#i guess i have to wait to pull to save raven RIP

[intomybubble]

Wait what the fuck you cant buy individual vouchers using DP in Nightbringer? So you either have to spend 270 DP for a 10 pull, or get single vouchers through stuff like event point rewards and saving up raven (which is limited in NB unlike in OG)

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Everyone who had watched his poor attempt at a waltz at the Yule Ball knew it had been an embarrassing disaster, and a blessing when he had stopped – merely for Parvati Patil’s feet.

Everyone who had watched knew that Harry Potter had never before set foot on a dancefloor. And you had watched. You had watched with great interest because secretly, you had wished for him to ask you to the ball. But when there had been only two weeks left and Dean Thomas had asked you after Transfiguration class, you had said yes.

There you were, sitting with Dean beside Seamus and Lavender as well as Ron and his date Padma, your eyes glued to the raven-haired boy getting terribly out of step. You watched, of course, under the pretence that you found it disgracefully hilarious.

Harry had never thought about asking you to the Yule Ball, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been after Cho, and he waited way too long to ask her, so she was already going with Cedric. And you had a date with Dean.

As good as Harry was with fighting the dark and the evil, as bad was he with social interactions. He had no problem producing a Patronus, but he was absolutely useless when it came to talking to girls.

You were the opposite.

Yes, the boggart may had made you faint in front of your whole class, but on the other hand, talking seemed like the easiest task in the world. Whether it was a chat with a teacher or speaking to strangers, though you did not thrive off of that.

There was one other thing that made you stand out to the other girls (and boys) in your year: You knew how to dance, from a simple disco fox to a more complicated waltz.

So, when Professor Slughorn announced a Spring ball for the students in sixth and seventh year, Harry knew you were his only chance if he did not want to make a fool out of himself again. He asked you (after a whole week of practicing in front of the mirror), with heated cheeks and a fast-beating heart, if you could teach him how to dance.

You felt a bit taken by surprise by this request, but agreed, nonetheless.

Friday evenings, eight to nine o’clock, were now reserved for your weekly dance lessons.

Looking at Harry’s history, it should be no big deal to dance with a girl when you had already come across the most dangerous things existing in the wizarding world. He should not be nervous; what was the girl teaching you how to dance against gigantic spiders who saw you as their dessert?

Well, everything.             

The thing was, Harry could prepare spells and charms, he knew what he had to do when he was faced with a Dementor or a Boggart. His mind, however, went completely blank when it came to you, like his nerves were on fire. To say he was nervous was an underestimation.

Harry ran his hand through the mess of black locks in a rather useless attempt to flatten them. They jumped back up immediately as he let go, pointing in every direction but the one he wanted them to. Stupid genes.

Sometimes he wished he had inherited his mother’s hair. It would have been fun to be mistaken as a Weasley and he could pretend he and Ron were actually brothers.

To keep his hands busy, Harry smoothened the plaid shirt he had thrown on before darting another glance at the clock over the door of the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. 8:01 o’clock.

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk he was leaning on to release his excited tension, which only worked until the door opened, and he jumped up into a straight position.

You stepped inside, a vinyl clammed under your arm and an apologizing smile on your lips.

“Sorry I’m late, Snape held me off,” You said, placing your bag on the table Harry had leaned on previously.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Uh, are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I mean Snape just almost failed my assignment, but I found a new song to dance to, and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” You said as you rushed over to the old vinyl player in the corner and unwrapped the black record.

Harry followed your every movement. You could feel his eyes on you and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s a bit slower than the other one, so it will be easier for you to follow,” You added and pulled the vinyl out, stroking a streak of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, your back still facing him.

When the record was placed correctly into the player, you turned back around and led Harry by the hand to the middle of the classroom. This simple touch alone made Harry’s head spin, and it did not help when you placed his hand onto your waist.

“Are you ready?” You asked and he nodded. “Good, follow my lead.”

There was nothing but admirable beauty, the way you moved to the soft piano music filling the room, Harry thought, and he hated himself for not realising sooner. You were like a sunset, and he was afraid to look right at you because what if you saw all the feelings swelling in his heart that dared to overspill at any moment.

You had been right, he adored the music you had brought with you, but he adored you even more.

You thought he looked at his feet because he was afraid to mess up the steps.     

“Hey,” You said softly, taking the hand from his shoulder to lift his chin. “Eyes up.”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

A sheepish smile spread over his face and your heart beat hectically against your rip cage as his emerald green eyes met yours.

It took Harry a great deal of strength to not break out of the dance routine he had so intensely studied and kiss you. But your hand slipped away from under his chin back to his shoulder and the moment was lost, like so many others.

Staying professional was not so simple for you either, as much as you liked to deny it. You liked Harry, more than friends should like each other, but who could blame you? Harry was very handsome, with his messy hair and those green eyes, he was sweet and caring, and he was dancing with you in an abandoned classroom, his hand on your waist.

Looking at it from this angle, there seemed to be no reason as to why you were so careful to deny your feelings.

Well, there was one problem: You thought he wanted to ask Cho to the ball to make up for the Yule Ball.

Harry was pretty oblivious when it came to love. Neither had he thought about you as more than friends before sixth year, nor had he realised that the feelings he had felt for Cho two years ago were similar to the ones he had for you now, though they were much more intense.

The worst part was that you two had been friends for three year and since then, you had spent a week of every summer holiday at the Burrow. Harry knew you; he knew that you liked his crappy jokes and his sarcastic comments, but never before had his stomach tingled when you laughed at them. Never before had there been goose bumps all over his skin when you hugged him. And to hell, never before had he acknowledged how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You’re getting really good.” You ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Really?” He asked.

It would be brilliant if he could dance without thinking about it all the time, fearing he could step on your feet.

“Yes, really,” You replied, grinning.

“Well, I- I suppose I have a good teacher.”

The piano music faded out and you stopped in the middle of the room, slipping your hand out of his. It was a good excuse to turn around and start the vinyl again, so you did not have to answer anything.

Harry stood there for a second, gulping and scratching his neck. He should not have said that.

What he had said flattered you, but it was only a knife dressed like compliment, stroking over your heart to stab you right after. All of this was amicable, temporary, fickle. All of this was for Cho.

You sat the needle back on the record.

“What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Harry asked quietly.

“‘Il Reste du Temps’. The rest of time.” You walked back up to him and took his hand, leading you two into the dance. With his hand on your lower back, he pulled you a bit closer than last time.

“So, there are only two weeks left. You have asked Cho by now, I suppose?” You asked to remind your thoughts of reality.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, not sure how you had come to the conclusion he still liked Cho. She was great, for sure, but she wasn’t you.

“Oh. Uh, not really, no,” He answered. Your heart jumped.

“Well, you should hurry up. You don’t wanna wait until last minute like last time.”

“I- yeah, I mean, I don’t- I don’t want to go with Cho.”

You stepped forward even though you were supposed to draw back and stomp on his left foot. His hand around yours clenched for a second at the sudden pain.

“Shit. Sorry.” You quickly brought you two back into the right footstep order. “You’re not asking Cho?”

“No. I wanna- No.” Harry stopped himself from talking any further. He couldn’t ask you. He just couldn’t.

“Well, who do you wanna ask?” You said.

Maybe it was Ginny. She was gorgeous, phenomenal at Quidditch and in the Slugclub. Nothing you could say about yourself.

Harry opened his mouth and stammered. “It’s, uh, you know…some…girl.”

Oh yes, great save, Harry, congratulations, He thought to himself, couldn’t be any vaguer, could you? For Merlin’s sake, look at her, she is completely confused.

You were pretty even when you were confused, with your eyebrows drawn together over your eyes curiously inspecting him – Stop.

“Ah, okay. The lucky girl’s a secret,” You said, laughing lightly. It was definitely Ginny.

“No, I mean, she’s –” 

“It’s not my concern who you’ll ask, Harry,” You interrupted to calm him down. “As long as you ask her.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that. You really saw them just as friends.

The two of you danced for a while and Harry tried to memorise every golden speck in your dark eyes, every freckle, every curve, just so he could imagine you instead of the person he would dance with in a fortnight. If he would even go. Because what point was there to go to a ball if the one person he wanted to dance with more than anything else would not be there with him?

You tried to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But the voices crowding your mind all shouted that he would never see you the way you saw him. That his face would never be so close ever again. That his hands would never rest on your body the way they did now, and never with any other intention than for the sake of learning how to dance, learning how to impress Ginny or whoever he would ask.

“Have you – have you asked anyone yet? To go to the ball with you?” Harry disrupted your thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

“No. I don’t even know if I’ll go,” You said and Harry’s heart dropped. “I mean, I’ll come to watch you dance, that’s for sure.”

Now his heart was way up in his throat, beating like hell. He swallowed and forced himself to answer. “No pressure then.”

You grinned at his comment. “Oh please, you can dance better than most of sixth and seventh year combined by now. You remember the spin I showed you last time?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his left arm and put a little pressure on your waist. You performed a small twirl before he caught you again, hand on your side. He smiled proudly.

“Really good.” The music stopped and you looked at the clock on the wall behind Harry. 8:57 o’clock. “I guess that’s it for today.”

Harry smiled sadly but you thought it was just your mind, playing you a trick. You packed the record back into the cover while Harry shouldered his back bag, handing yours to you. Then he held the door open for you, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Harry had already pulled out the Marauders Map to check if the way back to the Gryffindor tower was clear. You weren’t technically allowed out after nine p.m. because of the new safety measurements, but it was part of the charm.

“Filch’s down on the first floor and Snape’s in his office,” Harry informed you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Quietly and side by side, you two walked back to the Gryffindor tower. There was plenty of silence to break, plenty of time to ask you to the ball, Harry thought. But he was too afraid.

–

“It’s not that easy, alright?”

“Bloody hell, you spent every Friday evening with her! Half of our year thinks you’re secretly doing it in that classroom.”

For that, Ron earned a jab into his ribs. The two made their way through the masses of students down the last staircase to the Great Hall.

“Ow! It’s not my fault, you can’t open your mouth.”

“Oh, I can’t open my mouth? Have you asked Hermione yet?”

Harry was sure this would shut Ron up, but he was wrong.

“I asked her six weeks ago and she said yes, mate.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Wot?”

“Merlin, do you ever listen to me?”

Ron shook his head, walking to breakfast. Harry needed a few seconds before he could move again, then he caught up with his best friend. He was about to say something back when Ron’s sister Ginny interrupted them, wrapping her arms around both of Harry and Ron’s shoulders.

“Morning boys,” She greeted them enthusiastically.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was covered in a pale blue and yellow, the upcoming sun shining golden through the high windows.

“So.” Hermione poured both of you a glass of pumpkin juice. “How was it yesterday?”

“Mhm?” You looked up from your toast.

She sighed as if her question was rather obvious. “The dance lesson with Harry?”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “Normal.”

“So, nothing happened? Nothing you want to tell me?” She asked further.

You eyed her suspiciously, but she kept an innocent face expression.

“It’s not like we could do much besides dancing.”

Lavender beside you snickered and Parvati snorted into her coffee.

“Believe me, there is a lot you could do in that hour besides dancing,” Parvati said.

“God, no! Have you met Harry?” Lavender said bemusedly. “Like he's the type to have secret sex.”

“Still waters run deep,” Parvati replied, a smug grin on her lips. “Don't they, Y/N?”

Hermione crunched her nose at the suggestive tone as you narrowed your eyes at the two girls, shaking your head.

“Yes, keep making fun of my non-existing love life.”

You grabbed the strawberry marmalade, determined to ignore any topic concerning Harry. While you had lain awake last night, you had decided to bury your feelings for him all together and get over it. This would be easier once your dance lessons came to an end and the ball was done.

“Well, it does exist for everyone else,” Lavender interposed.

“And it would exist for you, too, if you would finally do something,” Hermione said, leaning forward.

“What?” You asked. “I mean, yeah, I like him, but he is definitely not into me like that. And I can't force him to be.”

Hermione groaned, and Parvati rummaged through her bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and making some space on the table.

“Okay, let’s see,” She began, “He asked you to teach him to dance. Big step for him, you know that. He always stares at you during Quidditch instead of the Snitch. Wood would've killed him by now. He always sits beside you. He definitely smelled you in Amortentia, regarding how he looked at you during that class. And since then, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He –”

“He does not,” You said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from writing any further.

“Yeah, he does,” Lavender argued. “Look!”

You turned to spot Harry alongside Ron and his sister Ginny coming through the doorway, and for one second, your eyes met. Then Ginny said something, and Harry looked at her, laughing.

You sighed and stuffed the rest of your toast down your throat to get rid of the sour feeling twirling and burning in your stomach.

“Well, Ginny’s pretty funny,” Hermione tried.

“Yeah, she’s funny and pretty and she likes everything he likes.”

“None of that matters because he fell in love with you and not Ginny,” Lavender said, smiling brightly.

“He did not – not what you said.”

“He did! The list doesn’t lie.”

Parvati waved the parchment through the air, and you snatched it out of her hand, drowning it in the pumpkin juice before anyone could read it. Hermione curled her lip as she watched the paper soaking up the orange liquid, sinking to the ground of the jug.

In the same moment, Harry, Ron and Ginny reached your table, and to your surprise, Harry really did sit down beside you, your knees touching shortly while he climbed over the bench. The sudden touch sent sparks through your body and filled you with a comfortable warm which was quickly extinguished by Ginny sitting down next to Harry.

You didn’t want to be jealous.

There was no need to compare yourself to Ginny, you were two completely different people. But hearing her talk about Quidditch to the guys and seeing her flicking her beautiful hair over her slim shoulder made it so obvious how perfect for Harry she was. You couldn’t compete with that, in fact, you didn’t even want to compete with that.

No, you would get over your feelings and maybe ask someone else to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with you. Those evenings with Harry, those moments too good to be true would stay somewhere deep down in your heart, locked away from the real world.

The weekend left as fast as it had come, and soon enough Harry and you both found yourselves in your day-to-day school life, studying for an upcoming Charms test and writing essays for Snape and McGonagall.

There wasn’t much time to think about each other, yet Harry managed to glance up from his homework a few times to stare at you opposite from him, snuggled into an armchair while flicking through a book. He noticed that you captured your tongue between your lips or mouthed single words to yourself whenever you were so deeply sunken into thoughts that you forgot the many people around you.

The latter found Harry very impressive because he was never that relaxed if more than three people were with him. Your lips on the other hand found Harry... well, much more interesting than his homework was the least to say.

Every day he woke up thinking that today, he would ask you. But whenever he came close to ask, he changed the topic or was distracted by friends and classmates.

Even Ron had given up with his jokes by now, which was a very bad sign and a nonverbal way to say, Man, you fucked up.

–

You had decided to make the last of your dance lessons a memorable one. An hour of pretending, of being close to someone you know you would never be this close to ever again.

Therefore, you had asked your older sister to send some of your favourite records from home, which you were now sorting through in the abandoned classroom. It was ten minutes to eight and you were sipping a butterbeer to cool your nerves. All those times before you had been as calm as ever, but today you were on the edge.

The door opened and you turned to find Harry in the doorway, hair messy as ever.

“Hi,” He said and the corners of his lips jumped up into a lopsided smile.

“Hey. You’re early.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, you could,” You mumbled, pushing the needle of the record player down onto the vinyl.

Classic music filled the air and you walked over to Harry to lead him to the middle of the room after he had dropped his back bag to the floor. With the high heels on your feet, you were almost eye to eye, your nose at the height of his lips.

For a wonder, he did not need your instruction to place his hand on your waist and pulled you much closer than usual.

Harry felt his heart beating in his throat. Being this close to you was galvanic, every nerve was burning, and then again, for the first time in two months, he was able to close his eyes and let himself sink in, to melt with the music, to feel the tact pulsating through his whole body. It was what you had tried to teach him all along.

And yet his tongue was tied. He just had to ask. Would you like to go to the ball with me? One simple question. You had told him yourself to not wait until last-minute to ask, and now with every minute, every hour, every day passing it felt more ridiculous. He had known that he wanted to ask you and only you to the ball, but every time he thought about forming the question, his mouth failed him.

Your eyes lay calmly on him, tapping his shoulder in time to the music while secretly trying to remember every little detail of his face: His prominent eyebrows curved over his emerald green eyes, his flushed cheeks and the dimples created by his light smile lying on his lips.

Harry had become, for lack of a better word, quite fantastic at slow dancing. There was confidence in the way he moved through the room and held onto you, mingled with a certain elegance and appreciation of the art he was participating in. A good teacher, he had called you. Well, regarding slow dances, yes.

But there was one other thing he had yet to learn.

“You’re really good, you know that?” You said, and his smile brightened.

“Yeah? Or are you just saying that because it’s my last lesson?” He asked.

“No, I mean it. You know, I wrote my sister last week and she send some of my vinyl discs from home,” You told him as the music slowly faded out and let your hand slip from his shoulder and hand to turn to the record player, not noticing how his fingers lingered a moment longer on your waist.

Harry watched how you sorted through the discs, not able to make use of their names in any way. The only record he had come across before those dance lessons had been one by a singer named Bonnie Tyler, who Aunt Petunia secretly listened to on repeat during the summer when Uncle Vernon went grocery shopping or mowed the lawn.

Harry wasn’t a big fan, which was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his cousin Dudley.

“Here. To dancing and a nice Spring ball.” Harry snapped out of his thoughts. You held out a bottle of butterbeer, which he took and snapped its bottle top off, regarding for a moment to say something along the lines like To you, for teaching me how to dance or To us, but that seemed a bit too much.

Therefore, he went with a simple “Cheers” and touched glasses with you.

While he took a big sip in hopes it would make him braver, you decided on a turquoise and pink coloured disc with a man dancing on the front, the words Footloose in ornate writing covering its front. He couldn’t help but notice the grin you tried to hide, as if knowing something he didn’t.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning against the table beside you and putting his beer aside.

“That’s what the cool kids dance to.”

You placed the needle onto the record. Drums began to play a fast rhythm, mixed with an electric guitar, and you slipped off your high heels, now only in tights. Harry watched with fearful curiosity how you snapped your fingers in time, bopping your head with closed eyes to internalise the music.

Every movement of your feet, your hips, your shoulders was nonchalant, effortless and... well, simply cool.

“Come on!” You said loudly over the music, waving Harry closer.

“No, no, that’s –” He shook his head, heat flushing his cheeks, and crossed his arms.

“Yes!”

You danced up to him, grabbing him by his hands and pulling him to the middle of the room.

Harry had improvised a lot when it came to fighting evil. His whole trip to the ministry had been decided because of his gut instinct, because he had thought he knew what he was doing. Well, that was probably a bar example. He had made everything worse back then.

But everything he had done to fight off the hundreds of Dementors at the Great Lake, or the creatures in the maze two years ago, or Voldemort at the graveyard, every single thing had been purely and spontaneously improvised.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was that good at improvising dance moves, but you had other plans.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” You said as his fingers clenched around your hands, unable to let go, like a man clinging onto a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

And Harry wanted to say back that of course he trusted you, more than he probably knew himself, but all that came out was a “Yeah” which sounded more like a laugh than an actual word because of the grin stretched across his lips.

“Just dance the way you dance when no one’s watching,” You said.

“I don’t – I don’t do that,” He admitted, feeling how his cheeks burned under the unbelieving look coming from you.

“Okay, then close your eyes and just – just do it. Here, I’ll do it, too!”

You closed your eyes, smiling brightly, and slipped your fingers out of his, twirling on the spot like you usually only did behind closed doors, and clapping your hands in time with the music.

Harry couldn’t rip his gaze off of you, the way your body moved without any shame, your ridiculous head banging while acting like you play the guitar – air guitar, that’s what it was called, he had seen Dudley and his friends doing it, but never with so much... passion?

You were quite passionate about dancing, much more passionate than you were about school or Quidditch, and it fascinated him. How you could let loose, could forget what everyone thought of you, and he wanted to feel it too, wanted to not think that everyone was judging him.

So, Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on the beat of the music and your hands clapping, and then he did what you had been doing: Moving his arms, his legs, his feet, all a bit offbeat, all much less cool than what you did, but it had the effect he had wished for.

He forgot. Forgot about everything going on, everything in the past, everything that would come. It was like the music had deleted Voldemort from his mind. There was only his body and those absurdly freeing dance moves he would have been ashamed off any other time.

But not with you.

“Hey, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, look at you!” You shouted over the music, and Harry ripped his eyes open in the same moment as you grab his hands again. He slowed his legs.

“You said you wouldn’t look,” He said breathlessly, very aware of his fast-beating heart.

But if he was honest, he did not mind that you had seen him. If he could choose any of his friends to watch him dance like this, it would definitely be you.

“I had to, I’m sorry!” You laughed, and the song came to an end. “Oh, I have something even better, you’ll like that!”

You hit him friendly in the chest and rushed over to your pile of vinyl discs, wrapping the Footloose back up and pulling out another one from a white and pink packaging with two people on the front.

Harry would’ve never believed that dance lessons would be more exhausting than Quidditch training, but he had soon been disabused. He took a huge sip from his bottle of butterbeer and watched how you placed the needle on the disc before reaching for your own bottle.

“‘You broke my heart – ‘cause I couldn't dance – you didn’t even want me around!’” You were mouthing along the words the singer was speaking in an overdramatic seriousness, holding your bottle like a microphone. Harry was grinning at you, afraid of what would come next. “‘And now I'm back – to let you know – I can really shake 'em down!’”

The music dropped in, and you shook your hips, hands on your black skirt.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dirty Dancing,” You dared as Harry stayed at his spot, and he shrugged helplessly.

You shook your head at him with a smile on your lips, placed your bottle away and pulled him away from the table until you two were almost as close as in your usual dance lessons.

“Okay, like this.” You grabbed him gently by the waist and pushed him a bit down so his legs were slightly bent. Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected touch. “Good, yeah, look at what I’m doing.”

Your grip became firmer, circularly moving his hips like you did. His eyes jumped up between your face and your waist, and he tried his best to copy your movements while calming his heart speed down.

“Yes, good! Now, your upper body, look at me – yeah! Good, eyes up,” You reminded him, and he glanced at your face, his cheeks flushed.

“Is that okay?” You asked, stepping closer so your hips almost touch, and he nodded. You took his hand, placed it on your lower back, and wrapped your own arms around his neck, just like Johnny and Baby had done it in the beginning of Dirty Dancing.

“That’s good!” You encouraged him, and he grinned at you, his face bright red. “You know, in the movie, they have another dance with a lift.”

“You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?” He asked.

You shook your head, laughing. “No, definitely not without training and a mattress,” You said, slowing your hip movements. “Maybe after the ball. I mean –”

The words had just slipped out of your mouth without thinking about them before. But Harry smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead, while I’ve Had The Time Of My Life began to play, and Bill Medley’s voice filled the room.

Harry felt like he was on fire. If you wanted to continue the dance lessons next year it must be because you liked him. In some way, you liked him, and it was very hard for him to concentrate during this dance. And training on a mattress would not make that easier – Stop it, stop it, just answer!

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and your heart jumped up in excitement. You smiled back at him and grabbed his free hand with yours, leading you back into a simple dance routine fitting the music. Harry followed almost effortlessly, only shortly glancing at his feet.

“I’ll have to demand payment if we keep doing this.”

“What kind of payment?”

His hand on your lower back pushed you a bit closer, you were almost chest to chest. Was he... flirting with you?

Whatever it was, it made you speechless, and in a moment of incautiousness, your eyes fell down to his lips. You held your breath for a second as you looked back up into his eyes, slowing your movements. He returned your gaze, but just as you were about to gather all your courage, his eyes shifted to the door of the classroom, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“What?” You asked, turning around.

“Filch,” He said and not far down the hall, you heard the meowing of Mrs. Norris.

Panic flared up inside of you as you saw the clock on the wall: Half past nine.

“Argh, fuck.”

You let go off him and rushed over to the table with the record play on top, shoving your vinyl discs into your schoolbag and collecting your high heels in a hurry.

Outside in the hallway, the scratchy voice of Filch mixed with the clicking of his cat’s claws on the stone tiles. Harry had grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out his Invisibility Cloak. As you turned around, he had reached you and enveloped you two in the cloak, standing almost as close to you as a few seconds ago.

“Have you found someone, Mrs. Norris?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Is someone out of bed at night?”

“We have to get out,” You whispered, not very keen on getting detention any time soon.

“If we open the door now, he’ll know someone disguised is there,” Harry answered.

“How often have you snuck out of bed at night?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a lopsided smile.

“Enough times to know what to do.”

The scratching on the classroom door reminded Harry that, despite the fact that they were invisible, it was still pretty obvious that someone had been in here. Harry flicked his wand at the ceiling light right in time – the candles went out and the two of you were coated in darkness just before Filch pushed the door open and the light from his lantern fell onto the stone floor. You held your breath, hoping he would leave again.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris’ red eyes scanned the room and the greyish cat walked up to you as if she could actually see you. Instinctively, you wanted to move backwards, but Harry’s arm wrapped around you, holding you in place. You looked up to him and he slowly shook his head.

Mrs. Norris eyed you for a few more seconds before she suddenly jumped onto the table behind you, walking up to the two almost emptied butterbeer bottles and bumping her head against them.

“Oh no.” Your voice was no more than a whisper. “I didn’t –”

Harry placed his hand over your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

Filch had turned away from the other side of the room he had inspected and was now walking over to his cat. With his arm around your mid, Harry pulled you two quietly away from the table he was now inspecting. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was the panic of escaping Filch or Harry’s chest pressed against your back, but the butterflies in your stomach were jittery as though they were on drugs, and your heart beat unbelievably fast.

Harry felt your heartbeat. He felt the pulsating blood in your veins on your neck where his arm lay, reaching up to your mouth. You were barely breathing, and he figured it was because he was holding you like he was about to kidnap you.

“Run when we’re in the hallway,” He whispered, eyes steadily watching Filch, and removed his hand from your lips to grab your free hand. You nodded shortly. Fortunately, Filch had left the door open, and in one swift motion, Harry had steered you outside.

Fingers still interlocked with yours, he began to run, you by his side. And despite the fact that you two had almost been caught, despite that you had been interrupted when he had felt most confident, despite the ruined moment, he felt light and free and happy.

You were clutching your shoes, slithering over the cold tiles in your black tights, and Harry, looking at you, almost missed the last step of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He held onto you as he staggered, and you giggled breathlessly, pulling him back up.

“That – stupid – fucking – cat. Can she see through your cloak?” You asked.

Harry shrugged and ruffled through his messy hair.

“Don’t know. I think, but I’m glad she can’t talk,” He said, and a grin spread over your lips, which he returned.

He caught your eyes, looking at you like before, like there was something he needed to say – the tingling feeling in your core got overwhelmed by heart-racing panic and because of some sour mix of uncertainty and fear, you slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, taking a few steps away from Harry.

Not a second later, he emerged as well, fighting to keep the smile on his face like his heart hadn't just sunk so deep he wasn't sure if it was even still connected to his veins.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Your voice was too loud, too squeaky to convince him. “Yeah, I – I'm sorry, it's just been a long week and I'm really tired. I'm gonna – gonna go...”

You gestured to the portrait behind you, avoiding his eyes, and turned to escape the situation.

Harry stared at the spot where you had vanished into the common room, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his cloak before tossing it to the ground. It didn't give the satisfying sound he had wanted to make, so he sent a “Fuck!” after it.

“Young boy, that is not a very appropriate language, now, is it?”

His eyes flew up to the Fat Lady, who had apparently watched with great interest. “Besides, what are you doing that late out of bed? I mean I know it gets later on Fridays for the two of you but it's later than usual today –”

“Chinese Fireball.”

“I just don't know what you are doing during that hour. There are rumours, for sure –”

“I told you the password, now will you open the fucking portrait? Chinese Fireball.”

“Oh, fine.” She let the portrait swing forward. “I'll find out by myself... maybe visit some paintings down on fifth floor...”

Harry ignored the Fat Lady.

He also ignored Ron calling after him from the sofa in front of the fireplace, as well as Hermione's questioning look and all the other people staring at him as he darted through the common room and up the stairs, slamming the door of his dorm shut behind him.

He ignored them because the only person he wanted to be seen with had just left him standing in the hallway and he wasn't even sure why.

The first time you saw each other again was three days later in Potions. You had ignored him on purpose, which you knew was obvious to him: Leaving the Great Hall whenever he stepped inside, sitting as far from him in the common room as possible, avoiding his eyes... that did not leave that much room for speculations.

You didn't want to hurt him, you really didn't, but you couldn't be friends any longer, especially not after last Friday. You weren't even sure what exactly had happened – had he really flirted with you or had that been your imagination? Probably the latter. He had asked someone else the ball after all. Right?

Parvati nudged you with her elbow, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the hole in your parchment created by your quill. The two of you sat in the far back of Professor Slughorn’s class, who was in the middle of telling one of his anecdotes instead of teaching about Veritaserum.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a hushed voice. “You’ve been weird since Friday.”

Lavender, who sat in front of you, turned around. “Is it because of – you know?”

She gestured towards Harry in his usual place diagonally across from you. You sighed, placed your quill aside to rub your hands over your face and shrugged. You had also avoided any questions from your friends about Friday, mostly because you could not even answer them yourself.

“I thought he would ask you,” Lavender whispered while throwing a quick glance at Slughorn to make sure he was still occupied with his story. “Didn’t he?”

“No,” You mouthed. Parvati shook her head.

“Man, you’d think he had grown a set of balls after all. If it turns out he just used you to look good in front of Ginny, I swear to Merlin –”

“Well, that’s what it looks like, I mean, he had enough time to ask you,” Lavender said.

Before you could reply anything, Parvati had grabbed her wand and leaned forward. In the next second, the blue Jobberknoll feathers on Harry’s desk burst into flames with an ear-piercing noise.

Both Harry and Ron jumped up, startled from the sudden explosion, and Hermione let out a little shriek as one of the sparks got caught up in her locks. Snickering came from the Slytherin table, and Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly grinning.

“Was that you? Stupid tosspot, I’ll shove that feather up your –,” Ron swore loudly, fists high and ready to walk over to the Slytherins, who had gotten up as well and were throwing insults through the room.

“Calm down, m’boys, no need to get abusive.”

Slughorn stepped between the two fronts while both Harry and Hermione pulled Ron back down onto his chair. With a wave of Slughorn’s wand, the feathers stopped burning and were as good as new.

“Have you gone mental?” You asked during the turmoil. Parvati shrugged and innocently shoved her wand aside.

“You’re my friend and if he hurt you, he’ll get what he deserves –”

“He didn’t hurt me!” You whispered angrily. “I was the one who panicked, I ran away that evening because I was afraid of what he would say! Not Harry. I left him like the idiot I am even though he – he was super nice and said he wanted to learn more –”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sorry, Professor, I was just –”

“Talking to Ms. Patil, I noticed. Could you still answer my question?” Slughorn eyed you, and so were all the other students.

“Uh...yes... if you could repeat it? Sir.” You said, and once again snickering echoed through the classroom, the loudest coming from Pansy Parkinson.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Parvati reaching for her wand again, and you quickly pressed her hand down to the table, awkwardly smiling at Slughorn.

“I asked if you could tell me anything about the usage of Veritaserum in court,” He kindly repeated and you straightened your back, ignoring Hermione’s raised hand.

“Well, the potion is strictly banned by the British Ministry of Magic, therefore they don’t use it during interrogations and such, which is also because, like any other potion, it’s not infallible. But I read that in some Asian countries, the accused can choose if they want to take Veritaserum before they give testimony. Unfortunately, in some courts they give the accused failed Veritaserum in order to alter the given testimony fraudulently.”

You had never read about that, you were – ironically – making it up, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

“Very well, that’ll be five points for Gryffindor,” He said. “That reminds me of –”

As Slughorn fell back into his old habit of telling personal stories during class, you sank back into your chair and stared at the chapped top of the desk for the rest of the lesson.

Only the bell ripped Slughorn out of his monologue, and over the rustling of chairs, he told the class to read the next chapter of Advanced Potion Making until Wednesday.

“Courtyard?” You asked Parvati as to where to spend your free lesson.

“Yeah, but I got a question about that graded essay from last week. Just go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” She answered and made her way to the front. Alongside with Lavender, you were one of the first to leave the Potions classroom.

“I wish I hadn’t picked Arithmancy,” Lavender complained.

“You can sleep longer on Thursdays, remember?” You said as you reached the entrance hall. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lavender began to climb up the stairs to the third floor, and you walked down the hallway. It was freezing cold outside, but the courtyard was beautiful during every time of the year, especially in the early mornings when the sun melted the iced-up grass and you could share a hot chocolate with your friends on one of the benches.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

You turned to spot none other than Theodore Nott running up to you, his Slytherin scarf loosely around his neck.

“Hi,” He said as he had reached you.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask if you have a dance to spare at the Spring ball? I mean, I know you’re going with Potter, I just wanted one dance with someone professional –”

“I’m not going with Harry,” You blurted out. Theodore narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.

You gulped and shook your head, crossing your arms. “I’m not going with... anyone.”

“Oh. Well, then,” His body relaxed visibly, and he raised his eyebrows, “do you wanna go with me?”

You opened your mouth, an agreement already on the tip of your tongue, but you knew that was just out of desperation and not because you actually wanted to go to the ball with Theodore.

“Hey, you know what, no pressure at all, okay?” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder casually. “I’ll be at the ball anyway, so if you want to dance then, I’m free.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Theodore. I’ll think about it.”

“You can call me Theo. Only if you want to, obviously.”

A grin crept upon your face. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it.”

Whatever Harry had felt the two days prior, it was nothing compared to the sour feeling circulating in his stomach now, like some dragon-creature spitting fire and tearing at his entrails with sharp claws. Inside of him, everything was clenching and itching, but on the outside, he was numb.

Like his brain had been disconnected from his muscles, wherefore he was only able to stare at Theodore Nott and his stupid, complacent grin and his hand on your shoulder while he asked you to the ball.

This wasn’t fair. How come everyone else but him was able to do it, how come everybody else had managed to find a date, when – to be honest – he had been provided with one of the best initial situations? How come the only thing he was apparently fit for was getting himself into trouble and escaping death every goddamn year? Harry had kind of forgotten about all that was to come, all that Dumbledore had told him, and the memory Slughorn was still tending like dark secret simply because of you.

The worst thing wasn’t that Theodore Nott had just asked you to go to the Spring ball with him. No, the worst thing was that you had agreed.

The only thing that was left for him was to run, which he did now: Up to the Gryffindor tower, tossing his back bag into a corner and grabbing his Firebolt from under the bed, then back down to the Quidditch pitch in record time.

Flying was one of the most freeing activities known to Harry, especially in the cool, fresh morning air with no one else around. High above the frozen grass and the wooden stands, much higher than probably allowed without any teacher near by, Harry paused to watch the sun over the Forbidden Forest.

He wondered if you had ever flown before, if you knew how brilliant it was to hover a thousand feet above the ground, far away from all the problems. Far away from Ron asking what the bloody hell was wrong with him. Far away from Hermione telling him that it was his own fault for waiting so long but that you surely weren’t interested like that in that tosser Theodore (though she would probably word it much more formal).

Time was relative up here, Harry had noticed over the years, so he closed his eyes and shut the world out for a moment. Saturday was still light-years away anyway, so –

“Harry, is that you?”

He almost fell from his broom.

With his heart still beating way to fast and adrenalin pumping though his veins, he turned his broom around to find no one other that Luna standing inside commentary box and waving up to him. Oh well. So much for being alone.

He steered his Firebolt down to the blonde witch and landed beside her.

“What are you doing her, Luna?” He asked as climbed from his broomstick. “Don’t you have classes right now?”

“Oh, yes. But I saw that you are sad so I asked Professor Sprout if I could go because I’m not feeling very well,” She explained and sat down on one of the benches.

“You lied to a professor?”

“Oh, no,” She said, looking at him with her dreamy blue eyes. “I don’t feel well when my friends are sad.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that, so he simply sat down next to her. Luna had such a strange, but calm energy, like a pulsating, pink bubble inhibiting her, and if you were lucky, she let you inside this bubble and you could shut the world out for a moment.

“Harry, why are you sad?” Luna asked softly after a while.

“Because... because I like someone who doesn’t like me back,” He said.

Luna placed her hand upon his, and he saw that she had painted her fingernails in every colour of the rainbow. Though that was probably Ginny’s work.

“I think Y/N likes you very much,” She said. Harry scoffed.

“Not the way I like her,” He said. “She just agreed to go to the ball with Nott. I saw it. She looked happy. And when I wanted to ask her last week, she ran away.”

“You know, first I thought you wanted to go to the ball with somebody else,” She said. “I thought maybe you wanted to ask Cho again and wanted to prepare this time. And maybe Y/N thought so, too.”

Harry looked up at the blonde girl.

“She did ask me if I was going to ask Cho,” He said, remembering one of the dance lessons.

“And did you tell her that you actually want to ask her?”

“No,” He admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I panicked... and now it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. You should still go to the ball, and then you should tell her,” Luna said.

“How? I can’t do it when we’re alone, I certainly can’t do it when there’s a hundred people around,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, then don’t.” Luna shrugged. “If you want her to be with Theodore –”

“I don’t want that,” He interrupted her. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Then go to the ball and tell her. I know you can do that.”

Saturday evening came around faster than you liked it to. Over the last four days, you had noticed Theodore’s eyes on you more than once during the meals or potions class, but it did not cause the tingling feeling in your stomach you would like his looks to cause.

If anything, you felt a pressure to talk to him and to spend time with him because you would go to the ball together. But you did not give in to that pressure and avoided him as much as possible, which led to you often leaving the potions classroom as one of the first.

To be honest, you were much more concentrated on Harry.

Harry who did not sit beside you during meals anymore. Harry who did not look in your direction but rather stared at his plate. Harry who looked like he had just lived through a very miserable week.

And you knew that was because you had left him standing in the hallway last Friday night. Maybe he had figured that you had feelings for him and that was his way of dealing with it: Distancing himself from you.

You wished you had not run. You wished you could’ve stayed in that abandoned classroom forever, your favourite song playing and his arms around you.

–

“What eyeshadow should I use?”

“The darker one.”

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up from where you sat on the floor in your puffy, ankle-long purple-pink dress. Parvati held out her eyeshadow palette, eyebrows raised as she sceptically eyed you. Her black hair was still wrapped around a dozen curlers. Lavender had spent all morning on them.

“Yes, the darker one,” You said. “Brings out your eyes.”

Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough to not ask how you were doing. She and Lavender had already asked that over a million times, but you had reassured them that you were totally okay.

Parvati turned back to face the mirror.

“When did you want to meet with Nott?” Lavender asked. She kneeled in front of her trunk, pondering whether she should wear black or silver heels.

“Half past seven,” You mumbled, picking at the tulle of your dress.

Theodore had held you back yesterday after Defence against the Dark Arts to tell you that he would be at the Great Hall at 7:30 and that you were welcome to eat dinner with him and his friends – which included people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; people you usually avoided by all means, people that had laughed at you for tripping over the last step of a stair, for not knowing an answer to one of Snape’s stupid questions, or for simply being Muggleborn.

You had never been less interested in going to a social event. All you wanted to do was lay in bed under your blanket and erase the last week out of your mind.

“Oh, come on, darling, we talked about this.” Lavender came over and squished your cheeks, brushing away a tear. “Today is not the day to sulk about some guy who doesn’t return your feelings. Today is your day, and you’re gonna have fun with us. Don’t let some guy ruin that. Okay?”

You sniffed and nodded, not able to answer because she cupped your cheeks so solidly. Lavender smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That’s right,” She said. “We’re gonna have some dinner and dance a bit and if by then you still feel bad, we can go back to our dorm.”

“And if Harry dares to talk to you, he’s gonna know what’s it feels like to be kicked in the balls with a heel,” Parvati added dryly. You laughed.

The Great Hall was decorated with yellow, pink and purple banners, and the four long house tables had been exchanged with much smaller, round ones scattered where the staff table usually stood, on each of them a vase filled with rosa tulips and white daffodils.

The ceiling did not mirror the night sky outside but a beautiful, orange sunset lighting up the dance floor in the middle. Opposite from the many tables, on the other end of the hall, Slughorn had organised a stage with a cover band. Next to the stage hung a long parchment onto which everyone could write requests.

You spotted your Potions teacher, dressed in a bright green suit, next to Dumbledore, his robes a terrible pink, both of them writing down their song requests.

“A Galleon that Dumbledore is a Spice Girls fan,” Lavender said grinning as she had followed your eyes.

“Bet,” Parvati said, grabbing three drinks from a passing waiter. “Here. Cheers.”

The three of you clinked glasses and took a sip of the red punch – it tasted strongly of various fruits, coconut, and bitter alcohol.

You let your eyes glide further over the hall and the people that sat together in groups around the tables, some of them already eating. Secretly, you were looking for Harry, though you only discovered Ginny in between Luna and Hermione, all of them chatting happily, and a few tables behind them, Theodore.

He waved as he saw you, gesturing to come over. You forced yourself to smile and wave back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, chugging down the rest of your drink.

“Tell us if he’s being an asshole,” Parvati said. “Or really any of them.”

“And have some fun,” Lavender added.

You took one last look at your friends – Parvati in her silk, almond white, slim dress, and Lavender with flowers in her hair, their arms linked together – and swallowed thickly before turning and making your way through the crowd towards Theodore, though you made sure to give the table with Ginny a wide berth.

“Hi, Y/N,” Theodore greeted you, pecking a swift kiss on your left cheek. His eyes, however, were gliding over the room filling with more and more students. “We’ve already ordered some drinks, come on.”

You took a step back after the kiss, blinking quickly, then noticed how the other people around the table were staring at you:

Pansy and Daphne eyed you and your dress dismissively, and Blaise sipped on his wine, eyebrows raised. Only Draco was slumped in his chair and chewed on a gum, not wasting a single glance at you. He looked as uninterested in this Spring Ball as you felt.

An hour ago, you sure as hell wouldn’t have believed to relate to bloody Draco Malfoy.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” You said, forcing a smile on your face and holding out your hand towards Pansy, as she sat closest to you. “I like your dress. Matches your earrings.”

That compliment seemed to leave a mark. Her judging look softened and she shook your hand.

After introducing yourself to everyone (well, except Draco, who had only shortly nodded at you), you sat down in between Theodore and Blaise, and ordered something to eat.

Pansy and Daphne were huddled together the whole time, giggling and pointing at others, while Draco raised a complaint about every meal on the menu or really any other small inconvenience that had the unfortune to be spotted by him (“I can’t eat that, it has tomatoes in it. Nothing on here is gluten free. I’ll write father first thing in the morning. Pansy, will you shut the fuck up for a second? That’s not even a real band. God, I hate this place.”).

“He’s a whiny bitch most of the time, but his family has a great holiday chalet in France,” Blaise said to you after Draco had shot you an annoyed look for asking if you should ask the band to play a different song. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends with him.”

“I hope you choke on that disgusting wine,” Draco muttered, and you chuckled.

“Sure, darling,” Blaise replied, sharing a look with you. Until now, Blaise had surprisingly talked the most with you, and it turned out he wasn’t half as bad as you had always thought he would be.

Theodore on the other hand had only occasionally asked you how your meal was and how long you had planned to stay. His eyes had not held contact with yours for longer than a second and were still searching for something in the crowd, which was – by the way – having fun on the dance floor while you had not moved in almost an hour.

It wasn’t until a particularly beautiful girl from Ravenclaw strode past your table that Theodore hooked his foot around the leg of your chair to pull you closer and placed his hand on your upper thigh, giving you his full attention for the first time that night.

“Have I told you that you look very pretty tonight?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Er – no,” You said, darting a confused look towards the Ravenclaw girl.

“Well, you do,” Theodore went on and turned your head back to face him by stroking his thumb over your cheek before pressing his lips onto the skin beneath your ear. They felt chapped and not pleasant in any way. You cringed.

“Uh, sorry, but that’s maybe a bit early, don’t you think?” You said, drawing back and shoving his hand from your thigh.

“She’s gone anyway, Theo,” Blaise said. You did not understand.

“Who’s gone?” You asked, looking back and forth between Theodore and the others, who all seemed to know something you didn’t. Pansy giggled.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. His sweet voice had turned bitter, and you felt like that was your fault. He stood up. “I’ll get some more punch.”

The band segued from an upbeat song into a much slower one, and the light of the candles magically dimmed.

“Do you want to dance maybe?” You asked Theodore as a way to make up for your rejection, but he had already pushed past a group of chatting seventh years, not turning around.

You sank back into your chair, picking at the tulle of your dress again. Was it too early to tell Lavender and Parvati that you wanted to go back to your dorm?

“Girl, if I were you, I would get out of here as quickly as possible,” Blaise said. You looked up at him. “He’s not worth it. And he’s not here for you. So don’t waste your energy.”

“But he asked me to the ball,” You said weakly.

“Did he? Or did he just ask for some time with you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous?”

“He – well – he…”

But Blaise looked at you and you knew that he was right, that this was never about you but some other girl. It was always about some other girl.

“Excuse me, I’ll get some fresh air,” You said and made your way through the tables towards the doors.

The last time, everyone had watched him. Now it was Harry’s turn to watch everyone else try their best on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse; to be laughed at by the others while stepping on Parvati’s feet every other second or to watch not only Hermione and Ron but also Ginny and Luna, as well as Seamus and Dean dancing closely, arms around the other.

They all had no idea what they were doing, Harry could tell, but they were having fun anyway. He had never seen Hermione this happy.

“Oh, flashback.”

Harry looked up. Parvati sat down next to him on the chair that Ron had left over half an hour ago.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer, and turned back to the dance floor right in time to see Dean kissing Seamus passionately in the middle of the room.

“And you are not dancing because…?” Parvati asked. Harry crossed his arms.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or to blow up my butterbeer, feel free to fuck off.”

Parvati chuckled. “Sorry about that. But seriously, why are you sitting here miserably after all those dance lessons?”

Harry tried to make out if she was actually serious or if this was her way to revenge herself for the Yule Ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked. Parvati narrowed her eyebrows, now visibly puzzled.

“No, I’m genuinely asking –”

“Well, it’s not that fucking easy to slow dance if you have no date, is it,” He said crossly.

Parvati gaped at him, but he was certainly not in the mood for this. It had cost him all his strength to not look for you in the crowd all evening, he did not need reminding of you not liking him back by Parvati.

Before she could say anything else, he placed his butterbeer bottle on the table and darted outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his suit and eyes directed to the floor.

Harry’s feet guided him towards the courtyard. The music played by the band wasn’t as loud out here, and the cold night air was lively in contrary to the sticky, perfumed air inside the Great Hall.

He kicked some of the grass away and walked towards the bench underneath the willow, watching how its branches weighed in the wind and thought how you were probably having as much fun as his friends, or maybe even more, considering Nott was infamous for snogging in various broom closets.

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of that. He wished he had a time turner to make it right.

The moon stood high on the deep blue night sky, illuminating the courtyard you had unconsciously walked to. Grey clouds had approached, and tiny raindrops were falling to the ground, steadily drumming onto the roofs of Hogwarts.

On your way out of the Great Hall, you had caught a glimpse of Theodore sticking his tongue down the throat of that Ravenclaw girl, but to be honest, it didn’t matter that he was making out with someone else. It would’ve just been nice if you could have had a forewarning.

You thought you were the only single soul wandering about, then spotted a figure sitting on a bench. You were about to turn and search for some other place to wallow in your feelings, when you recognised the messy hair.

Maybe this was the time to make up for running away. Maybe this was the time to be honest.

Harry looked up when he noticed someone coming closer, the tulle of your dress rustling over the wet grass. His heart jumped and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Hello,” You said, voice echoing over the empty courtyard. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Harry scooted to the side to make some space for you. You sat down next to him, leaving maybe a hand width between the two of you. The wide branches of the willow guided you from the cold rain.

“You weren’t dancing,” You said, staring at the grass instead of his face.

You would understand if he did not want to talk, if he just walked away. He didn’t owe you an explanation for why he had not asked you to the ball or why was sitting here instead of inside with Ginny or whoever he had asked.

“You weren’t either, were you?” Harry replied. “You and Nott.”

“No, he’s busy with someone else, so… no. Not dancing.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled. His knee bumped against yours. “Well, he’s an idiot then.”

You smiled, not moving your knee away from his.

“Yeah…but I don’t mind, really.”

“You should,” Harry said, and he meant it. No one should be treated like that. “If anyone should be dancing, it’s you.”

You looked up at him. Harry was already watching you, and it filled you with warmth despite the freezing cold. There wasn’t a single sign of hurt on his face, just a soft curiosity lying in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “for running away last Friday. I had to sort out some things.”

“What things?” He asked quietly.

“Some…” Your heartbeat sped up. Be honest, you told yourself. “Some feelings.”

“Oh.” Harry tried to figure out what you meant by that, but the way you looked at him made his mind go blank. “You mean you…”

“I really like dancing with you,” You said. Harry felt his heart beating faster than ever against his ribcage. He wondered if you could hear it. “And I wouldn’t have done those lessons with anyone.”

The music from inside the Great Hall was growing louder, overshadowing the rain; someone must’ve opened the doors to let in some fresh air. The band was playing a slower, French song and it stung in your heart. It was one of your favourites.

When you turned back to Harry, he was standing up. For a second you thought he wanted to leave, to go back inside, then –

“May I have this dance?” Harry held out is right hand, and you did not have to think twice if you should take it or not.

He helped you up from the bench and led into the middle of the lawn, the rain still pattering onto the grass and the stone tiles. It smelled strongly of petrichor, and you thought that this was much closer to spring than the decorations in the Great Hall.

Harry’s hand found its place on your back, pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder, tapping his skin with your finger in time to the music out of habit, and met his eyes, reflecting the moon light in them.

Had you ever told him how beautiful he was?

The two of you moved, swaying back and forth. Harry realised that he did not even need to concentrate on the steps, he knew them by heart. The closeness of you took his breath away, the way your fingers held onto his, the way there was little to no room between your torso and his. You were smiling at him, despite the cold and the rain. Harry felt his stomach tingling.

“What’s it called?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to drown out the music.

“‘Je Te Laisserai Des Mots’. I’ll leave you words,” You translated, having memorised the lyrics in your mind. “I’ll leave you words underneath your door, underneath the singing moon. Near the place where your feet pass by…hidden in the holes of wintertime and when you’re alone for a moment.”

You paused and Harry’s eyes fell to his feet, not able to take your gaze any longer. There were words on the tip of his tongue he did not dare to say – afraid, to ruin the moment. He wanted to stay here forever.

“Eyes up,” You said, placing your hand underneath his chin to lift his head up.

More French words reached your ears; Harry figured they were the same sentence repeated over and over, but even if he had been able to understand French, he wouldn’t have been able to translate them because of your hand still resting under his chin.

“Kiss me whenever you want,” You whispered. “Kiss me whenever you want. Kiss me –”

And then, Harry let go of his fears and kissed you.

After all it still took you by surprise how he loosened his fingers from yours to cup your face, pulling you as close to him as possible, until there was no space in between, noses bumping against each other. Both of your hands slung themselves around his neck, caressing his skin and driving up through messy hair.

His lips matched yours, gliding smoothly over one another, smearing your lip gloss everywhere until all you tasted was strawberries and sweet alcohol. With his chest against yours, Harry was glad to notice your heart beating as fast as his did, though that was also because he really needed to breathe – not that he wanted to, he would have been totally okay with never breaking away from the kiss if it was always going to feel this soft and freeing.

It was you in the end that had to carefully pull his face away from yours, heavily breathing in and out. You brushed his wet hair out of his forehead and let your fingers slide over his temples and cheeks down to his neck.

“That offer,” Harry began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair he had accidentally drawn from your pinned-up hair behind your ear, “about continuing the dance lessons…that still stands, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry said, mirroring your smile before leaning down again to close the gap between your lips.

[buttterknifeee]

Date with Destiny- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: you guessed it bitches its the prom episode with everyone's fav guy Robin (S2 Ep6)

Pairings: Robin!Dick grayson x reader

Word count: 4218

A/N: hey yall I love writing for this series bfgkfhg so if you want my inbox is always open to request!!! love yallll~

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of the day; the sun is long gone and the wind constantly bites at your skin. But it depends on what you're doing to decide whether you like it or not. Sometimes it’s not as bad; that’s when you’re hanging out with your friends, maybe going to a carnival or out partying all night. Sometimes it’s worse, like you being forced to chase after some villain who decided to only operate AT NIGHT. Unfortunately, the latter is true for you tonight.

You slump over in the backseat of the T-Car while Cyborg and Raven sit attentively at the front.

“Why can’t I sit in the front?” you whine, staring at the two Titan’s heads.

“Because I’m the only one that knows how to drive this car and Raven needs to use her telekinesis so we dont die!” Cyborg yells, focusing on the target, who happens to be a guy with a spider for his head that stole a bunch of jewelry.

You groaned and poked your head out the window. Starfire and Beast Boy were up in the air, Robin close by on his motorbike, and you were all chasing the half-arachnid. You stretched out of the vehicle and made punching movements at the criminal, ocean water from the bay twisting over towards him, mimicking your movements. The jets of water just barely nicked him before crashing into the sides of buildings, the teenage spider continuing to scuttle across the city.

You turn your attention back towards the road as the spider guy created a webbed barrier in front of Cyborg’s car and Robin’s motorcycle. You and Cyborg gasp, but Raven calmly holds her hand up towards the road. It cracks, creating a ramp for the four of you to jump over the webs with.

After making the jump, the half spider looks at the car. He shoots webs at you, and its splats on the car windshield.

“I can’t see!” Cyborg yells, swerving the car over to the side. You lurch forward as you finally come to a stop, thankful that Cyborg had installed heavy duty seat belts.

“I don’t see why you can’t let me drive,” you mumbled, stumbling out of the car. You aimed your hands towards the car and a jet of water sprung out from a fire hydrant, cleaning the silk from the windshield.

“I already said it, I’m the only one who knows the inner workings of the T-car! Besides, you don’t even have your license.” Cyborg said, stepping out of the car calmer than before.

“I do too!- You know what, we’ll talk about this later. Right now we need to find the others.” You say, taking in your surroundings. Then out of nowhere, Beast Boy popped out from behind the car.

“Uh hey guys! Kinda got lost back there!” he grins, dusting off silk strands from his arms.

“I’m going after them!” you tell the other Titans, sprinting off into the direction Robin and Starfire went. You flick your wrist as you run and water from the fire hydrant trickles out and forms a wave that you could ride on, like an aquatic skateboard.

You catch up to the two as Starfire gets shot down by the spider teen’s webbing. You make eye contact as you pass her, unsure whether to help her free.

“Just go!” she yells, already beginning to rip the webs thanks to her brute strength. You nod and race forwards to catch up with Robin. You find his abandoned motorbike and look up to see him chasing after the villain using his grappling hook. I’m trying to help him, but I can barely catch up to him, you grumble as you will the water to shoot you into the air, almost like a hydro-cannon. You bounce from roof to roof, inching closer to the Boy Wonder and his pursuit with the villain.

You were right under Robin when the spider-guy shoots some type of laser at him. Suddenly, he freezes up, and begins to fall, knocking you down with him.

“C-can’t… move,” he grunts, on top of you in mid air.

“YEAH NO SHIT” you yell, still stuck under him. Ok ok, options… you think, time seems to slow down around you. I can’t make a geyser because that’d take too long. I like Robin but not enough to break his fall, hmm…

You notice the grappling hook in his belt. You yank it out and shoot it at the wall you just fell from, wrapping your other arm around Robin. Your arm feels like it was about to fall out of its socket as you abruptly stop, hanging in mid air with Robin safely in your grasp. Starfire catches up with you, having broken free from the webbed trap. She helps you down and brings you to where Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Raven stood.

“He is okay?” Starfire asks, holding Robin in place while you catch your breath.

“He will be. The venom’s effect is only temporary.” Cyborg says, examining the Boy Wonder, who was still frozen in a climbing position.

“Getting away...we have to...go after him!” Robin musters, but almost falls over doing so.

“You mean, we have to go after him,” Raven corrects him.

“Yeah, you gotta wait until that stuff wears off,” you say, knocking on his frozen arm to prove your point.

“But-” Robin begins, but Beast Boy cuts him off.

“Dude, we can handle it. The guy's got a spider for a head. Not like he's gonna be hard to find.” he said. Robin didn’t say anything, which was code for a reluctant agreement. Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy agreed that they would go after the spider thief, while you, Robin and Starfire return to the Tower to get Robin sorted out.

Later at the Tower, you watched in utter horror and amusement as Starfire shook Robin while holding his feet. He hung upside down, making random yelps of pain as she did… whatever she was doing.

“Um Starfire?” you say. “You know I have healing powers… I could just heal him if we need to.”

“Nonsense Aquagirl!” she chirped as Robin groaned. “There are few problems that Tamaranean acupressure will not solve. Don’t you feel better Robin?”

“Uhhh yeah, thanks.” he said, getting back up to standing position. “Now we can focus on our other issue.” He pulls out his T-communicator.

“Titans! Any luck on finding our jewel thief?”

“We found something worse,” you hear Raven’s voice from the communicator. A live cam of the scene pops up on the living room TV screen. They were at the bridge near Jump City’s Bay; hundreds of cars pass there per minute. You noticed something was near the bridge cables, and upon closer inspection, you realized that it was thousands of moths gnawing at the bridge support. As more cables broke, the bridge grew more and more unstable, cars beginning to slide around.

“Titans go!” you hear Cyborg say, and the three of them run towards the giant cloud of bugs. Unfortunately, they were no match and could barely put a dent in the population.

“Uh, we’re gonna need backup.” Cyborg says to the communicator. You were already out of your chair and adjusting your wrist gauntlets.

“We’re on our way,” Robin says, the three of you making your way to the door. But a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don't bother. Even if you defeat a few of my children, you won't be able to stop me from releasing the entire swarm.” the villain you recognized as Killer Moth said, his face appearing on the screen. “Unless you want your city reduced to a moth-eaten wasteland, you'll do exactly as I say.”

“What do you want?’ Robin asked, brows furrowed.

“My demands are simple. The city will declare me ruler, the Teen Titans will surrender, and Robin…” he starts. You flinched at the mention of the Boy Wonder’s name. What could he want to do with Robin? To step down as a hero? Admit defeat? Reveal his identity???

“... will take this lovely young lady to her junior prom.”

Huh?

“Hi Robbie-Poo!” said a girl who appeared on the screen next to Killer Moth. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, was wearing pink pajamas, and although you had just met her, you could already tell that she was a bitch.

“Um… What was that last part again?” he asked, clearly not expecting that demand.

“Um Robin?” you ask. “Who’s this girl and why’d she call you… er, you know.”

“Her name is Kitten,” Killer Moth gloats. “And you will take her to prom.”

“This prom is the matter of a duel, yes?” Starfire asked, not very assimilated in American culture. “Robin eagerly accepts!”

“It’s not a duel, Star. It’s a date.” Robin patiently corrects her.

“Oh”

“Robin! You can’t do this!” you say, looking at him through his masked eyes. “Isn’t that right Starfire?”

“Oh yes!” she agrees. “You mustn't accept!”

“We’re gonna need a minute,” Robin sighs, pulling the two of you away from the center of the room. You stare at him, arms crossed.

“This is so stupid.” you begin. “What kind of villain makes a superhero go on a date with some girl? And what kind of parent names their child Kitten? There’s no way you’re actually going to go to a dance with some random chick!”

Robin doesn’t say anything about your comments, but opens his T-communicator again,

“Cyborg, report. How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad! We can’t hold 'em much longer!” Cyborg yells through the communicator. “If you’re gonna do something, do it quickly!” You stared at the floor, knowing what he’s gonna have to say to Killer Moth’s demands.

“I have to do it.” he grimaces. You stayed silent as Starfire reacted.

“WHAT?!” she yells.

“It's the only way to save the bridge. The only way to give us enough time to stop Killer Moth.” Robin explains. Starfire looks at you and back at Robin.

“But you do not even have the feelings for her!” she protests, looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry, but I have to, as much as I don’t want to. And I really don’t want to.” Robin says, walking back towards the screen.

“So do we have a deal?” Killer Moth grins, as much as a person with mandibles can.

“I’ll take the girl to prom.” Robin says grimly.

“Don’t tell me. Ask her.” Killer Moth says, referring to the blonde girl still pasted on screen. Even though you couldn’t see Robin’s eyes, you could tell that he was rolling them.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Do it!” the villain yells. Robin sighs.

“Kitten, was it?” he asks.

“Meow,” she replied. You almost threw up when she said that. You could see Robin reacting in the same way.

“Right. Will you...go with me to the prom?” he said, his voice showing his utter disgust.

“Oh, Robbie-poo! I thought you'd never ask!”

I can’t do this you thought, as the screen finally blipped off. Robin calmly pulled out his T-communicator and projected it onto the screen. Raven picked up, Beast Boy and Cyborg crowded around her. You could see in the background that the moths were no longer gnawing at the bridge. He told them that he bought them some time, telling them to find out what he has planned. Then he shows them a picture of Kitten.

“Who is she?” Raven asked.

“She is a manipulative gremlock not worthy of Robin's time.” Starfire pouts.

“Yeah, she's a bitch too.” you add.

“She's got some kind of connection to Killer Moth. Find the connection, and I bet you'll find him.” He said, turning to you and Starfire. “Aquagirl and Starfire will join you to help with the search.” you rolled your eyes; Is he seriously going to do this alone?

“Hey, what about you? Aren’t you going to help us?” Beast Boy asked.

“I can’t. I have a date.”

.

You and Starfire were going to prepare for your mission when she shoved you into her room. You’ve forgotten how pink all her furniture is, from the curtains to her pillows. She whips out her T-communicator.

“Starfire what are you-” you begin, but she shushes you.

“Starfire to Raven,” she says into the communicator. “Please note that I will be the only person joining you, as Aquagirl will provide Robin backup on his date!”

“Um… okay.” Raven says, then hangs up.

“What??? I’m supposed to help you guys, remember?” you protest. “And I thought you had a crush on Robin??” The alien girl took you by your shoulders.

“Aquagirl, my feelings for Robin have long dissipated, but I am sure you still have the feelings for him!” she chirped. “Do not worry, four Titans are more than enough to defeat Killer Moth! You should go to the prom of non-duels!”

“B-but what do I even wear? Prom dresses were not on my shopping list.” you argue.

“Oh do not worry Aquagirl, you may borrow mine!” Starfire opened her closet to reveal a rack of sparkly dresses, all in different colors. You eyes glittered in awe.

“Ok, I’m in.”

You spent the next half an hour getting ready for the prom. You picked out a blue dress with black lace and black gloves that went out to your elbows. Your suit was camouflaged underneath, just in case you needed to ditch the dress.

“Oh you look wonderful!” Starfire cheered. You blushed, looking at yourself in the mirror.

She flew you over to the prom location, which was on a boat. Water, you thought. Perfect. You looked at Starfire.

“Thanks again for, uh, everything.” you said sheepishly. She smiled.

“It is the no problem!” she says. “I will see you afterwards!” And with that, she flew off into the night. You sighed, holding a corsage for Robin in your hand. You hear the sound of a motorbike. Robin appeared in view; he was still wearing his mask, but his usual outfit had been replaced by a tuxedo. He was still stoically frowning, probably due to not wanting to be here, but something about him just makes your heart skip a beat.

You walked over and tapped his shoulder. He flinched at your touch, but calmed down as he realized that it was you.

“Aquagirl?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Um, just call me (y/n) for today, don’t want to raise eyebrows.” you winked. You pinned the flowers onto his lapel. “It’s my first prom, so I got you a corsage.” It’s true; this is your first prom. You were supposed to go to your junior prom this year, but of course, being a superhero kinda distracted you from that.

“Aqu- (y/n)...” he began. “You’re supposed to be helping the others track down Killer Moth.”

“Well, you said that our job was to investigate that b- uh, girl. And there’s no better way to do it than up close.” you grin. “Besides, Starfire insisted that I backed you up, you never know if you need saving, right?”

Just then, you heard a loud honk from a car. You turn to see a pink limousine pull out. Out stepped an even pinker girl, Kitten. Her headband, dress, corsage, and heels were all an obnoxious pink. She scoured the scene until she found Robin, fiercely waving at him.

“Yoo-hoo! Robbie-poo! Your Kitten has arrived! Me-ow!” she yells. You both physically cringe at her words. Robin leans over to you before he leaves.

“On second thought, maybe I will need the savings.”

You purse your lips as Robin leaves, reluctantly linking arms with the girl. You open your T-communicator.

“Cyborg,” you say. “Robin just entered the boat with Kitten. “How’s it looking on your side?”

“Poor guy,” he says sympathetically. “We just reached Kitten’s house. Going in now. Nice dress by the way.” You grin.

“Thanks man. I’ll be watching him just to see if he needs any help.”

“Got it. Cyborg out.” the screen blips to black and you close your communicator with a sigh. Time for prom.

You awkwardly shuffle onto the boat, making sure to stay a few meters behind the two. Luckily, no one noticed that you didn’t go to their school because they were so distracted by Kitten’s yelling.

“OH ROBIN!, YOU’RE SUCH A GENTLEMAN! NOT AT ALL LIKE MY WORTHLESS EX-BOYFRIEND FANG!!!” your fists clenched as she moved closer to the Boy Wonder, all over his arm. Why did we let her take Robin to the prom again? I’d rather see that bridge collapse than whatever this is.

You stationed yourself at the punch table, pouring yourself a drink. The two were talking at the table. You knew Robin didn’t want to be here in the beginning, but what if he changed his mind? What if, somehow, he falls in love with Kitten, and then you are never gonna have a chance with him?

“OF COURSE ROBIN I’D LOVE TO DANCE WITH YOU!!!” Kitten yelled, the two of them moving towards the dance floor. Your cheeks burned with anger, and maybe a little bit of jealousy. You clenched your fist again, and the sickly pink punch from the punch bowl shot into the air. The couple next to you who was about to get some punch slowly walked backwards away from you. But you didn’t care. You stomped away from the punch table.

You were leaning at one of the clothed tables as you glared at Robin and Kitten dancing away. You don’t even know why you felt so angry; maybe it was the fact that they’ve been dancing for 10 long minutes, or the fact that Kitten’s resting her head on his shoulder, or maybe the fact that you’ve never held Robin’s hand before and she is!

You notice him looking at his T-communicator while he was dancing, relieving you of the idea that he was actually enjoying the dance.

“Kiss me,” you hear Kitten say, and you froze.

“Sorry, I don’t like you that way,” he smirks. “As a matter of fact, I just don’t like you.” YES, you thought, smiling from the table.

“WHAT?!” the blonde girl shrieks.

“Killer Moth’s being taken down as we speak. We’re done here.” He pulls away, tucking his T-communicator into his pocket.

“No we are not!” she yells, ripping the corsage off of her dress. The petals fall away to reveal a cylinder, push-button controller. “Daddy’s not calling the shots tonight, I AM!!!”

“Daddy?” you and Robin said at the same time, in shock. So that's why Killer Moth made Robin go to the prom with her.

“And unless you want me to let those bugs out for a late-night snack, you better pucker up!” she makes kissy noises at Robin, her lips inching closer and closer. Robin put his finger out at them as if to shush her.

“Not even if you paid me,” he said, pushing her away and grabbing the controller out of her hand. They fight over it, and you wonder whether to jump in and help. Suddenly Kitten turns her focus away from Robin.

“Fang?” she smiled. You turned to see the jewel thief from before climbing onto the boat, spider head and all.

“That’s your ex boyfriend?” he asked, staring in shock.

“Get your hands off my girl!” he yells, knocking Robin down with his spider leg, Kitten snatching back the controller. Ok, time to act you thought, holding up your hand. A jet of water sprung up from under the boat and hit Fang, sending him flying backwards.

“And keep your legs off my guy!” you yelled, not even sure if you and Robin were on that level yet. “You alright Rob?” you ask as the Boy Wonder stands up.

“Best I’ve felt all day,” he smirked, ripping off his suit to reveal his costume underneath. You smiled; you two seemed to be on the same track in terms of disguise. You ripped your dress off and your costume uncamouflaged, revealing the familiar blue and black swim gear you always wear. You yank off your gloves to show your gauntlets underneath, the spikes swing up into place. You both look back at Kitten and Fang to find them making out; mandibles and all.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mumble, getting into a fighting position.

“You know…” Robin says, bring the couple’s attention back to you two. “You two make a really bad couple.” Fang charges at the two of you, shooting his webs and venom. One of the webs hit you, sending you to the floor. You used the spikes on your gauntlets to cut yourself free while the spider villain goes after Robin. You finally free yourself as Kitten watches the action.

“Isn’t it romantic? They’re fighting over me!” she swoons. Your cheeks burn hot with anger. Now that you're out of disguise, it's the perfect time to beat her up.

“You’re not worth anyone’s time to fight over!” you quipped loudly, causing Kitten to start screaming at you. She tackles you, and the two of you fall onto the table.

“What the-” you grunt, the air knocked out of you as you crash into the food. You roll over and pin her to the table. You try to reach for the controller, but Kitten smacks a cream pie in your face. She pins you down this time, but you extend your leg to her side and swing, sending her flying across the table. She lands flat on her back, stretched lengthwise across the table. You lunge at her, but she grabs you and dunks your head into the punch bowl. You almost burst out laughing; she was trying to drown you, and you could breathe underwater.

Your eyes glow blue from underneath the punch bowl as the beverage explodes in the girl’s hunched over face. She screams, and you push her into the chocolate cake. She lands on the floor, her pink dress now stained with chocolate frosting.

“YOU.. RUINED… MY… DRESS!!!” she screams, clicking the controller. You gasp in horror, she’s crazy. She runs at you again, screaming and you dodge her, using your water powers to shoot the controller out of her hand. The controller rolls away, right towards the bottom of Robin’s foot.

“Consider yourself dumped.” he said, breaking the controller.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” she shrilled. You rolled your eyes and punched her square in the nose, her falling to the ground.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” you grin at the Boy Wonder, who looked at you in awe.

.

The other Titans rejoined you as you watched Kitten, Killer Moth, and Fang get pulled into a police van.

“Nobody dumps Kitten! Nobody! You're going to pay for this, Robbie-poo! YOU'RE GOING TO PASAY!!” the blonde girl screamed while being pushed into one of the vans.

“So, no second date?” Cyborg jokes. Beast Boy was sitting over the edge of the boat holding one of Killer Moth’s moth larvae. According to them, the controller Kitten had allowed them to turn into moths, but when Robin broke it, they all turned back into harmless giant bugs.

“So what becomes of Killer Moth’s larvae population?” Starfire asks.

“You know...now that nobody's making 'em all mutate-y,.these things might actually make good pets.” Beast Boy said, poking at the larvae's belly.

“Don’t even think about it.” Raven says, staring in disgust.

You and Robin walk towards some of the students to apologize for ruining their nights when spotlights turn on, the bright lights moving across the floor. The two of you braced for impact. The announcer began to, well, announce.

“And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...the king and queen of this year's prom are...Robin and (y/n)!” Your eyes widened at the announcement.

“I’m back on duty so it’s Aquagirl now! Sorry!” you yelled awkwardly.

“Well um then Aquagirl-” Robin begins, but you stop him.

“I mean, you can call me (y/n), if that’s what you want,” you offered, slightly blushing. He blushed back.

“Oh! Ok, then (y/n) it is.”

“So how about that dance, Boy Wonder?”

“I guess one more dance wouldn’t kill me.”

.

Robin led you towards the middle of the dance floor. You put your arms around his neck and he put his arms around your waist. His hands were gentle, and was only lightly touching your back, as if he was ready to pull them back at any time.

But he was smiling; something he barely did all night. You both laughed as you awkwardly shuffled across the floor; it's like you had two right feet and he had two left feet so it canceled out. You pulled in a little closer, he hugged you a little tighter. You stared at his masked eyes, imagining them looking back at you.

Suddenly you heard a whistle and whipped your head to see the rest of the Titans nonchalantly watching you two dance. They grinned, waving hello. You rolled your eyes and whipped your hand at them. A small geyser jumped up and landed on the Titans, drenching them. You and Robin laughed, then resumed your dance.

Nights in Jump City are the worst time of day, but with Robin, it’s a whole lot better.

[glittercake]

drabble | 1k | based on What If: Zombies Ep; Gore I guess; Zombie husbands; Bucky went all midnight train to Georgia in this; Happy ending (?!).

"No!" Shouts Bucky before Okoye's spear makes contact with Sam's head. He holds his hand up to ward Sam off, "Wait!"

Sam's head tilts sideways with something like recognition. He sways forward.

Bucky guesses it's not Sam anymore. He has known that since their jet went down on what's left of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sam could have survived; God knows he could have. His wings would have saved him. But Bucky knows he'd never have left Steve and the others, knows he'd have fought on the ground with them until the last moment.

But god damn him if he sees anyone else than Sam Wilson standing before him now, even if his eyes are glazed and lifeless where they once were alive and beautifully bright. All he sees is his Sam.

And maybe that's the worst part of it all. He thought he'd made peace with Sam's death, thought he'd accepted that the man he loved had succumbed to the fatal virus.

He's not so sure anymore.

Sam growls, gurgling and wet, lip curling up with hunger now that Bucky is in his deadly sights. He's been torn apart; his left arm ripped off, a chunk missing from his ribs. Bucky knows he must have still been alive for that, and it makes his heart lurch furiously in his chest with an ever-familiar need to protect Sam and make it better.

Okoye has halted behind him, waiting for his go-ahead to end it once and for all. Her spear is raised, and he can hear her heart thudding in her chest as she watches.

He looks back at Sam, "Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, his left hand hesitantly extended between them. There was a time he could just reach out and touch, pull Sam close to him, "Hey, remember me? It's me, honey. It's Bucky."

"James," Okoye warns shakily. Her fists curl around the spear, her feet inching closer to Sam, "What are you doing?"

Sam flings around so that he has both of them in his line of sight now. His pale eyes flit quickly between them but ultimately lands back on Bucky.

Bucky swallows down the lump in his throat. He'd give anything for one last kiss, to hold Sam one last time, to say goodbye and mean it this time. He was naïve enough to think they'd solve this like they do anything, and Sam would come home like he did after any other mission. Perhaps a little bruised, maybe a few broken bones. But he'd been dead wrong.

"Yeah, you do, huh? You remember me," He says again, voice giving a broken crack, "Remember you loved me? Remember I asked you to marry me—" his emotions betray him, and with a violent wobble of his chin, he sobs. Sam twitches and grunts softly, baring his teeth, "It's okay, Sammy. Shh, it's okay."

"James, we need to end this. Now!"

Bucky shakes his head, "You gotta go, mhlobo wam. Get out of here."

"James!"

"I can't leave him, Okoye. Go, get out of here. I've lost enough friends already." With that, he moves so that Sam's sights are on him, and she's got a clear shot at the doorway.

"Damn you, James," she says tearful before slowly creeping toward the exit. Behind them, there's a roaring horde coming toward the lobby they're standing in. She'll have no choice but to run now.

"I've heard that before." He smiles, saluting her, and she returns the gesture before letting out a disgruntled groan and making a run for it.

Sam grunts, sneering again; his breathing is rough and labored, his skin so pale despite the streaks of sun beaming in through Grand Central's windows.

"It's just you and me now, honey," he placates an increasingly ravenous Sam, "It's okay. I'm not leaving you. Okay?"

Sam stumbles closer, and Bucky would startle, but it's Sam. He should be scared, too, should be running for his life. But it's Sam, and for so much of his newfound life, he had been running toward Sam, running after him, running for his life with Sam.

He'd be damned if he ran away now.

Sam shuffles closer once more, enough for Bucky to smell the decay. Around them, the lifeless horde comes closer and closer, smelling Bucky's fresh blood and drooling with hunger for it, snapping teeth and gurgling groans. His heart pounds behind his ribs, his hands begin to tremble, knowing it's the end now.

And then, before they get to him and in one swift motion, Sam swoops him up and flies toward the ceiling with him.

Sam's arm is around his waist, he's got Bucky pulled close to his body, same as when Sam gave him an airlift on missions. Bucky has instinctively grabbed onto Sam's shoulders for purchase, and he brings his hand up to touch Sam's face.

Fresh tears streak down his cheeks, but he smiles, "You know me," he says but gets no response. He strokes the bloody apple of Sam's cheek, "You do. I ain't leaving you, sweetheart."

Sam growls again, flies him backward and against a wall. The bricks crumble behind Bucky's back, and a soft, terrified, but somehow relieved gasp escapes him.

Sam leans his forehead against Bucky's. His skin is cold and clammy, and up close, the lifelessness behind his eyes is even more devastating, so Bucky closes his eyes and just holds on.

"It's okay," he says again, and then Sam ducks his head, and the motion is so familiar: Sam burying his face in Bucky's neck, mouth open against his skin, he loved doing it, he'd nose up Bucky's neck for no good reason on any random day, and kiss the pulsing vein there.

He does it now too.

Bucky sobs, gasping tired and wetly and whispers Sam's name, but it's drowned out by a guttural and rumbling growl from Sam before he sinks his teeth into Bucky's neck.

The pain is searing and brutal, and instantly he feels an uncomfortable rush like champagne bubbling through his blood. They said it's quick, said it's so fast you don't realize. That one moment you're here, and the next you're gone.

And it's half true. He guesses the serum trips the strain up a bit. He's in pain all over, his limbs are heavy and burning, and his head pounds when Sam rips away from his neck to look at him, his mouth red with Bucky's blood.

Bucky starts shaking in Sam's arms, but Sam holds on, grips him tighter, and as Bucky's eyes fall shut, he sees Sam staring down at him, head tilting sideways, and from his lips, a soft whisper falls, "Buck—" before everything goes black.

_____

They say if you watch the night sky carefully, you'll see the red glow of Sam's jetpack, and, if you look really close, you'll see Bucky in his arm as they roam the starry heavens together.

They say that Sam takes Bucky up to the Empire State Building every afternoon, where they watch the sunset together.

They say it's impossible, that the undead simply doesn't function like that. That they wouldn't know what love is anymore, that they're only mindless and hungry and waiting for their next meal.

But Peter's seen it. He's seen them on the very tip of the tallest buildings, hand in hand. Forever together.

[diamond-coral]

The Heist (part 3/finale)

Steve x Reader

Chapter summary: Captain’s plan worked. Now you’re in for a lot of trouble after trying to break into his apartment. He’ll have you. Just like he wanted.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sex, dark, rape/non-con, forced orgasm, praise and degradation kink, kidnapping, mentions of strip club, mentioned anal, swearing, mild violence, slight Stockholm

“You wanna be treated like a whore?” he seethed. “Fine. I’ll treat you like a whore.”

Steve wrenched you from the wall and let you fly back toward his bed, your feet tripping over themselves as well as the chain attached to the cuff secured around your ankle before you finally tumbled onto the mattress. Your breathing was heavy as you glared back at his cerulean eyes which were narrowed, daring you to try anything.

And you did. Because fuck if you weren’t going down without a fight.

You darted out to the right, arm reaching out to take grip of the lamp on his nightstand. You grabbed hold of it and pivoted your body around as your arm flung out toward his head. Steve simply intercepted the hit with a firm grasp, and you gritted your teeth as the two of you began an aggressive tug of war for the lamp.

“Stop. This. Now,” Steve scolded as if you were a child before giving a sharp tug, the lamp slipping out of your hand.

“No thanks.” You grinned, catching him off guard, before you grabbed both his shoulders as support and kneed him in the groin. Hard.

Steve let out a pained groan. He dropped the lamp, and you caught it by the handle before using all your strength to swing the base against his head like a baseball bat. He stumbled backwards while his hand reached up near his temple. He pulled it back and inspected the blood. You remained frozen, having hoped that the blow would have at least knocked him out. His broad figure compromised your escape route to the door of his bedroom, so running was not an option.

“We need to fix this fuckin’ attitude of yours,” he grumbled, and while you were lost in your predicament of all escape routes being impossible, he snatched the lamp, this time breaking it in half like a toothpick before tossing both ends over his shoulder to the opposite side of the room. “I wanted a kind and docile housewife. Not some ungrateful bitch.” 

He practically pounced on you, and you fought, pushing against his brick wall of body, before relenting with the knowledge he was far too strong for you.

“Well you’ve got the wrong person, buddy-pal,” you quipped, but your voice trembled in your compromised position..

“No. I don’t. Because I’ve already seen her, you, at the club. And I don’t know why the hell you gotta give me some attitude when I’m trying to save you from the shitshow of a life you’re livin’. Maybe you’re just scared. Scared of letting someone take care of you when you’ve been fighting for yourself for so long, so you put on the unappreciative bitchy exterior.” 

Was this man serious? How delusional did he have to be to think all of that after one encounter?

“Well guess what,” he whispered, face so close to you that his breath fanned over you. “I’ll fucking rip it apart. I’ll break you down. Shatter this pathetic wall you have up until I get back the girl at the club. Might take a couple good fuckings, but I’ll finally get it out of you.” His thumb stroked your cheek, brushing away the tears that had shed at his admissions. “Aww, baby, don’t cry,” he cooed. “This is for the best.”

You let out a small whimper, another round of tears flowing, at the sound of his belt unbuckling and fly coming undone. 

You began pounding against his chest and begged him not to.

You wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Easily holding you down, Steve let out a stuttered moan as he entered you slowly. You begging turned into sounds of agony as he stretched you out and filled you like no other had before. 

“I wanted our first time time to be special. Slow and loving,” he confessed as he stilled inside of you. He slowly pulled out before slamming his hips back in and muffling your shriek with a large hand. “Gotta say, this is still pretty special though. Might just love those big watery doe eyes lookin’ at me a little more than that cute smile of yours. You just look so pretty, all wrecked and crying for me, doll.” He moved his hand slightly aside to lick a strip of your tear stained cheek, letting out a hum of approval.

You thrashed under him, hands lashing out until one of his own came to wrangle both wrists above your head, so you resorted to bucking your hips in hopes of throwing him off. It was hopeless. 

But you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The hand covering your mouth moved down to hold you hip down in a bruising grip. He just rutted into you harder and faster in response to your outburst.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make a noise. The searing of your walls was slowly melting into pleasure. You feared accidentally letting a moan slip and alerting Steve to your pleasure.

But Steve could tell how you enjoyed it. Although tears flowed freely from your eyes, your pussy squelched, the sound blending in with the clapping of skin each time he drove into you.

“Told you. I’d fuck you. Like a whore,” He managed to get out between thrusts. “And you fuckin’ love it too.” He let out a dark chuckle. “God you’re such a slut.”

You whined as he pulled out when he flipped you over, but he made up for it by beginning to drill into you harder than before. With every brutal thrust, his cock glided against your g-spot before the tip punched against your cervix, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Steve roped your hair around his palm and yanked your head back. Your back arched painfully to accommodate.

“Tell me you’re a slut. Tell me your my slut. Only mine. Only for me. Not that stupid fuckin’ club. Mine.”

“N-no. No,” you stuttered, barely being able to form words. You wouldn’t let him have his victory. You wouldn’t give it to him and bend to him.

Because you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He once again yanked your hair, this time using the momentum to bring your body flush against him. His other arm came to wrap around your waist, and he secured your back to him, never once letting up on fucking you. The new angle made your body light on fire, and a moan escaped past your lips.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut and I’ll let you cum.”

You wouldn’t. You still had some dignity left. You’d be strong. You’d-

“Oh fuck, I’m your slut. Please let me cum. Please, please, I need it so bad. I’m your fucking slut! Only yours Steve!” you cry out. Humility and pleasure both burned your body.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, quickening his pace. “Cum now. Cum all over my cock.”

You did just that. Your cunt clenched around his cock while you gushed around him. Pleasure constricted around your entire body like fire. 

“Good little whore. All mine,” Steve chanted, but you barely heard him. All you could think about was Steve and his cock. You shattered. Your mind, your body, your will, all shattered to a million pieces.

________________________________________________________________

You sigh, smoothing down the flowy pink skirt that stopped right about your knees. That was all six months ago but it felt like years. Steve made good on his word. Here you were, the good little docile housewife, waiting for him to return home from a mission that had taken him three days, a home cooked meal sitting on the table. Waiting to be devoured by the ravenous man who would return. Just like you.

You didn’t even attempt to escape this time. The first time you had managed to shatter the living room window with a lamp (ironic, huh?) while Steve was in the bathroom. You had made it down the fire escape before he intercepted you in the alley and dragged you quietly back to the apartment with a gun concealed between your bodies. When you got inside, Steve brutally took your virgin asshole. The second time, you tried the same thing, but Steve caught you before you even stepped foot out the window. After replacing the glass with a new bulletproof material from S.H.I.E.L.D., he starved you for five days, only allowing you water. He still made you cook for him though. It was a cruel joke to him, watching you make him a meal while your stomach was about to eat itself. He’d fuck you hard after, and your body felt like it’d break in half.

The third time was three months after that. You’d managed to gain his trust enough to let him take you for a walk in the park, and after a knee to the groin, you took off and hid yourself in a crowd of people. It wouldn’t be a good image for Captain America to be hunting down an innocent girl on the streets of New York. You managed to be away from him for almost 24 hours, but you couldn’t go to the police. After telling them you were a stripper that broke into Captain America’s apartment, you highly doubt they’d believe the rest of your story.

You were in the grocery store with some stolen cash when Bucky Barnes finally caught you. He muttered a couple words about how pretty Bella was and how he’d hate to put a bullet through her pretty head, and you followed him like a dog back to Steve’s building. Steve, as a thank you to Bucky and a punishment for you, let Bucky fuck you for hours till you passed out with his metal hand around your neck.

You smile to yourself, hoping Steve would be happy that you remained compliant and would be there to greet him as he returned home.

The sound of a lock turning snaps you out of your thought, and your head turns to the door as Steve enters.

“Sweetheart!” you say as you throw yourself on him, hands intertwined behind his neck.

“Hi honey,” he greets, smiling down at you, taking in the sight before he leans down to give you a peck on your painted red lips. You almost frown at your eagerness to return it. Almost. But your interest is directed toward Steve as he reaches into a paper shopping bag. “Got you a little something. Know how much you love to paint.” 

He pulls out a set of brushes, showing them to you, before handing you the entire bag. You look inside and gasp. So many colors and canvases. This was your life before he had trapped you, and here he was, giving you a piece of it back.

“Steve, I don’t even know how to thank you,” you begin. “I-”

Steve cuts you off with a deep kiss.

“Anything for my girl. Besides I figured you could use some practice.”

“For what?” you ask.

“Well, I bought us a house!” he announces, grinning. “That implant of yours will be wearing off in a couple months, and I’d love for you to paint a mural in the nursery. For our baby.”

[songbirdstyles]

good vibrations.

summary: it’s a bit more difficult than you’d expected to maintain a relationship with your professor, but you and harry try your best, anyway. (sequel to when i kissed the teacher)

pairing: professor!harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, angst & fluff! m + f receiving oral, facesitting, 69ing. gross frat boys :-(

word count: 14.3k

song inspo.: good vibrations - the beach boys

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a slight jolt of panic.

Your eyes open slowly, staring at the ceiling above you, and that - in itself - is normal. But there’s something heavy wrapped around your waist and a soft aroma of men’s cologne and that’s when confusion settles into your bones.

It lasts a few mere seconds but it’s enough to make you sit up, leaning back against the headboard and rubbing your fists into your eyes. Harry’s arm, firm around your torso just seconds before, drops to your lap, and your eyes follow the path down his arm and to the rest of him. Perhaps it’s strange, gazing at him as he sleeps, unaware of your gaze, but it’s hard to help yourself.

His hair is messy, curls sticking up everywhere, and his face is buried into the pillow your head had just been on. He’s also naked, the duvet falling to just above his bum, and as your eyes trail down the expanse of his bare back, taking particular note of the light pink scratches adorning the top, that’s when the night prior finally comes back to you. Being eaten out against the wall, a playlist made of pure love, his hands on your face as he promises this isn’t a one time thing.

Your professor, fucking you so hard that there’s still a slight ache between your thighs. 

You exhale, dropping your head back against the headboard. The thought overwhelms you, momentarily, but you don’t have too much time to dwell on it before you feel Harry stirring besides you, his arm leaving your lap as he rolls over onto his back. His eyes open slowly, squinting as he adjusts to the sunlight streaming through the window, and then he looks at you and the smile that upturns his lips could make you tear up.

“G’morning, baby,” Harry murmurs, voice throaty and quiet. “Hope you had a nice sleep.”

You grin as you watch him slowly sit up, stretching his arms above his head. “It was alright,” you tell him, pausing to yawn. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”

“I’m sure.” You scoot forward, and just as Harry turns his head to look at you you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. They’re dry and you’re sure yours are too - it’s not as though you’d been concerned with putting on lip balm the night before - but it’s perfect, made even better as he presses his hand to your back, pulling your body closer into his, running his tongue along your bottom lip.

A soft moan falls from your lips and he pulls back, nails running along the back of your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. “So needy. S’only 8 in the morning, too.”

You push yourself to your knees and sink into his lap, feeling his hard on against your thigh that proves he’s just as needy as you are, even at 8 in the morning. “Can’t help it,” you mutter, leaning in to press your lips to the underside of his jaw. His head drops back, giving you more room to work as his hand creeps up from where it had landed on your hip to your chest, kneading your right breast in his hand while you work at suckling a hickey into his soft skin. When his fingers tweak at your nipple you pull your mouth away to moan and examine the mark you’d made, brushing your thumb over it lightly. You hadn’t gotten the chance to mark him up last night, save for the scratches that decorated his back, but you’re more than happy to make up for any lost time now. “I miss you, professor. Everything about you. It’s been too long.”

He chuckles, trailing his other hand down to run a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip of his finger and focusing it on your clit. He presses down and then rubs a slow circle into the sensitive nub, smirking as you whimper at the sensation. “It has been too long. Nearly 10 hours, can’t imagine how you - fuck.”

Your hand had snaked down, wrapping around his member and swiping your thumb over the tip of him. Harry leans in, pressing his lips to your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as you slowly jerk him off, pumping your hand up and down his cock. You think - or you hope - that you can give of some sort of facade of being experienced at this, of knowing exactly what you’re doing, because you truthfully have no idea. You’d never given anyone a handjob but Harry’s finger, rubbing your clit slowly, stutters as he breathes out a groan, and you hope that means you’re doing a good job.

Two of his fingers slip inside your cunt entirely too easily, and you whine at the feeling. Harry curls his fingers upwards, brushing against the sweet spot that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re both too worked up for any type of foreplay, you can tell, and so you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face into yours. Your lips connect, teeth clashing against each other, and when he pulls his fingers out of you, resting both hands on the globes of your ass, you reach down and replace your grasp on his cock, lining it up with your positively dripping entrance before sinking onto him fully.

The burn is a lot less prominent than it had been yesterday but you still hesitate - Harry groans lowly and you exhale, waiting for the ache to morph fully into pleasure before lifting your hips and sinking back down onto him. You swear you can feel traces of him in every crevice of your body, feeling so impossibly full and yet so desperate for more. His hands grip your bum, helping you lift yourself up and down, shaky grunts and moans escaping his mouth whenever you roll your hips just right against his.

It’s slower and less intimidating than it had been the night prior, his hips lazily bucking up into yours, now that you’re not so worried about being able to fit him inside of you. And the noises Harry makes spur you on - throaty cries nearly louder than yours - as you drag your hand down your stomach and rub circles into your clit, slow and gentle, because you know you’re not going to need much to send you over the edge. 

“So fucking tight around me,” Harry breathes, teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as his palms smooth over your ass. “Fuck, baby, clench around m’cock, yeah, feels so fuckin’ good -”

Your fingers press harder on your clit and you can already feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and when you rock your hips into Harry’s, feeling his cock brush against your G spot, you toss your head back with a desperate cry, cunt fluttering around him as pleasure rips through your body in waves. Eyes roll back into your head and your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling his head in to kiss you senseless. With one final grunt and a moan of your name, Harry bucks his hips up, pressing himself as deep inside of you as he can get. The feeling of his cum, shot inside your throbbing pussy, shouldn’t feel so spectacular but God it does and you whine at the feeling, bringing both of your hands up to the back of his head and wrapping your fingers in his curls as you roll your hips back and forth halfheartedly. Merely trying to ride him through his orgasm, and finally Harry presses both of his sweaty palms to your face and pulls you in to kiss him again.

You could kiss him all day. You’ve kissed significantly more people than you’ve fucked (which amounts to a grand total of 2) and you’ve never enjoyed it with anyone as much as you love it with him. Harry makes it interesting, you reckon, hands always going in different spots and making different noises and you could, truly, do it all day.

For a moment the two of you sit there after you’ve pulled your heads away, Harry’s arms wrapped around your back and holding your body to his in a rather intimate hug. Your nails scratch at his scalp, pressing your chin into his shoulder as his fingers trace patterns - tell stories - on the soft skin of your back. Yes, you could stay here forever and be quite happy about it but just as the thought resides in your mind your stomach growls in defiance and Harry laughs at the noise.

“Don’t laugh,” you tell him, voice faux angry as you pull back from him with a smile. “Didn’t have anything to eat last night.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow and you nod. “So what did you do before I picked you up?”

Your cheeks heat as you struggle to find your voice to respond, clearing your throat before saying, “Keeping m’self busy, I guess. Now can we please make breakfast?”

 --

 Twenty minutes later you’re seated at Harry’s kitchen table, collecting forkfuls of cheesy eggs on your fork and shoveling them into your mouth to appease your overtly ravenous appetite, listening intently to the music coming from Harry’s phone in the kitchen. It’s a song you recognize from the playlist he’d curated the day prior - Happy Together by the Turtles - and you can’t help the smile from bleeding across your face at the sound.

Besides that, though, and the sounds of your forks scraping your plates, the two of you sit in silence for a moment. Beneath the table your feet knock into his - you’d begun swinging your feet out of slight nervousness but it’s grown into the need to see the small smirk that decorates his lips everytime you kick him gently. 

When the song changes from The Turtles to And I Love Her by the Beatles, you glance up at him again and then rest your fork on your plate. “Y’know, this is a really nice playlist.”

Harry looks up at you, brows furrowed, and then smiles, and the sight of his dimples makes your heart just about melt. “Well, thank you, baby. Put a lot of effort into it.”

Part of you wants to say it only took you ten minutes but you just nod and tell him, “But I think you might’ve added too many Beatles songs.”

“There’s no such thing,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows. “S’not my fault they’ve written some of the greatest love songs of all time.”

You snort, then, leaning back in his (oddly comfortable, considering the quality of that in his office) kitchen chair. “Sexy Sadie is not one of the greatest love songs of all time.”

He pauses at that, forkful of eggs hanging barely an inch from his mouth. “Well, maybe not that song, but -”

“10 Beatles songs out of 45 is rather excessive.” You giggle as he stands abruptly, marching into the kitchen and returning seconds later, phone in hand, still blaring the Beatles as if in defiance. “What’re you doing now?”

Harry sits back down, scrolling through his phone. You stand up, moving around the table until you’re beside him, and you bend down to look at what he’s doing.

“What song d’you think should replace Sexy Sadie, baby?” Harry asks you, turning his head to where yours is a mere few inches from his. “Since you don’t seem to think that one is very romantic.”

You roll your eyes. “You’d be hard pressed to find a single person who considers that song to be the height of love, professor.” 

“Yeah, right.” Briefly Harry rests his phone flat on the table and pushes his chair back, patting his thighs, and you try not to look too pleased as you wiggle into his lap. With his arm firm around your waist and his chin on your shoulder you pick his phone back up, scrolling through Spotify.

“I don’t think you have Good Vibrations on that love playlist, Harry,” you decide. Just to confirm your suspicion you go back into the playlist, scrolling through all 45 songs and - as you’d thought - the lack of Good Vibrations is odd to you. “And that, professor, may just be the best love song of all time.”

He hums as you add the song to the playlist. “Better than Somebody to Love?”

You shrug, sticking out your bottom lip as you flick through Spotify. “That song just makes me sad, sometimes. And you don’t even have that, either.”

“I definitely do!”

“Nope,” you tell him, turning your head to the side to examine his all-too confused expression. “But you do have Get Down, Make Love, which says quite a bit about you.”

Harry groans, and you laugh, and for a moment that’s all that happens - and then the moment breaks, and he reaches out to take his phone from your grasp, and you shift in his lap to look at him with a soft smile.

Whatever banter you’d been having before slowly dissipates, and you clear your throat. “D’you think we should talk about this?”

His hand drops to your hip, squeezing it through the pink button up shirt he’d worn yesterday that you’d snatched from the bedroom floor. “Don’t really think there’s much to talk about,” he says, but you know that isn’t necessarily true.

Truthfully, the last 12 hours have perhaps been the greatest of your life and even if he told you it wasn’t a one time thing - well, he’d just cum inside you and you need to make sure it wasn’t his way of keeping you for the night. And you couldn’t bring yourself to think Harry’s like that at all - the opposite, truly, the greatest man you’ve ever met. But you need to make sure, to ease your mind.

“Um - I guess -” you struggle for the words, suddenly feeling embarrassed for bringing it up, and Harry’s hand flies up to your cheek, cradling it, and the gentle action has you relaxing almost immediately. “I know you said this wasn’t a - one time thing, or whatever -”

“And it isn’t,” he interrupts, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not for me.”

“Okay,” you breathe, the turmoil your stomach had been going through calming slightly. “But there’s still other things - you’re still my professor. Seems like kind of a big thing.”

Harry pauses for a moment, and you adjust yourself in his lap again - you can feel the beginning of a boner against your ass but you figure you’ll deal with that later. Then Harry drops his hand from your cheek to the small of your back, massaging soft circles through his shirt, and says, “I want you to know that I’ve never slept with a student before. Never even thought about it.”

You nod, and you know it’s true. You’ve heard girls in class talking about it - how he’s refused his students’ advances and reported them for it, and any rumour of him hooking up with a student was immediately squashed by everyone in the surrounding area. He’s a prude. He’s probably into, like, old ladies, or dudes, or something, because there’s no way he can be a regular guy and not have fucked one of us already.

It made you roll your eyes to listen to, but it did cement in the fact that Harry wasn’t one of the few teachers at university who would willingly hop into bed with any student who asked politely.

“But I like you - a lot.” His hand pauses on your back as he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing gently. “If you weren’t my student, things would be perfect.”

Part of you hates the word choice, that things are so imperfect now, but you know it’s true. Know that, even if you simply weren’t in his class, everything would be so much easier.

You nod. “I like you a lot, too.” And then you stop and think before adding, “I think as long as we don’t do anything on campus it’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose. It’s as though the two of you can’t live for more than a minute without showing some sort of affection towards each other, and perhaps that should make you concerned but you love it. “We’ll keep everything here. No funny business in m’office or anything like that.”

 --

 That resolution lasts roughly a week.

You go to his office after class even though you’ve run out of things to grade, and you work on homework and he helps you study and the most action either of you get is small kisses over his desk. It’s a struggle to pull away from him, but the worry that both of you feel about someone walking in is enough to keep you in your seats.

Though, for the most part, his office hours remain empty. A few stragglers come in, a mix of students who genuinely need help and girls who you can tell hate that you’re in there during their seduction attempts. And Harry plays music, of course, turning it down to the lowest volume on the rare occasions that students come in. 

At the end of the day, you walk out to his car together and Harry either drives you home or to his apartment - depends what you’re feeling that day - and in the morning he either picks you up or takes you from his apartment to your first class and it’s a nearly perfect arrangement.

You’ve forgotten, though, about your decision to remain innocent on campus. It’s what you’d expected to happen at some point, with your absolute desperation for each other, but it still manages to slightly shock you as you glance up at him from your spot on your knees. Your hand works at his dick, watching the way he drops his head back against the wall, grasping the cushions of the couch in his fingers.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice cracking on the c, though you can’t quite hear it over Waterloo by ABBA playing just a bit too loudly in his small office. You’d made sure to crank the volume up a bit more than usual in case he let out any too-loud noises, and it looked like he was on his way to doing just that as a grunt escapes from between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby -”

(You’ve never given a blowjob before but it seems easy enough, though your stomach turns pathetically as you lean in and lick a thin stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing a purple vein. He seems to like that and you pray he can’t tell you’re an absolute amateur at this all.)

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, which you know he likes, and the moan that’s still barely audible beneath the music proves it. You make sure to keep your eyes on Harry, monitoring his every reaction as you lean in, wrapping your lips around the tip of his length and sliding as much of him as you can down your throat.

That’s good. Harry’s hand goes to the back of your head, wrapping his fingers in the strands of your hair and tugging, groaning near violently, his breathing laboured. “Jesus Christ.”

Your hand drops to the base of his cock, pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth which - admittedly - is just barely less than half. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before pulling your mouth off of him, a string of saliva still connecting your lips and his member.

“Feel good, professor?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out, but you know very well it does - Harry’s hand goes down to your lips, wiping your spit off of your skin, before leaning back again. “Sure looks it.”

“Keep going, m’girl.”

The thought of being his girl brings a slight smile to your lips, and you could bask in the words for the rest of the day but instead you lean in, bracing both of your hands on his thighs through his nice dress bands, wrinkling beneath your fingers. And now - you really don’t know what to do, besides exactly what you’d done before - but you wrap your lips around him again, lowering your head to take more of him than before, and then you hollow your cheeks (which you’d seen in porn) and swallow around him (which you’d also seen in porn.)

It has the desired effect, seemingly, as Harry yelps, fingers tightening in your hair tight enough that you can begin to feel strands disconnecting from your scalp but oddly enough, you sort of like it. His grip loosens near immediately, scratching your head with the tips of his fingers in some sort of silent apology. Harry certainly seems to like that so you do it again, gathering saliva in the back of your throat and swallowing again, and he moans, the noise cutting through the music (which had turned to Oh, Pretty Woman), and if there happened to be anyone outside they would hear it louder than anything else.

It doesn’t make either of you stop. You pull off of him, sucking in a desperate breath as you pump him in your hand again before going back in, working your mouth up and down his length, relishing in the soft noises that escaped him with every one of your movements.

“God, baby, taking me so well,” Harry mutters, brushing a stray curl off your face. As your tongue flicks over his tip again his hips buck up into your mouth of their own accord - you gag around him and he breathes out a quiet apology but you can tell he’s almost there, and finally he groans, “Gonna cum - fuck - m’gonna cum -”

Perhaps it was a warning so you would pull your mouth off of him, revert to jerking him off, but you may as well finish your first blowjob off with a bang, so you take nearly all of his member into your mouth and suck. You barely get a few seconds before you can feel the ribbons of warm cum shooting into the back of your throat, and when Harry’s moans quiet down into heavy pants you pull off of him. His cum in your mouth doesn’t taste particularly fabulous but you swallow it anyway - it’s not horrible, truthfully. And the way his eyes darken as he watches you makes the slightly unpleasant taste ten times better, anyway.

“C’mere,” Harry tells you, and you rise from your knees to stand between his legs, looking down at him as he tucks himself back into his dress pants. When he buttons them he looks almost normal, not like his dick was down your throat a minute before - but you can tell, looking into his eyes, the effect you’d had on him. “Christ, you’re good at that.”

You hum, bending down to press a kiss to his lips. “Funny how fast you dropped the whole not doing anything on campus act, professor.”

Harry rolls his eyes, rising from his spot sunk into the couch. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

(But it does, of course.)

(Again and again.)

 --

 You throw your body across the couch in Harry’s office as soon as you shut the door, dropping your bag to the ground. You pretend not to notice the slightly amused glance your professor gives you - he’s marking up someone’s essay though he’d only assigned them a few days before and you had hardly even looked at the rubric for it. There’s only a few that have been handed in and when you offered, the day prior, to help him grading, he told you he didn’t need it. And you didn’t press it any further, naturally.

Well, you didn’t mind not grading. It was tedious and boring, and you’d only slightly enjoyed it before because you got to spend time with Harry. And you don’t exactly need an excuse, anymore. You can do what you want with him, now, like lying on his couch and kicking your Vans off onto his plush blue rug. There’s already music pulsing through his office, though not a song you recognize from being on the playlist he’d made for you - Strangers by The Kinks.

“Feel free to make yourself at home,” Harry tells you, voice positively dripping in sarcasm, and you roll your eyes with a small smile.

Your phone is buzzing in your pocket and you pick it up, glancing at the text that came in - from Kaitlyn, your best friend, and you scan the what’s up?? that she’d sent you before tossing your phone onto the couch besides you. You’ll answer her later, maybe call her. Thinking of it, you hadn’t talked to her in a bit, but - you’ll call her later, yeah. Catch up.

“Figure I’m going to be here a while, professor. I’ve got an essay for my creative writing class due on -” you pause to think - “Friday and I’ve barely done the draft.”

He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at you, and you don’t even have to glance up at him to feel the slight air of disappointing wafting towards you. “Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s Wednesday. You’ve got an essay due Friday and you haven’t started?”

You shrug, feeling heat flock to your cheeks as you bend to reach into your bag, tugging out your laptop that you, really, only use for essays. “I have started, but I’ve been a bit distracted, I guess.” The only thing you’ve been distracted by is him, truthfully, and he knows it.

For a moment there’s silence filling the air between you, only disturbed by the sounds of your fingers moving over your keyboard. You’ve suddenly felt quite inspired to get a move on with your essay, oddly, and you think that Harry may be the perfect cure to your procrastination habits.

“D’you want my help?” Harry asks, his voice oddly gentle. He’s never necessarily helped you with any homework before though he always asks if you need it, and usually you’d tell him you’re fine but - well, his feedback would be appreciated since you, admittedly, don’t have too much time before this dumb paper is due, so you nod quickly.

Then Harry stands from his spinning chair, letting it roll into the wall behind him and dropping his red pen on top of the essay he’d been grading. You barely have time to look up at him, straining his neck to look at what you have so far for your essay, and you roll your eyes playfully before turning the screen so he can read it. 

His eyes move fast as he reads what you have so far, which isn’t enough for how long it takes him to examine your work. You take the time to admire him, the way he pokes his tongue out every so often to wet his lips (which, you’ve noticed, he seems to prefer over wearing lip balm) and the way his eyebrows furrow when he reads certain lines. Harry’s fingers drum against your computer, following the rhythm of the music, and after a minute he leans back on his heels and pushes your laptop away from him, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach from where your shirt has ever-so-slightly ridden up. 

You wait a moment for him to speak, and then ask, “Was it horrible? You look like it was horrible.”

Harry shakes his head, curls flopping back and forth (you’re reminded of the beginning of the year, when he used to gel his hair back, though it had grown quite a bit since that point, and you’re not sure gel could have its desired effect on his locks.) “It’s not horrible at all. It’s quite good, actually. Sometimes your sentence structure is a bit wonky, like -” he leans in, tugging your laptop back into his view, fingers dancing across your skin again in a way that you know isn’t accidental, and then he highlights a line smack in the middle of your draft - “here, and a few other spots. But it’s good.” You must do a poor job at concealing the relief on your face, because Harry glances at you and chuckles. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re a great writer. Best that’s ever come into my class, and I’m sure your creative writing professor agrees.”

You shake your head, turning your computer back around so it’s facing you. “I don’t think Professor Capone likes my writing too much. I’m barely scraping an A in her class, but maybe she’s just a tough grader.”

“Reckon she’s just a tough grader. I’ve heard that before.” Harry nods thoughtfully and you can’t help but giggle at the suddenly serious expression that takes over his face, as though whether Capone is a tough grader is akin to the meaning of life. His brows furrow and he glances down at you with a bemused smile. “What’re you laughing at?”

“M’not sure, really,” you tell him, grin spreading across your face. He watches you for a second and then leans down, lips hovering barely a centimeter above yours, and you let your lips touch for just a moment before pushing him away. “Now, c’mon professor, what happened to we shouldn’t do anything in the classroom?” The fact that you two had done just about everything but having truly fucked in this office goes unmentioned, of course.

His response is interrupted by the door opening slowly behind him - your eyes widen and he stands immediately, clearing his throat and backing up so he’s leaning against his desk, cheeks flushed red.

In the doorway is a girl you recognize from your class - Hannah Joseph, you think, and you also believe you’d graded her essay. You give her a small smile and she looks down at you, lying on the professor’s couch with your shoes off, with an air of distinct confusion.

“Miss Joseph.” Harry clears his throat, drumming his fingers against his desk. “What can I do for you, today?”

She pauses, glancing between the two of you with furrowed brows, and you bury yourself back into your essay. Everything about this situation feels wrong and you hate it, hate the energy flowing beside Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen. “Um - sorry if I’ve interrupted something.”

You squeeze your eyes shut at Hannah’s words - she can’t possibly know what the two of you had been doing but you still feel like she does, like she’d been watching you two. If Harry is as nervous as you are about the entire situation he certainly doesn’t show it, just grins at her and says, “Not interrupting anything! Just helping Y/N with her essay, here.”

It isn’t convincing and you can tell Hannah agrees, but she merely shakes her head and makes her way to the desk - Harry walks to the other side and plops in his chair and she takes a seat in the entirely uncomfortable one that you’d opted out of.

She has a question about the essay he’d assigned, naturally. There’s not quite any other reason she should be here but it doesn’t stop your worries. What if she told people she’d seen something suspicious in Professor Styles’ office when she went during his office hours? 

You two had been stupid. He was right, you shouldn’t do anything in his office. It’s stupid.

By the time you’ve completed the second to last paragraph of your rough draft Hannah is pushing her chair back, bidding farewell to Harry and giving you a small wave as she leaves - you call goodbye as cheerfully as you can manage as she shuts the door firmly behind her, the noise reverberating through the small room.

There’s silence, at first.

And then Harry sighs, dropping his head into his hands, and you push yourself to sit up, your laptop shutting of its own accord. “Fuck.”

You swallow, glancing down at the light grey fabric of your sweatpants and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Yeah. Fuck.”

Born to Run changes into Livin’ Thing by ELO and you’re not sure of what to say, until finally Harry rests his chin on his palms and says, “We can’t take risks anymore, I think. That was really close.” Then he pauses and adds, “Even having you in my office for so long is suspicious. Maybe - maybe we shouldn’t, anymore.”

You nod. Not going to his office every day will certainly be a change, you suppose, even if it’s for the best. You love every moment you spend with him in the cramped office space. And though you know you’ll hate to not be able to kiss him in his office or anything of the sort you know it’s best - the absolute worst thing that could happen is someone walking in while you and Harry are truly in a compromising situation. “Yeah. We can just keep it at your apartment. Nothing wrong with that, now, is there?”

Harry gives a tight lipped grin and then hesitates. “Maybe it’s better too. I feel bad, sometimes. We spend so much time together - feel like I’m taking away your college experience.”

You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward to rest your chin against the edge of his desk. “My college experience?”

“Y’know - partying and stuff. That’s most people’s favourite parts of college.”

You pause. You’d been to a few parties during the year but they’d never appealed to you much, and truthfully, you’d rather spend your time holed up in Harry’s office. “I’d rather be able to remember my college experience. I’m not quite a fan of parties. Much prefer this place.”

He sends you a small smile but you can tell something’s shifted in the room, and you give it a few more minutes of silence - besides the music - before sliding your laptop into your bag and standing up. You swing your bag over your shoulder and glance at him. “I’m gonna head back to my dorm, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry looks up at you and nods, running a hand through his messy curls. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Text me when you get to your dorm, okay?”

“Alright,” you tell him, and then you give him one final smile and you’re gone.

 --

 “How do Borachio and Don John decide to disrupt Hero and Claudio’s marriage?”

You pause, sipping thoughtfully on your spoonful of soup. Harry leans against the kitchen counter, watching as you think. “Borachio will convince Maragret to dress up in Hero’s clothes and then Borachio will fuck her on the balcony so Claudio will see.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, nodding subtly and scrolling through his phone for another brief moment. “And what becomes of Hero when Don John sets her up?”

“She dies.”

He nods again and then slides his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants, taking a step forward to where you’re seated on the counter. “You didn’t get a single question wrong, you know.”

You shrug, fighting off the smile that wants to appear on your lips. “Well, I’ve read it a lot, professor. Know that play inside and out, really.”

“Ah.” You open your legs so Harry can slot his body between them, resting his hands on your hips through the oversized sweater you’d bought from the thrift store years ago. “So why’d you want to come over, then? Clearly wasn’t to study, now was it.”

It’s not a question, but you still tilt your head thoughtfully to the side as if in deep thought. Truthfully, it had been a few days since the two of you abolished your time together in his office and it had drastically reduced the time you spent with him. He’s invited you over every night he got home early enough but to go from every day for hours to one or two on certain days is a change you don’t particularly enjoy, even if it’s necessary.

Hence, begging him to help you study. But you still shrug and say, “no, it was. No better person to help me study than my professor.”

“Mhm,” Harry twirls your hair around his finger, then pulls back, pressing his lips briefly to your forehead. “You know you don’t need an excuse to come over.”

You feign offense, sticking out your bottom lip. “Wasn’t an excuse to -”

“I’m not saying it was,” he grins and you cross your arms, smiling softly. “But I just want you to know. You can come here whenever. M’always happy to have you here.”

Internally, your heart melts - but before you can respond you can hear the telltale noise of your phone ringing from where you’d tossed it on the couch earlier when you’d arrived. You groan, dropping your head back against the cabinet before pushing yourself off the counter, padding into the living room. Marie sits, curled up on top of the couch, and you brush your fingers down her back as you glance at whoever’s calling you.

It’s Kaitlyn, and you wince - you’d told yourself you would call her nearly ten times this week but you’d gotten too distracted. By Harry, mainly, but also your essay and the rest of your schoolwork, and you’re tempted to ignore this one too in favor of your professor in the kitchen but instead you press accept and bring the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Kaity,” you say, and hearing her small hey on the other end brings a smile to your face. “What’s up?”

“Well, Dylan and I are going to dinner in like, an hour. D’you want to meet us there? I feel like we haven’t talked - all three of us - in forever.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking for a moment. You’d barely been at Harry’s for half an hour but you haven’t seen - or even talked to - your friends in weeks. So you clear your throat and brighten your voice and say, “Sure!”

You can see Harry poke his head out of the kitchen, raising his eyebrows at you, and you bite back a laugh at the site. On the other end, Kaitlyn says, “Cool. See you there, then, and don’t be late, please -” and you say, “Got it,” before hanging up and dropping your phone against the couch.

“Who was that?” Harry asks as you return to the kitchen, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame as he tugs his body to yours.

“My friend, Kaitlyn. I don’t think you know her - she’s a chemistry major.” You wrap your arm around his neck, letting him embrace you before saying, muffled against where your face is buried in his neck, “I’m gonna have to head out soon. Promised I’d meet them at dinner in an hour, and it’s not too short a walk to the cafeteria. But I’ll probably come over after dinner, if that’s okay.” 

Harry nods, and when he speaks again you can hear the teasing lilt in his voice. “M’glad you’re going to see your friends,” he tells you, and you smile. “But if you’re gonna leave soon … I guess we better make the most of our time, right?” And you don’t respond before crashing your lips to his.

 --

 “I have a question.”

You glance up at your friends, chewing slowly on your bite of noodles. It’s the first time you’ve seen them in - admittedly - a while, nearly three weeks. And it’s a drastic difference when you and them had spent nearly every waking minute together before you’d started seeing Harry, but you didn’t think they’d even notice. After all, Kaitlyn and Dylan had started dating recently, too, and you figured you would give them time off from your third-wheeling.

Well - no, you didn’t figure that. They never gave you an indication that they were bothered by your being there with them, but it was a better excuse than I’ve been fucking my professor, and I haven’t really been thinking of much besides that.

“Yeah?” you tilt your head at Dylan, grabbing your lemonade from the table and taking a sip. 

Kaitlyn drops her fork from where she’s been picking at her salad, and then asks, “Well - we’ve kind of been wondering where you’ve been. We haven’t seen you in so long and your roommate said you’re barely there anymore, anyway.”

You raise your eyebrows, squinting at the pair of them in front of you. “You asked my roommate?”

“Well, yeah.” Dylan glances at Kaitlyn and then back at you, and this is beginning to feel like a bit of an intervention. “We didn’t know if you were just mad at us or something.”

“S’not like she’s at our room much, anyway. Always at her boyfriend’s. Nick’s, I think.” You twist more noodles around your fork, making sure to lather them in the slightly-chunky but still edible pasta sauce that the cafeteria had made for today. “I’ve been at my room loads.”

It’s not necessarily the truth but you wouldn’t call it a lie, either. Since you’d stopped going to Harry’s office you’d been spending more time at your room and your roommate had been there more, too - it was curious, since she never used to spend any time there, and you’d started to get to know her a bit, too.

“Her and Nick broke up,” Kaitlyn says, leaning in and taking a bite of her salad. “But - I don’t know. It’s weird. I mean, all of a sudden we never heard from you.” You don’t respond, staring down at your noodles, and she leans closer towards you, “But then - um.”

You glance up. “What?”

“Well - Hannah Joseph said you’ve been spending a lot of time with Professor Styles,” Dylan reveals, drumming his fingers against the lunch table. Your heart drops at his words and you rest your fork against your plate, the utensil still wrapped in noodles. “And there’ve been a lot of rumours.”

With every single word this entire conversation keeps getting worse, and you take in a gulp of lemonade to try and distract yourself. When you’ve swallowed you look up and try to feign disinterest. “What kind of rumours?” you ask, and you’re not quite sure whether your nonchalant facade towards the entire situation is working.

Dylan leans back in his chair, making eye contact with Kaitlyn again - you hate when they do that, especially right now. You feel like they’re having some sort of conversation you’re not allowed to know, that they’re keeping secrets from you and you’re not supposed to do that. They’re your best friends.

(But you’re keeping the biggest secret of all, and you know you’ll never tell them.)

After a moment, Dylan finally says, “Well, when Hannah was telling us about you being in Professor Styles’ office all the time, Alana Williams told us that she walked in on you guys in his office, like, two weeks ago. And you were really flustered and left, like, the second she came in, and he was really awkward about it the entire time.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten about Alana, walking in on you two immediately after you’d kissed for the first time. You know the answer you’re going to get, but you furrow your brows and ask again, “But what was the rumour, then?”

“That you’re sleeping with him.”

Yeah, you expected that. And it’s not like it’s wrong but hearing the words from Kaitlyn’s lips make you feel embarrassed and all of a sudden you want to run out of the cafeteria screaming, run to your dorm and never talk to anyone again. Because if Hannah and Alana told Kaitlyn and Dylan about you being in his office all the time, who else did they tell?

You breathe out a laugh, hoping to God that you sound amused by the entire thing and not absolutely terrified. There’s no foreseeable way you can salvage this and you can’t think of any sort of excuse for your weeks-long absence from your friends because they already mentioned the truth and you can’t tell them that. They’re your best friends and you should tell them the truth, the way they’ve always told you the truth about everything, but there’s no way you can do that now.

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes peeking left and right as though you’ll catch someone watching you, wondering if you really are sleeping with your professor. As if you’ll yell it out. “That’s stupid,” you tell them, and the way their shoulders ever so slightly drop in relief makes you want to scream. “I’m not sleeping with Professor Styles. I’ve just been busy. Overloaded with schoolwork, right now.”

It’s impossible to tell if they believe it, but you roll your eyes and continue anyway. “But I have missed you guys a lot, and I’m sorry for - um - ignoring you. That was fucked up.”

(In the back of your mind, you’re reminded of the way you’d told Harry you’d return to his apartment after dinner. You hadn’t promised but you’d never failed to go to his apartment when you’d said you would. There is a first time for everything, you suppose, so you give them a bright grin that you aren’t feeling at all and lean in. “Speaking of which, what can we do tonight? I’m all yours, I swear. Won’t even think about my assignments.”

The smiles that spread across their faces like wildfire makes you feel ever so guilty - guilty at the fact that, although you do miss them, your heart aches at the fact that you’re leaving Harry high and dry. Well, he’ll live, you know. Probably spend the night watching television with Marie, and you’ll see him tomorrow. 

“I’m going to guess you don’t want to go a party, right?” Kaitlyn asks, a grin playing at her lips. They’ve tried to drag you to parties for so long and you hate them, hate everything about them, but -

Right now a party sounds perfect. Perfect to forget about how, apparently, everyone on campus thinks you’re fucking your professor and perfect to extinguish every one of those rumours. So to Dylan and Kaitlyn’s surprise and, truthfully, your own, you lean back in your chair with a bright grin. “I’d love to go to a party! Where’s it at?”

 --

 Within ten minutes of being at said party, you regret it quite a bit.

The dress Kaitlyn had picked out of your closet is two years old and certainly doesn’t fit correctly - you can’t remember buying it, honestly, and every couple of minutes you have to tug the top up to cover your tits. You don’t like the way guys are looking at you and more specifically down your shirt, and they look at Kaitlyn too - but perhaps she’s more used to it from going to frat parties more often, because it doesn’t seem to bother her nearly as much as it pisses you off.

Dylan brought you a drink immediately and you took one sip and hated it. You hate everything about being here but you paste a grin on your face, jumping into pictures with people you barely know, and you’re sure if there was ever someone who looked less like the type to sleep with their professor, it’s you right now.

Which is what you were going for. And, if you wanted to take it all the way, you would let one of these frat guys pin you up against the wall and kiss you until you’re breathless, but you can’t do that to Harry. Even if you’re not official - not truly together - the thought of your lips pressed against any that don’t belong to Harry is disgusting. You sent him a text while you were getting dressed, telling him something came up and i can’t come over:(( sorry and he didn’t seem to mind much, merely replying, Sounds good. See you soon. And now, as you stand in a cloud of marijauna, leaning against the wall and periodically pretending to drink from your cup, you realize you’d much rather be holed up in his apartment than here.

Dylan and Kaitlyn are having fun, though, dancing entirely too close on the dance floor. They did this at parties before they started dating, too, bodies pressed close to each other, and you always wondered why they never just came out and got together. The difference between then and now is that, before, Kaitlyn would always drag you out with them at some point, making sure you’re included.

You don’t reckon that’s going to happen now.

So you push yourself off the wall, clutching your phone and your cup in one hand and using the other to brush Dylan on the back as you push past them - you can hardly hear Kaitlyn calling, “Where’re you going?” as you make your way through a crowd of people. When you’ve finally found your way to the edges of the party you can spot an open door leading out to the deck, and you decide that’s where you want to be, so you push yourself through the door and to the violently bitter cold.

It’s a decision you almost regret but there’s so few people outside - two frat boys, one of them who you recognize from your creative writing class, and a girl sitting, half asleep, on the ground. In some odd way you feel like you fit in with the people out here, so you lean against the house and look at your phone again.

Harry hasn’t texted you again and you’re not sure why you thought he would - there wasn’t much to say on his behalf. In the back of your mind you’re entirely too aware that standing outside by yourself like a loner makes you look even more the part of girl-who-fucked-her-teacher but you can’t force yourself to be in there. 

“Hey.”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a voice from next to you, and you look up to see the boy from your creative writing class, leaning on the wall beside you. His friend has gone, probably back inside, and the girl sitting on the ground looks completely gone now. It’s just you and him, this guy you’ve hardly spoken to ever, but you turn to face him anyway.

“Hey,” you say, voice coming out in a soft puff of air, white in the nighttime air. “S’Jacob, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jacob nods, blonde hair flopping in front of his eyes, and it reminds you, in some sort of way, of the uncontrollable nature of Harry’s hair. “Aren’t you in my writing class or something?”

You nod, brushing your hair out of your face and glancing down at the cup in your hand. It’s still as full as when you got it, even with all the pretend sips you’d been taking. “Yeah, I am.”

Jacob’s head falls back against the house and says, “Knew I recognized a pretty face like yours.” You exhale, rolling your eyes, and he furrows his eyebrows. “What? M’serious. I’ve always thought you were quite cute.”

“Thanks, I suppose.” You look up at him with an amused smile. “You’re - um. You’re cute too,” which isn’t exactly a lie. He’s not horrible but perhaps being with Harry has skewed your perception of all guys in your year - they’ll never be as lovely as him. 

“Well, thank you,” Jacob replies, and you’re not sure what to say now - just lift your drink to your mouth and pretend to take a drink of it. It seems like in the blink of an eye he’s moved closer to you - standing half beside you and half in front, and you pull your cup closer to your body. He’s barely half a foot away from you and his face is even closer, and he smells like cheap beer and mint gum.

You drop your head back against the wall, raising your eyebrows. “What’re you doing?” you ask, confusion and yet complete understanding dripping from your words. 

Jacob shrugs, leaning in until his lips are entirely too close to your ear and you can feel his breath, warm against your skin and you can smell him even stronger, now. “Just relax, alright? S’okay.”

You can’t relax though, and all you can think about is how different and terrible this is compared to how amazing Harry makes you feel, and you shake your head vehemently. “Jacob, I’m sorry, alright? You’re really nice and all, but -”

“D’you have a boyfriend?” Jacob asks, then, pulling himself away from you. 

“Not really,” you tell him, which is the truth. You and Harry aren’t - technically dating but you still couldn’t hook up with this frat boy if you tried. You’re as good as dating him and the thought of doing it to him makes you sick to your stomach. “But I’m just not interested.”

There’s a pause, then. Jacob takes a step back, looking at you with his brows furrowed and his face looking oddly flushed. There are goosebumps covering your skin and you suddenly want to go back inside but then he’s talking again - “I think I know what this is about.”

You must wear the confusion you’re feeling, because he continues. “Can you be honest with me? Like, really honest.”

You hadn’t thought he was too drunk before but he certainly is starting to seem just a bit drunker than you’d anticipated. You furrow your eyebrows, lips upturning. “Sure.”

Then Jacob takes another step forward so you’re just as close as you’d been before and leans in again, dropping his voice so low you can hardly hear it. “Is it true you’re boning Professor Styles?”

The words take a moment to sink in. Is it true … Professor Styles? And when they’re finally there, embedded inside of your brain, you exhale a shaky laugh. It’s all you can bring yourself to do, resting your head back against the house. “Are you serious?”

You look at him again and he nods, shrugging slightly.

“I’m not - I’m not boning Professor Styles.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue but you force it to sound normal anyway. “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jacob rolls his eyes until you can merely see a white stripe in them. You can feel yourself getting - angrier? Sadder? More annoyed? - by the moment. And you hate that some dumb frat boy can make you feel so horrible but he’s doing it now, even if he probably doesn’t realize it. He steps back again, running a hand through his floppy hair. “Alright, alright. So you’re not fucking your professor and you don’t have a boyfriend. What, exactly, is holding you back, then?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling heat soar to your cheeks even in the bitter chill of the night. “Can you give it a fucking rest, Jacob?” 

He whistles and you’re pushing yourself off the wall, already beginning to slide open the door to go back inside when Jacob begins, “Don’t be such a bitch about it -”

There’s only a brief second of hesitation on your part - turning around and using the hand that isn’t clutching your cup and your phone you press it to his chest and push as hard as you can. The force of it sends your phone flying out of your hand and hurtling down to the deck and you watch it fall down with a moment of brief regret - you can hear the glass shattering and you know it’ll be a bitch to repair. And you drink splashes up, spilling onto your chest and your dress and it smells repulsive. But Jacob (who you suspect is drunker than you originally thought) stumbles away from you and it makes both things worth it.

You can feel tears beginning to sting your eyes as Jacob straightens up, and before he can say anything else you bend down, picking your phone off of the deck and racing back into the house. You slide the door shut behind you and you can feel it open only a second later but you’ve already gone, pushing your way through the crowd, looking for both the way out and someone with a phone that doesn’t have a screen smashed to bits.

Kaitlyn and Dylan are pressed against the wall and you hate to interrupt the way they’re kissing desperately, hands all over each other, but you reach out and tap her shoulder anyway. Because, truthfully, you don’t actually care that much.

You shout above the music that you need to borrow her phone and she doesn’t hesitate to fish it out of her bra, handing it over to you with an incredibly wide grin - her telltale drunk grin - and you grab it in your hand, your broken phone in your other, and open up the phone app.

You have his number memorized from spending so long studying it once he’d given it to you that it’s easy to type it into the keypad - when the line is ringing you realize it’s entirely too loud in the thick of the party so you turn and walk out the front door and onto the front steps, leaning against the railing.

The line clicks and you’ve never been so grateful for such a small noise. “Hello?” the voice on the other end says, raspy like it always is when he’s just woken up (and you hate to think that you’ve woken him from a nap) and you could cry at the sound of it.

“Harry.” you swallow, eyes darting back and forth to see if there’s anyone near you - but everyone seems to be inside, enjoying the party, and you just can’t. “Harry, hi.”

“Hey, baby,” he says, and his voice seems to brighten at the sound of yours. “What’s going on? Whose phone is this?”

“Um -” you bring your thumb up to your mouth, nibbling on your nail before dropping your hand back down to your thigh. “It’s a long story. Can you pick me up? I’m sorry, I just - um. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a pain. You don’t have to if you’re too tired because you sound like you just woke up but I really want to be with you right now.”

You look - standing outside of a party, fighting back tears that are burning in your eyes calling your professor, of all people - the exact type of girl who would fuck her professor, but oddly enough, you don’t really think you care anymore. All you want to do is to feel Harry’s arms wrapped around you, making you feel better, and you never should have come to this stupid party in the first place. It was a mistake.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, and you can picture him getting out of bed already, tugging on a pair of joggers - the pink ones he wears all the time - and sliding on his sneakers. “Uh - where are you?”

That you’re not quite sure of. You glance around but you can’t make much out in the dark - there’s a sign at the end of the street and you squint to try and make it out. “Barry, I think. Avenue? I’m not sure. I think it says Barry, though.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “I know where you are, and I’m gonna be there in five minutes, alright? Just stay where you are.”

You breathe out a small okay, and then the line clicks and he’s gone, and you pull the phone away to stare at it for just a moment. Then you go and delete the call from Kaitlyn’s history - wouldn’t want her calling it on accident - and dart back inside. She’s still wrapped around Dylan but you give it to her anyway, watching her stuff the device back into her bra. And you take a moment to bid your friends goodbye - wrapping them in a hug even if you know they’d rather be making out with each other than hugging you - and you head back out the door, sitting down on the front steps and letting the door slam behind you.

Your phone sits beside you in all its broken glory. Your mind is reeling and you can’t think straight - all you want is to be with Harry, forget about the assholes who think (or know) that you’re sleeping with him. Because - well, you are, you suppose. But there’s so much more, stuff they’ll never know, stuff they can’t know.

Just as your teeth start chattering in the cold you can see a familiar car pull up in front of the house. You can see his figure in the drivers seat, a hood pulled up tight over his hair, and you jump up, grabbing your phone and bounding towards the car. You’ve never been so happy to see him in your life - opening the door and ducking into the passenger’s seat, dropping your shattered phone on the center console between you. The warmth of his car is nearly suffocating but you love it, prefer it so much over the cold that’s been so prevalent for so long.

“Hey,” Harry says, voice soft, as if he can tell you’ve had a shitty day. (Which he probably can, truthfully.) “What happened to your phone?”

“I dropped it,” you tell him, taking another glance down at the phone you’ve had for four years that could survive falls from your pockets, bed and accidentally getting stepped on by Dylan but couldn’t make it through a simple fall onto the deck of a frat house. Serves you right for going to the dumb party anyway. “Can I go to your apartment? Just really don’t want to be alone. I had - a really shitty day.”

He nods and then you’re gone, taking off down the street. “D’you want to tell me about it, then?”

You sigh, leaning back against the headrest. You take a moment to listen to the music, playing so silently you can hardly hear - but it’s Just The Way You Are, by Billy Joel, and it’s from your playlist. “Just - um. A lot of people, apparently, think we’re sleeping together and then I was talking to this - this guy named Jacob and he was being a dick about it because I wouldn’t fuck him and then - then I pushed him and I dropped my phone and it broke.” Your voice cracks and you can feel the tears that had been residing behind your eyes finally beginning to spill over, and you bring your wrist up to wipe the tear that had begun to streak down your cheek. “M’sorry. Seems silly, now.”

“It’s not silly.” Harry’s voice is firm and you look over at him, sniffling slightly. When you’ve stopped at a red light he turns towards you, bringing his thumb up to wipe away another tear that had trickled down to your nose. “I’m sorry. People can be dicks sometimes.”

You inhale shakily. “Yeah.” For a split second there’s silence and then you say, “I don’t even know why I went to a stupid party. I hate them and I hated this one too but -” you stop to think. “I wanted people to think I wasn’t the type of person to fuck my professor. Which is silly, I guess, because I am the type of person to fuck my professor.”

“Can you look at me?” he asks, and you do, making eye contact with him briefly before he looks back at the road. “S’all gonna be alright, you know that? Nobody is gonna know. No one’s gonna find out - they’re all just guessing now.”

“I feel like they know.” you sniffle again, blinking away more tears that had come to the surface of your eyes. “And I know they can’t but I feel like they do.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot behind his building, then, and you unbuckle your seatbelt with shaking hands and grab your phone from the center console, pushing yourself out of the car and into the air again. The two of you walk in silence to the doors and then he presses the button of the elevator to go up and looks at you again.

“Baby,” Harry says, and you nod slowly. “What do you want to do?”

You pause. “What do I want to do?”

Then he grabs your hand as the elevator opens and you step in together, pressing the button for the third floor. “I don’t want you to stress about getting caught,” he responds, voice dropping to hardly above a whisper. “We’re going to be okay, I promise. As long as we keep things off campus we’re fine.”

You nod, glancing down at your scuffed heels with a sniff. “I know.”

The elevator dings again and you step out of it, your hand still in his as he walks down the hall to his apartment. While he digs in his pocket for his key, you tell him, “If you’re asking me whether I want to stop this, the answer is no.”

Harry glances up at you, key in the door, with a raised eyebrow.

You continue, shaking your head. “I like you a lot, Harry. A lot. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before in my life and I don’t want stupid fucking frat boys to take you away from me.” The two of you step into his apartment and he flicks on the lights, leaning against the door as you continue. “Don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if the most amazing man in the entire world slipped between my fingers because I was afraid.”

You take a step towards him, and then he wraps his arms around you and it’s what you’d needed all bloody day, just to feel his hug. You burrow your head into his chest and he presses his lips to the top of your hair, his voice coming out muffled by your hair when he speaks again. “I’m afraid too, baby. But I like you a lot too. More than anyone I’ve ever known.” Then he grabs your cheeks, pulling your head away from his so he can stare you right in the eyes - you swear his are mesmerizing. “I think I love you, actually.”

Love.

He loves you.

The thought bounces around your brain and it’s all you can think of - Professor Styles, telling you he loves you in his apartment, his warm hands pressed to your cheeks. And you hadn’t been sure, until now, whether you did love him. You’d never exactly felt that sort of love for anyone before because none of your relationships had ever lasted too long. But hearing him and seeing him now is making your brain churn out a thousand thoughts per minute and the most apparent one is that you love him too.

So much.

So you exhale, a smile quirking your lips upwards, as you reach up to press your hands to his face, too. You can see him fighting back the urge to grin and you could cry again but you swallow the urge and breathe out, “I love you, too.”

And you lean up on your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips and barely hearing the way he mutters back, “I love you so much,” because you couldn’t pull your lips from his if you tried. His hands drop to your back, pressing against the small of it as he leads you farther into his apartment. Your lips never detach and it’s difficult not to trip over your own feet but eventually you’re being pushed onto a distinctly soft surface, and one glance to your right shows you that it’s not his bed but the couch in his living room.

“Sorry, Marie,” Harry says, and you push yourself onto your elbows as you watch Harry pick up Marie from her spot on top of the couch and deposit her to the floor. “Don’t want you to see this. Just shoo for a little while.”

You roll your eyes as Harry looks down at you, one leg propped on the couch and the other firm on the ground. “You’re ridiculous, professor,” you tell him, and he throws an arm over the back of the couch, lowering his body onto yours until you can push your head up and mesh your lips with his. His hand goes beneath your head as he lowers you back down onto the couch. “But I still love you.”

When Harry pulls away his cheeks are a light shade of pink and you feel quite honored to be the person to make him blush - your professor, so professional in front of the classroom and blushing like a schoolgirl above you. You bring your hand up to his hair, twisting your fingers in his curls to bring his head back down but he doesn’t go for your lips, instead lowering his mouth to your throat, pressing hickeys to the column of your neck.

“You smell like beer, y’know that?” Harry tells you, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he trails kisses down to your collarbone. His hand works at tugging the top of your dress down, reaching in to pull your tits out where they’re already practically spilling out of it. 

“Spilled a bit on myself at the party,” you breathe as he lowers his mouth onto your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast. “Wasn’t good beer, though. Could tell it was cheap. I couldn’t drink more than a sip - fuck.”

Harry pulls back from your nipple and blows on it gently, the sensation sending shivers up your spine and you moan softly. Your hips buck up into his and he groans against your chest. “God, baby. I love your tits, did you know that? Could play with them all day.” As if to prove a point he leans down again, dragging his teeth against your nipple and reveling in the way you whine.

“I’d be fine with that,” you inform him, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence as his hand trails down your body to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up over the tops of your thighs. Then his fingers brush over the damp spot in your panties, pressing against your clit through the thin fabric. “Oh, god -”

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, voice soft and he already knows the answer, of course, but you drop your head back against the couch with a nod anyway. “Wanna hear your words.”

“Feels so good, p - professor,” you moan, feeling his digits finally dip beneath the hem of your panties, running over your folds without the lace barrier. “Please, Harry, need more …”

You’ve learned, by now, his affinity for hearing you tell him exactly what you want. So before you can hear his smug response of what do you need you swallow and tell him, “Want you to eat me out. Please, professor.”

He drops his head against your chest, moaning lowly, and you can feel his dick growing harder against your thigh. “Fuck. Okay.” He licks a line from your chest up to your collarbone and you wonder if he can taste the gross beer still tainting your skin but - if he does - he doesn’t show it. Acts like he’d just enjoyed the best feast of his life as he glances back up at you, eyes dark. His fingers hook in your panties, dragging them down your legs and dropping them, soaked in your arousal, onto the floor. “Gonna take you to my room, yeah?”

You nod eagerly as he stands above you, and you swing your legs over the edge of the couch, pushing yourself up, and you let Harry intertwine your fingers, leading you across his apartment to the door of his bedroom. When he’s shut the door (shooing Marie away again, who’d followed you in an attempt to enter his room) he tugs his hoodie over his head - his phone flies out of the pocket and lands on the carpet, his hoodie heading towards another corner. Then Harry collapses into the middle of his bed, lying on his back, glancing at you expectantly. His joggers slide ever so slightly down his hips and you watch their descent before flickering your eyes back to him.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Not gonna eat me out then, professor?”

Harry shakes his head. “Never sat on anyone’s face before, I reckon?”

No. Of course you haven’t. Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘o’ and you raise your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. He motions you to come over to him and you take a moment to kick off your heels, leaving them in a pile by the door before making your way over to the bed, standing beside him.

“I think you’ll like it,” Harry tells you, and wraps his fingers around your wrist in a loose hold, and you take the cue to mount the bed, kneeling beside him, and his fingers drum against your thigh. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. If you don’t, I’ll just do it the old fashioned way. No harm done.”

You nod, swallowing. Any question you have dies on your tongue because you trust him, you know, and you know he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.

What’s the harm in trying?

“Alright, then.” He reaches behind him, stuffing a pillow beneath his head. His hand on your wrist drops to your hand, pressing your palms together, and you give him a small smile before adjusting yourself so your thighs are on either side of his head - it’s about as awkward as you’d anticipated, your dress still half covering your arse, and Harry reaches up to pull it up, letting it rest around your hips. His fingertips trail down your thighs - a silent don’t worry and appreciate it. Slowly you lower yourself down onto his mouth, and when you’ve completely settled - your hands resting on his bare abdomen as you lean forward slightly.

You expect to feel his tongue on you immediately but then he pauses, and when he talks you can feel his mouth moving against your cunt. “Siri! Shuffle y/n songs on Spotify!”

You almost roll your eyes when his phone, still on the floor from where it had landed earlier, begins playing Good Vibrations - of course, he can’t do anything without music - but before you can give some sort of snarky remark his tongue is darting up to your clit, flicking the bud gently, and you cry out almost louder than the music.

“Oh, shit, Harry!” you groan, fingertips digging into his stomach as his hands go to your bum, kneading the globes of your ass as his mouth practically attacks your pussy. It’s so much more intense than how it is usually - the Beach Boys in the background, your hips rocking slowly against his face, his soft groans against your core sending vibrations through your body.

Good vibrations, of course.

“Feels so fucking good,” you breathe, dragging your hands further down his stomach. His joggers - the pink ones - are tied loosely and your fingers wrap around the ties, tugging slightly as Harry pushes his tongue inside of you. You can see his dick - thick and looking painfully hard, even through the fabric. Your instinct is to grab his hair but it’s harder in this position so you tug, again, at the tie of his sweatpants until it comes completely undone.

He pauses, momentarily, perhaps wondering what you’re doing - and you don’t even quite know - but soon he resumes his relentless assault on your clit, lips wrapping around the nub and sucking. You cry out, your palm pressed to his stomach and trailing down to the hem of his sweatpants, and when your hand wraps firmly around Harry’s cock he practically yelps into your cunt.

“Jesus, fuck,” you can hear him, muttering against your heat as you pull his sweatpants down further until you can see his cock. Sure enough, he’s hard and heavy in your hand as you shimmy your body ever so slightly forward, causing him to hook his arms around your thighs to keep you close to his face. You crane your neck forward, pumping your hand up and down his cock as you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the tip of his dick, and he moans. It mixes oddly well with the tail end of Good Vibrations as it switches to Sugar Sugar.

The sound rolls through your body and you whimper, lowering your head onto his cock until his length is nearly completely down your throat - you’ve gotten better at fitting him in completely, and you breathe through your nose, counting 1 … 2 … 3 until you hit 10, and then you pull your mouth off of him.

Harry’s nose nudges your clit and your walls tighten around his tongue as he thrusts it in and out of your cunt - you’re so close and you can tell, and you lick up the vein on his cock. He grunts softly, fingernails digging into your ass, and when his tongue flicks over your clit again you cry out, throwing your head back and pumping his cock with your hand.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave and Harry laps up every drop that he can, smoothing his hands over your bum and thighs as you roll your hips against his mouth, riding yourself through his orgasm as you release your grasp on his cock, digging your nails into his stomach as you moan out.

When every reverberation of your orgasm still pulsing through you, you collapse onto his body - then you roll off of him, still feeling the throbbing in your clit as Harry pushes himself onto his elbows, glancing down at you.

“How was that?” he asks, sitting up fully, trailing his fingers up your arm. “First time facesitting. And 69ing, too - it’s a season of firsts.”

You grin lazily at him. “S’that a line from December, 1963?”

He nods, a smile painting his face.

“It was amazing. Of course. It’s always amazing - God, I love you so much,” you tell him, reaching your hand up to rest against his face, and he presses a soft kiss against your wrist. “But…”

“What?”

“I really want you to fuck me.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, and you feel your cheeks burn. His hand tugs at the end of your dress, bunched around your hips. “I really want to fuck you, too.” You sit up, raising your arms so he can pull your dress over your head - you’re left in merely your bra and you reach behind yourself, undoing the clasp and tossing it off the bed. When you’ve lied back down on the bed he takes a minute to stare down at you, and you feel a sudden instinct to cover yourself up - but then he merely says, “You’re so beautiful. I love you -” and he leans down to kiss you, his hands working at pulling his joggers down his legs - “so damn much.”

He takes a moment, dropping his pants to his ankles, to lower his head to your cunt again - tongue lapping briefly at your clit, smirking at the way you jump. Then he pulls his head back and you watch him, propped on your elbows, as he spits, and it lands on your clit and makes you squeal, your stomach flipping. God, you didn’t think you’d love that so much but you want him to do it again and again - something about it is so fucking hot. But he just brings his fingers to your folds, spreading his spit through your already slick pussy, flashing you another smug smirk before leaning back over you.

You loop your arms around his neck, feeling the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. You’re so wet you’re practically dripping and there’s positively no barrier as he sheathes himself inside of you - you toss your head back with a moan. The first push inside of you is always the best and you take a moment to savor it as Harry grips your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist. And when he pulls out and thrusts back in he brushes that perfect spot inside of you, and you cry out.

Your heel presses into his arse, pushing his body further into yours. Your chests press together, his arm braced over your head as he groans lowly, eyes squeezed shut, and you bring your hand up to his face like he’s done so many times - “Look at me, profess - fuck!”

He does look at you, pupils wide and making his normally green eyes appear just about completely black. Harry’s hand presses to your clit, rubbing fast hard circles as his cock brushes against your g-spot with every thrust inside of you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head into your shoulder, hips rocking into his. You’re already embarrassingly close and with just the right brush against your clit you know you could be cumming already to the sound of I’m a Believer by the Monkees, and it would be heaven.

Like it always is.

Harry’s still muttering into your neck, teeth brushing against your skin as he sends wet, open mouthed kisses across your throat - “So tight, squeezing me so good. God, Iloveyousomuch -”

Your nails drag against his back, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, his fingers still working at your clit. You wrap your leg tighter around his waist, burying your head back into the covers with a loud cry and then you’re cumming, walls fluttering around him as his thrusts grew even more unrelentless. You’re not sure you’ve ever cum so fast in your life but you were already so close before you even started and he pulls his head up, slamming your lips together as you ride out your second orgasm with him.

“Think you - fuck - got one more in there for me?” His voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as he straightens up, fucking you harder than ever before on his knees, fingers still plucking at your clit. Your leg drops from around his waist and he grabs your calf, stretching your leg onto his shoulder, and the burn makes everything feel that much better. “Gonna cum again for your professor? I think you can.”

Your hand goes down to his wrist, fingers wrapping around him - it’s too much too fast you’ve just cum you can’t - but you know you can and he does too. And you can tell he’s close - the way he’s losing rhythm, his hips losing the steady pace he’d developed. You drop your hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between your fingers.

“Fuck, Harry - m’gonna cum - God -” you can’t manage to get out any full sentences, mere fragments, your eyes never leaving Harry’s as you clench around you again. Your third orgasm is the most intense of all, feeling his fingers pinch your clit, his thrusts slowing so they hit every sweet spot inside of you, and you couldn’t have held back if you tried.

His neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the way you scream - the duvet firm in your grasp, your eyes rolling back into your head as you practically spasm beneath him. Harry’s movements slow to a jerky, staccato pace - you can feel him, cumming inside of you, and when you look at him his face is bright red, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a soft o.

“Fuck, fuck -” he breathes, hand on your clit dropping to the mattress, and your leg slides off of his shoulder and back onto the bed. You’re fucking exhausted as he pulls out, dropping onto the bed beside you, but not too tired to curl yourself into his arms, your face burning hot and your breathing laboured.

There’s a moment where nothing needs to be said. There’s nothing that you could say that could make this moment any better than it is so you hold your tongue, intent on merely falling asleep with him until he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

He pauses, and you open your eyes, turning your head to glance at him. His eyes are shut as well and you could almost fool yourself into thinking he’d never spoken at all until he finally says, “I love you so much.” You don’t have time to say it back before he’s continuing - “And I think you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met in my life.”

You can feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes - whether it’s the post-orgasm haze and exhaustion overtaking you or just pure love for the man beside you, you’re not sure. “Harry -”

“And, um.” His eyes are still shut and his brows are slightly furrowed as he speaks. “I know we’re kind of already dating but I want to make it official. So … would you like to be my girlfriend?” And then his eyes open, his head turning to look at you, to watch the smile that turns your lips upward.

You tug your bottom lip between your bottom teeth to try and suppress your grin but it doesn’t work - you could never stop yourself from feeling so fucking happy. And you bring your hand to his cheek, brushing a sweaty curl off his face, before breathing, “Of course.”

He leans in, then, kissing you sweetly and - for just a moment - you can forget about everything other than him. Forget about class on Monday, about the people who think you’re sleeping with him. And they’re right, for some of it - but not all. They’ll never really know what you have.

For a moment, all that exists is you and him, wrapped up in each other, bodies curled together and lips pressed gently. And even when the moment passes, and you bury your head into his shoulder, you can’t help but wait for the next to come.

[negasonicimagines]

Closer (NSFW)

synopsis: Ellie’s a beta. You’re...not.

notes & warnings: this is a/b/o smut with an alpha!reader, that means you have a retractable dick. don’t like = don’t read. also: genital repulsion is 100% valid, but genitals ≠ gender, and Ellie was using dick/penis/etc in place of the word boys/men/etc which is addressed and corrected! overstimulation kink aplenty! and, for the first time on negasonicteenageimagines, wing kink! implied babypool!reader, which I will probably address in a part 2 one day! I'm sorry I've been gone so long, had a really demanding job that sucked the life out of me and I'm just living on savings while I try to recuperate.

Ellie loves the feeling of your hands on her; running down her sides, nervously feeling her chest or ass through her clothes, but she hates when you grab onto her hips and stop her.

“Y/N…” She sighs, stroking your flushed face. She’s straddling your lap, you’ve been trading kisses and teasing touches for the past little while.

“I just- Just need a sec, to cool down,” you tell her. Like it’s wrong that you want her; that she wants you.

“Why?” Ellie asks, and you look up at her with a bit of a hurt expression. She knows why. You don’t think she can handle you. You haven’t said it, but it’s pretty clear. “W- Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation. If you don’t want to, then I don’t want to, okay?”

“I mean, I do, you’re so…” Your hands tighten around her hips and she throbs, she wishes she could just melt into the touch. “I do. But…”

“I know,” Ellie sighs again.

“Can I hold you?” you request.

“Let me. You don’t have to be all-alpha, all the time. You should let me take care of you, y’know?”

“Mmkay,” you agree, letting her guide you so that you’re on top of her. You sink into her— not in the way that either of you would prefer —and let her tend to you, petting your hair and humming some old emo song. She strokes your wings next, and you shudder when she gets closer to the downy feathers between them. “E- El, we’re stopping, remember?”

“Right, sorry. Those softer feathers just feel so nice.”

“Thanks…” you mumble sleepily, and she smiles, though you can’t see it. You’ve always been self-conscious about your wings, but Ellie’s seen the beauty in them from the moment she first saw you. She’s seen the beauty in you since then, too.

Being with you is a dream, even if you’re not ready to take the next step. She just wishes she could reassure you; make everything better. It’s what you deserve.

“Dinner soon,” she softly warns, and you whine, closing your eyes tighter. “Babe, seriously, it’s too late for a nap.”

“Then what are you doing being such a good pillow, hm?” you argue.

She stammers before scoffing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you murmur.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Ellie teases.

“I know,” you hum, nuzzling. She’s probably covered in your scent at this point.

“You know, I get a lot of glares from your fan club when you do that,” Ellie grumbles, but she doesn’t really mind. She’s proud that everyone knows that she’s yours, and the other way around.

“My huh-what-now?”

“You know, that little group of omegas that…” Ellie trails off. She’s not sure whether she’s annoyed or grateful that you haven’t noticed. “They just really like you, that’s all.”

You’re not sure what it is. Betas have scents so light that emotion isn’t detectable, but maybe you can subconsciously smell the variation. Maybe it’s her tone, the way it slips from genuine nonchalance to something… Tense.

Whatever you’ve picked up on, it snaps you to attention. You sit up.

“What’s wrong?”

Ellie blinks at you. Out of respect to her, you do your best to suppress your overprotective tendencies. Clearly, you’re not making an exception for her this time. Your wings are all puffed up.

“Eleanor.” You only say her full first name when you’re serious. Usually it’s anger. “What’s wrong? Did they say something to you? Did they do something?”

“I- They just think you deserve a proper mate, or whatever. It’s not like you disagree, there’s a reason we haven’t done that.”

“Yeah, there is, but it isn’t something as superficial as that. You’re joking, right?”

“What? No, they really-“

“Fuck them, I don’t care what they think. I care what you think. Do you really think I’ve been holding back because you’re not an omega?”

“Well… Yeah.”

“Wow, um… Wow. Thanks for that, El. Didn’t know you thought that little of me, but… Cool.”

“Then what is it? Because I can’t think of any other reason!” Ellie snaps.

“Are you fucking serious?! Are you that fucking idiotic?!” You snap harder, you get up from the bed, and Ellie blinks in shock again.

“What?!”

“Ellie, you have said about a million times that you don’t like dick.”

Ellie’s furious expression immediately drops into one of regret, thinking of all the times she’s expressed utter repulsion towards your genitalia without even thinking.

“Yeah, I am that fucking idiotic,” she realizes. ”Oh, fuck, I really should’ve adjusted my language. I don’t like men! Fake dicks and ones otherwise attached to girls are fine,” Ellie explains. “Oh, jeez, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Hugs okay?”

You nod tearfully, she gets up, and she wraps her arms around your waist. You hug her neck, pressing her into your chest while your wings also wrap around her.

“I’m really sorry,” Ellie apologizes a third time. “I can’t believe I was such a freaking jerk. Those omegas are right, I really don’t deserve you.”

“El, it’s okay. We’re all learning. I should’ve told you what you were saying was bothering me.”

“But, I mean, what I was saying wasn’t just insensitive to alpha women, it was transphobic. I mean, it’d be one thing if I was genuinely repulsed, but... I’m definitely not. I was so thoughtless,” she insists.

“Like I said, we’re all learning. You acknowledged what you were saying was wrong, and how, and now you're growing from it. That’s all anyone can expect,” you reassure her.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” you reply, holding her tighter. “I’m really sorry for getting mad at you. I should’ve known you’d feel self-conscious, and that other people would see a problem with us. I just… I guess I’m so happy to finally be with you, that… I don’t know. I forget that everything else still sucks.”

“Babe…” Ellie coos, looking up at you. You look into her eyes, and your frown is turned upside down. She grins back. “You’re so beautiful.”

Instead of embracing her, you now cup her cheeks with your hands, pulling her in for a kiss that gets deeper and deeper until Ellie’s under you with one of your thighs between her legs.

You two have never gone as far as to stimulate those areas, but it’s about time. You continue to devour each other, you fondle her chest before literally starting to tear her shirt off, not wanting to part from the kiss but wanting her to be wearing way less clothing.

She gives a surprised gasp, lips leaving yours.

You whine.

“You were literally ripping my shirt off.”

“It’s a plain black one. You have, like, five,” you grumble, bitter that you’re having to take a pause. She looks at you with frustration, but notices just how clenched your jaw is, the way your hands shake.

You’re starving for her. For anything, probably, hardwired to spend at least a week straight every month fucking. How long have you two been together now? Loyalty may be the bare minimum, but she feels the need to reward you for it somehow. You had plenty of opportunity to fulfill your needs elsewhere.

Ellie takes her shirt off, chuckling to herself at the realization that it’s now a v-neck instead of the ring-neck it was. She unbuttons your shirt, helping your slip your wings out of the window in the back.

Your eyes rake over her body, but you don’t touch, not without permission. Ellie’s always loved observing you, photography has made her a bit of a voyeur. Watching someone as beautiful as you hold back such primal urges is downright delicious.

She can’t help but resume kissing you, lips and teeth and tongue mashing together. It’s animalistic.

“Can I please touch-“ Ellie’s cut off with a moan, the seam of her skinny jeans and the pressure of your thigh hitting just right. “Mm, wings?”

You hesitate.

“I’ll be gentle,” Ellie pleads.

“Okay,” you consent, resuming your kissing.

You’ll never forget the first time she touched your wings like this.

You two hadn’t just started dating, but you hadn’t been together for long. You were snuggling on the couch watching some movie or show on Netflix.

At first, she was just stroking your back, right above where you’re most sensitive, if it wouldn’t mat your feathers, you’d cover it up completely.

You’d tensed up a little at how close she was to the soft, more tender feathers, but she hadn’t noticed. She danced her fingertips further down and continued to stroke.

You choked on air, scrambling away from her quickly and blushing like crazy.

“What?” Ellie asked incredulously.

“I- Um- How do I put this?” You were still panting. “It’s gradual, like, um, for the most part it’s not very sensitive, but when you get closer to, um, the center of my wings, um…”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it hurt,” Ellie apologized, and though her tone didn’t betray it, you could see in her eyes that she felt awful.

You quickly shook your head.

“Wait, then… Oh. Oh!” Now she was blushing. “Sorry.”

This time, she’s skipped over the less sensitive parts again, not even building up to where she’s touching now, right in the center. You moan into her neck, clinging to her as she toys with the raven feathers between your shoulder blades.

She chuckles, and you growl.

“That’s cute,” Ellie murmurs, and you start to rut against her thigh again, feeling your member start to harden, and therefore extend from your body. “Big bad alpha, but I bet if I asked you’d let me put a collar on you, wouldn’t you?”

“Holy fuck, yes,” you moan. No girl has ever made you feel this way before. Of course, you’ve had sex before, but... It’s always been about the other person. Knot me, choke me, tie me up, Alpha, please, you remember the whines of past partners, whether they were omegas or simply curious alphas, and you appreciate Ellie’s independence, her borderline dominance. Maybe this time will be a little more vanilla, but the thought of...

“Kiss me again.”

You obey, and this continues for a bit longer, her mumbling sweet, disgusting nothings while you get bigger and harder and closer.

“El, I- I’m so-“

“Huge?” Ellie attempts to fill in the blank, intimidated by your size. It’s bigger than her strap by a long shot.

You just whine.

“Can I- Can I see?” she requests. Your cock is straining against your bottoms, so you’re happy to take them off as she removes her own. She urges you to prop yourself against some pillows and allow her to be on top. Her already doe-like eyes are even wider. “I- Uh- May I?” She has a hand outstretched.

You stutter before settling on nodding. Her hand carefully wraps around you, she slides her fist up and down so slowly. You give a trembling sigh.

“This okay?” you ask, still nervous.

“Mhm,” Ellie quickly responds, cheeks turning redder. She runs her thumb over the head— well, more like a face, since it’s your clitoris and some of the skin that surrounds it —and you squeal. “Alright, I think I kind of get it,” she mumbles.

“You think?” you choke out as she continues to stimulate the bundle of nerves; she bites her lip to hold back a smirk. You’re careful not to buck your hips, wanting her to go at her own pace. You instead roll your shoulders, wings feeling cramped with the way you’re sitting.

She notices.

“Here.” Ellie takes a pillow from beside you and has you lean forward. When you recline again, it’s thick enough to keep you off the headboard and it’s right between your wings, so every time you move…

“C-Clever,” you stammer, and she reaches out to stroke your cheek. You don’t know why, but you flinch.

“Shh… It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, babe.”

You nod. You know.

“You alright?” she asks.

You nod again.

“Can you use your words?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassure her, letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Do you wanna keep going?” She’s so beautiful; so perfect. She likes to pretend she doesn’t care, about anything, but she lets you have the truth. She does, often too much. And she loves you.

“Please.”

Your enthusiasm hasn’t waned even a bit, Ellie notices, and she starts to stimulate you with both hands now, thumb sweeping over your clit while she strokes up and down your cock.

Your knot starts to swell, just a little.

“Hng, El, wait,” you tell her, and she tears her hands away immediately, looking concerned again. “Nothing bad, I just… Can I please finish you off at least once, before I do?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“Really?” She sounded… Hesitant.

“Yeah,” she says with a relieved smile. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

You’re trying not to give into your instincts, to not throw her down onto the bed and just take, but it must be obvious with the way you hesitate to even touch her as you try to readjust your positions.

“Babe, you know I want this, right? You don’t have to be careful.”

You look down at your dick, and then skeptically at her. She follows your gaze.

“You’re as small as an omega but with none of the evolutionary traits to keep me from breaking you.”

Ellie’s cheeks flush. You always know when she wants to tell you something— or if she has some sort of request —but she’s too embarrassed or nervous, her lips curl inwards, pressed into a thin line. Her eyebrows pop up, just a little, and the puppy eyes just barely start to form, though they avoid yours.

You look to her expectantly.

“What if I want to be broken?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” you argue, and it’s shaky. You want her, you want to do this for her, you want to give her everything.

“I’m asking for you. All of you,” she insists. “Please.”

You nod, before taking her face in your hands once more and pressing your lips to hers. The gentle kissing devolves into practically devouring her lips with yours.

You mouth at her neck, at all of her, nibbling and licking and sucking until you reach what you’ve been aching for and tug her boxers off, burying your face in her and finally getting to eat.

“H-holy fucking…” Ellie’s grateful that you’re too focused on the task at hand to look up at her.

You slide one finger in, then another, curling as you use the tip of your tongue to stimulate her clit. You continue to prep her, she realizes with a smile, as she gets closer and closer.

“Could I…?” Her fingers tangle in your hair, but she doesn’t dare to pull. You growl. She’ll take that as a no.

She doesn’t tighten her grip, instead moving her hands to the sheets, but she still rocks against your mouth, begging for more, for release. This certainly isn’t what she’s used to.

“I- Ah- Y/N, fuck, don’t stop, please,” she pants, Eventually, despite her impatience, her moans turn into nonsense until she’s finally over the edge. You work her through it, or, at least, that’s what she assumes you’re doing, until she’s clearly overstimulated and you don’t stop.

She did just ask for all of you, including the sex drive, the insatiable urge to please your partner, and everything else that comes with being an alpha.

The feeling just keeps building and she continues to twitch under you, whimpering and clutching the sheets until a gasp is torn from her lungs and she’s finished once more.

You don’t stop.

The third one comes out of nowhere, she doesn’t feel close at all until suddenly it’s there and she’s crashing over like a waterfall, drowning in pleasure.

“I- That’s- That’s enough, please,” Ellie insists. You lick a slow, wide stripe from her entrance to her clit before sitting up. “Could I, um… Return the favor?”

“You want to?” Your head tilts in confusion. You’re still self-conscious, she realizes.

“I do.” She gets out of the way so that you can lay back down, pillow between your wings and cock still hard and exposed between your spread legs. She tentatively starts to give you a handy again, still unsure of where to start. “I, uh… I don’t think I can fit all that. Is that okay?”

“Of course. You really don’t have to do it at all, I don’t mind.”

“I want to,” she insists, before starting to suckle on the tip, smoothing her tongue over your clit again and again. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, hard, toes curling. She slowly inches down before gagging and pulling off with a rather cliche pop.

She looks gorgeous with tears in her eyes. She tries again, now knowing her limits but still pushing them every now and then. She uses her hands to make up for what she can’t fit in her mouth, rather skillfully.

“Wait, I- Hng, Ellie, stop,” you moan.

She pulls off, looking worried.

“I- I don’t wanna finish until I’m inside you,” you quietly explain, now you’re avoiding her eyes. She smiles softly, before opening the drawer on her bedside table and grabbing a box of alpha condoms.

“Will these work?”

You nod.

“And would you like to fuck me now?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you protest, before clamping a hand over your mouth, surprised at how bratty you sound.

“Rather whiny for an alpha,” she taunts. “How would you like for me to say it, then?”

Her eyebrow arches and you swear you could finish if she just kept looking at you like that, with that challenge in her eyes that no one else would dare to look at you with. You start leaking precum, and she bites back a smirk once again, waiting for your answer.

“I- Uh… I don’t know. Just, not so vulgar. You’re- You’re special. This is special. Not just…”

It clicks. You’re not sure how it does for her, but it almost always does. She’s intuitive, at least, when it comes to you. Her expression softens. This time, at least, she knows when to stop.

“I get it. Please, I’m ready for you to- I mean, I’ve practiced with my strap, but other than that, no one’s ever- No one's ever done that for me. I want you to.”

You rearrange yourselves once more, letting her rest on the bed and putting a spare pillow under her hips.

You kiss her lips like you’re starting all over, slowly kissing every inch of her. She’s delicious, soft and smooth and tender. You want to sink your teeth in.

You don’t, instead opting to rise up and sink a couple fingers into her, adding a third once you think she can take it.

Ellie tightens around your curling fingers, desperate for more. She rocks downwards, she wants to be filled.

“Okay, love, I get it,” you reassure her in a near whisper.

You take one of the alpha condoms and roll it on before carefully lining up with her entrance.

“Ha, don’t tease,” she whines. This is a little closer to what you’re used to. You slide right in, well, as much of you as you can actually fit, which is just over half your length. You’re not quite sure if you’ve bottomed out or if she’s not relaxed enough.

“Is it okay to move?” you wonder.

“Please,” she says, and so you do, starting with a slow, gentle pace before taking it up a notch. You’re fucking her wide open, but you’re still being careful as she turns into a mess of moans under you.

Eventually, though, you just can’t help yourself. You’re practically drilling into her, and now you know you’ve bottomed out because she’s taking all of you, flawlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-“ Ellie continues to pant, calves propped on your shoulders. “You’re so- I- Y/N, fuck- You- I-“

“Sh-sh-sh, it’s okay. I know. I know.” You can barely string together words yourself, you two fit like you’re made for each other, she squeezes around you so perfectly while you abuse that spot deep inside of her that makes her eyes roll back and her flushed, swollen lips fall wide open. “You’re so perfect.”

“You, too, I- I love you,” she manages, and it’s the best thing she could’ve said. It always is. You kiss her forehead and her knees are now hooked over your shoulders, bringing you even closer. You keep taking her, eventually it’s just too much and she reaches between the two of you, stroking her clit so she can come undone again.

And when she does, her walls flutter around you, getting you right back on the edge. She reaches behind you, running her fingertips over that sensitive spot between your wings so teasingly, so fleetingly, and yet it finishes you; whimpering and moaning and groaning into the pillow, right next to her head.

You knot her without even thinking as you unravel together, and the two of you soak in your euphoria for a few moments before speaking.

“Thank you,” you quietly say.

“I think I should be thanking you,” she scoffs. “What do you have to thank me for?”

“For letting me have you like this. For trusting me. For loving me and understanding me. Everything, I have everything to thank you for,” you explain.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Ellie grumbles. But she holds your hands in hers like she did almost the entire time you were fucking her into the mattress. “I… I wanna be on top.”

“Um… With proper prep that could definitely work, but we’re a bit stuck at the moment,” you explain.

“Good to know, but... I meant that I want to ride you,” Ellie reiterates.

“Oh. Uh, sure.” You two carefully readjust yourselves.

“I’ve always wondered what it felt like to be knotted,” she admits.

“Is it alright? I- I didn’t consciously do it, I’m sorry for not asking.”

“It’s not a big deal, you’re wearing an alpha condom, plus I’m on birth control so…” She looks at you for a few beats of silence before smiling. “It feels great. It’s… It’s nice, being connected like this.”

It’s a bit awkward, all of it, but it’s... New. Different. Perfect. It’s her.

Ellie rocks back and forth a little, figuring out what works best for her and confirming that it’s comfortable for you before continuing.

Lower, drawn-out moans drip from her lips like syrup as she unintentionally edges you, working up to that perfect peak over and over before switching up the pace or pressure or angle and sending you right back to the start.

You grab Ellie’s hips and snarl. She did say she wanted to be broken, maybe she’s trying to urge you to do so.

She pauses, now fully noticing your flushed cheeks, your heaving chest, the need in your eyes. She nods.

You fuck up into her like she’s just your human fleshlight, hands grasping her hips bruisingly.

“So tight,” you groan through gritted teeth, thrusting up into her faster and harder until her needy whimpers, the way she moans your name, and the new, unique sensation of being inside a beta destroys and remakes you once again.

She’s shuddering too, you realize.

“Are you alright?”

She nods, looking spooked, and winded, of course.

“Are you sure?” you confirm.

She nods again.

“Just… I, um… I finished. Without touching my, um… My clit. Never had that happen before,” she reassures you, also stroking your ego.

“Glad to be of service,” you say with a smile, but your stomach growls. “I say I go get dinner after the knot deflates, ‘kay?”

“What about me?” Ellie wonders.

“I’m not just gonna let you walk after that, even if you could,” you argue. “I’ll bring it back here, to the d- To the ne- Here.”

“It can be our den. Our nest. Is that what you want?” Ellie offers. You nod, looking fretful.

“Just- Just right now, okay? I promise.”

“Babe, you know I want to be with you, right? I don’t just tolerate your instincts, they’re a part of you, I love them as much as I do the rest of you,” she insists, readjusting herself so that she’s laying on top of you instead of straddling you, knot still locked in.

“But you-“ She always teases you about them. Not just every now and then, every time you slip up like that until now, she’s made some remark.

“But what?” Ellie reaches up, stroking your cheek again. You don’t flinch this time, too blissed out.

“I just- Most jokes have a hint of truth to them… So when it feels like you constantly tease me for being an alpha, especially the inconvenience of it…”

“Oh, jeez, I’m- I’m sorry, I... I really am a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not. I shouldn’t have said that,” you disagree.

“I shouldn’t have been making you feel so bad about yourself,” she insists, giving you a kiss, and then another. You deepen it, your nails digging into her back. “Fuck, babe…”

“Thank you…” you drawl, giggling with pride shortly after. You sigh. “I think, uh, I think we can probably part ways now. If you want.”

“Not yet,” Ellie quickly says, pleasantly surprising you. You hold her tighter. “Hey, uh… So… I- Could we- I mean, you- I- We’ve been together a while, and I was just wondering, is it customary for… Ugh, never mind.”

“Sweetness?” you question, concerned.

There’s a decent bit of silence. You can’t see her face, but you can guess the expression: pressed lips, slightly raised eyebrows, the works.

“Would you ever… Want to bite me?”

“I just did, like, a lot,” you say.

“No, I mean-! I mean, like bite me,” she clarifies.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I guess. It wouldn’t have much use, ‘cause the only benefits are scent-related, and I already crave your scent when I’m stressed, and you don’t know what I smell like. We would just be… Clingier to each other than we already are,” you explain.

Her face falls.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind you being a little needier… And it sure would piss off those stupid omegas you were telling me about. Obviously, I want to claim you, you’re mine, but… I just want you to be aware of what it means, how it’ll affect you,” you add to what she probably received as rejection of the idea. “Do you still want this?”

“I do,” Ellie consents. You cradle the back of her head in one hand, tilting it to the side to better access her neck—and therefore her scent gland. You gently kiss the skin first, building up to the bite like you’re trying to create another hickey.

Eventually, though, you sink your teeth in. Ellie tenses up, clinging to you and giving a soft whine of pain before relaxing and just letting it happen. You lick up the blood just a little before realizing you’re just going to have to give up and let it bleed for a bit. You can tend to it later.

“Thank you,” she says, so quietly. “For everything.”

“You’re gonna make me cry,” you echo what she said earlier. You slip her off of you, letting your arousal fade and carefully tucking your member back in after tying off the condom and throwing it away.

“You know, I hadn’t really thought about what that might look like,” Ellie confesses, looking bewildered. You just laugh, and while she blushes, she laughs with you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell her. You truly feel like you have to touch her to prove that she’s real. She’s so perfect, you’re so perfect together.

The need for dinner feels a lot more…primal. Like an instinct to care for your mate, especially now that you can feel her hunger simmering in the edges of your mind. You don’t want to leave her, but you also desperately need to take care of her.

She can tell that you’re torn.

“What is it?”

“Food. I-“ You sigh, frustrated. “I wanna stay with you, but I need to get you some food.”

Her expression was already softened, at least compared to the expressions she makes outside of this room you share… This den, you think with glee. But, now it’s even gentler.

“Well, I am pretty hungry… So, why don’t you get us some food, and then we can eat it in here. I think they had pizza for dinner, just get me a couple slices of-“

“The vegan thin crust, I know,” you cut her off. You now have a mission. You give her a long smooch on the forehead before getting up and getting dressed, reapplying your deodorant and some perfume or cologne, if you desire. “Love you.”

“You too,” Ellie calls as you close the door, making your way to the kitchen.

The pizza’s been put up for a while, so you decide you’ll reheat it in the oven, instead of the microwave. You get two pans out, if your pizza choice isn’t vegan, and you go ahead and spray them with cooking spray while you wait for the oven to preheat. You carefully place the slices on each baking sheet.

You don’t want to leave the oven unattended, so you instead reflect on everything that just happened, pride bubbling up in your chest.

You love her so much it hurts.

The oven heats up quickly, so you set the pans inside and put a timer on your phone so can go check on Ellie. You make your way to the stairs, but when you get to the foyer, you realize Ellie’s there, along with a red-suited man.

You resist the urge to approach, knowing it’ll only embarrass and irritate her if you go all cuckoo alpha mode on her in front of someone. She gets a little closer to him, and he hands her a present that’s wrapped… Exquisitely, at least in comparison to your present-wrapping skills.

But his entire posture changes the second he sees you observing.

You decide then to waltz on over, curious about the strange character.

“Who’s this, babe?” you wonder, wrapping an arm around her.

“Oh, this is Deadpool. Just bringing by a horrifically late Hanukkah present.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Deadpool.”

“We’ve met before,” he says softly.

“We have? Shit, sorry, I’m better with faces than names, and yours is covered up, so…”

“It was a long time ago,” he nearly mumbles.

“Okay,” you chirp, not sure how else to respond. “You hungry? I’m reheating some leftover pizza. In case you couldn’t tell, we kind of missed dinner.”

“Y/N!” Ellie protests, turning completely red.

“You know he can smell it on you, right?” you chuckle, before whispering to her: “And I bet you’re walking funny.”

Ellie stammers. Apparently, she didn’t know.

“You two make an adorable couple,” he says, but he sounds sad. Maybe he’s missing his own lover, his scent radiates loss. “I, uh… I don’t think you’d be offering me pizza if you realized who I was.”

“Oh, please, murder isn’t a big deal, even if Ellie and the other hall monitors have a problem with it.”

“You’re gonna have to take Remedial Ethics again if anybody hears you say that,” Ellie chides you.

“They can’t make me, I’ve already graduated. Besides, taking that class so many times gave me a shit ton of extra credits and a sexy little 4.2 GPA,” you snicker. “Yo, DP, if they ever try and get you to take it, just pick the answers that seem like the least amount of fun. Easy peasy.”

“Wow,” Deadpool scoffs, before turning somber once more. “It was nice meeting you again, Y/N.”

“You, too,” you reply, and he’s on his not-so-merry way. “What’s up with him? Isn’t he supposed to be all goofy and vulgar?”

“I don’t know, he’s a pretty moody guy.”

“Huh.” The alarm on your phone goes off, and you help Ellie hobble along to the kitchen.

After letting it cool, you two decide to eat right there, rinsing off the pans before putting them in the empty dishwasher.

Despite her protests, you carry her up the stairs, plopping her in bed before ditching your pants and joining her. She loses her own.

“Round two?” you tease.

“My vagina hurts,” she grumbles.

“Really? I’m sorry, I tried to be careful.“

“No, not like that, you were good. Too good, gave me the pounding of my life,” she reiterates.

“Oh… Thanks.”

“Don’t pretend you’re surprised, those omegas don’t just like you for your wit. You have a reputation.”

“So, they do like me for my wit,” you remark.

“Shut up,” she scoffs at the double entendres. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. You were perfect. I mean, even if you weren’t, you would be, but… That was amazing.”

“You’re too much,” Ellie mumbles, blushing. You kiss her, but she’s the one to intensify it. “...Okay, maybe round two.”

“You gotta teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?” Ellie asks, and she does it again.

“That!” you emphasize.

“What?!”

“Raise one eyebrow!”

“Oh. I don’t do it consciously,” she says. Of course she doesn’t. She’s just perfect.

“Fuck you,” you tell her instead.

“Fuck you.” But she laughs.

“Like, now?” you retort.

“Shut up.” She snuggles you closer. “Can I hold you, now?”

“I guess…” you pretend to complain, and you quickly find your face buried in Ellie’s chest, one arm curled between your bodies and the other around her.

“Ah, my best friends,” you joke, nuzzling.

“You fucking bastard,” she chuckles.

“Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean you should say it,” you sing-song. But the word doesn’t sting when she says it. It’s a term of endearment, now.

“We should probably go to sleep,” Ellie says, upon glancing at her phone.

“Probably,” you admit. “I love you so much.”

“You’re so fucking gay,” she huffs, grinning.

“Really? What clued you in? Is it the way I dress? Or maybe it’s the way I fucked you into the mattress an hour ago…” You play at pensivity, and Ellie, Ellie giggles, rolling her eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

.

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

.

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

.

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

.

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

.

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn��t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

.

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @multifandomgirl-us, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @lucy-roo,  @loxbbg, @reclusive-chicken-nugget, @l-inkage, @http-cherries, @river9noble, @zphilophobiaz, @annoylinglyaries, @knightfall05x, @hyp-oh-critical, @satan-s-ass, @1-800-starmora, @flowersgirl02, @nahcho, @thatonecroc​, @trixie-bb, @daddyissuesmademe, jasonsbitch, @shadowsndaisies @jaybirdbooty @writing2sirvive

SERIES TAGLIST:

@spaceservicestation, @thedeadlythoughts, @vanessafabricius, @pinkforest05

[1kook]

mean jungkook + library sex

alternatively titled: skirt chasers — drabble ii 

this technically takes place before drabble i so the chronology is all fucked up but bear with me girlies... as most things on this blog do, it started w/ a gif v.v somehow it ended up being 4k and none of its proofread but are we surprised at this point cue the ted talk ending sequence 

-

He was so mean.

Jungkook was horribly, terribly mean to you sometimes, and you wondered why you still allowed him to call himself your boyfriend when time and again he’d shown how mean he could be.

“Don’t do this,” you begged, voice but a hoarse whisper in the library, so desolate and void of the usual bustle of student life it had during the day time. It was nearing 10pm now, and you know the grad students who worked behind the front desk would change shifts soon. Their brief moment of inattention was what Jungkook had planned his little stunt around tonight.

He smirked, eyes facing forward at the empty seats on the other side of the table. Empty, because unlike your usual study dates, where he’d sprawl himself across from you and spend about half of his time just admiring at you, Jungkook had decided tonight that he’d sit beside you.

You hadn’t minded at first, not really seeing what the difference between sitting in front of you or beside you made, so you’d let him dump his books onto the table. Yeah it made things a little more crowded as you tried to squeeze both your laptops and an endless amount of books onto the surface, but it wasn’t anything to cry about.

No, the real issue had presented itself fifteen minutes ago when Jungkook abruptly shut his laptop. Usually, this was Jungkook speak for ‘I’ve reached maximum productivity and would like to go home now’ to which you had instinctively shut down your own computer as well. But unlike other study dates, where your boyfriend would haphazardly shove all his books into his bag and then patiently wait for you to organize your stuff, pretty, doe eyes gazing at you like you were his entire universe, Jungkook had had different plans for tonight.

“Quiet in the library,” he scolded, no real bite behind his words, the tip of his pointer finger brushing barely—and you mean barely—against your slit again. A clock ticked somewhere. Another minute dragged by.

A particular prod further down your folds made you squeal, and Jungkook shushed you quickly. “So loud,” he sighs, finally turning in his seat to face you. His movement granted you a moment of relief, his teasing hand moving away from you. His usual adoring gaze was nowhere to be seen, dark brown eyes half-lidded as he placed an elbow on the back of his chair, leaning his head into his open palm.

The library was dead silent, save for the occasional stutter of your breaths as you became aware of the way his eyes swallowed every inch of your presence before him. “Kook,” you started, and stopped because your throat was a garbled mess from stifling your whines for the past five minutes. After you’d cleared it, you began again, hoping the sweet tone of your voice would be enough to persuade him. “Let’s go back to your dorm, yeah?” You coaxed, brushing your hands down your skirt from where he’d thoroughly ruffled it. “We can relax there, okay?”

Jungkook said nothing, eyes continuing to rake over your figure. When you’d fixed your skirt, something in his jaw twitched, as if he didn’t like you trying to hide the evidence of his doings. Suddenly, his free hand, the one that had lingered on the table top, surged forward to grasp one of your thighs, tugging it towards him until your legs were pleasantly spread, your skirt dipping between the valley of your thighs.

“J-Jungkook—!” You gasped as his fingers trailed upwards to the apex between your thighs, a sudden caress to your folds making your legs clamp up again. Jungkook paid it no mind, after all your movements had left his hand snug between your thighs. Your hands flailed as they searched for something to anchor you back to reality, eventually settling on grabbing the sides of the seat.

“But what if I wanna relax here?” He sighs, leaning in closer to you, hot breath fanning across your neck as he ducked down, licking a broad stripe up the vein on your neck. His hand continued to massage the inside of your thigh, every single movement punctuated by a brush of his knuckle against your folds. Surely you were wet, Jungkook’s low murmur and wandering hands enough to light the fire beneath your skin.

But the rational part of your brain argued that the librarians would certainly pass through here during this shift change, the open study area consisting of only tables and chairs. It was a miracle no one was here tonight, but you guess it’s because it’s early into the semester, and no one has truly hit that point where they’re rushing to type essays before the midnight deadline.

Jungkook squeezes your flesh, jolting you away from your thoughts. “Come on…” he crooned, and you melt impossibly into the wooden chair. “I thought you liked the library, baby,” he teased, and his soft voice guides you into a false sense of security, one that is brutality ripped away from you when he yanks your thigh toward him again, the brute strength he rarely exhibited making you whirl in your chair, until you were facing him.

“Jungkook, someone could catch us,” you nervously warn him, chest tight with every soft caress he gives your throbbing core. You wrap a hand around his wrists, as if to stop him, but your body betrays you and a particular nudge of his fingers against your clit has you pushing his hand onto you.

Finally, he removes his other arm from where he’d been resting it on the back of the chair, shuffling around until he too is facing you. His knee knocks against yours, but you don’t have time to complain before he’s clapping both palms down into your bare thighs, smoothing them up and down as he gazes at your flushed features. “Then you better be quiet, pretty baby,” he says, leaning forward until his nose brushed against yours, and your lower lip trembled as you anticipated his kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, like Jungkook’s kisses usually were, but it’s tainted by the ravenous hunger of his that has him shoving his tongue past your lips, licking and biting you like a man starved. It’s wet, so undeniably wet, but that’s how Jungkook liked it best.

When he pulls away, his lips are slick with saliva and you wonder if it’s his or yours. You don’t have long to ponder it, before he’s knocking your thighs further apart, hand creeping under your skirt again.

You gasp, a stuttering mess as he takes two fingers and runs them up the length of your slit, pressing down in all the right places. Your stupid panties limit him from doing much else, and you whine against his mouth when the purple panties stop him from shoving his fingers into your core for the second time.

“K-Kook,” you whine, hips unconsciously grinding in circles as you chase after his touch, desperate to feel more and more of him. Jungkook delivers a stinging bite to your jawline, and you squeal in surprise.

“Shut up,” he hisses, and then, as if punishment for your volume, he tugs your underwear to the side. He provides no warning before he’s plunging two fingers into your aching pussy. He succeeds in the complete opposite of his warning, and even though you bite down on your lip, the moan that tears its way out of your throat is still loud as hell in the library. “___,” he warns, curling his fingers inside of you until you’re seeing stars.

You pay no mind to his warning, so caught up in your pleasure that you begin melting into your seat. You forget the back of the chair is beside you, not behind you like it should be, and your body weakens with every curl of his digits. It’s Jungkook’s strong hand that catches you, gripping the small of your back in alarm. “God, you’re making this so fucking difficult,” he grunts, his arm around your waist pulling your bodies even closer until his arm is uncomfortably angled between your bodies in order to keep fingering you.

“I’m sorry,” you wail, the loudness of your voice literally the last thing on your mind right now. “It feels so good, Jungkook—s-s good!” You mewl, fingers gripping tightly at the sleeves of his t-shirt. He scissors his fingers, and you swear you see heaven. “J-Jungkook!” You cry out, hands reaching to cradle the back of his head, silky strands caught between your fingers.

“Sh shh,” he shushes, and you can barely see the vein protruding from his temple. You can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or from being annoyed, and you don’t really care anyway. “Shut up, ___,” he seethes after another particularly loud whine. You decide it’s from annoyance.

“I can’t!” You cry out miserably, hips rutting into his touch the longer he thrusts his fingers in and out. His thumb stretches up, pressing down hard on your clit. You nearly release a scream of bloody murder, but Jungkook predicts this and swallows every sound you make with his lips. Your moans are muffled against his mouth, your back arching impossibly further into his chest as he curls his fingers over and over.

When he pulls away, the pop of your lips is loud, and your breathing is loud, but Jungkook just wants you to be quiet. “So fucking loud,” he huffs, each word punctuated by a rough thrust of his fingers into your pussy. “Can’t shut up for five fucking minutes.”

You tremble in his arms, the muscles in your thigh twitching every so often from how good his fingers feel nestled deep in your core. “Kook,” you babble, desperately chasing the pucker of his lips as you feel your orgasm begin to rear it’s beautiful head.

“What?” He barks, pulls you so close that his fingers push impossibly deeper. His knuckles are right against your folds, desperate to join in on the fun. But Jungkook’s hands were so, so big, and even though you could squeeze four fingers into yourself on a good day, just two of Jungkook’s fingers were enough to tear you apart. “Still got more to say?” He huffs, bites down on your lip meanly, like he doesn’t know how badly you wanted a kiss.

You whine anyway, and it registers in the back of your head the way he’d thrown one of your thighs over his to pull you closer, your entire body nearly balancing itself on your tailbone as he manhandled you around to best fuck his fingers into you. “Please,” your hoarse voice gasps.

Jungkook presses another kiss onto you, obnoxiously using his tongue until you could feel the saliva drip from the corner of your lips, his mouth greedy and inconsiderate. His fingers are curled as they thrust into you, each shove inside of you rougher than the last. You can almost taste the arousal begging to wash over you, and it’s when the thin ring on his pinky nudges against your folds that it comes to fruition.

“J-Jungkook!” You shriek, but the second half gets swallowed by his lips. Your body spasms, a cloud of white enveloping your figure as Jungkook continues fucking his fingers into you, milking every last spurt of cum out of you. Your cum gushes on his fingers, staining the parts of your underwear he hadn’t pushed away far enough.

Even when you’re coming back down, his fingers curl and scissor inside of you. You twitch, your body sensitive from your orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

“That’s enough, Kook,” you choke out, hand fluttering down to catch his wrist before he really does break you. Jungkook’s hand pauses, but he doesn’t try to move away.

“That’s enough?” He repeats after a beat of silence, dark eyes staring hard. “That’s enough?” He repeats, and you hate how your hips unconsciously shift into him at the coldness of his voice. But before you can get another good caress or two out of him, he’s tugging his hand away from you like he’s disgusted. Not at you—never at you—but at your presumed selfishness.

Without warning, he’s tugging the two of you up out of your seats, shoving you chest down onto the table. The chairs scrape terribly loudly against the floor, but you don’t have time to worry about that when Jungkook’s flipping your skirt up, exposing your ass to the entire study area.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, and at this point neither of the two of you have any regard for your volume. If someone was gonna catch you, they would have done so by now.

“Shut up,” he snarls, tugging your panties down. “So fucking tired of you, ___” he spits once he’s pulled the garment down to the middle of your thighs. He roughly nudges a knee between your legs, knocking your legs further apart. “Can’t fucking follow directions,” he huffs, and your ears register the clanking of his belt buckle, followed by a quiet zip of his jeans. “Too fucking weak to hold yourself up.” The soft sounds of fabric. “And won’t even give me a fucking thank you for making you feel good?” He snorts, and his raging cock slaps against your ass.

“Jungkook, someone will see,” you say, only to have that thought cut off as he reaches down and tangles his fist in your hair, tugging you up abruptly.

“What did I say?” He huffs, and his cock finds itself deliciously pushed between your thighs.

Your lips tremble, body arched back into him. Jungkook gives another pull, and you sputter into action. “To sh-shut up,” you whisper.

Jungkook lets up, and his sudden release of your hair has your upper body flopping back down onto the table. You go to push yourself up onto your elbows, but Jungkook presses a hand between your shoulder blades and shoves you back down.

“Are you gonna be good now?” He murmurs, hands stroking your hip. The arm on your back leaves you, but you don’t move to get up. You nod against the table, your lower abdomen folding in on itself at the raspy tone of his voice.

Your folds are still soaked from the orgasm you’d had just five minutes ago, and even if you hadn’t, Jungkook’s unusually mean demeanor had your folds drenched with every rough shove and every bark he threw your way. “Gonna be good,” you promise, though you don’t even know what that entails anymore.

You don’t really care anyway, especially not when you finally feel the head of his cock brush up and down your folds, collecting a sheen of cum that he rubs over the rest of his cock. It catches on your clit, and you slap a palm over your mouth to muffle the whine that escapes you.

Jungkook chuckles at your antics, and his voice is breathier than its been all night when he says, “good girl.”

His cock pushes against your wet hole, and when the head pops through that initial ring of muscle you find yourself squirming on the table top. Jungkook’s gasps become noticeably louder the deeper and deeper his cock reaches.

He’s so fucking big, and the sheer size of his dick has you salivating like a dog. “Okay?” He murmurs, and you nod like a bobble-head, hips shifting back into him. He releases a low string of groans, each one different from the last, as he finally bottoms out. He fills you up so nicely, and you subconsciously squeeze around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, finger nails digging into your hips, and he suddenly bucks into your tight heat. Unprepared, you moan, the hand that had muffled you before resting flat against the table top. Another thrust and you’re sobbing. “Be quiet,” Jungkook seethes, and you’re surprised he’s still even trying to keep the two to you quiet.

“Please,” you beg, wiggling your hips back into him. You know he likes this best, absolutely adores it when you entice him like this. But at the same time, Jungkook’s never been this rough with you before, this careless with his words, and you wonder if the same applies now at all. “Need you bad, Kook.”

He thrusts into you once more, and this thrust kicks off the rest as he slowly and shallowly begins pumping into you. “Told you to—to shut up,” he grunts, slowly picking up the pace.

“Nooo—,” you cry when he pulls out, only to slam back into you.

“God, you’re so fucking bad at this,” he chuckles, but there’s no hint of amusement in his voice. He does it again, pulls all the way out before shoving back in. “Pisses me off so much when you don’t do what you’re told.” He’s huffing between every other syllable he says, roughly pulling your hips onto him. “Supposed to be my good girl, or do you not want that anymore?”

“No, no!” You cry, fingers digging into the table, but it’s flat so you just scratch your nails against the surface. It’s disgusting to have your face pressed into a dirty, public table like this, but everything you and Jungkook had done tonight was by far more so. “I want that, I-I—“

Your words get cut off by a moan, one Jungkook pulls out of you after he begins pistoning his hips into you. His balls slap against your skin so loudly, it almost sounds like someone’s clapping. “Then fucking act like it,” he spits, and it hurts where he’s holding your hips, but it feels so good.

Suddenly, his cock pulls away from your warmth again. Expecting him to just thrust back in like he’d done before, you yelp when he whirls your body around, and it’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he’d made you cum nearly 15 minutes ago.

He’s hot, so unbelievably hot, as he glares at you with that cold gaze of his. You almost can’t believe this is your sweetie pie Jungkook, who just two hours ago had peppered you in butterfly kisses behind the vending machine in the student center. He looks rough and uncaring as he pushes you back into the table. One hand snakes its way behind your thigh, pushing you up until you’re sitting on the edge, and only then does he rudely push you onto your back.

“Come on,” he sighs in annoyance, like he wants this to be over with. But his hard cock curving against his stomach says otherwise. With your new position on your back, Jungkook slides two hands up the backs of your thighs, until they reach the part behind your knees and he shoves your legs up, nearly has them touching your shoulders, as he finds his spot between your lips again.

You gasp, because as much as Jungkook liked having you on your chest, thrusting into you from behind, there was nothing more that you loved than seeing his features twist and turn as he fucked you so thoroughly.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You cry, heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of his furrowed brows, the sweat that coated his neck and his temples, the way his teeth ground together with each thrust. He was gorgeous, a wet dream, except he was tangible and very much here and very much yours. Before you can stop yourself, you’re babbling like a fool. “I love you, I love yo—“

Your second confession is cut short by the sudden uncontrollable series of thrusts Jungkook rains down on you. His hips ram into you so hard, he’d have sent you flying off the table if he hadn’t been holding onto you so tightly. “Jungkook,” you gasp again, “I love you—“

“Yeah, I heard,” he snarls, eyes zeroed in on the way your pussy clenched around his cock.

You huff, and then reach an arm forward to cradle the side of his face. If he’s surprised by your sudden affection, he doesn’t let it show. “I love you,” you choke, eyes watering from the overstimulation, the pleasure, the way he’d been so mean to you all night. “Say it back,” you blurt, and Jungkook pauses to regard you with wary eyes. “Say it back, Jungkook,” you beg, eyes pooling over until tears trickle down your cheeks, “say you love me, Jungkook, please, please.”

He swallows your heartbreaking sobs with a kiss, gentle and sweet, nothing like the mean ones he’d been giving you all night. “Love you,” he murmurs when he pulls away, lips still brushing against yours. “Love you so much,” he admits, and rolls his hips against yours.

You cry even more, but Jungkook pays you no mind, readjusting his hold on you to continue his thrusts. “I-I love you,” you sob, and then wrestle his hand away from your leg only to tangle your fingers together. “I love you!”

“Love you,” he parrots back, jaw tight as he reaches the final stretch before his orgasm. You’re trembling in his arms, from the pleasure and from the crying, and all you want is for him to love you. “Gonna come,” he announces, and ducks down to press another kiss to the corner of your lips as he rams his cock into your heat, so deep you feel him brush against your cervix.

You gasp, body writhing beneath him, stiff and aching from the hard table beneath you, but all of that fades into nothing when you reach your second orgasm of the night. You flutter, limbs boneless as your body quivers beneath his touch, coating his hard cock in another layer of cum. Adding to the first orgasm’s cum and the pre-cum on his own dick, Jungkook’s last few thrusts sound so disgustingly wet, squelching loudly in the silent library.

His hips lose control when he finally comes, stuttering uneven strokes as he bursts inside of you. Rope after rope of his hot cum coats your walls, and he’s huffing after he’s given it all to you. When it’s all said and done, it’s like a switch flicks off in Jungkook’s mind, and he’s pulling out of you hastily, reaching for your bag and where he knows you keep that tiny pack of tissues to clean you up.

“Baby,” he hurriedly murmurs, cleaning you up as best as he can with a cheap tissue, one that he also uses to wipe himself down. He’s tugging your panties back up your legs when you finally slid back into action, wiggling the rest of the way into your undergarments. Your cheeks are still wet from the sobbing you did tonight, and Jungkook is like a deer in headlights the way he’s looking at you. “I don’t know what came over me,” he hurries to explain, then shrugs a sleeve further down his arm, wrapping the material around his thumb as he dries your tears off. “I-I’m sorry...“

“You were so mean,” you pout, and your cheeks feel warm, your nose slightly stuffed, the same way they always feel after any type of crying. Jungkook startles, stumbles over his apologies as his cheeks warm up, eyes wide and panicky.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters for about the tenth time, and helps you off the table, hands wrapping around your waist the second you begin swaying, your legs so numb. “I’ll never do that again, I promise, i-it was just a heat of the moment thing, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I prom—“

“Shut up,” you huff, repeating those same words back to him, and Jungkook does so immediately. A smile curls around your lips, and Jungkook slowly relaxes at the sight. “Just tell me you love me,” you sigh, pushing yourself up onto your tip toes, lips puckered and ready.

Jungkook sighs, a choked laugh of a sound, before ducking down to peck your lips. “Love you,” he sighs, “but please, stop me if I ever do that again.”

You blink owlishly. “Do what?” You ask as you shrug your cardigan on.

“Make you cry like that,” he says, taking your bag before you can even reach for it. “Hate seeing my baby like that, especially when it’s my fault.”

You roll your eyes, brushing through the empty study area and the empty library stacks. When you wave goodbye to the grad student at the desk, it’s a different person than the woman who’d been there when you and Jungkook had arrived two hours ago. His face is red as he spares the two of you a curt nod.

“Hm,” you trail off, taking his hand in yours the second you’re outside. It’s a little breezy outside, the moon shining bright over the dark campus. You think about how empty the bus will be on your way home, and how much Chaeyoung will scold you for being out late again. “Yeah, that was weird,” you laugh, brushing off any concerns Jungkook might’ve had about your little sobbing session tonight.

You’re nearing the bus stop, and before you can motion for him to hand over your bag, he’s tugging you down the sidewalk. “Come to my place tonight,” he pleads, eyes soft and round when he briefly glances at your undoubtedly unkept appearance. “Don’t want you going home by yourself, and I have to make it up to you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you goof,” You roll your eyes, but follow him nonetheless. The campus still has its occasional stragglers milling about, but when Jungkook turns to face you, moon high in the sky behind him, it’s like you’re the only two in the world.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stumble when he yanks your hand to bring you closer. “Really?” Jungkook murmurs, and all you hear is his heartbeat against your ear and his breaths puffing softly against your skin. “Then please come over and let me do it again.”

[watermelonsugar2612]

'MY DREAM WEDDING'

Okay- I'm sorry but I skipped some of the story, like wedding prep. I really wanted to write about their bachelor parties. In the story now, they're getting married in a week. Also, now the story is from Ginny's POV. I read a bunch of fics from her POV and fell in love. Sorry its so late too, I had exams. Now read on.

Ginny’s bachelorette

“I can’t believe we’re getting married in a week, fiance dearest!” I smiled as Harry and I sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. We had just finished breakfast and we had our bachelor and bachelorette party tonight. “Me too fiancee,” Harry grinned, gave me a little peck on the lips and took his dish to the sink. He put it down and washed his hands. “Are you all set for your bachelorette tomorrow?” I asked him as I washed the dishes and he changed into a shirt. “Yeah. A few of the blokes are going for drinks.” he said unimportantly. “Cool,” I said and put away the last dish. He stepped away, his shirt was buttoned except the top two buttons, and his raven locks were messy as usual. “Bye baby, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you, I’ll miss you” he said, gave me a short kiss. “I love you too, I’ll apparate to Grimmauld if I can’t sleep okay?” I made a cute face. “Of course baby, I probably won’t be able to sleep without you anyway, I’ll miss you,” he gave me another little kiss. “Me too, I’ll miss you so much Harry,” I said again and kissed him. After a few seconds, he pulled away, “I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you!” I chanted. “How will I sleep without your little caresses and without your hand in my hair?! Gin-” he said with a raspy voice. By now, I was pinned to the back of the sink and my legs were between his. “Harry, do you think Kingsley would mind if you were a little late?” I smirked as he pulled my skirt and knickers down. He kissed me really hard. Fuck. I thought it would be the end of me. I made my way to unbutton his shirt as he kissed my neck. I tore his shirt off and he did the same to mine. I winced because of the few seconds of missed contact. He continued kissing my neck and made his way down. He kissed my collarbone and unclasped my bra, kissing my breasts. I moaned loudly. He continued his pecs and licks as my hand traveled to his junk. I stroked it a few times.“Fuck- I need to be inside you,” he groaned and I could distinctly feel his huge bulge between my legs. I quickly unbuckled his belt and took his pants off. I was already naked, so he pulled away for a brief and slammed inside me. “Harry!” I moaned at the top of my lungs. “Fuck Gin, you’re still so tight!” he said in response. He thrust at high speed and I whimpered and moaned at the pleasure. “Harder Harry! Go faster!” I moaned again and he followed my command. He thrust and continued to kiss my neck, now fondling my breast. He made way to clit and massaged it. I felt my insides tighten and he stopped massaging at once. “I’m coming, Harry! HARRY-” I clenched around him and a huge wave of pleasure overtook me. “Ginny!” he moaned and came on his high. He slowly rode us out back low. “That is going to be one to remember! I think we came in like record time,” Harry grinned. “You git, if I told you, you wouldn’t believe how much I got turned on when you told me you would miss me.” I blushed as he pulled out. “No fiancee dearest, you wouldn’t believe how much the fact that I wouldn’t have you in my arms to sleep was a problem. I really will miss-” and I cut him off with a little kiss, I didn’t want to be turned on again. Though honestly, what I was doing would probably turn us on too, so I bit his bottom lip and pulled away. “You have to get to work darling,” I grinned and pushed him away. “Ugh! Fine,” he rolled his eyes and put on a fresh set of clothing and so did I. We were in the bedroom and he apparated away with one little kiss and said, “I can’t wait to make it up to you in the bedroom tomorrow. We’ll go nonstop for hours. I’ll miss you so very much baby.” FUCK! How dare you Harry James Potter, you git! He turned me on again. I mean, me and Harry, on average would shag twice a day, but we because we weren’t going to be able to do that tonight, we’d shagged like 4 times the previous night and once in the morning, in the shower and well, the kitchen. Oh god, I’m blushing like crazy. Someone save me from this man.

Well, for my bachelorette as I had already told Harry, me, Hermoine, Luna, Hannah, Fleur, Angelina, Audrey and mum would have a few drinks at the burrow and gossip.

We were starting celebrations early, we would make dinner and make some treacle tart. Dad would be out for the night, with Harry. Oh, that little piece of eye candy, I thought about Harry and closed my eyes. Ugh, I need help. I wasn’t supposed to think about him, not today. Okay deep breaths. I spent the rest of my day definitely not thinking about Harry and the way he touched me, the fact that he had chosen me of all women, and we were about to get married, nope. Oh! And by the way, I didn’t have quidditch practice because I had taken leave for the wedding and honeymoon, so for like 2 months. It was about 6 pm, we were going to make dinner, I remembered and apparated to the Burrow. I was greeted by all of my bridesmaids (and mum). We made a big dinner and treacle tart for dessert. Now, it was about 10pm and we had all taken our seats in the large living room of the Burrow. I sat in the settee in which I would generally sit in Harry’s lap. He would softly play with my hair and give me little pecks during conversation with my family. He would feed me cookies during Christmas- “Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, GINNY!” my mom interrupted my thoughts. I had an unavoidable blush on my face. “Sorry mum! Yeah, I’m here now,” I said. “Okay, let’s play never have I ever, each time you have done something, you take a shot of firewhiskey” Angelina suggested and everyone nodded. “You go first Hermione,” she continued. “Okay, never have I ever, shagged in public.” Hermione blushed. “You gotta be more specific ‘Mione! Like a restaurant, or a clothes shop-” I was interrupted yet again by Hermione, “Okay, a restaurant?” she finished her question. “Ha! That’s simple, I have, a bunch of times!” I shrugged and I felt a tinge of blush as those memories came back to me, but I shut them off and gulped down a shot. My mum looked at me with a deadly look. “Well I haven’t!” Luna said and Audrey, Hannah, Hermione and mum chimed in and said, they hadn’t either. Fleur and Angelina downed a shot, oh my god! I had to ask Bill and George myself later. “Well, next question!” my mum interrupted before we could get really deep into conversation. “Never have I ever,” Fleur said, “ditched someone for my husband, or vice-versa?” she finished. “Tons of times!” I said as I lifted a glass high up in the air and drank it. “Wait! The time you said you got “emergency practices” or Harry or you had gotten very sick or you had to go to a team meeting or Auror function were all excuses to ditch us?!” Hermione said with her mouth agape. “Not always, but yeah most of the time, we were probably shagging,” I shrugged and took another shot. “Hermione looked furious and honestly so did everyone else, I gave a slight smile. “Never have I ever bought anything from Lady Lilac’s Lingerie,” I asked with a grin and immediately downed a shot. Everyone else looked at me with pure shock. “Do we even want to ask how many times you have bought- lingerie from there?” Hannah said with a disgusted expression. “I mean, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had it ripped off myself, so no probably not,” I said, suddenly in horror as I saw the number of shocked faces turned toward me. I. should. not. have. said that! It should be illegal for me to talk even when I’m slightly drunk. “Uh-uh next question?” I said with a confused smile. The faces didn’t turn away for quite a long time when mum finally spoke up, “Oh god, everyone, this is her night, let’s not be shocked by my daughters sexual appetite!” everyone laughed. “Never have I ever, had sex in the burrow, this only applies to after you moved out!” mum questioned. I downed another shot, no one else did, and the horrified expressions returned. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but with which room, Ginny Weasley?!” mum almost screamed. I wasn’t sure if I should answer this question but my drunk brain did anyway, “Ron’s, and even the living room, when we were staying here for Christmas!” I grinned. “You are a dead woman Ginny!'' Mum got up and walked toward me. “Fuck. Sorry mum! We scourgifyed it later?” I said as I winced. Mum rolled her eyes and

sat back down. “Okay, this game is a little too much for some of us to take right now, let’s play something else,” Hermione said. “Yeah sure, let’s play 21 truths.” Angelina suggested. “Perfect!” I said. How this game worked was, we would go in a circle and say numbers, one person could say three numbers max in one turn and the person on which ‘21’ landed had to answer a question. The first few rounds went easy and I wasn’t asked anything. It was like the 6th round when, unfortunately, the 21 landed on me. “Okay, shoot a question, who wants to ask me one?” I said accepting defeat. “Well, I think since Ginny is the bride and everyone will have tons of questions for her, everyone gets to ask her one.” Hermione suggested. Everyone grinned and nodded. Fuck. I was so dead. “When was the first time you and Harry had sex and where?” Luna asked. “The room of requirement, sixth year.” I said. That one was easy, thanks Luna. I thought and turned to Angelina. “With who was the best you ever had- wait, let me reframe it, it's pretty obvious its Harry, where was it?” she asked. “Oh! Wow, that's difficult! I mean, all over Grimmauld Place I guess! The kitchen, bedrooms, living room, balcony, bathroom. The locker rooms at Quidditch pitches. And… sorry about this, but at Hermione and Ron’s wedding, in the bridesmaids room, after the ceremony, before dinner. Also, maybe in the Great Lake-” I continued but I was interrupted by mum, “Next person!” she laughed a bit and Fleur continued, “Have you ever had sex on a broomstick?” she said with a little contemplation. “Well, we tried- but it didn’t really work, we kinda tumbled to the ground and finished there, but yeah, no.” I replied. “When you were living at the Burrow, how often would you sneak into the boys room, when I had asked you not to?” mum asked. Shit. “Well…” I cleared my throat, “every night?” I said with a slight shiver and continued, “Harry would switch places with Hermione to sleep with me and at one point all of our belongings were shifted and we didn’t go to the other couples’ room.” I finished. Mum looked at me with those eyes that scared the crap out of me. Her expression softened, “oh well!” she rolled her eyes. “What is the longest you and Harry have lasted while having sex?” Hannah asked. “This is an interesting one, basically we had this bet of who could last longer and I came first after we had sex for like 2 hours. No big deal.” I shrugged as I finally took another shot of firewhiskey. “Wow!” Hannah sighed. “I’m gonna regret asking this, but how many times have you had sex in last night and this morning?” Hermione said, twiddling with her fingers. “Fuck. Do I have to answer that, you are probably going to think I’m insane…” I said insecurely. “Yeah, actually…” Angelina said softly. “Ugh. fine. No one judges me. Like six times- only because I wasn’t going to spend the night with him, so we had decided that we could do it like an extra time at night, and, and, we kinda got carried away, so we did like 3 extra times. Then in the morning, Harry had woken up late and I was in the shower, washing my hair, when he came in to brush his teeth, he saw me and got in, and it kinda just- happened. Then again, we had finished breakfast and Harry was saying that he would miss me, that he couldn’t sleep without me and I was saying it too, somehow it really turned on the both of us, so then, it's pretty obvious Harry would be late for work.” I finished, realising I had said too much. “Wow. I bet you and Harry can’t go till your wedding without having sex!” Hermione spoke up. “Of course we can!” I said loudly, but somewhere, even I knew we couldn’t, but what was wrong with a little friendly argument. “There is no way you could Ginny.” Angelina chimed in. “How can you say that?!” I said as I stood up. “Because you and Harry are like bloody rabbits! We’ve seen you at the Burrow, you cannot be kept apart from one another! Hell, you had sex like 4 extra times because you wouldn’t spend one night togehther!” Hermione said again. “That’s- different!” I said unsurely. “Okay, then prove it

Ginny!” mum said, “You can’t have sex till your wedding night, six days.” she grinned as she finished. “FINE!” I said as I took the bottle of firewhiskey and went to my bedroom. I would be sharing my room with Hermione, Angelina would be with Fleur in Bill’s room, mum would be alone, in her own room, and Luna would be with Hannah in Ron’s. I had started drinking from the bottle directly and was really drunk by now. Then realisation came rushing to me, I wouldn’t be able to have sex with Harry for six days, SIX FUCKING DAYS! I’ll probably go insane, and what about Harry’s promise to me, to ‘make it up in the bedroom’. Fuckkk!! Someone needed to kill me, this very instant. While I was mourning on the floor of my bedroom, Hermione walked in. “You are the worst Hermione! Get out!” I screamed. “What’s up?” she asked unknowingly as she came in and opened her hair. “I bet Harry and Ginny can’t go without having sex till their wedding! Meh,meh,meh,meh.” I said mockingly. “Well, I bet you can’t!” she said normally. “You bitch! I know I can’t but what will I say to Harry?! ‘Harry I can’t have sex with you for a week because my bridesmaids are such bitches for betting on my sex life!’' I continued mocking her. “Ginny, it was harmless, you don’t actually have to do it!'' She continued her business and I continued downing shots. “YES, I DO! It is now on my pride Hermione Granger!” I screamed. “Well then, do it I guess?” she said again. “Fine!” I said, pouring another shot. “But what about his promise?!” I muttered to myself but I guess I was louder because Hermione heard. “What promise?” she said as she sat down beside me and took the bottle of firewhiskey from my hand, pouring herself a shot. “Well- uh, in the morning, after we had sex in the kitchen. Ugh wait. Let me tell it to you from the beginning.” I said, sighed and continued, “We were just talking randomly about our bachelorette party tonight. We had just finished breakfast. Harry was standing near the sink of the dining room putting on a shirt, he came out, looking… What's the word, yummy? Properly buttoned up shirt, messy hair and those green fucking eyes… He said something like ‘Bye baby, I’ll miss you.’ and boy was that hot. Then I said that I would- apparate to him if I couldn’t sleep. He said, ‘I probably won’t be able to sleep without you anyway.’ I said I would miss him too, a lot. Then I was chanting into the kitchen that I would miss him. Then he was like how would he sleep without my hand in his hair and the tiny caresses I would do on his bare chest. Fuck, that chest. Mmmmm…” I said getting lost in the imagination of his chest. I was bought back from the world of imagination by a nudge from Hermione’s elbow. “Yeah sorry. So yeah the tiny caresses. He pinned me to the back of the sink and well, then we just had sex there, standing. I’ll skip the details, afterwards, we both got dressed and I said that he was a git for having me so turned on by the tiniest things and he said that it was true, he couldn’t sleep and would be thinking of me. When we were done he made a promise, ‘I’ll make it up to you in the bedroom tomorrow. We’ll go nonstop for hours. I’ll really miss you’ he said something like that and apparated away!” I finished. “Wow, you two have some serious issues. Do you have any idea why he still has that effect on you, you’ve been dating for 4 years, you're about to get married?” Hermione muttered. “I have no fucking idea! But that’s not even the problem! How will I tell him?!” I said. Me and Hermione chatted for a while and went to bed soon enough. I woke up the next morning, hungover as fuck. I had dark circles and my hair was all messy. My breath, yuck. I brushed my teeth and took a bath, went downstairs to find everyone except Hermione (who was in the shower) dressed and having breakfast. The hangover potion lay on the table and I took it and got almost instant relief from the constant throbbing of my head. “Morning guys! I just wanted to inform you that I am taking the bet!” I said proudly. “Great, we bet 100 galleons, together.” Angelina said as

Hermione walked downstairs. “Great!” I said and grabbed a piece of toast and egg. I finished and said. “The party was great! Thanks, I will see you all later.” I said as I apparated to Grimmauld Place.

[thebountyfucker]

The Royal Affair - Cad

Don't read this without reading the first part!!

Part 1

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader (gender-neutral, though reader does wear a skirt.) Tags/CW: power imbalance, claiming, dirty talk, sex as payment, collaring, everything is consensual but Cad is a bit forceful

Here's a link to my masterpost Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's the link to my taglist application!

Your gaze followed Prince Cad for most of the rest of the night. He wandered around the venue, making small talk with Lady Sing or Lord Jango. He seemed less inclined to stay with his family unit than some, you noted, and appeared to be most comfortable when conversing with others. He nursed a few glasses of whiskey, but never pushed too far into drunkenness. Though you were sure he’d deny it, he was a royal, and as such, he had appearances to maintain.

Your gazes met many times during the night; at first, his gaze was strictly chaste, but as the night continued on, his gaze became more and more licentious, as if he couldn’t wait to get you alone. A chill ran down your spine, and you couldn’t quite tell if you were nervous or aroused by the prospect.

Toward the end of your shift, you made your way toward him; Cad was leaned against the wall, joking with Lord Jango about something. His gaze met yours and a wide, fanged grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” He pushed off the wall to stand straight. “Made up yer mind?”

“Yeah… I want to come with you.” You answered, and he hooked his thumbs into the pockets on his suit coat.

“Good choice. Ya would’ve regretted goin’ wit’ Em.” He replied, glancing up toward the departing Kyuzan clan. Prince Embo offered you a small nod, as if honoring the decision you made. You turned back toward Cad, who had fished around in his coat pocket for a cig. “Come wit’ me.”

There were no other pleasantries as he led you out of the meeting hall toward the adjacent Azvergin Hotel; the hotel, which catered exclusively to billionaires and royalty, was largely a mystery to you. You either had to be staff to said clientele, or a member of these groups in order to be let inside. Rumor had it that one could rent an entire floor, long term, for fifty million credits! You’d never see that kind of money in your life, but you supposed that it was like spare change to the Prince at your side.

He led you inside, through the rigorous security detail which awaited you. The guards hardly regarded you, and you figured that this may be a common occurrence with the Prince. They took your fingerprints and ran a background check - when it came up clean, they allowed you through. Then, Cad led you into the lift and up 15 floors to what you assumed was his family’s floor.

The entire ride was silent, but he kept looking at you, as if he couldn’t figure out what he was going to do with you. This made you a bit nervous, only because you weren’t entirely sure if he was to be trusted. Some girls from your work told you that the Prince would lay claim to his favorite servants and mark them with collars. You briefly wondered if this would be your future too.

Cad offered you a smirk as the doors parted and he led you out into the hallway. The walls were white, with intricate gold crown mouldings; doors lined the hallway, each with carved tags denoting who stayed where. Two guards stood at attention at each door, and servants - mostly women, of varying species - bustled about. Each and every person you passed bowed for their prince, and Cad ate it up. He gripped the chin of one of the servant girls, and leaned down to kiss her straight on the lips. She swooned.

Cad turned back toward you, and gestured toward a nearby door with his head. “Dis is my room. You can stay wit’ me. Dat is, unless you want to sleep in de servants’ quarters.”

“I suppose I can stay with you… if that’s alright.”

“Sure, sure.” He nodded, and the guards pushed open the door for you both; Cad stepped in first, and you followed closely behind.

The room was cavernous - larger than your entire apartment, you wagered - and designed with royalty in mind. The walls were pristine white with gold filigree, and spanned higher than you thought possible. He had chairs gathered in one corner, near a small bookcase. Not far from that was a fireplace, which had seemed to burn real wood, which was hard to find on Coruscant.

On the other side of the door was a wardrobe - it was a modest size for a prince, which was about twice as large as your own closet. And near that was his bed. It was massive, with bedposts at each corner and silver silk sheets. His comforter was pulled back, and you swore you could see restraints bolted to the frame.

Perhaps the rumors about him weren’t exaggerated…

“Should I… leave and get my stuff?” You inquired, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. Cad glanced over at you as he pulled his suit coat off.

“Whaddya need?”

“Clothes, toiletries.. You know, the basics.” You watched as he tossed the coat on the floor haphazardly, before he went about unbuttoning his black shirt.

“I’ll call de servants fer ya. Dey’ll fetch your things.” He replied, nonchalant. He tossed his shirt atop his suit coat, and sat on the edge of his bed to pull off his shoes. He glanced over at you. “You got a starin’ problem?”

“N-no!” You replied, casting your glance to the floor. He chuckled and sauntered over to where you stood. He took a step toward you, pushing up against you; you took a step back, not sure if this was intentional. He took another step toward you, and then another, until you were trapped up against the wall. He reached out, cupping your chin and tilting it up so you could look him in the eyes.

“Dere ain’t no need to be shy, doll. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“How can I be so sure?” You replied, your voice shaking. Heat pooled in your core, and his ravenous gaze only intensified the sensation.

“If I wanted t’ hurt ya… I would have done it already.” He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, and it trembled in response. His gaze trailed toward your tantalizing tits. “I think I found yer ‘price’.”

“Oh?” You squeaked, surprised by how easily he could sway you.

“Why don’ we getchu out of dese clothes, and you can show me why it was worth it t’ take ya in?”

“I-.” Your body screamed ‘yes’, but your sensibilities told you that this all seemed to be happening so quickly. But you weren’t sure he’d care if you told him this. He was a Prince, after all. You were sure he was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. “S-something tells me you really weren’t trying to save me from the King.”

“Yer a smart one.” He drawled, a dark, hungry look in his eyes. You could smell the whiskey and tabac on his breath as he pressed closer to you. “How else would I get you to come with me?”

That tracked, you noted with a frown. Your life was ostensibly in danger, and this spoiled, entitled Prince used that to get you in his bed. You pushed him off and walked away, but he was not so easily deterred.

“Yer safe, ain’tcha?” He wasn’t wrong. Being with him meant you were safe from the King… but were you safe with Prince Cad? You crossed your arms over your chest and sat down in one of the chairs in the room. Cad followed you over to the chair, but he did not sit beside you. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’ll be what I want.” You replied, your pussy pulsing to remind you that you were still aroused. You cursed under your breath, but figured that maybe you could make a game of this. You were scorned, sure, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to sleep with the Prince.

“Is dat so? Do ya need to be tamed? Is dat it?” He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked a browridge. “I’ve dealth wit’ many brats. Ya ain’t special.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” You explained to him, and his expression soured. “If you just wanted to fuck me, you could have told me that.”

“Yeah. Like dat would’ve worked.” He rolled his eyes.

“It would have! I was having a shit day and I would have loved to let off some steam!” You told him, and Cad sat on the arm of the chair next to yours. A small smirk grew on your face as you held his gaze. “You want to fuck me? Hm? You can start by telling me you’re sorry.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head. “Ain’t happenin’.”

“That’s a shame. I guess this cunt of mine is off-limits.” You pointedly closed your legs, and anger flashed in his eyes. You could practically see him trying to work his way out of this and still get what he wanted. But you wouldn’t budge and you could tell that he knew this. It took him twenty minutes before he was able to form the words.

“I… I’m sorry.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Good. You should be.”

There was silence for a moment, and you figured Cad was sulking because of the apology. Before you could react, he got up and thrust his knee between your legs. You gasped softly as he pressed his thigh to your aching cunt.

“Now listen here… I don’ like dat attitude of yers. Yer in my home - ya don’t get to order me around. Got it?” He leaned forward, boxing you in against the chair. You tried to fight it, but you found yourself grinding your cunt against his leg. He hissed in response. “No sass now? Nexxu got yer tongue?”

“I got… I got what I wanted already.” You told him.

“Words are cheap, doll. You know I didn’t mean it.” He grabbed your chin and tipped your head back, before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It was forceful and needy, and you had to fight against pushing him away and digging in deeper. Your cunt throbbed again, and wetness seeped into your panties. You whimpered, and Cad chuckled. “Yer a little whore, ain’t ya? Despite all yer whining, ya still want me.”

He eased away, moving to finish undressing. “Get up and get naked. I wanna see dis cunt of yers.”

“M-make me.” You replied, your voice wavering with lust. He cocked a browridge and pulled you up to stand; he ripped your shirt off, and rucked the skirt down over your ass. You were nearly bare in front of him, and his ravenous gaze on your body made warmth well in your belly. He pulled down your panties, watching with interest as webs of slick stretched between your cunt and the cloth.

“Yer droolin’ fer me, doll. Filthy whore. Do ya want my cock?” He inquired, and you slowly nodded at this. He dragged you to his bed and tossed you onto it. “Show me yer cunt, doll.”

He took a step back, watching as you casually spread your legs open and then parted your labia with your fingers; Cad watched, his hungry gaze scouring over your soaked cunt. He drew in close, his knobby finger slipping inside of you. “Yer wet fer me, ain’tcha? Mmm… so wet and tight.”

You moaned, your head lolling back onto his impossibly soft comforter; your legs spread wider of their own accord, as if anticipating that he would insert his body between them sooner rather than later. You rocked your hips, aiming to drive his finger deeper within. He chuckled.

“Yer just beggin’ fer my cock at dis point… all I need is t’ hear it. Beg fer me.” “Oh Prince…. Oh Prince!” You whined, gripping his sheets tightly. He retracted his finger and drew aimlessly on your stomach with your slick. “Please, I need your cock! Please!”

“I wanna hear my name on yer lips. You know it, don’tcha?”

“Cad… Please….” You begged, lifting your hips to present your cunt to him, trying to tell him that you so desperately needed him to fill the void. He smirked at this presentation, and drew two fingers between your folds.

“Yer cute… I’ll give ya dat.” His fingers danced up and down the slit of your cunt teasingly. You whimpered, wriggling your hips closer. First, he was bitching at you about not giving in, and now he was the one dragging his feet? Entitled prick! “Most of my lays would offer t’ sell me deir families at dis point… just to get my cock.”

“Stupid.” You muttered, and he pressed a thumb to your clit.

“My favorites get special treatment. T’ dem, it’s a good trade.” He smirked as he slowly rubbed circles on your clit. Your body tensed, and your vision went spotty. “Besides, what use is a family t’ dem if dey’re here with me?”

Your toes curled as he dipped his finger into your cunt, only going in to the first knuckle. He rubbed around the entrance as he played with your clit. Stupid, entitled Prince! Fuck, you wanted him so bad...

“Now… what would you offer t’ me t’ get my cock? Hm?” He inquired as he eased his finger in a little further. “Do ya even have anythin’ of worth? You peasants usually don’t.”

“Hey!” You squeaked as he shoved the rest of his finger into you. Another slipped in soon after, and your whole body began to shake.

“Tell me, doll… what would you give to have my cock?”

“Nothing.” You replied as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. You whimpered, grinding your hips against his hand. The heat in your belly threatened to spill over, and your cunt tightened around his fingers. He was quick to remove his fingers from you.

“Ya don’t get t’ cum until ya tell me what you’d give me.”

You panicked, trying to find something, anything, of worth to give him. He wasn’t wrong about you not having much of worth; you worked a mediocre job making decent pay. You didn’t have much in the way of family, and even if you did, you would never offer them to him. This was ridiculous but you were also desperate. In the moment, all you could say was:

“Me! You can have me!”

Cad paused, quirking a browridge at this; a slow, devious smirk spread across his face and he leaned down.

“Is dat so?” He was mere inches away as his slick-covered hand slid down your stomach. “You want to be mine?”

“If - if that means you’ll fuck me… yes!” You cried out, aching and yearning. Satisfied with your answer, he angled his hips and pressed his cock into your cunt. His cock was searingly hot inside you, and filled you up sufficiently; every inch he plunged into you drove you closer and closer to an orgasm. The moment he bottomed out, you came, your body shaking as sparks of electric pleasure shot through you. Your back arched toward him, and Cad wrapped an arm around you, holding you to his chest.

He slowly rocked into your spasming pussy, moaning at the way you desperately milked him for his cum. He would not give so easily, however. He picked up his pace, a high-pitched whine escaping your lips; the ridges of his cock massaged all the sensitive parts of your cunt, and you had to stop yourself from begging for more.

“Ya feel good, doll.” Cad grunted as he thrusted harder into you. You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping your breasts tightly. “My cock feels good, don’t it?”

“Yessss.” You cried out, your toes curling as your orgasm loomed once more. You laid your head back on his bed, closing your eyes to bask in the sensations. He raked his fingers up and down your thighs, which quivered at the touch. There was only so much more you could take before the building tension snapped and you came again.

“Say my name.”

“Cad!”

“Say it louder! Let de whole place know who ya belong t’!” He roared, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs to the point where you were certain they would bruise. A wail rose from deep in your chest.

“CAD!” You yelled out, arching your back and thrashing about as the sensations became unbearable. You were so close! So close! Your cunt tightened around Cad’s cock and he let out a groan at the sensation.

“Ya gonna cum fer me again? Ya gonna cum, lil’ slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, bucking your hips up against his, grasping at any additional pleasure you could get. Cad’s pace was growing erratic, and you knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind you.

“Cum fer me! Cum!” Cad commanded, pressing his thumb to your clit. Your vision went dark as your body when stiff; fluids shot out of you, soaking Cad, as waves of euphoria washed over your body. Through the haze of pleasure, you could feel Cad biting down on your shoulder, puncturing your skin, as he shot his cum deep inside you. Your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

When you came back to your head, Cad was lapping at the blood which leaked from your wound. He pulled out when he realized that you had come to, and went to find a rag so you could clean up. He returned with a towel, and gestured to your throbbing cunt.

“Go on.”

You cleaned up, as you were directed, while Cad strutted around his room. He returned to you with a collar in hand, and you quirked a brow. “For me?”

“Yeah. Ya did give yerself t’ me.” He reminded you.

“I did, didn’t I?” You managed a smile and leaned forward, presenting your neck to him. He clasped the collar around it, and stroked your cheek.

“Dere you are. All pretty.”

[kitty0boy]

Uh ohhh, back again. So this time it’s, you guessed it, Marichat. I will write other love square fics in the future but for now I must feed my Marichat starved ass. As always, Adrien is 18, Marinette is 17, and this time, Chat pays Marinette a visit, while drunk. Nothing smutty just dumb Chat Noir. And I checked, the drinking age in France is actually 16 so this is very much legal. Enjoy!

—————————

Adrien was bored, so incredibly bored in his absolutely massive room. Despite having a rock wall, a piano, an arcade machine, a Foseball table, a wide screen television, a computer, and an entire wall full of CDs, Adrien was bored. He felt bad that he didn’t appreciate all he had, but the simple fact is that he would give all of it away in a heartbeat, and you know what? Maybe he should. There are thousands of kids in Paris that would kill to have a fraction of all he had. And he was rich anyways so he could just buy something else. He sighed and Plagg lazily rolled over on his desk. “Are you as bored as I am?” His Kwami asked. “Yup.” He replied. What to do what to do. “You know Plagg, I kind of feel like pissing off my father right now.” He said nonchalant. “Who are you and what have you done with Adrien?” Plagg teased, earning a giggle from his wielder. Over the years Plagg seemed to rub off on him. He was still a hundred times more responsible than Plagg but he wasn’t a stick in the mud when it came to rules. He wasn’t afraid to piss of Gabriel or disappoint him anymore, he didn’t spend much time with him anyways. “Well then,” Plagg said, floating up “let’s see what we can find.”

————-

Marinette had finally figured out a routine when it comes to being the guardian. The Kwamis were allowed out of the miracle box for two hours everyday. She would set up snacks, board games, arts and crafts and more to keep them entertained. In exchange, they would stay quiet so that people wouldn’t be worried for her, plus it helped to not have the Kwamis ripping her room to shreds. Their time out of the miracle box had just ended. She had already cleaned up the board games and brought the plates down stairs. She was about to change into her pjs when something poked through her window. It was a black glove. She squealed and tried to quickly pull her shirt back on before he could come in. “Chat Noir! What did I say about knocking?” She quickly stuffed the miracle box into her closet before approaching the window. He didn’t climb in right away though, instead he dangled from the window sill. She poked her head out and made eye contact with him.

“Look Marinette, now I’m the damsel I’m distress, waiting for my hero to save me.” He slurred his words a little which was odd. Playing along she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up through her window. Instead of standing and climbing through the window. He dragged himself in and slumped to the floor with his back against the carpet. “You know, you’re strong for a little person.” He giggled. “Ok kitty, get up.” He followed orders and stood, but he swayed slightly and laughed more when she held him steady. He reached up and, booped her. What? She knew he was a dork but he never usually acted like this. Then the faint scent of expensive wine hit her nose. “Chat are you drunk?” He crossed his arms infront of him. “No I’m not, I’m Chat Noir.” He laughed at his own dad joke. “Yeah ok, you’re drunk.” She sighed and rubbed her temple. “Just wait here a minute.”

She went downstairs and got a glass of water and some croissants for him to snack on. She opened the trap door, “Ok kitty, time for you to sober up.” She looked at him, still standing in the same place she had left him. What a goof.

“Come sit Chat, we can watch a movie while you eat.” He obeyed and collapsed dramatically onto the chaise lounge. “Can I get cuddles Marinette, your knight in shining armour is touch starved, only the cuddles of his *hic* purrincess can save him from this curse.” She giggled, “Ok, but after you eat first.” He sat bolt upright and seemed to regret that decision because he slumped and collapsed again. She laughed and he pouted, “Chat oh my god, you don’t have to rush, I’m not leaving.” He smiled clumsily, was it even possible to smile clumsily? He sat up in slow motion, no he actually tried to move in slow motion before slowly reaching out and grabbing a croissant. “Chat you’re going to kill me,” she laughed “you don’t have to move in slow motion, you can eat at a normal pace.” Somehow, he didn’t understand the concept of normal because he shoved the whole croissant into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. ‘How was that even possible?’ she thought, did he have power she didn’t know about? Like stretchy mouth or something? She stared at him dumbly as he inhaled another croissant. “Ok kitty, this time we’re going to take bites.” She picked up a croissant and took a bite out of it, “Like this see, bites.” It was like teaching a toddler, she had done it in the past but said toddler wasn’t drunk and 6 feet tall. Chat didn’t grab the last croissant on the plate, instead he took a regular sized bite of the croissant in Marinette’s hand, chewed and swallowed. She laughed again, he was such a dork. She decided that it would just be easier to let him eat the croissant like that so she fed him the rest and adjusted her computer on the desk so it was facing them. She handed Chat the remote. “Ok kitty, you pick what movie you wanna watch and I’ll be right back ok? Don’t go anywhere.” He gave a toothy grin before sliding to the ground and sitting against the chaise lounge. She sighed smiling and walked towards her bathroom to change and get ready for bed.

When she walked back in, Chat wasn’t scrolling through movie options or even sitting up right. He was lying, on the ground starring blankly at her ceiling with the song “Despacito” playing from his baton. She walked over to him and kneeled by his face, “Chat Noir what are you do-?” He placed a finger on her lips and slurred out a “Shhhhh.” Before a tear rolled down his cheek, she looked at him, mixed between trying not to laugh and concerned. “I’m in my feels princess.” He said before deeply inhaling. “DESPACI-“ her hand slapped over his mouth before she rested her head on his chest and wheezed out a laugh. “Chat oh my fucking god.” She said between giggles “You have to keep quiet, my parents would kill me if they found out you were here, and drunk no less.” He reached up and put his hand on top of her hand that was currently silencing him, instead of pulling it off, he kissed it and smiled at her. Her face turned beet red as she stared at him. That is until he licked her hand. She pulled her hand away and wiped it on her shirt. “Chat!” She exclaimed, he brought his hands behind his head and smirked at her, “Who’s the loud one now little lady?” She blushed again, if it wasn’t for the fact that he just licked her, she might have stammered too. Instead she just shook her head, “Come on Chat, let’s watch a movie.” His eyes lit up and he stood, jumping up and down, “Do I get cuddles now?” His tail swished behind him. Was he a dog or a cat? She laughed and agreed before the pair settled on the chaise.

————————

The sun was beaming on his face when he woke up. He was surprised he didn’t have a headache. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw, was pink. Lots and lots of pink. His eyes shot open and looked around before landing on a mop of Raven hair. Marinette was cuddled up to him, her arms encircling his torso while her head rested on one half of his chest, one of her legs crossed over his. ‘Oh no, oh shit shit shit.’ He gulped before slowly moving his hand down her back, oh thank god, she had clothes on. He smiled down at her and soon, she blinked up at him. “Good morning Marinette.” He said, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Ah so you’re sober I see, don’t worry, nothing happened.” She said reassuringly. He ran a hand down his face, a gloves hand. Ah so he came here as Chat Noir. “Do you remember anything?” He shook his head and she filled him in. “Well I’m glad I didn’t do anything stupid.” He laughed, “Nope it was more like babysitting an overgrown toddler.” She laughed, he smiled. “I’m surprised you don’t have a headache.” She said, “It’s probably the suit, it will probably get worse when I take to suit off.” He made to leave but Marinette held him down. “Nope, I had to babysit you all night, I request cuddles as payment.” He sighed before rolling onto his side and nuzzling his face into her neck. “Fine by me purrincess.”

He was right, his head nearly split open from the hangover, but it was all worth it.

—————————————

Thanks for reading!

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

tag list (if you want to be added, shoot me an ask or a message!): @pink-meringues​ @k-k0129​ @solllaris​ @taiter-tots​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless​ @fttayla​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @jjmaybcnks​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @queenk00k​ @drewswannabegirl​ @diverdcwn​ @royalmerchant​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @obxmermaid​ @anxietyspacetart-15​ @butgilinsky​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @fangirlvoice​ @juliarose21​ @skiesofthesketchy​ @daughterofaphrodite​ @dontjinx-it​ @outerbanksbro​ @sportygal55​ @nqbmf​ @xenagzb​ @sweetlysilent​ @loverofmineluke​ @aaleksmorozova​ @meltame17​ @summerkaulitz​ @stupidpendeja​ @rafej-cambanks​ @popcrone818​ @slutforjjmaybank​ @madschalamet​ if you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

[singledarkshade]

Life Lessons

Summary: “There are times when it will be required for you to work with your fellow Time Masters to complete your mission.” Rip's first experience of working in a team does not go well. Author’s Note: Day 4: “One person acting alone can’t save the world.” – This is all about the team and Rip’s relationship to it, maybe it’s the one Rip built, but it could be an entirely different one, or just the people he’s met along the way.                                ********************************************* It had been a long day, and the two-hour lecture Time Master Keegan was giving on the history of fabrics used during the Victorian era seemed endless. Rip squirmed, it felt like his back had been fused to his chair and could see Andreas beside him looking just as uncomfortable.

“Any questions?” Keegan asked suddenly, turning the lights up making them all blink.

No one raised a hand, and they were all poised to leave the lecture theatre when Time Master Hadden walked in.

“Stay in your seats,” she ordered sharply.

The entire class grimaced but remained seated waiting as Hadden and Keegan spoke for a few moments.

“Time Masters work alone,” Hadden stated as she stood in front of them, “But there are times when it will be required for you to work with your fellow Time Masters to complete your mission. You will be placed in teams for a training mission tomorrow, your teams will be released later this evening and you must all be ready to leave first thing. Dismissed.”

Finally released Rip grabbed his tablet and started towards his room. He wanted to do some work on his project before the evening meal, as afterwards he had time booked in the flight simulator.

“So,” Coburn appeared at his side as he left the lecture theatre, “What do you think about tomorrow’s sudden training mission?”

Rip grimaced as she looked at him with big brown eyes filled with amusement and stated coolly, “I think it’s a chance for us to all show what we’ve learned.”

She chuckled, “Wouldn’t it be fun if we were on the same team?”

“Not really,” Rip replied without thinking.

“Hunter, I’m hurt,” Coburn laughed.

Rip sighed and turned to face her, “You never listen, you’re constantly ignoring the rules and I don’t trust you’d work with the rest of the group.”

She stared at him for a moment before she laughed, “You say the sweetest things.” With a smile she gave him a pat on the shoulder, “See you later.”

Confused and irritated, as was the norm when he had a conversation with Cadet Coburn, Rip headed to his room.

The room he had within the Time Master Academy was starkly different from the one he’d had at the Refuge and there were days he missed being there deeply. But, as Time Master Druce reminded him the day he’d arrived at the academy, not to mention every time Rip saw him before that day, Rip had been chosen for a higher purpose which meant he had to leave the safety of his childhood, and Mother, in order to fulfil that purpose.

Connecting his tablet to the main console to download all the work from the day, he changed out of his uniform before sitting at his desk and opened the message he kept easily accessible.

“Michael,” his mother said appearing on the screen before him, “I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. When you first came to me, that little boy who was wild and kept trying to run away, I always knew that one day I would have to say goodbye. I know that you are on your path to become a Time Master and I know that you will do wonderful things. I don’t get to see my children after they leave and I know that is for the best, but I want you to always remember that I am extremely proud of you, Michael.”

Freezing the picture to look at the woman who had taken him in and loved him, Rip wondered if any of the others missed their childhood homes and the mothers or fathers who had raised them.

Or if he was just broken because he did.

The door chime interrupted his musings and he quickly turned off the message before opening the door.

“Time Master Druce,” he snapped to attention.

Druce gave him a smile, “There is no need for that, Rip. This is not an official inspection.”

Stepping back Rip allowed his mentor into the room, “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Regarding tomorrow’s exercise.” Druce told him, “I want to remind you that I have high expectations. This exercise is very important for your future as a Time Master. Do you understand, Rip?”

Nodding Rip replied softly, “Yes sir.”

Standing Druce nodded, “Don’t let me down,” before he walked out leaving Rip alone again.

As his mentor left, Rip let out a sigh. He wanted to live up to Druce’s expectations, the man had saved his life and brought him to a place where he could be something so much more than the street trash he had once been. Druce had given him a mother who loved him and taught him that he was so much more than he’d ever thought he could be.

Rip couldn’t let him down.

Checking the time, Rip headed to the dining room to have his evening meal.

 The dining room was full when Rip stepped inside, he chose his meal and drink before looking for a place to sit. To his annoyance Coburn was sitting at the closest table and looked up, waving him over. As there was little other choice for sitting, Marcus or Cannon appeared to be the only others with a space beside them, Rip went with the lesser of the evils.

“The team lists are out,” Coburn smirked at him the moment he sat at her side, “And guess what?”

Glancing at the courier on his wrist, he saw the message and sighed when he scanned the list.

“We’re on the same team,” Rip grimaced.

Coburn smiled, “We work well together, Hunter you know that.”

Rip grimaced, annoyed because she wasn’t wrong. The last time they’d had to work together they received the highest marks within the class, but Rip found she distracted him constantly. When she twirled her glossy raven hair around her fingers, the way her deep brown eyes sparkled when she hit on an answer and the way her soft pink lips quirked in amused smiles that she threw at him, Rip watched unable to tear his eyes from her.

The weight of Druce’s expectations made it worse, he knew he couldn’t be distracted by her during the mission and Rip couldn’t ask to change teams, or he would have to explain why.

He couldn’t tell them the reason because he wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Doing his best to ignore her, Rip ate his meal looking forward to getting to spend some time in the flight simulator.

 Rip loved to fly.

Even in the simulator he had the feeling of freedom he’d craved from childhood and looked forward to the day he had his own ship.

“You know at this angle you’ll probably get caught in the atmosphere,” Coburn’s amused voice made Rip grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, “I have this time booked.”

She slid into the seat at his side and shrugged.

“Then go away,” he snapped at her trying to focus again.

Coburn chuckled, “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” he demanded confused.

“Wound so tight,” Coburn clarified, “We’re learning to travel in time, Hunter. To save people and the timeline. It’s an amazing thing but you’re always so serious. Do you ever have fun?”

Rip shifted uncomfortably in his seat at her demand, “When I was a child, of course. But we’re adults now and being a Time Master is not something to be taken lightly. It’s a serious duty we’ve been given, it’s not fun.”

She moved closer to him, and Rip was caught by her eyes, deep brown pools that were filled with amusement and something else.

“We’re not robots,” Coburn whispered softly, making Rip’s eyes drop briefly to her soft pink lips, “We’re allowed to have some fun every so often.”

Before Rip could retort she touched her lips to his in a soft kiss. Stunned Rip froze for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning into it, his hand moving to cup her cheek. Realising what they were doing, Rip pulled back finding Coburn smiling at him with sparkling eyes.

“Definitely not a robot,” she whispered, “I’ll see you in the morning, Rip.”

                                 *********************************************

 By the time his alarm sounded, Rip had already been up for over an hour. He ran around the track several times before grabbing a quick breakfast and was one of the first standing ready at the muster point.

His team consisted of himself, Coburn, Radley, and Johns. Rip didn’t know Radley or Johns well and would have preferred people whose abilities he knew to work with, but he also knew he had no choice.

“Good morning,” Time Master Hadden appeared at the front of the room, “You have all been assigned your teams and your missions have been sent to your couriers. Each team will be timed on how long it takes for you to complete your mission in addition to how well you work together as a team.”

Rip scanned the mission parameters as they waited their turn, doing his best to ignore Coburn at his side. His night had been filled with dreams of her and what had happened in the simulator, it was one of the reasons he’d been up so early.

“Team six,” Hadden called to them, “Follow me.”

Rip walked with his team to a Jump Ship that was waiting for them.

“Cadet Hunter,” Hadden said, “You are the best pilot of the group, so you will fly the ship to the co-ordinates given. Once there the ship will power off, you must complete your mission by ensuring the package in the hold reaches the final co-ordinates where you will be met and returned to the Academy for your grade.”

With that said she left.

 Rip slid into the pilot’s seat and activated the systems, “Everyone strap in.”

He frowned slightly when Coburn took the seat beside him but said nothing. Checking the coordinates, he activated the engines and took them into the time stream. A few seconds into their journey, an alarm began to sound.

“What’s wrong?” Johns demanded.

“The ship isn’t responding,” Rip frowned, as he tried to get the system back online.

Coburn unhooked herself and ran to the engine access, yanking open the panel, “We’re in trouble.”

“What’s wrong?” Rip yelled back.

“It’s shutting down early,” Coburn replied as she tried to fix then engines or at least keep them going until they reached their coordinates.

Rip grimaced, “Bollocks, can you do a bypass?”

“While we’re in flight,” Randel cried in horror, “A bypass is only done when the ship is stationary.”

“Well, we’ll be stationary when we crash,” Rip retorted before demanding, “Coburn, can you do it?”

“Give me two seconds,” she replied before calling, “Done.”

Hang on,” Rip yelled as he managed to activate the engines for a few seconds so he could get them out the time stream, the entire ship shuddered but exited and Rip let out a small sigh relieved that he brought them out at the right place. Unfortunately, the main engine began to fail as Rip started them down to land. Fighting with the controls, Rip did his best to keep them level as they headed towards the ground.

“We’re going to crash,” he yelled, “Hold on.”

A second later the ground rushed into the ship, they bounced three times before skidding to a halt.

 Rip groaned as he undid the restraint, falling onto the console in front of him. His ribs felt bruised, but he was sure they weren’t broken and although he was a little shaken Rip knew he wasn’t injured.

“Is everyone alright?” Rip called.

“Fine,” Randel and Johns replied.

One voice was missing, and Rip yelled, “Coburn?”

“I have a slight problem,” she replied, pain filling her voice.

Rip turned and swore seeing her laying on the floor, a piece of metal stuck into her side and blood pouring from the wound. Reaching for the medical kit, Rip swore again to discover it was missing. Yanking off his jacket, Rip dropped onto the ground beside Coburn and pressing it against the wound to try to stem the flow of blood.

“Where are we?” Randal asked dazed.

“We’re on the right planet,” Johns reported checking the instruments, “But miles away from the rendezvous point.”

Rip grimaced knowing that meant they were a long way from help, but if they packed the wound and made a stretcher then they could carry her to safety.

“Our cargo is intact,” Randel noted from the back, “But it is big.”

Rip leaned back to glance at what Randel had found, keeping pressure on Coburn’s wounds at the same time and winced. They couldn’t carry both her and their cargo.

“Leave it,” Rip told them, “We put together a stretcher for Coburn and get her to safety, then we can come back for it.”

Randel and Johns stared at him before Randel said, “No.”

Rip frowned at him, “We can’t carry both. That thing would take two of us to carry it at the very least and we need two of us to carry Coburn.”

“Then we leave her,” Randel stated.

Anger filled Rip, “She could die without help.”

“We’ll send someone back for her,” Johns told him, “But we have to get this to the coordinates.”

Rip glared at them, “Then you’re doing it without me.”

“We’ll manage,” Randel told him, “Once we reach the coordinates then we’ll send someone back for you.”

“They’re right,” Coburn murmured, “You should complete the mission and send help back to me.”

Rip shook his head, “No, I’m staying with you.”

Randel and Johns shrugged before they lifted their cargo, leaving Rip alone with their injured teammate.

 “You should have gone with them,” Coburn said softly while Rip checked the ship for emergency rations.

Rip frowned at her, “And leave you here to die?”

“I’d be fine until you sent someone for me,” she said, letting out a grunt of pain when she moved slightly.

“Stay still,” Rip snapped at her, “I’ve managed to stop the bleeding for now but if you move it could start again.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before smiling, “I knew you liked me.”

Sitting at her side, Rip gently placed the canteen he’d found to her lips, tipping it so she could drink.

“You’re delusional,” Rip shook his head.

Coburn chuckled again, “Was what happened last night a delusion?”

Rip dropped his eyes feeling warmth cover his neck.

“Hey,” she took his hand, “Rip, it’s okay to care what happens to me. And I’m grateful you stayed.”

Looking down at their adjoined hands, Rip smiled softly, “You can thank me by annoying me less.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” she chuckled.

“Coburn,” he sighed, frowning when she jerked his hand, “What?”

“You know my name, Rip,” she whispered.

Licking his lips, Rip said softly, “Miranda.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” Miranda smiled at him, “Was it?”

He shrugged and shook his head.

“I guess we’re working as a team,” Miranda noted amused.

Rip nodded, “We just have to hope the others make it to the coordinates fast.”

Miranda nodded, and he noticed that she was beginning to shiver. Since there was no emergency kit, there were no blankets he could use to keep her warm, and his jacket was being used to stop the bleeding, Rip wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close.

She cuddled into his shoulder murmuring, “You make a good pillow, Rip.”

Rip smiled, “I’ll add it to my list of skills.”

Miranda slipped into silence and Rip held her while they waited for help, relieved when the rescue team finally arrived.

                                 *********************************************

 Rip left the medical bay and as ordered, headed directly to Druce’s study. Taking a deep breath, he hit the chime and waited.

Time passed and finally after twenty minutes the door opened. Rip walked in seeing his mentor sitting looking distinctly unhappy.

“Cadet Hunter,” Druce stated, letting him know that this was an official meeting, “Your performance for today’s test has been evaluated and you have failed.”

“What?” Rip demanded surprised, slamming his mouth shut when Druce stood.

“You did not complete the mission you were given,” Druce reminded him, “And therefore did not pass the test.”

Rip stared at him, “But Cadet Coburn was badly injured? And the test was in regards to working as a team?”

Druce shook his head, “What is the one thing I have always told you? What have I impressed on you since day one?” When Rip hesitated, Druce finished, “Time Masters always complete their mission no matter what.”

“She could have died,” Rip whispered.

Druce shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. People die. Time Masters protect time above everything, and your mission must always be your priority.”

Rip stood in silence, not sure what to say.

“You’re dismissed, Rip,” Druce stated sharply before adding, “I am extremely disappointed in you, and I hope you have learned your lesson from this.”

Rip nodded, “I have.”

Druce motioned him to leave and as Rip walked out Druce stated, “I never want to be disappointed by you like this ever again, Rip. Ensure I’m not.”

The doors closed before Rip could reply and he headed back to his room feeling utterly demoralised.

 The chime on his door jolted Rip from his musing.

He had been sitting on his bed thinking, Mother would call it sulking, for several hours now. Even missing the evening meal because he didn’t want to face the rest of the class.

“It’s me,” Miranda’s voice came through the door, “Can I come in?”

With a sigh he hit the button to open the door before taking his seat again, Miranda walked in, and the door closed behind her. He quickly checked her over to make sure that she was healed, relieved to see she seemed fine.

“Can I..” she motioned to the spot on the bed beside him.

Rip sighed, “If you want.”

Miranda slid onto the bed, “I heard that you failed. Sorry.”

Rip sighed before realising, “Sorry you did too.”

“Actually,” she winced, “Because I told you to leave me, I passed.”

Rip laughed bitterly, “Of course you did.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, Rip was wondering why she was still there, surprised when Miranda slipped her hand into his.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Miranda whispered, “I was terrified.”

Turning to her, Rip asked, “Really?”

“Oh, I would never let anyone else know that,” Miranda told him, “But…” she paused and squeezed his hand, “I trust you.”

Swallowing hard at how close she was to him, Rip breathed, “I trust you too.”

Miranda rested her forehead against his, Rip lost himself in her deep brown eyes and found himself moving closer. Without thought, Rip rested his hand on her cheek as their lips met. Rip felt Miranda smile against his lips and wrapped his arms around her pulling her close, not caring about anything else for now as they fell back onto his bed lost in one another.

[angrymongol01-archived]

A/N: Am reposting two of my shelved discontinued fem!Hinata fics from my old blog here (for exposure ig? Also I didn't delete them completely there, they're just posted privately lol); for those who've read the original post before and wondering why this blog repost another blog's work, supplies~!! OP here, filling this blog with some Haikyuu content from last October. Enjoy ^^;; ALSO DO NOT SEND HATE ORZ smh

My Masterlist

Prologue | 01 | Omake 01

01 - The Restroom is Indeed a Scary Place

wc: 2.5k words

warning: slightly suggestive (thigh touching), some kidnapping ig?, but nothing else aside from the other warnings above; and a crying Hinata also btw

also inspired by this cute doujinshi

*NOTE: since purple/violet is unavailable via PC (using desktop beta lol), I'll use yellow for Ushijima instead.

Hinata Shouyou just came out of the girls’ restroom, singing her bathroom song (but discreetly lol) and turned left, when she bumped into something hard, face first.

“Ah, s-sumimase—“

“Are you okay?” a low and deep manly voice spoke to her, while large hands still gripped her shoulders after saving Karasuno’s Number 10 from tumbling backwards.

Brown eyes looked up to meet olive ones, as she faced Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shiratorizawa Academy’s Captain and Ace.

Ushiwaka. Japan.

“U-ushijima…-san,” Hinata gasped.

“Hinata Shouyou,” he replied, his face stoic as ever while staring at her face.

Which made the female decoy flustered.

Realizing the narrow space between them.

Also hands pulled off from touching gripping Ushiwaka’s chest shirt for support earlier.

Prompting him to release his grip on the chibi’s shoulders.

“I-i-i’m sorry!” Hinata stammered, apologizing at Ushijima and bowing multiple times. “I… I didn’t mean to—“

Staring at the girl, he was amused at how panicky one half of Karasuno’s freak quick combo is right now.

Which is cute.

And he fought the urge to pinch out her round cheeks right this moment.

The olive-haired guy slightly nodded in her direction.

“I’m also sorry—” he said laconically, which made Hinata surprised at his statement, “—for bumping into you a while ago.”

The female crow just shook her head and beamed. “It’s okay! I’m alright, Ushijima-san. You shouldn’t apolog—kya!”

Hinata’s sentence was cut off when both hands cupped her pink-tinged cheeks.

Ushijima’s hands, though large and calloused due to spiking balls since childhood, were warm and soft to the touch.

“A-a-ano—! W-wha… Ushijima-san…?!”

The chibi stuttered, trying to look at him but failed to do so.

Her heart thumping as loud as Saeko-neesan’s wadaiko beats.

Lol.

She squirmed, face now a full-blown blush, under the Shiratorizawa captain’s touch.

He raised his eyebrows, his voice a bit amazed.

“Hmm… so it’s true! Touching your cheeks can calm the nerves. Relaxing and therapeutic.”

WHAT IS SHE—SOME GENERIC FOOD SUPPLEMENT OR SOMETHING—

Hinata tilted her head on the side, looking a bit lost to what Ushiwaka said. “Pardon?”

Before he answered his reply, another male voice joined in from the back of the big guy. “Wakatoshi-kun, Coach and the others are waiting for you inside the gym… what are you doing—eh?”

Shiratorizawa’s Player No.5, the Guess Monster itself. Tendou Satori.

The redhead middle blocker peeked at his teammate’s shoulder to see both of his hands were connected—no, caressing—both of Hinata’s flushing cheeks.

“Aha! Karasuno’s little Number 10~!!”, he exclaimed, pointing his long index finger at the orange-head middle blocker.

RIP Ushiwaka’s eardrum.

She frowned, glaring at the tall redhead.

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ‘LITTLE’!?” she pouted.

Wanted to karate chop Tendou in the face for making fun of her height.

Meanwhile, the female decoy’s talking sent faint vibrations onto Ushijima’s palms still latching on both her cheeks.

He hummed in delight.

He was entertained by the different facial expressions Karasuno’s Hinata Shouyou made today.

And his heart swooned.

Noticing his friend’s faint blush, Tendou commented, “Ah! You must be trying out the theory about touching Chibi-chan No.10’s fluffy cheeks?”

“Hmm,” he nodded in reply.

Hinata stared both at the Shiratorizawa players, face a bit red. “What ‘theory’ is it that involves t-touching my cheeks…?”

The redhead draped one arm around Ushijima while his other arm left hanging upward, index finger pointed above.

Like an “Aha!” pose.

He explained, “There’s this rumor circulating around here earlier that we kind of heard about after coming out of our bus upon arrival. They said that (either) ruffling your hair, touching your cheeks and/or your hands can calm down uneasy nerves and relaxes the body.”

“Eh!? R-really? Who said th—ugyaa!”

The left-handed volleyball cannon started to squish both the female baby crow’s cheeks in a gentle manner.

Her hands tried to pry his hands away from her cheeks but to no avail—he’s strong he won’t budge.

Ushiwaka’s olive eyes locked in with Hinata’s brown ones.

“It is very relaxing.” “U-u-ushijima-san… s-stop… my c-cheeks…—“

…really, the restroom—whether it is the girls’ or the boys’—is indeed a scary place.

——— ☀️ ———

Meanwhile, inside another nearby gym, the rest of the crows were having their morning warm ups.

The team’s vice-captain, Sugawara Koushi, noticed their female member’s absence.

“Say, has anybody known where Hinata-chan went to?”

“She went to the girls’ restroom to freshen up,” said their third-year club manager, Shimizu Kiyoko, pushing forward a volleyball cart full of balls on the other side of the net.

Beside her, holding a bunch of clean towels and sports bibs, her fellow manager Yachi Hitoka added on with a somewhat worried look etched in her face.

“But, Shimizu-senpai, that was ten minutes ago! I wonder why Hina-chan hasn’t come back yet…? And our first practice match for today will start soon.”

“I’ll go look for that boke, Sugawara-san,” his fellow setter, first-year Kageyama Tobio, offered to help.

The silver-haired guy smiled softly at Kageyama and patted his back.

“Thank you! Please find and bring our dear Hinata-chan back to safety—and don’t start another ‘lovers’ quarrel’ with her, got it, Kageyama?”

Kags suddenly choked at his senpai’s request, his face a whole mess of red.

“S-SUGAWARA-SAN, I—WE’RE NOT…!” he stammered while glaring at the third-year.

“Oho~ a ‘lovers’ quarrel’ between the King and his idiotic subject? Really though…”

“S-shut up, four-eyes!” Kageyama then sneered at the smirking tall middle blocker, fellow first-year Tsukishima Kei. Beside him, his classmate Yamaguchi Tadashi, snickered.

“Hai, hai~! That’s enough,” Suga singsonged while pushing the fuming and embarrassed raven-haired kid out of the gym. “Come on, you still need to fetch Hinata…”

A jolt ran down the third-year setter’s bones, his ahoge twitched like an antenna.

SugamamaRadar™️

Fear shown on Sugawara’s face.

Oh no, my poor baby crow…—

He jogged towards Kageyama. “Wait up! I’ll come with you—“

——— ☀️ ———

“…s-stop squishing my face, d-dammit…!”

Hinata’s cheeks—now a bit sore from constant pressing—were still being held ‘hostage’ by Ushijima’s large hands.

Behind his shoulder, the Guess Monster amused himself with what was in front of him.

“Ah, I wanna take a picture of her right now~!” Tendou decided, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his jersey shorts.

“N-no, no… Tendou-sa…! No—Please…! D-don’t… my cheeks are h-hurting—USHIJIMA-SENPAI STOP!!!” the female decoy yelped, tears starting to leak out of her brown eyes.

Senpai? Chibi-chan calls Wakatoshi-kun ‘senpai’ now?? WHAT!?!!! the redhead thought, flabbergasted. Unfair… so unfair~

The olive-head stopped what he was doing after he felt wetness seeping through his fingers, but hands remained stuck to Hinata’s face.

Hinata Shouyou, with her sore and pinkish cheeks, teary-eyed and sniffling.

Tendou then whispered to his team captain. “Oh my, this is bad, Wakatoshi-kun~ You’ve made the cute girl cry…”

Ushijima kept his gaze at her, his olive eyes laced with concern. “Did I?” he asked monotonously, his hands now placed on his sides.

The ‘cute girl’ in question started to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand while rubbing her abused right cheek with the other.

“I did tell you to stop squishing my cheeks, Ushijima-san!” Hinata scowled at the two men. “But you won’t listen!”

The Shiratorizawa ace felt a pang of guilt and sadness at the same time.

But Ushijima Wakatoshi made up a plan to keep her sunny disposition from fading.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, body slightly bent towards Hinata so she’s at eye level with him. “I really am.”

His usual expressionless facial structures softened and… is he smiling? At her?

Her face flushed again at the sudden closeness between them, heart beat picking up speed.

Not to mention the warmth of his left hand the chibi felt at the crown of her head.

Ushijima began to wipe away streaks of tears on her eyes and cheeks with his right.

“Stop crying now, or your cute face will become like Yoda,” Tendou jokingly said to Hinata, playful red eyes looking at her.

“S-shut it, Tendou-san,” Karasuno’s Number 10 whined, lips pouting, her face scowling with embarrassment.

Ah, be it a crying face or a pissed one, she really looks cute either way, both guys thought the same, with faint blushes adorning their cheeks.

“What~? Tendou-‘san’?! You called Wakatoshi-kun ‘Ushijima-senpai!’”—the Guess Monster then imitated Hinata’s voice from earlier.

Which further embarrassed the scowling girl more.

“—then me a merely ‘Tendou-SAN’?! Hey, we’re of the same year level—“

“Tendou—“

The said redhead fake-sneered at the orange-haired decoy, pointing shakily. *shrugs*

“—I’m your upperclassman also, Chibi-chan! Show some respect by calling me ‘senpai’!!” fumed Tendou.

Hinata flinched a bit at their rival school’s middle blocker’s litany. And looked down.

Then silence.

Ushijima turned to face his friend, his brows slightly knitted.

“That is absurd coming from you, Tendou,” he scolded him. “I think you made her angry now. What if she cries again?” Not to mention her teammates—

“Maa, maa~ don’t you worry, my dear Wakatoshi-kun! She won’t~ I’m sure of that!”

Did she buy the charade? the redhead thought as he waited expectantly at her next course of action.

Eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Well…?”

She mumbled. “…pai…”

“Come again?”

Hinata then raised her head and looked shyly at them.

Flustered. Lips quivering. Hands fiddling the hem of her white shirt. Feet shifting from one side to another.

She took a deep breath.

“T-tendou-senpai! U-u-ushijima-senpai…!” she stuttered yet said in a clearly loud voice.

That does it.

They’ve been struck with the arrow of sunshine deep in their very soul.

The olive-haired guy’s body felt tense for a second.

The Guess Monster suddenly fell dramatically on both knees, clutching his shirt-clad chest as if in a wheezing position.

The female middle blocker panicked, hands waving in front of them.

“A-a-ano…!?!! You two–are you two okay???”

“You… you nearly killed us with your moe-moe attack, you know!?” Tendou exclaimed, quickly bouncing back from his kneeling moments ago.

Hinata tilted her head (again) in puzzlement. “Huh? ‘Moe-moe attack’? What’s that?”

Which caused him to facepalm and shake his head in reply. “Seriously!? What are you… are you even a human being??”

“HEY!”

After a long time lol, Ushijima spoke to her in a blunt manner.

“I did not know that you’re as dense as a rock when it comes to… these kinds of things, Hinata Shouyou.”

You’re one to talk though, Ushiwaka lololol

She scowled again at them. “I’m not!!! Quit teasing me, damn you Ushiwaka~!”

Cute!!!

The redhead then whispered again at the captain’s ear, acting like his bad conscience.

“Let’s take her back with us to the team, Wakatoshi-kun. Let’s keep her and her radiating presence to ourselves.”

He agreed with Tendou’s scheming idea, which is the same thought as his. “Yes, let’s keep her to ourselves.”

Forget about facing the wrath of Karasuno–screw this!

Hinata sensed something suspicious going on between them.

“W-what are you two whispering about? Hey, what do you think you’re doin—hyaah!!! U-ushijima-san…!!!”

She was hoisted up by Ushijima and placed on his shoulder, her flushing face facing towards his broad back and Tendou (who wiggled his long fingers as if doing a little wave of hello), as they walked away from the girls’ restroom.

Both his large and beefy arms holding her tiny waist and slim, lightly-toned milky-white legs to secure her in place.

Hinata Shouyou was being carried by the ace of Shiratorizawa like a sack of rice.

“Put me down! Ushijima-san, please!” she yelped, her fists started banging her captor’s back.

“Where are you two taking me to—ah!!”

His hand is touching my thigh…!

Gripping her legs tighter, Ushijima turned his head around, olive-colored eyes staring sternly against her honey-brown ones.

“I would appreciate it if you stop punching my back. Lest you really want to fall yourself down on the concrete face first?” he hissed.

That stopped Hinata from bruising his back more.

S-scary… Ushiwaka’s really scary! she thought, a faint wave of nausea forming on her stomach.

Silence.

“S-sorry…,” she mumbled guiltily, her hands now touching his back, rubbing small circles to where she had hit him a while ago.

Ah… her hands… she’s comforting me…?

She held out a wry smile. “Does it still hurt, senpai…?”

“…yes, it still hurts. A bit.”

The orange-haired girl panicked again.

“EHHH!? I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m so so—hiii!!!”

Ushijima gently stroked a finger on the back of her thighs. “Stop flailing yourself or I will really drop you on the ground. Hard.”

Hinata then gulped at the consequence.

“Y-yes, sir…,” she mumbled, her pouty face laced with a deeper shade of red.

Tendou laughed heartily. “You really, really made him mad there, aren’t’cha, dear Chibi-chan~,” he said, ruffling her orange hair.

“And, to answer your question earlier: we’re taking you back to our team!”

“What!?” she exclaimed.

RIP Ushiwaka’s eardrum, part 2.

The decoy shook her head in a disapproving way.

“No, no, no, NO! I don’t wanna! Please let me down, Ushijima-san—I need to go back to my team! I bet they’re waiting for me! We have a practice match today… I want to go back… please?”

“No. You’re coming with us, Hinata Shouyou.”

Sweat drops started to form on Hinata’s face.

“B-but… if I don’t return back soon, K-kageyama-kun will kill me!”

“THE HELL I WILL YOU IDIOT!!!”

Suddenly, a raging Karasuno Number 9 appears—

The three of them flinched, with the girl slowly glancing upward to see Kageyama running towards, glaring.

Oh, crap! Hinata felt shivers down her spine.

“Hinata boke, we’ve been looking for you for almost half a hour!! Why’re you taking so long to take a shit in the bathroom—“

“—BAKAYAMA I DID NOT—AND IT’S ‘POOP’, NOT ‘SHIT’, STUPID!!—”

Tendou snickered at the conversation. “Pfft. He said ‘shit’ to a girl…”

“—we were so worried about you—huh?” He suddenly stopped his bickering when the setter noticed the awkward position his orange-haired partner was in.

Together with two of the members of the Shiratorizawa Academy Men’s Volleyball Club.

Together with the Ushiwaka.

Why is she on his shoulder? he thought, a vein popping on his forehead.

What the hell.

Kageyama walked near them, scowling. “Hey, why are you with Ushijima? Tell me!”

Panic rose across her face.

Sweat began to form on her forehead.

Brown eyes averting his cold blue-eyed stare.

Hinata started to sputter out some words, nearly stuttering in the process.

“K-k-ka-Kageyama-kun! It’s not what you think—“

Ushijima answered him back for her. “We’re bringing Hinata Shouyou back to our team. We’re keeping her.”

“USHIJIMA-SA—hyaah!” He made another stroke at the back of her thigh, making her flushed and gripping the back of his shirt in the process. “P-please… stop—“

He replied with his usual stoic demeanor, but a pink tinge sporting his cheekbones said otherwise.

“No, I won’t stop. I want to see more of that cute expression of yours, …Shouyou-chan.”

Homerun, straight to the kokoro—

Is he smirking at her???

“A-ano… s-s-senpai, please…—“ My heart… beating faster… if this continues… I might—

“What the hell are you two doing with my precious child?”

Sugawara stood in front of them, donning a creepy-like smile.

Dark aura emitted behind the crows’ vice-captain. Now, it’s the two Shiratorizawa players’ turn to shiver.

“S-sugawara-san… please… h-help me…,” his precious kouhai muttered dizzily. “I think I might… fai—“

And her mind went blank.

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME, KIDS. LIKES ESPECIALLY REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. ALL WORKS © angrymongol01 - 2021.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

A part 4 to the cheating office fic, reader leaves Roman for 4 months and one day she stops by his job cause she’s friends with the receptionist And Roman sees her and begs her infront of everybody to take him back which she does.

So this little nugget came from this one:

https://anastasiaskarsgard.tumblr.com/post/635373957656297472/i-suddenly-remember-your-piece-about-romans-long

Which was a continuation of this:

https://anastasiaskarsgard.tumblr.com/post/184745815831/you-catch-roman-fucking-a-girl-in-his-office-and

So now that we are all caught up... on with the show!

We cannot skip the escape!!! Part 4 is the same day as part 3. It opens with Roman in his office, ordering the head of IT to report to his office.

“Mr Godfrey, I was told you had an urgent concern. What is happening exactly?” Christopher Chan, Head of the Godfrey corporation Network security.

“Just the man I wanted to see. I’ve come to the decision to trust my girlfriend, and take her off of 24/7 surveillance.”

Chris looked uneasy, knitting his eyebrows together as he considered how to respond to the sudden change of heart. After the amount of time, money and effort that went into gaining access to all her accounts, digital devices and installing hidden cameras throughout their home and in her vehicles, it seemed rash. But there really was no way to say so, without offending Roman, so it really wasn’t his concern how the brat blew his money. “Effective immediately sir? Do you wish to keep any of the surveillance of your home going for security reasons or revert back to the systems in place before all the additions to monitor your girlfriend.”

“Seriously? I just fucking said I trust my girlfriend, so obviously disarm anything put in to watch her. There was already security in place before I even knew her and it worked well enough so go back to that. Now get the fuck out and make sure nothing is discoverable and can come back to me.”

“Yes sir.” With that, Chris turned and hurried out of the office cursing under his breath. Taking shit from that asshole that practically failed public highschool and barely graduated, when he had a masters from MIT and graduated top of his class, was a hard pill to swallow. Sure he was paid handsomely for his discretion and abilities, but it didn’t make the thought of that prick being put in his place any less appealing.

Making his way down to his floor and grabbing a coffee on the way to his office, he decided he’d get some actual work done that was important to the company, before shutting down Romans little pet project. Just as he took a seat, there was a knock at his door.

Rolling his eyes at never having more than 2 minutes without someone bothering him he told whoever it was to enter.

“Chris. You might want to check on The scarlet raven.” One of the IT guys assigned to monitoring the girlfriend stated with an amused look on his face.

“No need. The scarlet Raven is officially no more. Mr Godfrey trusts her.” Chris replied as he booted up his computer and pulled up his designs.

“Well um.... I think you should take a look anyways cuz he may be jumping the gun. She’s packing suitcases and she’s called her sister, old best friend, purchased a plane ticket and had made 2 large transfers from her personal allowance account.”

That got his attention. “I will look into it. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go ahead and start the network analysis, I’ll worry about the scarlet raven until further notice.”

Chris watched as the young man closed the door behind him, and immediately turned to his computer to take a look. Popping up in a window, a clear view of the woman in question, loading her car with several large suitcases came into view. With the tap of a few keys he was able to pull up her phone history and internet browsing as well as her email accounts and financial transactions. It was very clear, she was finally making a run for it, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

He had never felt great about spying on the girl, and always dreaded the day, he’d have to tattle on her to her possessive punk ass boyfriend, but now he couldn’t have wished for any better timing.

Turning his attention back to the screen, he was concerned to see she was crying in the closet. It was like a train wreck, he couldn’t look away and he started to worry that maybe she was having second thoughts.

Steeling his resolve, he downloaded a texting app and got a temporary number.

Unknown: you deserve so much better than what you are getting staying with that dick. He still cheats on you, does drugs and neglects you. He has his IT guys spy on you, and loop his video feed when he needs you to think he’s not out cheating. Run! Run as fast as you can...

There. He could possibly sleep well, knowing he at least tried to save her. It was up to her what she did with that info.

Meanwhile at the mansion, the young woman stared down at her phone in pure rage. She could not believe Roman had been playing her for a fool even now. There was no reason to doubt this random person that she guessed was most likely one of the IT guys that felt bad for her.

Looking around, she tried to find the cameras or bugs but unlike the movies, nothing looked too obvious. Just as she’d given up and was making her way to the door, her phone rang. Peeking at the caller ID, her stomach dropped at the sight of Romans name.

Panic ripped through her, as she contemplated just ignoring the call. Sighing heavily she accepted the call, knowing that if she didn’t, he may very well come find her and she wasn’t gone yet.

“Hey babe! How is work?”

“Much better now that I get to talk to you. I love you.”

She had to stop herself from scoffing and telling him off, but she gritted her teeth and smiled as big as she was able, hoping it’d sound nicer as she replied “not as much as I love you.”

“You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.” He purred into the phone. “Tonight I’m going to take you out to a nice dinner. Be all ready at 6 and I’ll pick you up ok?”

Too bad I won’t even be in the same state she mused to herself. “Okay will do. I can’t wait till you get here. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

She hung up the phone and shuddered.

Walking out the front door and not even turning around for a last look, she made her way to the airport, elated to begin her new life without a certain asshole disrespecting her at every turn.