then gathers her things. He walks her out to her car.
“Thanks again for watching him.”
“Of course, I’ll see you Monday morning.”
“See you, have a good weekend, love.”
Her heart skips a beat as he turns and walks back inside. She takes a deep breath as she gets into her car. It was cloudy on the drive home, but at least it wasn’t raining. The second she gets through the door Nessa and Charlotte grill her for details, and they were highly disappointed that the only thing they shared was breakfast.
“It was really domestic, though, it was nice.” Y/N explains. “He was so cute while he made me breakfast. He’s so kind. He even let me keep his clothes, and he wants me to be his TA again next semester. He literally said he wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
“Yeah, because you’ve volunteered to do everything for him except suck his dick.” Charlotte scoffs. “You said he’s been broken up for a little over six months right? Do you think he’s gotten his dick wet since then?”
“Charlotte!” Y/N giggles. “He’s a grown man, he can do what he wants. I bet he has, he easily could have had a rebound, although, he seems really respectful, so who knows if he’s even into hooking up.”
“Right, like when you told us he always keeps his office door open.”
“I feel bad, I’m there when some of those girls come to chat with him, and you can tell they just make him uncomfortable.” She shakes her head. “I think he and I are, like, friends now. I like what we have going, I’m not going to rock the boat. It could really complicate things.”
“So, would you say now that you’ve gotten to know him better your crush is less…apparent?” Nessa asks.
“God no! We mesh really well, we think a lot of the same things are funny…” She wines slightly. “It’s truly unfair.” She sighs. “Right person, wrong time.”
//
It was hard to stay awake during your shift at the bakery, but you made it through. You were thankful you only needed to be there until about dinner time. You had to be back in Saturday morning for open, but that didn’t stop you and your friends from going out to the bar for a couple of drinks.
It gave the three of you time to catch up and complain about coursework. Nessa was directing a production at the university, and she still had students who weren’t off-book, and Charlotte had to deal with pretentious music bros who really liked to man-splain the music industry to her. Y/N felt lucky that the majority of her classes were online.
“Okay, I have to ask, are there any students in class you think have crushes on each other?” Nessa asks her, sipping from her straw.
“Oh, for sure. There are these two boys, they don’t sit next to each other, but you can tell they’re friends. One of them always looks behind to the other so they can make a face. It’s too cute.”
They were at a more adult bar tonight. It’s not that they didn’t like the college bars they were so used to going to, but if they went there then that meant getting shitfaced and staying on the dancefloor until close. It also made things awkward when running into students. So the three of them felt safe here, they could really relax.
“Oh my fucking god.” Charlotte says. “Dr. Styles just walked in, and fuck, he’s here with a couple of really hot guys.”
“What?!” Y/N was buzzed, and she didn’t want Harry to see her like this. She wanted his image of her to remain sweet and professional. She peers over her shoulder to look at him, and her eyes widen.
He wasn’t wearing his glasses, he had a floral patterned shirt on that had the first few buttons undone, and a pair of black jeans to match. They weren’t skinny jeans or anything, but they sure as fuck were working for him. Both of his friends were a little shorter, but both equally as handsome. The three walk right by the bar and grab a booth.
“This is bad.” Y/N groans. “He looks so fucking good.”
“Who knew he was so tatted up?!” Nessa says. “I thought it was just his arms, but did you see his collar bones? We love a man who has going attire.”
The bar was starting to get more crowded, and louder as it got later. Music was blaring from the speakers, but all Y/N could think about was Harry. She wondered if he would venture to her area of the bar to order his drinks. One of his friends went up first, on Nessa’s left.
“Hey, Niall, what can I get for you?” The bartender asks him.
“Bradly, so good to see yeh, I’ll take a pint of Guinness, Lou’s gonna have a pale ale, and Harry’ll have a Corona with lime.”
“You got it.”
Niall drums his fingers on the bar. Nessa was sweating. She had a boyfriend, so she would never do anything, but fuck, that Irish accent tore right through her. Niall looks over at the three girls who had all fallen silent after he approached. He makes eye contact with Y/N, and they share a smile.
“Opening a tab tonight?”
“Yeah, one of those nights for sure. Poor Harry’s had a run in with his ex, basically dropped their dog in his lap and left. It’s been a couple of weeks since it happened, but it’s been eatin’ the lad up.”
Bradly nods and takes Niall’s credit card to keep on the back of the bar. He hands him the three beers, and Niall thanks him. The girls try not to watch as he sits down.
“Holy shit, I thought I was going to crap my pants.” Nessa breathes. “I love Andy, don’t get me wrong, but holy fuck.” She shakes her head. “I may need to have him pick me up from here tonight.” She giggles.
“Now I almost wish there was dancing here. Wouldn’t mind showing that guy how well I can pop my ass.” Charlotte laughs.
“He smiled at me, did you see it? Of course Harry surrounds himself with other beautiful people.” She pouts.
Niall slides Harry and Louis their beers and they all clink their glasses.
“I’m so glad we could all get out to do this. Sorry we didn’t rescue you the second Kelly showed up.” Louis says.
“It’s alright, I appreciate you guys coming tonight.”
“Is Max okay for a bit on his own?” Niall asks.
“Yeah, I put the gates up for him so he can’t mess much up. I wouldn’t have texted my TA to see if she could watch him again, but…”
“But you’ll most likely be fucking someone tonight.” Niall grins. “Surprised you didn’t just fuck her, she stayed at your place and everything.”
“Actually, you asshole,” Harry chuckles and takes a swig of his beer. “I was going to say that I would have felt bad taking up another one of her evenings. I don’t know if I’m in the mood to take anyone home tonight.”
“Too bad, girls love little dogs like Max.” Louis shrugs.
“There’s three really hot girls sitting by the bar.” Niall loves over at the three girls. “One for each of us if we play our cards right.”
Harry’s back was turned away from the bar, so he couldn’t see who Niall was talking about.
“They could be college students.” Louis says.
“Not at this place. The undergrads don’t come here.” Harry says. “Mostly grad students or other faculty that live close by, locals too.”
“We could order their next round of drinks, and then invite them to come sit with us. Booth has plenty of room.” Niall suggest.
Harry and Louis turn around slightly to get a look at the girls Niall was talking about. Harry nearly chokes on his Corona, and turns back around.
“Jesus, are you alright?” Louis asks, patting his back.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. We can’t get those girls drinks.”
“Why not?”
“The one on the right is my TA, Y/N, and her two roommates. I know one of them has a boyfriend…uh…the one on the very left. The middle one is single, but even still, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Mate, you’re TA is that good looking, and you didn’t even try to fuck her when she stayed at your place?” Niall asks.
“No, I didn’t try to fuck her. I’m doing this thing where I don’t fuck people I have a position of power over.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s a no go.”
“But if she wasn’t your TA, and just a regular grad student…?” Louis raises an eyebrow at Harry. He runs a hand through his hair as thinks it over.
“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, she’s obviously cute, but…I could never do something like that.”
“It’s not like she’s going to be your TA next semester, you could-“ Harry cuts Niall off.
“Actually, she might be. I have a meeting with the curriculum committee to discuss what I’ll need help with for next semester, and we both want to work with each other again. Crossing that line would complicate things, not to mention it’s highly unprofessional.”
“It’s not like she’s a student sitting in one of your classes, then I’d agree with you. You’re colleagues, technically. Nothing in the rule book saying you can’t fuck a colleague.” Niall says.
“He’s got a point, Har.” Louis says.
“Even if I agreed with the both of you, I’d still be taking advantage. I think she has a little crush on me, she’s made a couple flirty comments here and there…”
“Not to mention she jumped at the chance to help watch your dog.” Louis says.
“It’s not happening.”
“Well, you may not want to fuck a pretty girl tonight, but I do, and if the middle one is single, perhaps I’ll still order them all drinks, and just talk with her. Or, if you’re saying Y/N’s a no go for you, maybe I’ll chat her up. We smiled at each other, maybe she thinks I’m cute.” Niall grins.
“Don’t you dare.” He glares at him, finishing his beer. “I don’t care if you talk to, fuck what’s her name…Charlotte! I don’t care if you talk to Charlotte, but don’t try anything with Y/N.” He looks at Louis. “You either.”
“Not that I would, but basically you’re saying if you can’t fuck her no one else can?” Louis asks.
“I just wouldn’t feel comfortable with it.”
“Alright.” Niall shrugs. “We ready for the next round, then?” They both nod at him, and Niall brings the empties up to the bar. The girls fall silent when he approaches again. “Hi there, is there a reason you all keep doing that?”
The girls all turn to look at him. They were sweating.
“Doing what?” Charlotte asks nervously.
“Well, and maybe it’s just a coincidence, but you keep getting quiet when I come over.”
“It’s just…um…” Nessa starts. “You’re here with someone our friend knows.” She points to Y/N. “In a professional setting, and we’re just surprised to see him out, that’s all.”
“Oh, am I? Who is it?”
“Dr. Styles.” Y/N speaks up. Niall smiles as his eyes raise.
“Dr. Styles, how formal.” He looks over at Bradly who gives him the new drinks. “Bradly, do me a favor, put these ladies’ next round on my tab, will you?”
“You don’t have to do that.” Y/N says.
“Whether you know my friend or not, I’d be a real jerk to not buy three beautiful girls a drink, wouldn’t I?” He winks at Charlotte as he walks away with his new drinks.
“He winked at me, oh my god.” She squeals. “Y/N, you wouldn’t care if I tried to fuck one of Harry’s friends, right? It’s been a minute for me.” She pouts.
“No, why would I care?” She laughs. Bradly gives the girls their new drinks. “That was really nice of him.” She twists her straw and looks over at the booth. She can see Niall and the other guy laughing, while Harry just shakes his head.
“What the fuck did you say to them?” Harry asks as he takes a sip of beer.
“Would you relax? They simply mentioned that they knew you, and I bought their next round, that was it.”
“Great, so she knows I’m here.” He groans. “Move.” He says to Louis.
“Why?”
“Because now I have to go talk to her.”
“Oh, you do?” Louis smirks.
“Yes, do you know how fucking rude it would be not even say hello?”
“I don’t see her coming over here.” Niall says.
“She’s obviously nervous!” Harry takes a large gulp of his drink. “Move, Lou.”
Louis gets up so Harry can get out of the booth.
“Oh my god, Y/N, Harry’s coming over here.” Nessa says.
“Shut up, no he’s not, oh my god, he is, holy shit. I’m…inebriated.”
The girls laugh at her as Harry comes to sit on the open stool next to Y/N. He gets comfortable before he looks at her and smiles. She slowly turns herself to look at him.
“Hi.” He says.
“Hi.”
“Did my friend bother you?”
“Not at all…he was very nice.”
Harry nods and sips from his drink.
“I didn’t know you came here…” He says.
“Could say the same to you.” She looks him up and down. “Barely recognized you when you walked in. That’s a nice shirt.”
“Thanks.” He blushes and wants to kick himself for being so exposed to her.
“You haven’t met my friends yet. Charlotte, Nessa, this is Dr…uh, this is Harry.” The girls both say hello.
“Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you both. You’re Charlotte right?”
“Yeah.”
“My friend thinks you’re cute.” He nods over to Niall. Maybe Harry wouldn’t have been so bold, but he knew they were only a few years apart in age, so it wasn’t totally weird, and he had a couple drinks in him, so there’s that.
“Really?!”
“Mhm.”
“Should I go talk to him?”
“Definitely, I think he’d really like that.”
“Good enough for me.” She hops off the stool. “Ness, come talk to his other friend with me it’s not awkward.”
“Wing-man to the rescue, I’m on it.”
“You guys!” Y/N calls after them, but they’re already sitting down. She looks back at Harry and squints at him.
“What?”
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
“Get them to leave so we could be alone…”
“What?! No!” Harry finishes his drink, and Bradly gets him a new one right away. “Why would I want to be alone with you?” He sees the obvious offense on her face, and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. We’re alone together all the time, aren’t we? I just meant, in this setting.” He gestures to the bar around him. “I’ve been a bit mopey since Kelly showed up, so my friends just wanted to take me out and show me a good time.” He looks over at Niall who already has his arm around Charlotte. “Although, I think they’re bound to have a better night than me.” He sighs.
“You haven’t let on a mopey exterior, you could have told me.”
“It’s really none of your business how I’m feeling, Y/N.”
“You’re being awfully cold to someone who spent the night at your house just watch your dog.”
“You spent the night because it was raining too heavily.”
“And then you made me breakfast.”
“As an extra thank you.”
“You’re annoying.” She takes a sip of her drink and faces forward. “Now I don’t even have my friends to complain about you because you’ve sent them off to your friends.” She rolls her eyes.
“M’not annoying. I’m a fucking delight, just ask Max.”
“Where is he anyways?”
“Home.” Harry shrugs. “He can last a few hours without me. I almost texted you, but I would have felt bad asking again. I know you worked today, I honestly didn’t expect to see you out.”
“It was a long week for everyone. I’m not staying much longer, I have to be at Bento’s at four in the morning.”
“It’s…” Harry looks down at his watch. “Almost midnight, Cinderella.” He smirks at her and she can’t help but laugh. It was a stupid and cheesy joke, but she liked it. “I didn’t mean to be cold…I just didn’t want you to think I was coming over here to pull a move or something.”
“I’m going to remind you again, you sent my friends away.” She smiles and takes a sip of her drink.
“I did.” He nods. “But I’ll remind you, my friend Niall thinks Charlotte is cute. He thought you were cute too, by the way.”
“He did?!” She looks over at them and then back to Harry. “But you sent her off with him?”
“Yup.” He takes a swig of his beer.
“Why?!”
“Could be a little awkward to have my best friend canoodle with my TA.”
“Right, because it would be so easy to get into my bed.” She scoffs.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it. And I’m not one to kiss and tell, so unless he wanted to dish, you wouldn’t have even heard anything from me about it.”
“Doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t have liked it. I don’t know Charlotte so I don’t really care what they do.”
“You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t sleep with just because you’re too chicken to make a move.” Before he can say anything she’s hopping off her stool and heading out of the bar.
She’s just about to order an uber when he grabs her wrist. It was chilly outside, and she could clearly see both of their breaths.
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.” She yanks her wrist free. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to sleep for three hours so I can get up to bake some fucking bread.” She orders her uber, and Nessa comes rushing out.
“Char’s staying inside with, um, Niall? I saw you leave so I thought I’d come…with…you…” She sees Harry who was practically fuming. “Um, I can wait inside, or-“
“It’s fine, the uber will be here in a minute.” She smiles at her friend and then glares at Harry. “At least one of us is going to have a good time tonight.” She seethes.
“I had fun.” Nessa says, and then realizes what Y/N meant. “Oh.”
“Why are you still here? Go inside and find some random to fuck.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Y/N.”
“Sorry, I’m off the clock. I can speak to you however the fuck I want.” She steps closer to him. “I don’t know where you get off being so sweet and kind one moment, and then turning into a major prick the second you feel threatened, but I don’t need this.”
The uber pulls up, and without another word Y/N and Nessa get inside, leaving Harry outside in the cold.
//
Y/N woke up at 3:30AM and groaned, cursing at herself for going out. She only had to work until 9AM and then should could sleep the day away if she wanted. She was still so mad at Harry she could scream. He hadn’t even tried to text her to apologize.
She sighs and makes her way to the kitchen once she’s dressed. She stops short when she sees a half-naked Niall standing in her kitchen, filling two glasses of water.
“Um…hi.” She says to him as she grabs her daily vitamins out of the cabinet.
“Hey.” He smiles. He looks her up and down. “Are you going to work?”
“I am.” She pops the gummy vitamins into her mouth.
“Could you do me a favor?” He steps a little closer to her. “Take it easy on Harry, alright?” Y/N scoffs at him. “I know, he was an asshole last night, but he just want to do anything that could put his job in danger, that’s all.”
“How would I do that? I’m not his student, I’m his colleague.”
“He just feels weird about it, and he’s still figuring out his feelings. I think he likes you, to be quite honest. You’ve…perked him up, well not tonight, but anytime he mentions you he smiles.”
“He…talks about me?”
“Oh sure, all the time actually.” He takes a sip of water. “I better go bring this to her. Just…consider taking it easy on him, he knows he fucked up.”
Y/N nods as Niall makes his way back to Charlotte’s room. She drags herself out to her car and heads to Bento’s. Once she’s inside, she puts some music on and fires up the ovens. She loved baking, it helped clear her head for a little while. She would prep the bacon, get fresh muffins and cookies going, and she would even make croissants. By the time the rest of the morning crew shows up, she’s just about halfway done with everything. She trays up everything to be rolled out for the people working out front. By the time 9AM rolled around she was exhausted, but had mostly forgotten how aggravated she was. She snags a coffee and a muffin on her way out, and stops short when she sees Harry sitting outside with Max.
“Oh, thank god.” He says, standing up. Max sniffs at her feet and she bends down to pet the top of his head. “They said you got off at nine, I hope it’s not weird that I’m here.”
“How long have you been waiting out here?”
“Well, I came by at 6:30 when they opened, but you were really busy, so I just came back twenty minutes ago. Can we talk?”
“Not right now. I’m covered in flour and sweat, and I’d like to take a shower and then take a nap. I got two hours of sleep last night. It was my own doing, but still.”
“When then?”
“I’ll text you.” She shrugs. “Niall spent the night, I bumped into him this morning. He said you fucked up?”
“I did.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Do what you need to do, and then, uh, come bay later, yeah? We can have a late lunch or something, and I can explain myself. Would you like that?”
“Depends, what’s on the menu?”
“S’cold out, do you like grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
“Love it.” She smiles. “I’ll let you know when I wake up.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Y/N takes a nice long shower when she gets home, her roommates still peacefully sleeping. She wondered if Niall was still there or if he slipped out a couple hours after her. She didn’t care that much, she was too tired to care. Once her hair is dry, she slips a t-shirt on and crawls into bed.
“Y/N! I’ve let you sleep long enough, please wake up!” Charlotte was absolutely giddy, and dying to fill Y/N in. It was around 2PM, she definitely caught up on sleep.
“Gimme five minutes!” Y/N yells back. She was groggy and didn’t want to be cranky.
Y/N comes out to the couch and lays down. Nessa was out with Andy, but she had heard about everything earlier. Charlotte brings Y/N a cup of tea and smiles at her.
“Thank you.” She takes a careful sip. “Alright, go ahead.”
“Best sex I’ve ever fucking had!” She squeals. “He had me all over the bed, it was wild. I’m surprised we didn’t wake you.”
“I passed out the second I got home.” She chuckles. “Best you ever had, huh? What exactly did he do?”
“What didn’t he do?! Fingers, tongue, and dick, it was incredible. I rode him, then he got on top, and then he did me from behind, bent me over the bed, I got on top again. His stamina was incredible. I made him some breakfast this morning and then he left.”
“Did he give you his number?”
“He did.” She beams. “He said he wasn’t looking for anything serious at the moment, but I was free to text him anytime I wanted him like that again.” She bites her bottom lip and sinks further into the couch. “I totally don’t mind at all. It would be nice to start up a new little fling. It won’t be weird for you, will it?”
“Not at all, it’s not like you’re…oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.
“What?”
“I totally get where he was coming from now.” She groans.
“What do you mean?”
“He said he told me that, uh, his other friend thought I was cute, and I told him I was mad because he sent the two of you away, and that he couldn’t tell me who I could and couldn’t fuck, but I would have been so mad if you slept with Harry.”
“I wouldn’t have, though. I know how much you like…” She gasps. “Do you think he likes you too?!”
“I don’t know, maybe!” Y/N takes her phone out to text Harry that she’s up and that she’ll be over within the hour. “I’m going to his place for a late lunch, he wants to apologize, but I owe him one just the same. I flipped out for no reason.”
“Well, at least you’re realizing it. Very adult of you.”
“Oh, shut up.” She nudges her and gets up to change.
//
Y/N gets to Harry’s around 3PM. She paired a green cardigan and a black tank top with a pair of jeans. She gets out of the car and rings his bell. She giggles when she hears Max barking from behind the door.
“Shh, it’s just Y/N.” Harry coos to Max as he opens his door. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Um, come in.” He moves aside and lets her in. “Here, think he misses you.” Y/N takes Max from Harry and snuggles him close.
“It’s only been a couple days.” She pouts at the dog.
“Come, sit, the food’s ready.”
Y/N sets Max down and sits down at the table. Harry already had the grilled cheese and soup out on the table.
“This looks good, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Harry…I know you wanted to apologize, but I realized today that you weren’t totally in the wrong.”
“Yes I was.” He sighs and blows on his soup before slurping some from his spoon. “Maybe it wasn’t what I said, but it was how I said it. I overstepped. You’re a grown woman, I had no right to tell my friend he couldn’t hit it on you.”
“Well, it all worked out because Charlotte seems to have a new fuck buddy on her hands.” She chuckles and takes a bite of her sandwich. “Look, I appreciate you saying all that, but when I was talking to her earlier, I realized I would have done the same thing. I would have told my friends not to flirt with you or try to pick you up, and I would have been pissed if one of them slept with you.”
“You would have?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” She grumbles. “I…I mean…”
“We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place here, Y/N.” He sighs and sits back in his chair.
“We are?”
“Yes. I did a lot of thinking last night, did some talking with my friends. I had to really think about why I got so upset. The thing is, you’re my TA, and you’re going to be my TA next semester as well, most likely. I have a meeting about it Monday. Selfishly, I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“In more ways than one, obviously.” She smirks.
“Don’t be cute.” He gives her a playful smile. “I think I’d miss you too much, to be honest. I like sharing my office with you. Your help with Max has been great, you’re, like, part of my life now.”
“Is there some rule that says that we can’t…like…go out?”
“I don’t know…I think it would look unprofessional on my part. I know you’re not one of my students, so it’s not as bad as that, but I still have a position of power over you, and if someone found out something was going, it could look really bad. I wouldn’t want something to taint your reputation either.”
“Well, I’ve been over here twice now, and no one’s said a thing.”
“You haven’t been on campus since Thursday. Someone could easily say something to us Monday.”
“A lot of people know I help with Max.”
“Some people may know you used to be a student of mine as well. They could assume something’s been going on for years.”
“Not true, wouldn’t people know about Kelly?” Harry grimaces at the name. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
“So…I feel like we’re just going around in circles here, Harry. Like, what are we doing?”
“Well, if I vouch for you to be my TA again next semester, would you? The course would be for Creativity and the Visual World, and I think you could really shine there, talk about IDS. Also, I don’t know what your plans are after you graduate, or where you’ll want to go, but I’ve caught wind that one of the instructional designers on campus is going to retire at the end of the school year.”
“Wow, so you’re like really trying to keep me around.” She smirks.
“It’s not like that.” He chuckles. “I just mean, it could be a good first gig for you. You’re very good at all that, thought you might be interested to know there’s going to be an opening. You know the campus well, it would be a smooth transition for you.”
“That would be ideal, I do want to work in higher ed when I’m done.”
“I could help you with your cover letter, I’m really good at writing those. I’ve helped plenty of students.”
“I’ll definitely look into it.” She finishes what she can of the food, and sits back as well.
“I really am sorry about last night, I felt awful.”
“It’s okay, I really get it.” She sighs. “So…I still don’t know what we’re doing. Are we just choosing not to date anyone else and also not each other? Why should I wait until I graduate to be with someone?”
“M’not asking you to do that. I don’t really know what I’m asking you to do. I just don’t want to be a cliché. The young professor getting with someone that works for him. I’m attracted to you, I can admit that, but I don’t want to get fired, nor do I want your name getting dragged through the mud.”
“So, essentially, while I’m your TA we can’t do anything.”
“Correct.”
“And you’d rather suffer and have me be your TA again next semester just to have me around you, even though it would mean we still couldn’t do anything.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, after the holidays I’ll be staying at my apartment for winter break. We pay for a full year, and I like having the time alone. I also still work at Bento’s.” She stands up and puts her things in the sink.
“What are you saying exactly?”
“I’m saying, over winter break we’re in limbo. I won’t be your TA, and I’ll be all alone in my three bedroom apartment. Perhaps there’ll be a night I’m feeling especially lonely and you’ll have the marvelous idea of visiting me with Max, and whatever happens will happen.”
“And then what? Act like it didn’t when the spring semester starts?”
“I guess we’d cross that bridge when we come to it. All I know is that for six weeks, you will in no way have a position of power over me. By the way, I’m twenty-three years old, it’s like you said, I’m a grown woman. You’re not taking advantage of me. I know how it would look to others, so I can respect where you’re coming from. However, I’d like to try things out before I tell someone I’m going to wait for them.”
With that, Y/N gives Max one last squeeze, and out the door she goes. She was proud of herself. Harry liked her, and he wanted to be with her. It was a dream come true. She also didn’t mind sort of waiting for him, it would just make things all the more hot when they’d finally be able to come together.
//
The rest of the semester went by…okay. There was a lot of tension, a lot of it. Harry was just thankful it was getting colder which meant that Y/N was bundling up more. She did, however, look insanely cute in her many layers and scarves. They were busy grading, not having much time for chat chit. She started going over his place more, though. They would have little grading parties where they could just spread out and get things done. His place was also another quiet haven for her to escape to.
Charlotte hooked with Niall almost every weekend, it was pretty cute. They were having fun, and Y/N was happy for her friend. Even though sometimes Y/N wished Harry would just fuck her on his kitchen table on top of all the graded papers and tests, and maybe sometimes he fantasized about the same thing, but it had to stay professional. She didn’t want him regretting anything. Sometimes he would come into Bento’s when she was working, she even snuck him in early one morning to show him how she made the croissants he liked so much. They were essentially dating, but without all the physical stuff.
At least Y/N could catch some relief later at night in her bed. She didn’t think of Harry at first. Her routine mostly consisted of headphones, pornhub, and a few orgasms. But there was one particular night her and Harry were sitting in front of his fireplace, and he just looked so sexy, and she wanted him to take her on his living room floor, she didn’t even care if her tailbone would be bruised the next day. She still hadn’t even seen his fucking bedroom, it was the one part of the house she wasn’t allowed in. So she start fantasizing about his bed, and then one thing led to another and she ended up moaning out his name in a shallow breath. It had caught her by surprise, and she was almost embarrassed about it.
Harry would have been lying if he said he wasn’t doing the same thing. It mostly happened early in the morning when he’d take his shower. It just sort of happened. He woke up one morning, rolled over and wished she was there next to him. He had seen her fall asleep so many times, and he thought she was incredibly cute. He liked having Max in the bed, but he wanted Y/N. So when he got into the shower he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t feel embarrassed, he didn’t feel guilty, he mostly felt annoyed because he just wanted the real thing.
It was confirmed that Y/N would be his TA again in the spring, and they were both exited. He liked having her in his office, and he thought they worked together really well. It was worth it, it was all going to be worth it.
Harry went home to London for the holidays, and Y/N went home to her parents’ house. It was a tough goodbye. They hugged, and maybe they kissed each other on the cheek, but neither wanted to let go. Y/N loved seeing her family, but ten days was plenty. She liked having her apartment to herself. Nessa and Charlotte wouldn’t be back for a few weeks. That meant Y/N could watch whatever she wanted on TV, she didn’t have to worry about being quiet on the early mornings she had to work, and she could take a long shower.
A big snow storm was coming, which was starting to make Y/N nervous. Stores were closing in preparation, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to weather it alone.
Y/N: are you back from London? Can’t remember when you said you’d be home…
Harry: hey! I was just going to message you, I got back yesterday, was just sleeping off the jetlag. What’s up?
Y/N: this impending storm is freaking me out…
Harry: do you wanna get snowed in at my place? Just stalked up at the grocery store…
Y/N: are you sure? I don’t wanna be a burden :(
Harry: you wouldn’t be! You know I want to see you, so does Max :)
Y/N: okay! I’ll pack a bag and head over, see you soon!
Harry had been cute while he was away, sending Y/N a few selfies of him and Max. She had been to his house so many times, this wouldn’t be weird at all to spend a couple of snowy days together. She gets all her things packed, and makes her way to Harry’s. It was just starting to flurry when she parked in his driveway. He comes outside to help her with her things.
“And this time, you’ll let me set up the pullout for you. No need to sleep on a couch for two days.”
“Okay.”
She was hoping he’d give in and let her sleep in his bed with him. Actually, she was hoping he’d pick her up, swing her around, and kiss her. He sets her things down and waits for her to take her coat off, then he hugs hers.
“Had a good holiday?” He asks as he lets her go.
“Yeah, it was good. You?”
“It was great, love getting to see my family.” Max comes trotting in and greets Y/N.
“There’s my little man.” She scoops him up and gives him kisses.
“I was just going to make some tea, would you like some?”
“Please.” She plops down with Max on the couch.
“Do you have to work at Bento’s during all this? I can drive you if you want.”
“No, they closed in preparation of the storm.”
“Oh, good!”
Y/N turns the TV on, and scrolls through Netflix for something simple to watch. Harry comes over with two mugs of tea and he sits down next to her.
“Find anything good? Feel like it’s all Christmas movies right now.”
“Nothing yet…” She squints at the TV. “How about…oh! Have you watched Love, Victor yet? It’s been on my list for ages.”
“Is it based off of Love, Simon?”
“Yeah! This kid Victor is new in town, and ends up going to the same school Simon did.”
“Sure, we could watch that.”
“Shit, it’s on Hulu, you have that right?”
“Mhm, gimme the remote, I’ll switch it over.” She hands it to him and sips on her tea while he queues it up.
“Mm, this is tasty, what is it?”
“It’s black tea with honey, love.” He looks at her wants to laugh. “I don’t usually add anything, but I thought you’d like the honey.”
“It’s perfect, thank you.”
The show starts just as the sun was setting outside. Y/N pulls the blanket Harry keeps on the back of the couch over her legs, and Max moves to Harry’s lap.
“Let me know if I’m being a blanket hog.”
“S’alright, he keeps me pretty warm.”
“Don’t be annoying.” She huffs and spreads the blanket out equally over them. “See, nice and cozy.”
“I’m not being annoying, I’m being…respectful.”
“Golly gee, thanks, mister.” She pouts at him and he rolls his eyes.
“Now who’s being annoying?”
A couple of episodes in, and Harry’s stomach starts rumbling.
“Are you hungry? I can pop a pizza in the oven, or make some pasta?”
“Pizza would be perfect, thank you.”
“Pause it, I just need a minute to get it in the oven.”
Y/N nods and scrolls through her phone while she waits for him to come back. This was nice. It was like they were hanging out as friends, which was okay, but she was hoping he’d make a move for fuck’s sake.
“Alright, should be about fifteen minutes.” He smiles and gets back under the blanket. Y/N presses and play and they get back into it.
After the pizza, they nearly almost binge the entire show. Harry was starting to doze off, so they decide to call it a night. He looks outside in the kitchen window.
“I am not looking forward to digging out our cars. Times like this I wish I had a garage.” He sighs.
“You say that like you’ll be doing it alone. I’ve got all my snow gear, I can help.”
“Right, like I’d let you break your back out there.” He scoffs, and puts his hand on her shoulder. “Let me make up the pullout for you.”
Y/N watches as Harry moves the coffee table, and hoists the pullout into place. The sheets were already on it, so he just lays the blankets and pillows out.
“Well, I’ll be upstairs with Max if you need anything. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, thanks again for letting me stay. I think I would have been scared all alone.”
“No worries, I’m glad you’re here. I, uh, missed you over the holidays.” He clears his throat and heads upstairs.
Y/N does her nightly routine and puts on a tank top and pajama pants for bed. She gets onto the pullout and tries to listen to some music to fall asleep, but the wind was whipping so harshly outside, it was making her uneasy. She hated storms more than anything. Would Harry mind if she crawled into bed with him? She could even sleep on the floor. She just didn’t want to be down here alone. She sighs and slowly gets out of the bed. She makes her way upstairs.
Harry’s bedroom was the entire upstairs, it was sort of like a loft. He had a king sized bed, a decent looking bedroom set, and an en suite. Y/N thought it was really nice, well, what she could make out of it since it was so dark.
“Harry?” She whispers. His head was in his pillow, sleeping on his tummy.
“Mm?” He grunts, clearly out of it.
“I’m a little scared downstairs, would it be alright if I slept on the floor up here?”
“Get in.” He mumbles.
“Really, are you sure? Because I-“
He flips some of the covers back, eyes still closed. Y/N takes a deep breath and gets into the bed. Max was half asleep, but he moves away from Harry to make room for her, plopping down near his feet. Y/N climbs in and faces away from him. This was such a large bed for one guy, and it made her wonder who was the last person to share it with him. She wanted to keep a respectful distance from him, but before she could start counting sheep, his arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him. Her breath hitched, but she could hear his steady breathing, he was definitely asleep. He must just sleep better when he’s holding onto something, she thinks.
//
Harry’s eyes flutter open around 5AM. He was used to getting up that early to take Max out, but for some reason he felt like he got some of the most restful sleep he’s gotten in a long time. He feels warm and cozy, and even though he knows he needs to get up and brave the cold so his dog could relieve himself, he found himself nuzzling in to whatever he was holding onto.
That’s when it hits him that he wasn’t dreaming last night, and Y/N genuinely came up into his room because she was feeling uneasy being all alone downstairs. She was still fully clothed, but he wasn’t he was only in his boxers. His leg was between hers, and she was pressed up against him. He wondered if she slept well like this. Just because he slept better holding onto something didn’t mean that she would.
He makes subtle movements, not wanting to wake her. He nearly winced leaving the warmth of the bed, but he got through it. Max pops his head up and Harry puts his finger up to his lips to signal that he needed to be quiet. Harry snatches his sweatpants and a pair of socks, and grabs Max to take him downstairs. He throws his coat and boots on, gets the leash on Max, and out the door he goes. He shoves his beanie down over his ears as he feels the wind whip around. There were snow drifts everywhere and it was still coming down. He uses the flashlight on his phone so Max could see what he was doing.
“Come on, buddy, I know it’s cold, but Daddy doesn’t wanna be out here long.” He wanted to get back to Y/N.
Once Max does his business, Harry gets him so food and fresh water. He strips himself of his jacket and socks, but leaves his sweatpants on. He was shirtless, but he was too groggy from the morning to care. Once Max is all set, Harry carries him upstairs so his collar doesn’t jingle around. He plops him on the bed, and he goes right over to Y/N to curl up with her. Harry uses the bathroom quick, brushing his teeth and all that, and then slowly slides back into bed. Y/N hadn’t moved, still laying on her side facing away from him, so he just wraps himself back around her. Well, he thought she hadn’t moved. The second she heard the door close downstairs, she sprinted down to “her” bathroom to wash up and brush her own teeth. She wasn’t sure if morning snuggles would ensue, but she wanted to be fresh if they did.
A sigh leaves Harry’s lips as he settles back in, pressing nice and close to her and keeping his arm around her waist. She gives it a few minutes, and then she adjust against him. She could tell he was wearing sweatpants now, and not just his boxers. She was subtle about it, not fully pressing her ass against him, just a simple adjustment, so he didn’t think anything of it. After another couple of moments, she presses back into him, and he involuntarily presses forward towards her. He was definitely starting to get hard. He grips her waist a little tighter as he continues to press into her.
“Mm, Harry?” She rolls onto her back to look up at him.
“Hi.” He moves his hand away from her lower stomach to move some hair away from her face. “How’d you end up here, hm?” He asks softly.
“Storms really scare me, and the wind was loud.” She starts smiling. “Feel much better now.” His hand slides down to cup her jaw. “I asked first and you told me to get in.”
“I did, didn’t I…”
“Pulled me right up close to you, it was nice.” She sighs.
“Can’t remember the last time I slept so well, to be honest.”
He lets go of her and flops onto his back, groaning. She rolls onto her side and props herself up with her elbow, resting her cheek on her palm.
“You make things so difficult for yourself. I’m not your TA right now.”
“But you will be again.”
“Because you wanted me to be.”
He looks at her and pouts.
“We’ll see each other more this way.”
“But…wouldn’t it be nice to go out on dates and touch and-“
“You’ve seen how busy I am, I rarely have time to see my friends as it is. I’d feel guilty for not being able to do those things with you.”
“You have me to yourself for the next four weeks, Harry, and the girls won’t be back until a week before school starts.”
“We’d have to stop when the semester starts back up, and wait again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that.”
“We could be discrete.”
“I’d have to be a little cold towards you.”
“You’re no stranger to that.” She scoffs.
“Y/N.” Harry’s hand finds her hip. “This is serious.”
“I’m about to graduate, from grad school, Harry. It’s not like I’m some eighteen year old girl sitting in one of your classes. I’m twenty-three, and you’re twenty-six, it’s really not that weird.”
“I’ll be twenty-seven next month.” He mutters.
“Great, then we can go out and celebrate when the time comes. Is there something in a handbook saying we can’t…do this?”
“It’s extremely frowned upon, I can assure you.” He groans again before speaking. “This is so frustrating, it’s not like you’re my first TA either, fuck, even I was a TA. Shit like this never happened. I’ve never been…attracted to someone I’ve worked with before.”
“You’re probably the only professor I’ve been into before.”
“See, right there, you had a thing for me when you were in my class only a couple of years ago, and-“
“And nothing happened then. You barely remembered me when I first came to your office. I was a flustered senior, that was it. Now…well, I know you now. I’m way less nervous around, I feel like I can really talk to you.”
“I feel the same way.” He sighs. “Fucking, Christ.” He yanks her down to her chest, and she yelps. His fingers scratch at her scalp and she nearly whimpers at how nice it feels to lay on his chest, having him play with her hair. “We can lay here a little longer, and then I need to go to move some of the snow.”
“I’m helping.” She puts a leg over his. “And you’re still a little…riled up, don’t you want to-“
“No.”
“But I could-“
“Y/N.” She looks up at him. “Just lay here with me.”
They both doze back off for a bit until Max starts barking. He must need to pee. Harry gets up and tells Y/N she can shower if she wants to.
“I’ll wait, I’ll get sweaty shoveling.”
“It’s my house, you don’t need to help.” He throws on a long sleeve shirt and thick socks. He looks at her crossing her arms over her chest. “Here.” He tosses her one of his sweaters. “Come on, Max.”
They all head downstairs. His sweater smelled just like him. She hoped she could keep this too just like with the pj’s he had given her a couple of months ago. He takes Max out quick, and then sets him back inside so he can get to shoveling. Y/N decides she could make him breakfast since he wouldn’t let her help outside.
She goes through his fridge and cupboards to find some different things. She wanted to make something that would take some time so it would be warm for him when he got inside.
“Muffins!” She says to herself as she rifles through his baking supplies.
She whips up a mixture of blueberry muffins and get them popped in the oven. She has the glorious idea to slice them in half and butt them up on his griddle when they’re done, just to give it a little crunch. Next, she cracks some eggs into the pan, and makes them sunny side down because she remembers him making them that way. She even finds some bacon to throw on the griddle.
When he comes inside, his nostrils are hit with everything she’s made. Everything was on plates on the kitchen table, and she was washing everything in the sink. He strips down to his boxers, having been drenched with sweat after digging out their cars. The snow was still falling, but it was good to get ahead of things before it all froze.
“Harry, I made…” She freezes when she looks at him. Seeing his full body in the light was much different than in the hazy darkness of his bedroom.
“I didn’t know I had blueberry muffins.” He says as he looks down at the plates.
“You, um, you didn’t, I made them.”
“From scratch?”
“Well, yeah.”
He picks up the muffin bottom and takes a bite. His eyes close for a second as he gets a good taste. It was buttery and a bit crisp from being on the griddle. It was perfection. He turns to her after he swallows.
“You’re…a literal angel.” He steps closer to her, and he notices her eyes drift down and back up. “I’ll go put some clothes, and then-“
She puts a hand on his chest. Her eyes plead with his. Just kiss me, she silently says to him. His hands fly up to her jaw, and he pulls her in, lips crashing together, finally. She melts into him immediately. His tongue slides along her bottom lip, and she opens up for him. She can taste the blueberry muffin on him, and it makes her suck on his tongue. He groans against her, and his hands slide down to her ass to get a good squeeze. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him even closer.
“Harry.” She breathes against his lips.
He gets a good grip on her and lifts her up to sit her on the counter. He quickly draws the shades for the window above the sink so anyone out shoveling wouldn’t be able to see anything. He tugs at the sweater of his he was wearing and lifts it off her. Her legs open wide for him to stand between. His lips attach to the crook of her neck, sucking, licking, biting. Her hips buck towards his as she tugs at his hair. One of his hands lifts her shirt slightly, and she thinks he’s going to feel her breasts up, but instead his fingers find the band of her pajama pants. He stops to look at her.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
His hand dips below, and it’s almost like he’s searching for something else.
“Are you not wearing any knickers?”
“No.” She blinks at him. “I don’t usually wear underwear to bed.”
“Jesus Christ.”
She opens her legs a little wider for him, and he groans when his fingers touch around her folds, and he feels her wetness sticking to him already. His other arm wraps around behind her to hold her close to him. He plays around with her, fingers rubbing all around until his middle finger slides in. She gasps, not having expected so much so soon, but she wasn’t complaining. She clutches at his shoulders when she feels another finger slip inside. He twists them around, just getting a feel for things, and he curls them up, knowing this was what she really wanted.
“Oh! Oh my god.” Her head rolls back. He was make that come here motion right on that sweet spot of her front wall. His lips find her neck again as he continues. His thumb starting to rub on her clit. “Oh fuck, Harry, oh my god.” She didn’t realize how whiney she could sound, but he loved. She was a mess for him.
“Been thinking about this for so long.” He says into her ear.
“Me too.” She was panting now. “It feels so good.”
“Yeah? Like having my fingers buried inside you?”
Her mouth falls open. He was into dirty talk and it made her clench around him.
“Yes, oh my fucking god, yes.” She bites down on his collar bone to try to muffle any louder noises, but he was knuckle deep, fucking her with his fingers, it was no use. “Harry, I’m so close, oh fuck!”
His hand around her waist reaches up to tug at the back of her head. He wanted to watch her go through the motions. He wanted to see just how good he was making her feel. Her eyes rolls into the back of her head as she continues to beck forward. Her release was long, and so very good. She cried out, maybe a little louder than she should have, but he wasn’t telling her to keep it down. Did he want his neighbors to hear? Did he want them to know how good he could fuck someone?
He slows down his motions inside of her, helping her through the aftershocks, and then he slowly retracts his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth and then steps away from her. She was breathless. He kisses her cheeks and then helps her hop down from the counter.
“You made such a nice breakfast, let’s not let it go to waste.”
“Harry…” She watches him sit down.
“What?”
“Don’t you want to-“
“I’m all sweaty, I’d like to take a shower before going further if that’s alright with you.”
“Okay.”
She sits down with him and eats her food that she was now ravenous for.
“You really made this from scratch?”
“Yeah, I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s delicious.”
They finish eating and decide to clean up later. She follows him upstairs to his shower. He helps her out of her clothes and lets her get in first. She throws her hair up into a bun so it doesn’t get soaked. He rids himself of his boxers and gets in behind her. She moves aside so he can wash up. She presses her front to his back, and her hands roam along his long torso.
“You made me feel so good, I think it’s your turn.”
She kisses on his back while she starts to stroke his hardening length. It felt so big in her hand. Harry’s head falls to his chest, and he presses a palm to the tile wall to keep himself grounded. She runs her thumb over his tip and he groans. He grabs her hand and turns around. He backs her up to the opposite wall, cradling the back of her head as he basically slams her against it. His lips are on hers in seconds. Everything felt hot and wet, and just otherworldly. Y/N couldn’t enough. In the back of her head she kept thinking that she couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t often that she got what she wanted.
“Please, fuck me.” She says against his lips.
“I don’t have any condoms.” He kisses down her neck and kneads her breasts.
“I’m on the pill.”
“S’not what I’m worried about.” He pulls his head back to look at her. “Are you clean?”
“I am, actually. I was tested last time I went to the doctor. Are you?”
“I am.” He smiles. “So…you really wanna feel all of me? Just like that?”
“Yes.” She whines. “Please.”
He kisses her and bites on her bottom lip, sucking on it as he pleases. He lifts one of legs up over his hip, and uses his other hand to line himself up. She was still plenty wet, so he’s able to push inside.
“Fuck, Y/N.” He grunts, trying to push further inside her. “So tight.”
“I…Christ, I think you’re just really big.” She gasps once he’s all the way inside.
His head drops to watch himself slowly thrust in and out of her. He bites his bottom lip at the sight. He looks back up at her, watching her features.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Could you maybe just hold my leg up?”
Harry nods and hooks his arm under leg, driving in deeper. Her head rolls back against the tile. Once he knew she was okay, he didn’t let up. He was fucking her hard and fast, only slowing up so he could hear her whimper and beg for more. Her nails were clawing at his back, and it was just egging him on. He uses his other hand to rub at her clit. She was starting to breathe heavier, moan after moan leaving her lips. He could tell she was close.
“Gonna come again for me?”
“Yes, fuck, I’m almost there, Harry!”
He sucks the tender skin of her neck between his teeth, and that’s what pushes her over the edge. Her senses totally overwhelmed. He gasps when he feels how deeply her nails dig into him from going through the motions of her orgasm. He pulls out of her quickly and comes on her stomach. He’s out of breath, pressing kisses to her cheek and neck.
“No going back now.” He says as he caresses her cheek.
“Nope.” She smiles.
He pecks her lips and turns back around to stand in the water again. Her eyes grow wide and he winces once the water cascades over him.
“Harry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”
“It didn’t hurt while it was happening, is it bleeding?” He looks over his shoulder trying to see for himself.
“Um…I broke the skin, but it’s not bloody.” She blushes. “Yikes, that’s embarrassing.”
“No it’s not.” He chuckles and moves so she can rinse her stomach off in the water. She turns it off and they both step out to towel off. “I wasn’t hurting you was I?”
“No, oh my god, it felt so good. Feels like I’m still throbbing.”
He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. She rests her hands on his chest.
“Do you like ice skating?”
“What?” She laughs. “Yeah, I love it, why?”
“Because once this storm is over, m’taking you on a proper date.” He kisses her forehead and lets her go. “Would you like that?”
“I’d love it.”
Harry was so peculiar, Y/N thought. One second he’s saying they can’t be together and the next he wants to take her out on a date. What she didn’t know was that he had never felt quite so good while having sex. It wasn’t because she felt incredibly tight around him, it had more to do with the trust and natural connect. He felt happy, a feeling he thought would never return.
//
To Y/N’s surprise, Harry was a really good ice skater. The two of them were like a real couple. He would visit her at work, they’d go out to the bar with his friends, and they’d have sleep overs at each other’s places. He quite liked her apartment. Not to mention, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. If they were going for a brisk walk, his hand was in hers. If they were sitting through a move, his arm was around her shoulders, and of course they were having a lot of sex. Even when she had her period, he fucked her.
“Got my red wings years ago, promise it doesn’t gross me out.” He had told her.
And god, when he ate her out. Sometimes they wouldn’t even have full on sex. Sometimes they’d be on the couch, and he’d ask if she would ride her face, and then they would just sixty-nine. Sometimes she would just blow him because she liked the way his come tasted. Harry drank a fuck ton of pineapple juice, even before they started hooking up, he always had a small can of it in his office. He just liked the taste. They were just intimate in all sorts of ways, totally comfortable.
It was when Nessa and Charlotte returned that Harry’s bubbled had to burst. School would be starting in a week, and he needed to make sure his shit was together. He had been to the office a few times, working to make sure his courses were together. He and Y/N were professional and went over the class she would be the TA for.
“This is gonna have to be what it’s like when school starts again, don’t forget.” He would say. It killed her, but she would never do anything to put his job at risk, even if she didn’t think their situation was all that serious. She had to respect his wishes.
“I’d feel more comfortable if you slept over at my place since their home.”
“Harry, they know what’s been going on…Niall and Charlotte still talk, and they-“
“I don’t care, I’d rather you be here…and only on the weekends.”
“What?”
“Saturday nights can be our night. On the weekends, you’re not my TA.”
“What will I be then?”
“My girl.”
They had put the boyfriend/girlfriend label chat on the back burner, but that was all she needed to hear to know that she was really his, and he certainly didn’t want someone else trying to steal her away. He had gotten her a necklace, it was simple, but very much her style. A way of showing her how much she truly meant to him.
“Anytime during the week you’re feeling like I don’t want you because I can’t show my affection, this will be your reminder of how much I care.”
She thought it was incredibly sweet, and it was nice to have the reassurance. When classes started, it was definitely difficult. The one thing getting her through this first week was his birthday party on Saturday. Just a small thing with friends at the bar, but still. They wouldn’t have to hide there, or so she thought. Some other professors were invited to the party, which meant Harry couldn’t touch Y/N. He frowned immediately. He wasn’t in charge of the guest list. He pulls Y/N to the side before they walk into the main area.
“I’m so sorry, I promise when we get back to my place later I’m gonna love on you all night.”
“Harry, it’s okay. It’s your birthday, I’m the one that’ll be doing the loving. Go on, enjoy.”
He gives her a discrete peck on the cheek, and then walks into the main room to say hello to everyone. Y/N invited Charlotte and Nessa, so she had other people to talk to. Niall’s arm was hooked around Charlotte’s waist the entire night. Y/N and Nessa teased her every chance they got.
“I’ve been told to check in on you. Orders from the birthday boy.” Louis says to Y/N.
“Thanks.” She chuckles. “It’s okay. Next year things will be totally different.”
“Really see things lasting then, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I think so, yeah. If the person who he said actually retires, I’m hoping to be able to work at the university to start out.”
“That would be great. He raves about you, you know? He’s a simple guy, likes being domestic. I think he said one of his favorite things to do with you is just cook a meal together.”
“Aw, he’s so sweet.” She pouts. “I like doing that too.”
Harry was mingling with everyone that came out for his birthday. Everyone sang to him, a cake was made him too. The second he tasted it he knew Y/N had baked it. He thought at the least they could have their picture taken together, that wouldn’t look weird.
“Harry!” One of the faculty members, Constance, comes over to him, a young woman by her side. “There’s someone I want you to meet, this is my daughter, Angie.”
“Oh! Hi, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He politely shakes her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” She blushes.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Constance winks and walks away.
“I’m so sorry about her. She conned me into coming here, hope I’m not crashing your birthday.”
“You’re not.” He looks back at Y/N and then to Angie. “So, this is a set up then?”
“She seems to think we have a lot in common.”
“And perhaps we might, but…I’m sort of seeing someone. It’s a…long distance thing, so she’s not here tonight, unfortunately.”
“Oh! She could have sworn you were single, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’m sure you’re lovely, I just really like this woman and I don’t want to screw it up.” He smiles and she nods.
Harry finally makes his way over to Y/N and Louis.
“Do me a favor,” He says to Louis, taking out his phone. “Take a picture of us.”
“Are you sure?” Y/N asks.
“Positive.” He smiles and puts an arm around her shoulders. Louis snaps a couple of shots and hands Harry his phone back. “Sorry you won’t be able to post these…”
“Well, I could, my insta is private, but we can talk about it later.”
“Lou, could you drop Y/N off at my place when this is over, we drove together, but I don’t wanna risk anyone seeing us leave in the same car.”
“Course, mate.”
Harry nods and walks away to continue talking to other people.
“He acts like you’re his student. I don’t see anything wrong with you two doing what you’re doing.”
“I don’t either.” She sighs. “But he worked so hard to get where he is, I have to respect doing things his way. It was a long week, but I’m happy to be going back to his place later.”
Y/N’s lips were on Harry’s the second he let her through the door. He made sure to get home before her so they didn’t even leave at the same time. She had him pushed against the wall and his hands were all over her.
“Missed you so fucking much.” He says, walking her back towards the living room. “And I loved the watch you got me, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Wanted to.” She starts unbuttoning his shirt and pushes him down on the couch, straddling him in no time.
“Gonna let me lick it, angel?”
“Is that what you want?”
“You have no idea. You’re as sweet as the cake you made me.”
“How did-“
“Y/N, I know it’s only been a month, but I’d know your baked goods anywhere.” He smirks.
She giggles and stands up to unbutton her jeans. He yanks them down her legs along with her panties and she kicks them to the side. Harry lays down on the couch and Y/N hovers over his face. He liked it better this way. One, he didn’t have to get on his knees and suffer through the pain of being on the hardwood. Two, he liked the way Y/N would just ride his tongue.
Max was upstairs, thanks to the gate. So they didn’t have to worry about him coming down and jumping on them.
“Fuck, Harry.” She moans. “Your tongue feels so good.” She rocks her hips back and forth on him, the stubble from his chin feeling extra delicious. He moans against her, lapping up every drop. “You like that, birthday boy? Like having me on you like this?” She looks down at him and see his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He sucks on her clit harshly, and that pushes her over the edge. “Oh, fuck!”
Once she’s through, she climbs off him. Before she knows it, he’s throwing her over his shoulder to bring her upstairs. He gives her bum a smack and she squeals. Y/N left plenty of scratch marks on Harry that night.
//
Y/N was antsy for every weekend. The weeks dragged on, and the weekends went by in a flash. Then she remembered something wonderful.
“Spring break!” She says, bursting into their shared office.
“What about it?” Harry chuckles.
“Two weeks off without the students!” She leans a little closer to him. “Two weeks of me not being your TA.” She grins and then sits down in her seat.
“We’ll be grading, darling.” He says nonchalantly.
“This is a pet name free zone, remember?”
“Sorry.” He smirks. “Didn’t think ‘darling’ would get your knickers in twist.”
“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes. “Do we seriously have to grade? Can’t we do fun things? I have time off from school, I don’t wanna do anything.”
“M’surprised you don’t want to go home or go with your friends somewhere.”
“I’ve done the whole go to Florida and get blitzed thing, I’m all set. And I may go home for a couple of days, but I don’t really like being home long. Somehow I get stuck doing chores, and I get aggravated.”
“I’ll tell you what, if we get through enough of the grading, we can do something really fun.”
“Deal.” She smiles.
Sometimes Y/N felt like this was only hard for her, but it killed Harry. He had fantasies of bending Y/N over his desk, or even just kissing her good morning. He even started letting her come over on Friday nights instead of Saturday because he just couldn’t wait any longer. He knew he was being overly careful, but he just couldn’t risk it.
//
Harry stayed true to his word. They got through a lot of the grading so drove them out to the coast for a walk on the pier at a large beach. It was still too chilly for real beach weather, but there were less people around this time of year, and some of the shops were open. Y/N clung to Harry’s arm and they both just enjoyed the fresh air and the scenery. He took her to a nice dinner, and then they walked for a bit to watch the sunset.
“This was the perfect day.” She sighs as they begin their drive back to his place.
“It really was.” His rests his hand on her thigh and gives it a squeeze. “I love you, Y/N.”
She whips her head to look at him. His eyes were focused on the road. Tears start to prick at her eyes. No one ever said that to her before. She had been in relationships, but she never really got to a point for such strong words, and she certainly never felt it back.
“I love you, too.”
“Aw, look at us.” He smiles. “Two people in love.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to say that…” She sniffles.
“Hey, no need to cry, darling.”
“I just…no one’s ever told me they loved me before.”
“What?!” He squeezes her leg tighter. “But there’s so much to love. You’re kind, caring, an incredible baker, witty, funny, brilliant-“
“Harry, please.” She chuckles. “When we get home we’re making love.”
“I’ve made love to you before, just didn’t say anything. Anytime we’re really soft and careful, I’m making love to you.”
“God.” Her face flushes, thinking of the many sensual times he’s touched her. “Well, I can’t wait to do it again.”
//
It was a Tuesday, which meant Y/N wouldn’t be in the office with Harry. She had class and then a shift at Bento’s. He wanted her to be able to nap in between. He saw that the open IDS position had been posted, and he emailed her immediately. He couldn’t wait to work on her resume and cover letter together.
“Harry?” Constance knocks on the outside of his door.
“Hey, Connie! Come on in.” He beams at her. She squints at his collar, seeing just the top of a love bite.
“Did you see that girlfriend of yours this weekend?” She asks, as she sits down.
“Sure did.” He smiles. “I saw her for a while over spring break too, told her I loved her, and she said it back. I’m on cloud nine. M’sorry things didn’t line up with your daughter, she’s a very pretty girl. My friend Lou is single, maybe-“
“Harry, Harry.” She chuckles. “No worries at all, she’s been dating around a bit. I shouldn’t have just assumed you were single, and that’s great that you two are doing so well. I think I thought you weren’t seeing anyone because with your last girlfriend…well…you had pictures of her on your desk, and you gushed about her. We don’t even know this one’s name.”
“You will soon enough.” Harry did have pictures of Y/N, they were just discrete. His lock screen was the picture of them at his birthday, and his wallpaper was just a picture of her. He could look at her whenever he wanted. “She’s, uh, finishing up grad school.”
“Oh, good for her! Anyways, I came here to chat with you about my sabbatical. Obviously it’s turned into a full year instead of just the fall semester. We’re going to have a department meeting, but I wanted to see how you’d feel about stepping in as department chair while I’m gone.”
“Are you serious?!” He perks up.
“Yes.” She chuckles.
“That would be a dream! I have so many ideas, and-“
“It would mean you wouldn’t be able to teach as many classes, and you’ll have more responsibilities over winter and summer break.”
“That’s no problem, honestly. I only go to London for a couple of weeks, I’m usually in the area for summer. I’d love to give it a go. I didn’t think I’d be next in line.”
“It’s coming from my own suggestion. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I think you’d be great at it. It would sort of be a trial, and then when I come back we could reflect on the experience.”
Harry was buzzing, absolutely buzzing. He needed to tell Y/N about his good news, so he hops in his car, and zips over to her apartment. She was vegging out in a t-shirt and panties with Nessa and Charlotte, who were both dressed in the same thing. They hear the bell on their door.
“Who the fuck is that? It’s nearly nine.” Nessa says.
“No idea.” Y/N says, getting up to check it out. She sees Harry through the peephole. Her eyebrows raise, but she opens the door. “Dr. Styles, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Y/N, I’m sorry for…” He looks her up and down. “This is how you open the door?!”
“I saw it was you.” She shrugs and steps aside to let him in.
“Hi, Harry.” Charlotte and Nessa say at the same time.
“Hi girls.” He smiles and looks at Y/N. “I got great news today and I just had to see you, can we got to your room?”
“Of course.” Once they’re both in there, they sit on her bed. “So what’s up? I got your email about the job, I’m really excited.”
“Good news for both of us today. Connie, my department chair, came by to see me today, and she wants me to be department chair while she’s on sabbatical next year while she’s gone. It would be like a trial run. Me! Department chair! I have so many ideas, this is the opportunity I’ve been hoping for.”
“Oh, Harry.” She throws her arms around him. “That’s incredible, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks.” He holds her in his arms for a moment and then lets her go so he can stand up. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Harry…” She whines.
“Don’t start, I just wanted to see your face when I told you.”
“You could have FaceTimed me.”
“Oh.” He shakes his head. “It’s been a long day.” He chuckles.
“You can stay.”
“No, I can’t.” He caresses one of her cheeks. “I want to, but I can’t. Soon, babe, so soon.”
“Um…” She stands up and looks down. “If I get this job…I mean…the lease for this place is up June first, and…well…the girls are going to be working in schools, and won’t need to live here anymore, and…I mean, I could find new roommate and sign a new lease...”
“Or, you could come move in with me.” He takes her hands in his and kisses her knuckles.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I want you to. I want you around all the time. Being apart from you during the week really fucks with how clingy I naturally am.” He smirks.
“I like it, though. We spend all weekend in your big, comfy bed.”
“Look forward to it every week.” He sighs happily. “Just gotta get through you walking across that stage, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” He kisses her cheek. “I love you, sweet dreams.”
“I love you too.”
//
Harry helped Y/N apply for the job, and after two nerve-wracking rounds of interviews, and two weeks of pure stress that even Harry’s cock couldn’t squash, she got the call that she got the job. Harry took Y/N out to celebrate, they both nearly cried when she got the call. She told her parents and they were ecstatic.
“In a few years, if you feel like it, you could get your PhD for free through the university.” He says to her as they’re laying in bed.
“Hm, three degrees from the same place.” She taps her chin. “Doesn’t seem like a great idea.”
“If you can do it for free, you should. It was the smartest thing I ever did. Well that, and giving into you.”
“Giving into me?!” She laughs. “You make it sound like I seduced you.”
“I fell for you so hard. You’re just so wonderful.” He pouts. “Are your parents excited to meet me in a couple of weeks? I’m excited to meet them.”
“They’re definitely curious to see who the guy I’m going to be moving in with is.”
“Are you going to miss the girls?”
“So much! They’ve been great to live with. Nessa’s moving in with Andy. She found a college in the city he works in to teach at. She’s so good at putting productions together, I’m excited for her. Charlotte may be in the area, though. Something tells me the school she’ll be teaching at is close by to Niall.”
“I’ve never seen him so smitten. He takes the more serious part of a relationship slow, but once he’s in he’s in.” He pulls her closer to him. “Everything’s falling into place. I’ve been working with Connie to get prepared for the fall, and I couldn’t be more excited.”
“I’m really proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too, babe.”
//
The day they had both been waiting for was finally here. The graduate ceremony was in the evening, separate from the undergraduate ceremony. Y/N wouldn’t be able to see Harry until after the ceremony. She was busy with her parents and younger siblings. Harry may have clapped and cheered extra loud when she walked across the stage. Most people around him thought it was just because she had been his TA for an entire year. Literally no one suspected more was going on between them. After today it wouldn’t matter anyways.
There was a champagne reception after the ceremony. Y/N easily found her family.
“We’re so proud of you honey. Another degree, a new job, and you’re moving in with a guy!” Her mom says.
“I’m still not thrilled about the last part. We don’t even know him.” Her dad says.
“But I do, so it’s a good thing I’m the one living with him, not you.”
Harry makes his way through the crowd over to her and her family. He takes a deep breath, and when she spots him she squeals. She runs over and jumps into his arms. They kiss as he swings her around.
“You did it!”
“I did it!” They both jump up and down for a moment. “Come on.” She holds his hand to bring him over to everyone. “Harry, these are my parents, and my two younger siblings. Ellie is going to be a senior in college this fall, and Ryan is going to be a sophomore. He’s actually transferring here in the fall.”
“That’s great! Hi, it’s so nice to meet all of you.” He shakes everyone’s hands.
“Damn, a PhD.” Ellie whispers to her sister and winks. “Nice job.” The girls giggle together.
They all decide to go out to dinner together to get to know each other better. Harry and Y/N would be meeting up with Charlotte, Nessa, and the others at the bar once dinner was over. Y/N explains how they waited a while to make things official because Harry wanted to make sure things remained professional. Harry easily impressed her parents. He was incredibly smart and knew how to work people over. Even her dad was happy with him.
Y/N got pretty drunk at the bar with her friends, and Harry was able to keep his arms around her all night without a care in the world. When he got her inside his place, he couldn’t stop kissing her and telling her much he loved her over and over. She was excited to start her new job in a couple of weeks, and he was excited she genuinely wanted to stay, and wasn’t just doing this for him. They would spend the time before starting her job to get her all moved in. They even talked about getting a larger place at some point.
“I can’t wait to snuggle with Mac every night.” She giggles as she gets into bed.
“Hey, what about me?” He pouts.
“I guess you’re nice to snuggle with too.” She jokes.
“Mhm.” He kisses on her and hovers over her. “My girl’s got her master’s. You’re so fucking smart, it turns me on.”
“Really?”
“When we did those mock interviews in my office I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you.”
“Does this mean we can get a little sneaky in your office now?” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Or are you staying firm with your open door policy?”
“Think I may have to reconsider it, but only for you.”
#harry styles#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles y/n#harry styles angst#harry styles slow burn#slow burn#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles smut fic#hope you like!
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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?
askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like
(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)
i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads
which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter
it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272
it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all
and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to
i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet
rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare
(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)
(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)
probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them
like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy
(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)
(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)
even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to
i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident
and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection
‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!
another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing
other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could
this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor
something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins
and...
first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more
(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)
more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left
(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)
(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)
which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them
there’s just so little of him left but the weapon
he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins
not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once
and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps
... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here
just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either
no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?
the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -
it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat
they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope
but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one
yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction
the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...
that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice
like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds
... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger
what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?
don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear
some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all
and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain
(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)
(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)
i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond
he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him
but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’
(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)
(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)
more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror
in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them
that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands
as for maglor...
i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad
but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge
it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons
horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!
it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve
and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me
so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them
an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects
maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin
seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me
the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them
there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay
they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain
he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can
(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)
(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)
however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this
but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created
and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable
look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat
but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?
that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian
we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence
(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)
like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them
(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)
elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home
... right?
it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice
then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them
the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him
instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through
... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most
i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives
they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t
speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations
because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke
that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain
(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)
(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)
(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)
(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)
not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past
i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy
no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer
compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea
and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic
honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way
but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me
which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage
it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently
i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist
in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing
they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification
they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world
and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood
nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams
there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer
as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor
(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)
but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves
they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage
he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less
and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be
... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out
the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of
and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -
i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can
they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light
and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality
it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved
even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor
not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands
it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one
that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other
and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness
but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out
well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell
it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial
still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away
#ask#my terrible headcanons#elros#elrond#maglor#elwing#earendil#feanorians#niphredilien#yellow feathered faerie#putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes#post nyanyannya askbox clearout#ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place#and it is DONE#fuck this took forever to write#stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more#this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry#i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation#but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades#the silm's cruel enough we don't need that#narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans#but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for#bleck#let's see how many followers i lose for this
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Arrow write the mickey spotting ian and kev fic challenge!
Had to do this while it was still topical lol, so here goes.
The first time was an accident. Well, sort of.
"Ian can help with that," Mickey offered, watching Kev struggle to shift kegs and pour drinks at the same time.
"Thanks man," Kev grunted, hoisting another keg. He waddled with it along the length of the bar, body hidden behind the counter, and set it down with a heavy thunk.
"Not easy though," he added as he straightened. "Don't wanna make him strain somethin' before your wedding."
He waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, tongue stuck out, and Mickey rolled his eyes.
He knew exactly what would come next.
"You think I can't lift a keg?" Ian asked from the stool next him. His voice almost broke on the last word with sheer disbelief. "I'm not some skinny kid anymore, Kev, I just got out of prison for fuck's sake!"
"Cause there were plenty of kegs there to lift," Mickey muttered into his beer, and almost sent it splashing over the old stained countertop when Ian shoved his shoulder too hard.
"Just point me where you need me," Ian told Kev, puffing out his chest.
Kev eyed Ian, then Mickey, then Ian again. But ultimately, he shrugged, and tapped the top of the keg he had just put down.
"Uh, this guy here needs to go out back," he said. "Brought in the wrong one."
"On it," Ian said, and made his way to it. He bent over at the waist, his hands reaching for the handles, ass stuck out in his too-tight jeans.
Mickey tilted his head, and sipped his drink, admiring the view.
"Whoa, whoa, not like that!" Kev said from behind the bar, arms out. "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."
"Then how," Ian forced out between gritted teeth, still leaning over, "would you suggest I do this?"
Kev came around, whacked Ian in the back until he let go and straightened with a huff. Then he took up position at another keg alongside the first.
"Lift with your legs, kid," he said, and dropped into a half squat right in front of Mickey's face.
Oh.
"Like this?" Ian relented, assuming position next to Kev, broad back stretched and straight over bent legs and strong thighs.
Oh.
Kev and Ian each hoisted their kegs, beginning their awkward walk away toward the back, and Mickey leaned so far back on his stool he almost fell off.
Well, he thought as he downed the last of his drink, eyes following two ridiculously built sets of shoulders strain their way across the room.
He could get used to seeing that.
---
The second time, it was definitely on purpose. He had talked Ian into trying out KevFit after his own misadventure--he was not eager to keep working out on his own, but Ian kept wanting to do new shit together.
They were only one round in at the keg lift station, Ian already grunting and heaving and sweaty next to him, when Kev came by.
"Good form, Ian," he congratulated, clapping a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him drop the half-filled keg with a clatter. "Way better than last time."
"Gee, thanks," Ian answered dryly, wiping his forehead with the hem of his thin workout tank, and Mickey had an epiphany.
"Hey, Kev," he said slowly, like the idea was just occurring to him, "You got all this equipment rigged up, but how are you on basics?"
Kev's brow furrowed, his muscled arms going slack at his sides.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like, pushups and jogging and shit," Mickey answered. "You know, the kind of stuff they do in the military."
He let his eyes widen, and turned them on Ian.
"Oh wait," he said, "that's kinda your thing, ain't it?"
Ian shrugged, looking confused.
"Uh, I guess?"
"Why don't you show Kev one of your old workouts?" Mickey suggested innocently. "He could add some things to the whole KevFit routine, maybe bring in more clients."
Kev perked up at that.
"Yeah, why not?" he said. "C'mon Ian, show me what you've got."
Five minutes later, Mickey was leaning against the "spring water" station, sipping from the flask he had snuck in from next door, watching two ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong fuckers take up half the open floor space doing increasingly impressive pushups. Right then, Ian had one arm behind his sweat-slicked back, Kev mirroring his form, and Mickey's eyes followed the rise and fall of their bodies with total focus.
"Excuse me," a wimpy, hipster-sounding dude said hesitantly from behind him, " but do you know when they're bringing out more waters?"
Mickey didn't even bother to look.
"Get lost," he answered, waving a hand in the guy's general direction. "Go drink outa the bathroom sink like a normal fucking person and let me watch my show."
---
The third time, he was pretty sure Ian was catching on.
Not that he cared, honestly--the view was fucking worth it.
"You call that a bench press?" He goaded his husband from behind the bench. "Kev's kickin' your ass, man, that's just embarassing."
Ian glowered, breath hissing out between his teeth as he pushed up again.
"I'm pretty much pressing you right now," he gritted out, "so I'm feeling pretty good about it, actually."
Mickey hid his grin behind a hand, feigning disinterest even as his eyes followed Ian's bulging arms up and down, lingering on the tight plane of his chest.
"Well he's pressing like two of me," Mickey countered, letting his eyes wander, "so you might wanna step it up, tough guy."
Sure enough, Kev's current weights were at least half again what Ian had, and he was doing an admirable job of lifting them considering that his gigantic self was too big for the bench. Mickey hadn't considered that when he invited Kev to check out the gym at their new place; it was designed for recreational exercise, not fucking seven foot tall body builders. The man's legs stretched out awkwardly off the bottom of the bench, knees bent but stuck up far too high for proper form. His broad shoulders dwarfed the other end, making it look like his upper body was just suspended there.
Mickey licked his lips, watching the shift of muscles under Kev's tanned skin--thank the lord the man shared his aversion to sleeves--and almost got chinned when he leaned too far over Ian's station.
The bar slotted into place without his help, Ian sitting up and wiping his face with a hand.
"Why don't you spot him for a while, then," Ian said. "While I go hit the shower."
He stood, making his way to the door, and Mickey paused, torn.
"Or I could give you a practical demonstration of my ability to lift you," Ian added over his shoulder, and Mickey was making his excuses to their guest and chasing after him before Kev could even finish another rep.
---
Ian never brought it up, after that, but Mickey still decided to cool it, just a little. Ian had seemed a little jealous, at the gym, although you'd never have known it by the things he said later--bet you like it when people look like they can throw you around, Mick--and Mickey did not need to throw a wrench into their marriage just for a little extra eye candy.
But then they were all at the pool together, the Gallaghers plus Mickey, plus Tami, plus Kev and Vee, and he really couldn't help it.
"Damn our men are hot," Tami had commented, sitting in a white plastic chair next to Mickey.
Mickey leaned back with a grin, taking a swig of lukewarm beer, and said, "You think that's hot?" nodding to where Ian and Lip were splashing each other over Franny's head in the shallow end.
"Watch this," he finished, and cupped a hand over his mouth to help his voice carry.
"Hey Ian," he shouted. "Bet Kev could beat you in a race."
"Hell yeah!" Kev called back from where he was manning the grill. "Name the time, man!"
Mickey could see Ian roll his eyes, and worried for the briefest of moments that his husband was done humoring him. But after a brief, hushed word with his brother, Ian was swimming to the side of the pool nearest Kev, saying "right now, backstroke, three laps," and Mickey was falling in love all over again.
"You do this a lot?" Tami asked, amused, as Kev stripped off his shirt and jumped in to take his place at the wall of the pool.
Mickey waited until they were off, arms wheeling wildly through the water and sending the sparkling spray onto sculpted, heaving chests, to answer.
"Define a lot," he said, not looking away from the spectacle as Ian and Kev hit the wall and turned, their swimsuits flashing through the water.
Tami snickered.
"Got it," she said, then, "thanks for sharing the wealth."
The race finished, Ian and Kev lifting themselves out of the pool, water running down their bodies as they clasped hands and went in for a shoulder-slapping bro hug. Ian looked back to where Mickey sat, and smirked.
"No problem," Mickey murmured, watching closely.
Ian leaned up to say something into Kev's ear, and Mickey squinted, like that would somehow help him hear it.
"Ogling the competition, Milkovich?" Lip's voice came from behind, and Mickey nearly fell out of his chair.
"The fuck are you talkin about?" he demanded, twisting around in his chair to look at Lip's knowing smirk.
"Nothing," Lip answered innocently. "Just noticed you've been watching Kev a lot lately."
Mickey scowled.
"And what's it to you?" he challenged. "Nothing at all," Lip said. "Just an observation." His grin widened. "And a distraction."
Mickey's eyes narrowed.
"A distraction from wha--argh!"
He cut off as he was lifted by two pairs of string arms, familiar ones wrapped under his own and different, strong hands holding his feet. He flailed, barely registering the flash of green eyes and a mostly bald head, before he hit the water with a splash.
By the time he surfaced, snorting chlorinated pool water out of his nose, it was to see two grinning faces looking down at him.
"Thought you might need to cool off after watching us," Ian said with a grin, laughing when Mickey tried to splash water into his face.
"Next time you want a show," Kev added, "just ask, man." He waggled his eyebrows. "I learned a few things when I worked that gay club."
Ian laughed again at Mickey's shocked expression.
"You need to work on your poker face, Mick," he said. "But it's okay, we don't mind."
He winked, then turned to walk away, leaving Mickey floating in the pool. Kev left with him, hips swaying slightly, and Mickey bit his lip and watched them go.
"Really?" Lip asked from the side of the pool, sounding disgusted, and Mickey just shrugged without looking back.
After all, if they didn't mind...
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in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two
a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug
pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader
summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?
warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing
word count: 5.3k
It had been a week.
One gruelling, painfully long week.
Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.
About how he fucked up.
He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.
But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.
But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-
He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.
But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.
That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.
He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“
Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?
*
This is pathetic she thought.
I’m pathetic.
She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.
What am I doing?
The answer?
Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.
But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.
It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.
Wow, she thought.
Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-
Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?
Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.
One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.
“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.
“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.
“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.
But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.
“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.
“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.
Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.
Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.
What is he thinking about?
**
What is she thinking about?
It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?
He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.
It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.
To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.
And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.
***
The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.
It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.
Say something!!
“So…’
Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.
Y/n was choking.
“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.
Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.
“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”
“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.
“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.
What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?
“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.
Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?
“So, are we good?”
“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”
“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.
There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.
“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?
“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him
“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”
Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.
“What does that mean, H?”
He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “
“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?
“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”
Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”
“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”
Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.
Holy fucking shit… he loves me…
While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.
“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”
****
She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.
“Is this okay?”
She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.
“Please,”
She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.
Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.
#by bug#harry styles angst#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles imagine#harry styles#harry styles fluff#hope you have a wonderful day my little pots of sweet tea!
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[Image ID: A black picture with the title “HOW TO SUPPORT FANFICTION AUTHORS” written in bold caps lock, colored with a winter forest picture. End ID.]
Well, this post has been made countless times, but I’m making one too because I’ve seen a lot of people say they’re new to tumblr and don’t know the whole “reblogging is better than liking” rule and other stuff. So without any further ado, here are ways YOU can support the fanfiction authors. Now keep in mind this applies to almost every author out there, not just the stayblr fandom, so if you’re a silent reader (or even if you aren’t), I advise you go through this post. Warning, this is a fairly long post going into detail, so yeah. I still expect you, the readers to read this, and if you’re a writer, feel free to lmk if i’ve written smth wrong or if you want me to add something! ^^
In this post I’ll go into thorough analysis of the pros and cons of each of the methods listed here and how YOU as a reader can show the authors whose fics you read more love and motivate them to produce content.
WARNING; LONG POST! GOES INTO A DECENT AMOUNT OF DETAIL. NOT EDITED, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS.
#1 : LIKING !
I think this is basic common knowledge, and a lot of people tend to do this. When you like the post, the author sees it, you see it, and if the author has their liked posts accessible (which majority of the time they don’t), and if someone deliberately goes to check it, then they see it. See why so many authors say just liking does nothing? Only liking says “Hey, I’m gonna tell you your story is not that good by simply liking it and not sharing it with other people. :D”
♯ PROS:
You’re telling the author that you've read their fic, and either you’ve enjoyed it to a certain extent, or you’re just saving it to read for later.
Likes are seen by you, the author and anyone who has access to your likes (which, most people don’t).
♯ CONS:
If you ONLY like, you’re not really helping the author’s work reach a wide audience because this site isn’t Instagram. Reblogging is the only way people can SEE our works. I’ll cover more on that in the next section.
In a nutshell, liking is good! But you should most likely use it in a combination with the other stuff I’ve listed below, because just the like itself doesn’t really do much in giving the author any feedback or interaction on their fics.
To clear shit up; I’m not talking about those people who don’t read the story or appreciate it in the first place. I’m talking about those who appreciate the fic, like it, but don’t leave any sort of feedback to show that.
#2 : REBLOGGING !
This is SO, SO important. I cannot stress on this enough. Let me explain WHY so many writers stress on reblogging content:
Tumblr’s tag system is inherently fucked up, and has grown more so over the year. I’m not kidding, at first, the fic either used to show up in the tags or it didn’t, but now, sometimes your fic can be REMOVED from the tags because of,,, idk tumblr tag shit. Anyways, as you can see, it’s very demotivating for authors at that point, because the major way for people to find their content and expand their blogs has been blocked.
Due to this reason, tumblr authors need to RELY on you, their followers to help spread their works to a wider audience. Now again, before you get me wrong, I’m not saying you ae forced to rb our works regardless of whether you like them or not. BUT, that being said, if you DO infact like the story, there’s no harm in reblogging, right? By doing this you’re indirectly telling the author — “hey! :D I liked your fic! Which is why I am gonna share it to my followers so they can read it too :D” Trust me, you’re doing nothing but helping the people who produce content for you to read. Seems like a worthy cause to hit the reblog button, right? It’s only a one, or maximum two step procedure.
Leave tags in your reblogs! Trust me, as an author myself and as much as I know from all my author friends, we oft check the tags of your reblogs to see if you found any part amazing or even if you have anything to say about the writing we put so much hard work into. Even a key smash or a “This was so [insert adjective] 🥺” is enough to leave a smile on your authors face.
♯ PROS :
You’re !! Sharing !! Your authors !! Works !! This leads to them getting more recognition, so for the content they’re so graciously providing for free, you’re promoting their blog and helping them expand it.
If the tags are being a shit, which majority of the time they are, then you’re literally making an author’s day by reblogging! You’re showing them that you, a follower and appreciator of their works are willingly sharing their content because it deserves to be seen by more people. Again before any dumb people decide to attack me, i am talking about people who like the fic but don't bother reblogging and are silent/ghost readers. I am not forcing anyone to read anybody’s work.
YOU’RE MAKING YOUR AUTHOR SO HAPPY WHAT MORE REASONS COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT !! 🥺
♯ CONS :
Literally none, because as far as I remember no author is against reblogging of their works. It’s quite literally the way this platform functions. Reblogging is IMPORTANT.
#3 : COMMENTING/SENDING FEEDBACK !
This kind of overlaps with the previous section, but THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STEP !! When you leave feedback, you are directly giving the author something so much more valuable to them than high follower/note counts or money. Your feedback is literally our serotonin. I kid you not the number of times I’ve received a positive comment and smiled and it has made my day. There’s a reason youtubers (though not the best example, bear with me here because it was the only one I could think of) ask people to subscribe, like and COMMENT. The subscription is like a follow, the like is ofc like a heart, and the comment is equivalent to an rb with comments in the tags.
You might argue and tell me that a comment is basically like an ask so the reblogging step isn’t necessary, but I’m sure 99% of you use YouTube and you know that more comments leads to people’s videos boosted in the stream/trending charts. This is what reblogging does. Reblogging shares the piece with other people like minded, which leads to a boost in reads. You are literally helping your author grow.
It’s quite literally the same thing as youtubers. Youtubers NEED validation to keep their content creation going, so do writers, so do other ccs on this site. This post is however, focused on WRITERS, so keep that in mind.
♯ PROS :
By doing this, you’re giving author valuable feedback! It’s similar to what you do in rbing with tags. Interactivity with their fics boosts their note counts and helps expand their audience, so srsly, now think of it: your one comment is playing such a massive role to help ccs create more content.
Imagine how much of a difference the note counts will be in when every person who simply likes after reading the fic, reblogs, leaves a comment and sends an ask. the note counts would be high on each and every fic, which is validation in itself, but your comments would inspire the writer so much more! Please, don’t skip the commenting part. Even a simple one like: “this is so cute!” is wonderful.
♯ CONS :
Remember, if you’re gonna give constructive criticism (which I’m sure you all are smart enough to know if different from hate), make sure the author is okay with it. Authors need to be in a specific mindset and must be ready to accept criticism, so if you’re gonna give constructive criticism to them when they’re at a low point, it may demotivate them.
Just commenting, instead of reblogging and commenting in the tags/ reblogging and then leaving an ask in their inbox, while it gives validation in plenty, will not lead to the author’s work being spread. Therefore I suggest either reblogging and commenting in the tags or reblog and then leave an ask, or comment under the fic!
!! reminder; I am not saying that if you don’t rb and just leave feedback, your feedback has no value. We authors truly appreciate every bit of feedback, but this post is aimed to help you learn how to interact with and support authors, and make them feel more motivated, because the current scenario of liking and scrolling is taking a toll on their creative abilities. Take it from a person who’s been writing for a year.
#4 : COMMSIONING VIA THEIR KO-FI/OTHER APPS !
Before any of you attack me, let me tell you that this is not a step that is 100% necessary to do. ONLY donate if you can and if you genuinely want to, and if anyone is forcing you to pay for something against your will, you need to get yourself out of there.
Regardless, if an author has a kofi and you’re able to and you want to donate, you definitely should! It’s also a valid form of support.
#5 : ADDING THEM ON REC LISTS/ RECOMMENDING THEM TO REC BLOGS
This is such an underrated option, to be honest. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen my fic was recommended onto some rec list and it’s made me smile so hard. If you like some fics, create a rec list! They’re oft very popular amongst the fans too. Making rec posts is such a great way to share your favorite stories with others.
Rec blogs! I’ve seen a couple going around, and needless to say they are a great way to get someone else to read your favorite author’s work whilst also giving them your own feedback. These blogs oft accept recs via a form or ask box, and they leave your feedback along with their own, or else they’ll oft tag the author in the feedback post, so look! You’re basically helping your author share their fic to many more people, because you’ve given them feedback and a reblog.
♯ PROS :
Validation! Feedback! Reblogs! More exposure! Helping a blog grow! Spreading love! basically a run down of the stuff I’ve said before!
♯ CONS :
Literally no con of this. Unless, a one in a million case, this author says they don’t like receiving feedback/being tagged, and I’m sure NO person has said this before, at least none that I’ve heard of.
#6 : FINAL COMMENTS; MISC !
When an author points out about how the interactivity is drastically reducing, don’t just give them blind apologies. Yes, you feel sorry for not interacting as much, we understand, but rather show that you’ll become a better content consumer through your actions. We need to see that we’re not just throwing words into a void and that people are actually trying to be better content consumers.
Understand the fact that authors don’t get paid for this, and 99% of the time, these authors don’t take commissions either. They’re giving you novel worthy writings for free. Take Percy Jackson: You think the author would have felt motivated to write the subsequent parts, let alone two whole series based off of it if literally no one showed that they were interested? Rick Riordan has sales, he is being paid, there are millions of people and big agencies who provide him feedback. Now take that huge amount and simmer it down to an audience of maybe 10000 people This is what fanfic authors want. They don’t want your money, nor are they telling you to risk your lives for them. All they want is, a reblog, some tags, some feedback, some INTERACTIVITY. A sign that they aren’t throwing fics into the void and that people actually like them, some motivation to continue. Seems fairly easy to throw an rb with some tags, right?
Don’t bother to tell me that we do this for ourselves and we shouldn’t ask for likes and reblogs and feedback, because 1) you are consuming the content that we “write for ourselves” and 2) writers post their content here for interactivity and feedback. We could just not post and write and save our fics in our dungeon drafts for years. But we choose to post to entertain the readers, the consumers. And we aren’t even asking that much in return.
Don’t give me the whole “I’m scared that authors feel that comments are annoying” excuse either because seriously this has been DEBUNKED SO MANY TIMES. Istg, in the nicest way possible, if you still think writers are annoyed by interaction and feedback, after so many posts, long rants have been posted as to how we’re not, then you must truly be living under a rock. There, I said it. Please stop thinking this way, I’ll say it again, AUTHORS ARE NOT ANNOYED OF FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, TAGS, REBLOGS. WE LOVE IT. Saying this is like saying that the audience in a theatre play shouldn’t clap when the play ends because the actors would find it noisy. 🤡
I’ve seen some people saying they have anxiety issues and such, so pls note that I’m not invalidating your condition. If you’re trying to be more interactive, I really appreciate it! If you can’t, that’s fine too. You’re trying.
But for the people who have no reason other than feeling lazy to rb and comment, your lack of interactiveness is not excused. Please. Tumblr is a reblogging site. If you’re gonna consume content like authors are some sort of machines, I encourage you to go get some more perspective.
This site is not Instagram or the satan bird app. Your likes are appreciated but frankly speaking, they do nothing to the author except tell them “Hey i read ur fic but i'm not gonna support u :D” and honestly, that is detrimental to their creative capabilities and mental health.
DON’T FOLLOW AN ACC JUST TO MINDLESS RB THEIR SIGNAL BOOST POSTS AND THEIR REBLOGS OF GIFS AND NOT INTERACT WITH THEIR WRITING AT ALL ! Trust me, authors prefer a lower amount of interactive followers than a high count that doesn’t even give them any feedback. Again your follows are appreciated, but when you’re following, you know the type of content the author creates, so the author expects that the more followers, the more interactivity. These days, this is just becoming the opposite. So don’t do it! If you’re gonna follow to read, interact with their works. I promise, this will make both you and the author happy. A win-win situation.
In conclusion: SUPPORT YOUR FUCKING AUTHORS! THEY ARE NOT MACHINES THAT HAVE NO FEELINGS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR YOU! FICS TAKE DAYS AND DAYS OF PLANNING, PLOTTING, OUTLINING, WRITING, EDITING, MAKING TEASERS. SO JUST SHOW THEM YOU APPRECIATE THEM WITH AN RB. IT’S THE L E A S T YOU CAN DO.
I will be liking this post here written by the lovely @chaninfused and @scriptura-delirus . Please take time to read it because if you weren’t convinced by my arguments, you will see how much frustration we as writers face on a daily basis. Please, just show support. Here is the post by @stayndays about how to get more people to read your work, because it also has a note on reblogging. Please educate yourself, and put an end to this mindless consuming culutre and bring up some interactivity.
If you’ve read this far, I want you to go to two of your favorite authors and leave some feedback in their inbox, and tag me in it (either tag me yourself or ask the author to do so, they won’t mind). Show your writers that our words are taking effect and you are becoming better consumers. I mean it. I’m serious. I want every single one who reads this post to do this. besides valid reasons, if you’re lazy to do this, you’re a part of the problem. PLEASE get more perspective.
Also, feel free to add to this post! I’d love to read your thoughts too, remember to be kind though. And, if I think your rb is somehow contradicting my points and is bringing down the reason I made this post, I will politely ask you to delete your comment, because this post is about being truthful about the harsh reality of tumblr consumers and how we can change it. I’m sure none of you will let it get to that point, though. <3 love you guys. 💓
And, just a reminder, don’t just blindly like this too. Do what I said before, and while I am not forcing you, I’d appreciate your reblog, because seriously, it took me 3 whole days to write this, plus, I’m sure this will help more of your followers understand the fault in consumer culture. haha, that’s it! This post was way too long uff.
also, this is ur cue to not be stupid in my inbox. You have something to say? Think I worded smth wrongly? I’m sure it wasn’t my intention to do so, point it out with manners.
#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz angst#stray kids angst#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#bts imagines#day6 imagines#got7 imagines#enhypen imagines#nct imagines#ikon imagines#treasure imagines#dawn.txt#writers on tumblr#blackpink imagines#twice imagines#red velvet imagines#tagsplsworkaaa
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Short! S/O
Request: Can I ask for some rottmnt x short/small reader
Pairing:
Raphael/Reader (Established),
Leonardo/Reader (Established),
Donatello/Reader (Established),
Michelangelo/Reader (Established)
(ALL SEPARATE - NONPOLY)
Content Warnings: None!
Word Count: 1200
[A/N: Whoa.... two fics in a row where I landed on a perfect wordcount.... I feel blessed.]
Raphael
Tall and small… the optimal dynamic…
He’s one of the few who won’t hold your height above your head. (Pun intended.) He honestly just sees you as you, you know? He’s always been considered tall, so your height isn’t that crazy to him. He’s not necessarily the type to freak out about it in regards to self defense, either. You’re a total badass: you can handle yourself! He’s always the first to step in when someone tries to start something, though. That’s just who he is, though: he’d still do it if you were 10 feet tall.
He always tries to put things where you can reach them, but sometimes you need something up a little higher. And oh god, he’d be lying if he said his heart doesn’t melt when you ask him to grab you something off the top shelf.
Piggyback rides galore!! He also likes to carry you like royalty, and he’s always surprised by just how little you weigh. He thinks it’s cute.
(He’s awesome to go to concerts with!! You can sit on his shoulders to get a better view, and he holds you so steady. He’s also built af so nobody’s gonna be able to knock y’all over <3)
It’s so nice to lay down and cuddle with him!! He envelops your smaller frame almost entirely, and you feel so safe in his arms. You could lay like this forever, you think.
He’ll always bend down for kisses without question, but god, please pull him down by the strings of his hoodie someday. He gets this really cute and dorky laugh as the blood rises to his cheeks, and he can’t help but kiss you again afterwards.
Leonardo
He’s so cocky about being taller than you, it’s unreal. He can’t help it! You’re just so tiny and cute and-
Attack him like a feral dog to put him in his place <3 (/j)
He’s not really worried about your ability to defend yourself: You’re plenty capable, and you’ve picked up your fair share of self-defense moves. Height isn’t an indicator of strength, by any means.
Loves grabbing things off the top shelf for you!! He gets this dorky little smile on his face when you ask, and for a moment, he’s silent. He laughs a little, ever so softly, but not in a patronizing way. He totally asks for a kiss as payment, though.
(But from then on, that thing is in a place where you can reach it. He likes being able to grab stuff for you, but he gets that you wanna be able to just grab shit sometimes. What a sweetheart <3 He pays attention!!)
Temple kisses? Temple kisses! He loves having his arm around your shoulder, just as a casual form of affection, and sometimes he’ll pull you a little closer so he can lean down and place a kiss to your temple.
If you’re both feeling particularly playful, he’ll totally hold stuff above your head so you have to lean into him to grab it.
He’ll short circuit if you ever pull him down for a kiss. Do it, it’s cute to watch the blood rise to his cheeks as he processes your actions. He’s so in love with you.
Donatello
As friends, he doesn’t really acknowledge your height at all. But once you guys get together? He suddenly starts processing how much taller he is, and it totally makes his heart melt. Like oh! I actually have to lean down to kiss you? It’s something that he doesn’t really understand until he’s in a relationship with you, and it’s cute.
People often underestimate how strong he is but like… he’s low-key kind of built. As a hands-on engineer, you have to be! And you can bet that he totally uses that when he’s feeling romantic. He loves picking you up and carrying you around like royalty. (That inner theatre nerd also comes out, 100%. If he can’t pick you up and serenade you, what’s even the POINT.)
Adores grabbing things for you if they’re put up too high for you to reach. Like god, you could inject straight dopamine into his brain right now, and it wouldn’t even be able to compare to grabbing shit off the top shelf for you. He’s so cocky about it, and you know he’s gonna ask for a kiss on the cheek as payment.
Always yells “do you need help with that?” if he sees you standing on your tiptoes for something. He thinks you’re cute.
He’ll lean down for kisses, but you can see a smile toying at his lips when you ask. He won’t comment on it, though.
It’s so fun to dance with him!! You move slowly across the dancefloor, fingers interlocked with his as you spin around and around. He’ll always drop his hands a little so you don’t have to stretch as much, but he revels in the way you press yourself against him. He could spend forever like this, and quite frankly? So could you.
He’s happy being the big spoon or the little spoon, honestly. He has no preference. If you try to be the big spoon, he’ll snicker about it a little, but he won’t comment on it.
He loves when you guys are sitting, and you rest your back against his chest. (It’s fun playing animal crossing with him like that. (His favorite villagers are Wolfgang and Roscoe. He gets really excited if you have them in your town.)
He’s gonna short circuit if you pull him down by the hoodie strings to give him a kiss. It doesn’t matter how many times you do it, he’s gonna pause every time. Don’t stop, though. He loves it.
Michelangelo
He could be a SINGLE centimeter taller than you, and he’ll lose his mind. Finally… he’s tall… god is real <3
Unfortunately, both of y’all are kind of fucked in the height department. That just means you get to climb shelves together, though! And kick tall people in the shins for saying overdone height jokes. You guys are a power couple in every sense of the word.
He loves having his arm around your shoulders!
Since you guys live together, it’s really rare that there’s ever something that’s put up too high for both of you to reach.
It’s really funny when you’re standing on your tiptoes to grab something that’s just out of reach at a store.
“Oh shit, that’s way too high up. Don’t worry babe, I’ve got this.”
...he’s climbing the shelves like a fucking spider. People are staring. He refuses to ask a stocker for help. You’re getting kicked out of Yokai Target for this, but you got your can of peas. That’s all that matters.
He loves it when you rest your head on his chest while cuddling, or when hugging.
Forehead kisses!! He loves them so much… He’ll run his thumbs over your temples so, so gently before kissing your forehead. He’s most fond of doing this in the early morning or late at night, when you’re both really sleepy. The air seems different, more serene.
#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt imagine#rottmnt raphael x reader#rottmnt leonardo x reader#rottmnt Donatello x reader#rottmnt michelangelo x reader#TMNT x reader#tmnt imagine#tmnt raphael x reader#tmnt donatello x reader#tmnt michelangelo x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader
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