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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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Diplomacy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers Royal AU

Word count: 12K (I may have gotten carried away)

Warnings: Parental Death, an American writing about monarchies she doesn’t understand

A/N: Hi everyone! I have been working on this one for a while and it’s by far the longest thing I’ve ever written and I am so proud of it (please be nice)!! I also made a Pinterest board with all the outfits from this if you want to check it out here!! SO SO SO much love to @meetmymouth @bfharry and @hardcandy-harry for helping me out when I needed it and being the most wonderful people in general :) As always, thank you so so much for reading!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and feedback/reblogs mean the world!!!

****

Y/N knew from the day she could understand the concept of marriage that she would one day be married to the little prince with wild brown curls her mother always forced her to play with. She still vividly remembered the first time he told her that she was ugly and that he hated her. She was only five years old at the time.

Fortunately, she hated him just as much as he hated her. He was rude, somehow always sticky, and seemed to have no filter or manners, letting every nasty thing he could think of fall past his lips in daggers aimed at his future wife.

As they grew older, their animosity only grew, from petty to school yard quarrels to attacks on their personalities and who they were as people. Despite her pleas to her mother to be sent to a different boarding school than the one he was already attending, she was shipped off.

She studied judiciously, what was expected of every future queen, while she watched Harry meander through his schooling. He never seemed to listen in class, never studied, and seemed to only care about football and girls. She watched with jealousy and contempt as he flirted with every girl at their school, every girl except the one he knew he was to marry; while every boy in the school knew Y/N was off limits, direct orders from the crown.

It made her uncomfortable how much she disliked him. She was not a hateful person, having been trained well to treat everyone with dignity and respect, she was a princess after all. But something about Harry just got under her skin. She barely was able to control the instinctive eye roll whenever his name was mentioned and she often pretended to gag when discussing him with her friends, especially when one of them would inevitably call him ‘dreamy.’

The happiest day of her life was the day she watched him graduate, knowing she had been awarded years of peace without having to listen to his taunts or watch him flirt with everything that breathed. During those years, she flourished. She grew from a timid girl in line for power to a confident young woman preparing for the crown. She knew her country through and through, her constitution front to back, and had even begun studying Harry’s country as well. Whether she liked it or not, she knew she would have to pick up his slack in governing his kingdom eventually, she might as well be good at it.

Four more years of education at Cambridge, brought four more years of growth and being free from Harry, but the deal she had made with her mother was quickly coming to a close. As soon as she finished her education, their engagement would be made official and wedding planning would commence. While she was tempted to beg for some sort of delay or escape, she understood this was her duty. She owed this to her people, and soon to Harry’s as well; her mother was counting on her.

For the first time in too many years, she stood inside her former and future home. She remembered running through the halls of the massive palace under the ornate ceilings that now hung above her again; reality was sinking in. Through the massive wooden doors that sat in front of her, she knew her fate awaited; a fate named Harry. With a deep breath she steeled herself and smoothed the blush pink lace skirt of her dress, preparing to see the face that had haunted her for so long.

The first thing she noticed was the playful smirk that she associated so closely with his taunts from when they were children. It was the smirk that made her stomach drop; she could only imagine the nasty things that could come past those lips now. He had years to practice.

He stood confidently next to her mother, who had a bright and triumphant grin on her face. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored forest green suit, decorated with his coat of arms pin on the lapel. She wished for the vibrance of his green eyes to lessen but the tone of his suit only made them more intense than she had remembered.

“Harry,” she breathed, as diplomatically and with as much confidence as she could muster. “It’s good to see you,” she lied, reaching her hand out for him to kiss in the antiquated custom that always made her deeply uncomfortable. He delicately grasped her hand and slowly brought it to his blushed lips, the kiss lingering longer than what could have been considered friendly. His snake-like eyes locked with hers, still containing the mischievous glint she had nightmares about. She couldn’t help but notice the hysterically hopeful smile on her mother’s face as she watched them interact.

“It’s always a pleasure, your highness,” he hummed. He must have remembered how uncomfortable that title made her. She was honestly impressed at how he managed to lie and antagonize her in the first sentence he had said to her in over six years.

“Please call me Y/N,” she instructed as politely as possible.

“As you wish,” he said with a conniving smirk on his face. She had been with him no more than two minutes and she already wanted to run for her life. But this wasn’t about her, her country would need a leader soon, and unfortunately, that had to be her.

Her mother rushed over excitedly between the two, breaking the contemptuous silence that had built between them. “Oh children, it’s so nice to see you two back together again. I remember when you used to play when you were little. Always teasing, like you had the biggest crushes on each other.” ‘Teasing’ is a nice way to refer to torture, Y/N thought to herself, never daring to verbalize a thought like that.

“We did always have fun didn’t we, Y/N?” Harry asked her, a thin glaze of politeness coating his malice.

“Oh yes, we did. I still have a scar on my thigh from when you pushed me off the monkey bars.” Her tone was tight lipped and curt, her politeness beginning to give way to the verbal lashing she was dreaming of giving him.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She knew he was a dirty good for nothing flirt, but in front of her mother? If her mother hadn't gently grasped both of their hands, she would have stomped out of the room. Her mother’s gentle touch brought her mind back to what this was all about once again.

“Harry is going to be staying with us from now on,” her mother interjected, clearly sensing the animosity between them. “Oh, and I nearly forgot! Harry, I believe you have something for Y/N, correct?”

“Of course.” He flashed his charming smiles at her poor mother, “How could I have forgotten about that?”

She watched him intently as he reached for the pocket inside his suit jacket, pulling out a small indigo colored velvet box. He opened the box with delicate hands to reveal one of the most gorgeous engagement rings Y/N had ever seen. A deep green emerald sat inside a ring of crystal clear diamond florets, all placed meticulously with care into a gold setting, the color of the velvet intensifying the emerald stone. “It was my grandmother’s,” he spoke softly, the first time she had ever heard him speak with any emotion or genuine feeling. “Before she died, she said she wanted you to have it. She was the mastermind of this arrangement afterall,” he said with a slight chuckle. “For formality’s sake,” he began with a sigh, “will you marry me?”

No, passed through Y/N’s head, but “Yes” fell from her lips. While her heart broke for herself and any chance she had of finding true love, the smile and happy tears in her mother’s eyes reminded her why she was doing all of this. She needs me to do this, Y/N thought to herself, my country is going to need a leader.

Their engagement was announced later that day by royal decree and their wedding was scheduled for the next month. There was no going back now.

The palace was in a flurry of planning and plotting for the big day. Y/N was rushed from meeting to meeting, instructed to make decisions about everything and anything she wanted for the wedding. She stared at floral arrangements until her eyes hurt and flipped through magazines looking at bridesmaid and flower girl dresses until her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Unsurprisingly to Y/N, Harry was there for almost none of it. Although, she wasn’t exactly complaining about his absence.

He only surfaced when food or his suit was involved. In one vile incident, he arrived at the cake tasting with a wad of gum in his mouth, which was not only strictly prohibited for royals because it could be perceived as being too casual, but Y/N almost called off the entire wedding when she watched him stick chewed bubble gum to the bottom of a 200 year old handcrafted dining table.

“Were you raised by wolves?” she asked through gritted teeth while scolding him and desperately trying to remove the mess.

“Nannies, actually.” She knew by the smirk on his face that he wasn’t done with whatever antagonistic taunts that were planned to fall from his lips. “I’m pretty wild in the bedroom too, wifey.”

His crude comments were meant to hurt her and make her uncomfortable. He knew from their time in school together that she was constantly watched and kept far away from the gaze of any peaking boys, shining a spotlight on the massive double standard between the pair of future rulers. She wore a cloak of inexperience and innocence given to her against her will that embarrassed her to no end, and he knew that the easiest way to pinken her cheeks was to mention sex in any way. He aimed to fluster the poor girl and he got away with it anytime he flashed his dimples in a devilish smirk.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and furry before she got up from the table and stormed out of the room, muttering “pick whatever fucking cake you want,” before flying down the hallway to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes as she slid down the back of the heavy wooden door to the floor below her. She let the fabric of her once perfectly steamed dress crumple beneath her and before she let the floodgates of tears open, she looked down at the dainty silver watch that sat on her wrist. You have five minutes until your appointment with the dressmaker, she thought to herself. Three minutes to cry, two minutes to change into a new dress and fix your makeup.

For three minutes, she let all her anger, frustration, and heartbreak fall out of her in loud sobs that anyone on the other side of the door was sure to hear. For three minutes, she let herself feel every angry emotion she had ever felt towards Harry. For three minutes, she didn’t care about her country or her mother needing this wedding. For three minutes, she didn’t care about anything other than her hurt. But only for three minutes.

Then she wiped the tears away, picked herself up off the floor, dressed herself in her favorite navy blue dress, fixed her mascara, and pressed a cool cloth on her cheeks to quell their angry heat. And then she went to see the dressmaker.

The only joy Y/N got out of this whole ordeal was getting to see her dressmaker, Agnes. Agnes was a kind and quiet old woman who was one of the most talented people she had ever met. The pair would sit together for hours discussing styles, the only time her schedule allowed her to relax, and the woman was in the middle of crafting the gown of Y/N’s dreams. It was a lace long sleeved gown with a cathedral length train. The top portion of the lace was sheer, making a strapless neckline visible, before the delicately crafted lace moved crawled up Y/N’s neck into a high collar neckline. It was reserved, but elegant and unique; “just like you,” Agnes once said.

The first time Y/N was able to try the dress on was bittersweet. The dress was stunning and it made her feel like the princess she was, but she did shed a tear thinking about how this moment was tainted with Harry. She wouldn’t be wearing this dress while walking down the aisle to marry the love of her life, she was marrying someone she would consider an enemy.

She bowed down reverently when her mother placed a veil and tiara on her head. The tiara was encrusted with diamonds and speckled with emeralds that happened to match her engagement ring. The tiara was an heirloom and every woman in her family had worn it while getting married for the last two hundred years.

Her mother wept softly before her, a proud smile on her lips. “I’m so happy I get to see you in the wedding tiara before I go, sweetheart,” she said leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know you and Harry aren’t always a perfect pair and neither were your father and I, but we made you.” The queen’s eyes flashed over her face trying to take her in, “And you turned out to be my proudest achievement and the savior of a nation.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She hadn’t called her mother by that name since she was a young girl but it just felt right at that moment. She felt like a child, needing someone to take care of her while she waited for a country to fall on her shoulders.

“I will always guide you through whatever I can,” she said tenderly. “Even when I’m not here, I will always be with you.” Y/N watched as her mother’s eyes welled with more tears, excusing herself quickly before they grew more intense.

Not more than five minutes later, she heard the obnoxious whistling that she had begun to hear in her nightmares from down the hall. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to burst through the door, not only interrupting her fitting, but seeing the dress before the wedding day.

Like all members of traditional royal families, Y/N was extremely superstitious. Her heart immediately broke as she watched his eyes look her up and down, like there was a little piece of her that thought if they did everything right and didn’t break any traditional rules, maybe they would work out. What hurt her even more was that he didn’t even try to leave. He just sat down on a chair, smacking his gum, and stared at her like he was doing nothing wrong. Her eyes were still filled with tears from the emotional moment with her mother and they continued to flow, no longer out of love, but out of anger and frustration.

“Agnes,” Y/N finally spoke, voice cracking as she tried to hold back her tears, “will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Yes, your highness,” Agnes took delicate steps backwards like she was expecting a bomb to go off, before turning around and scurrying out of the room. Her instincts were correct, because at that moment, Y/N exploded.

“What did I ever do to you Harry?” she questioned angrily. “Why are you so determined to absolutely ruin my life? It’s bad enough that I am having an arranged marriage, not even one that I have the tiniest bit of say in.” She watched Harry’s eyes grow wide, like he had never expected her to stand up to him. “I have spent my entire life being watched and guarded, and avoided by every man I’ve ever gotten close to because I was already claimed by someone who wanted nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice like this at someone; she wasn’t sure if she ever had before. “You can’t even pretend that you like me or that we won't be miserable for our entire lives.”

“Y/N, I don’t want this either,” he spoke after a moment of silence, the quiet only broken by Y/N’s heaving breath. “Why can’t you just calm down?”

“Why can’t I calm down?” she repeated. “Maybe because my country is looking to me to become it’s queen. I can’t give myself to my people when I am worrying about you and your incompetence. You may not become king in your country for another 30 years; you have time to learn and grow into a ruler because you’re in my monarchy and you get to learn here first. You’re playing king with my people. Millions of people rely on us the second I am crowned and you act like your irresponsibility doesn’t have far reaching consequences.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” he spat back at her, rolling his eyes with his arms crossed in front of himself as he sat back in the chair. “I can’t believe I have to marry you and into this family.”

Y/N felt like she had been punched in the gut. She was stuck with this man for the rest of her life and here he was, disrespecting her, her people, and her family. “Get out,” she said under her breath. When he didn’t move from his seat, she began to yell once again, “Get out! I mean it!” She dropped her voice once again, and spoke more seriously than she ever had before. “I have never hated anymore more than I hate you, Harry. I am doing all of this because I love my country and my people, but I want you to know, I will never be happy because of you.”

For a moment, through her tears, it looked like he had been hurt because of her words, but he was gone from the room before she could confirm it.

She fell to her knees on the dress platform, surrounded by the piles of pure white fabric. She was a perfectly dressed ball of furry and sobs, angry at the world and her predicament. Leaning over and putting her head in her hands, she felt the tiara as it began to slip off her head, falling into her lap.

Y/N picked up the tiara, using gentle reverent hands, examining it closely. The tiara represented the monarchy and every female ruler in her family that had come before her. It shined and dazzled in the bright lights of the room, its crystal clear and emerald stones reflecting multi colored light onto the crisp white of the dress below her. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered quietly to the tiara like it could answer, tears still silently rolling down her face.

***

They didn’t speak again for almost a week. They communicated solely through their royal secretaries, sending the poor men back and forth with angry messages, almost gossiping about what was happening with each member of the pair when they returned to the sender. Y/N hated Harry, Harry hated Y/N; the same sentiment sent back and forth over and over. The two were driving fast towards a brick wall, and the brick wall was their wedding.

When she woke up one morning about a week before their nuptials, there was a small envelope sitting on the ground like it had been slid underneath her bedroom door. We have to talk, was all it read. It was not lost on her that the stationary had a small olive branch illustrated onto the page.

Later that afternoon, they met in the garden. It felt like a neutral place to talk, the palace obviously being her territory. She had worn a casual flowing white dress, like she was raising a white flag; and she carefully walked with a mug of black coffee, a peace offering of sorts, careful not to get any of the dark liquid on the fabric of her dress.

She found him along a bed of purple Hyacinths, their sweet perfume enveloping them both, sitting on the soft ground dressed in the most casual clothes she had ever seen him in. He was wearing a simple lilac button up and a pair of jeans. He seemed more approachable this way, without the tailoring and the coat of arms that always sat on his lapel. The golden highlights in his curls came out in the sun and his tanned skin seemed to glow. He held a rose colored leather bound notebook in his hands.

“Hi,” she said softly, a sharp contrast to her screaming the last time they spoke. “I brought you a coffee. The nice ladies in the kitchen say you take it black.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he gave her a friendly but unenthusiastic smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, as she handed him the hot mug.

“Can I sit?”

“I’m not in charge of you,” he mumbled into the cup taking a sip. It wasn’t until she noticed how his eyebrow shot up and how his eyes had a playful gleam in them, that her offence washed away. “Of course, you can sit down.”

“What’s the book for?” she asked gently once she settled on the ground a safe distance away from him. She decided a few grass stains were worth being on speaking terms with the man she was supposed to marry.

“Um, it’s actually for you.” He reached over and placed the book in her hands. She ran her hands over her initials that had been embossed onto the leather cover. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you for a while,” he said quietly, “I remember you used to write a lot when we were in school together. I thought you would like it.” She felt a confusing mixture of thankfulness for the book, guilt for her outburst, and all the frustration that she still held towards him.

“Thank you, Harry. That was really thoughtful of you.”

A silence hung among them, neither of them sure of the next steps this conversation had to take.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, finally breaking the tension between the pair.

“Yes, please,” she answered just as quickly as he had asked.

“I wanted to apologize for interrupting your fitting like that. I didn’t know all the traditions meant so much to you and I never meant to make you so upset.” She had never heard Harry apologize before, to anyone else, and definitely not to her.

Before that moment, she had always thought of him as an impenetrable force, wondering if there even was a soul or a conscience in his body. But here he was, vulnerability and all, offering an olive branch and an apology.

“Thank you,” she said cautiously, wading into the almost friendly waters she had never been in with him. “I’m sorry for screaming at you like that. I said some very hurtful things to you.”

“So have I.”

“I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I shouldn’t have said I did. But, I don’t necessarily like you either, Harry,” she said, deciding now was the time they needed to open the line of communication. One of them would eventually combust if they continued on with their hatred like this. “You have tortured me since we were little kids and it’s going to take me some time for me to get over that.” She watched as he nodded his head along with her words, seeming to listen intently.

“I feel like that is also something I should apologize for. No offence, but I didn’t want to get married to you either- still don’t, but I was much more of a dick about it then,” he let out a light laugh, flashing one of his famous dimples before releasing a sigh. “I took out not having control of my life out on you and I’m sorry.” She never thought she would receive validation for all the hurt he put her through for so long.

“Listen, we are getting married as part of a diplomatic partnership,” she began, “I feel like we should at least act diplomatic towards each other.”

“Does that mean that we have to be friends?”

“Definitely not. Just not enemies.”

“I think I can do that, wifey.”

***

The next week passed in a surprisingly civil blur for them both. Y/N was still in the throws of getting ready for a wedding and Harry was off doing whatever Harry usually did. She didn’t expect him to be doing much but she was just glad he was out of her hair. But when they did run into each other, usually at some sort of meeting surrounding the menu, they had a new found respect for the other.

The pair hadn’t been fighting which was nice for a change, even though it did raise some eyebrows in both of their staff. At her final dress fitting two days before the wedding Agnes had asked her if she was ready to be a married woman. “Absolutely not,” Y/N had laughed, “but it’s my responsibility to my people and my country. I have lived the most privileged life imaginable up until this point, it’s time for me to begin my duties.”

“You’re a good girl, your highness. You’re going to make a great queen when the time comes. Even with a husband you may have to wrangle sometimes.” She ended her compliments with a giggle as she zipped Y/N into the dress, and she felt her heart warm. Agnes placed the final touches of the veil and tiara on top of her head, giving her a nod of permission to finally look at herself in the mirror.

The dress fit her like a glove. The delicate lace ran the expanse of the dress, starting at the very back of her immensely long train and crawling its way all the way to Y/N’s throat, and the fitted top half gave way to a full ball gown skirt. Y/N’s eyes followed the intricate lace patterns down her arm, eyes eventually landing on her hand and the ring that sat upon it. For the first time since it had begun to sit on her ring finger, she didn’t want to throw it across the room in frustration. It really was gorgeous and the tiny inkling of respect she had for Harry now made it much less painful to look at.

Staring at the mirror, she noticed the blurring of her vision and the wetness on her cheeks.

“I really am getting married, aren’t I?” she asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes you are, your highness.” Agnes looked up at her through her thick lensed glasses with a proud smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you out of this contraption so you can go rest up for the big day.” Anges’ skilled hands freed Y/N from the beautiful layers of fabric and tulle and sent her on her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N was finally almost asleep in the early hours of the morning when she heard a gentle and almost timid knock on her door. She could have ignored it, rolled back over and let her dreams take her, but for some reason it felt important for her to get out of bed and answer the door. Her bare feet hit the cold wood floors and she tip-toed her way to the door.

When she grabbed the knob to open it, she heard a familiar voice say “don’t open the door! I don’t think I’m supposed to see you,” in a hurried and hushed tone.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion and had an apprehensive, almost nervous quality she had never heard from him before.

“Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He said it so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if her ear wasn’t pressed up against the doorway. The sentiment brought a smile to her lips and she wasn’t completely sure why. She was quiet for a moment, deciding if she wanted to turn him away or not when she heard him sarcastically ask, “What? I’m not allowed to talk to my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him with a tired chuckle. “But we can talk,” she assured him. “I’m going to sit down, okay? My legs are tired from my heels all day.” She kneeled down and leaned herself up against the hard wooden door.

She had been in this same position only a few weeks before, angry at the world and wanting to kill the man on the other side of it; but here she was, speaking to him willingly, even joking with him. She listened close as his own body rested against the floor and leaned on the opposite side, mirroring her own position.

“Those heels really hurt, don’t they?” he asked, voice still hushed. If she wasn’t so tired, she might have even said she heard a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, they are like little death traps for your feet and legs.” He let out a small laugh on the other side and her lips pulled into a smile that she hadn’t given them permission for.

“How many pairs do you have? You always match your dress to your shoes so you must have a ton.”

She was gradually learning that he was much more observant than she had originally thought. He apparently wasn’t the dumb boy that she remembered from school anymore.

“Too many,” she said with a soft laugh and a shake of her head. “I’m wearing my favorites tomorrow.”

“And which ones are those?”

“They’re white, obviously; they have to match,” she smiled. “They have a green gem at the toes. They match the tiara I’ll be wearing.” She stopped for a moment before continuing on. “And your grandmother’s ring.” She played with the gold band that sat on her ring finger, still somehow dazzling in the very limited light of her dark room. “Thank you, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“You’re welcome. She wanted you to have it.”

“Did she really?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said confidently on the other side of the door. She imagined him nodding along with his words to emphasize his point, as he often did while speaking. “She kept tabs on you while we were growing up. She was always talking about how smart you seemed and that you would be a good queen one day. If I didn’t know better, I would say she liked you more than me growing up.” Y/N felt her cheeks heat up with the information. She was flattered by his grandmother’s opinion of her, but her heart also ached for Harry.

“I’m sure that's not true.”

“I think it was. I was always screwing up in one way or another; always creating messes that her and my parents had to clean up.” He paused for a moment and she heard him let out a long sigh. “Always running around with other girls and making the one I was supposed to marry feel like shit.”

She wished she could see his face. She wished that she could get a read on his emotions. But there was, literally and figuratively, a wall between them.

“Y/N,” she heard his voice squeak out through a voice crack, “I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”

“I know. I forgive you, Harry.”

Saying those four words, lifted a weight she didn’t know she had been carrying off her shoulders. This moment felt like an absolution, a time to wipe their long and complicated slate clean. There was no better time for them to start anew than the night before they began the next chapter of their lives. But this chapter would be together, as a pair and a team.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry too, Harry. I know this all had to happen so fast so I could take the throne, but I know you thought you had more time. I thought I did too.”

“What do you mean? Why did it have to happen so fast?” he asked.

First, Y/N was confused. There was a very obvious answer. Then her heart began to break for him. He wasn’t ready at all for what was coming. No one must have told him.

“Harry,” she said softly, “Do you know about my mother?”

“What do you mean?” From the tone in his voice, she knew he genuinely didn’t know.

“My mom-” she began gently, swallowing the lump in her throat that always appeared when she began to talk about this, “My mom is dying, Harry.” She heard a soft gasp through the door before she went on. “She’s been sick for a while, but things are getting really bad. Her doctors think she only has a couple weeks left.”

She listened to his breathing stop, like his mouth was hung open searching for something to say. He was quiet for a few moments before he landed on what seemed like the only thing he had said over and over these last few weeks, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m here for you if you need to talk about all of this.”

His offer was not lost on her. The idea of Harry being someone she could confide in was a new one, but one that she would consider.

“It’s okay.” She choked out, wiping a few stray tears that had found their way out, off her cheeks. “I have had enough time to come to terms with it. But in our archaic constitution,” she said with a biting distaste in her voice, “a woman cannot become the sovereign of the country if she isn't married. That’s why this all had to happen so fast.”

“I see.”

The pair were quiet, both curled up on opposite sides of the wall; simultaneously experiencing a unique type of loneliness that only the other could understand. In less than 12 hours, they would be married, linked by an oath that neither of them had signed up for, in circumstances with responsibilities that neither of them were ready to handle.

“Harry,” she peeped, breaking a silence that hung heavy over them both, “you should go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

She listened through the door to the rustling of him getting up off the floor beside her. “You should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“So will I. I’ll see you at the altar, wifey.”

She let out a strangled laugh at the nickname he had adopted for her, her throat still tight from crying. She listened to his foot falls until they disappeared down the hallway before she mustered the strength to drag herself back to bed. Her staff was on strict orders from the wedding planner to have her woken up at 8 to begin getting ready and she wanted to get some rest before the sun came up.

And like clockwork, her curtains were thrown wide open at 8 am, sunlight blinding her as she woke up. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to her rude awakening, but soon she could make out the bustling room around her. Hair stylists, makeup artists, bridesmaids, flower girls, her mother, and some lady with an ear piece and a clip board fluttered about her bedroom with an excited chatter. Taking in the chaotic scene, it really hit her. Holy shit, I’m getting married today, she thought.

Her stomach twisted and turned in knots as the gaggle of women fawned over her, instructing her to stay still and “stop shaking” as they applied layers of makeup and fussed with her hair. Her hair was pulled into a delicately crafted low bun and her eyes were painted with neutral tones and a little bit of shimmer. Diamond and emerald earrings were threaded through her ear lobes and her fingernails were inspected to see if they needed any touch ups. Her shaky body was zipped into her dress and her feet slipped into her heels while her cathedral length veil was pinned meticulously into her hair. She was only missing one last thing.

“Your tiara, your highness,” her mother joked through the happy and proud tears welling up in her eyes. The tiara was the one last thing she needed before she was sent on her way to the cathedral. She bent down slightly, her mother delicately crowing her; when she rose, she couldn't help but grab onto her mother and hold her tight. It was hard for her not to think about the next time she would be crowned, a time when her mother wouldn’t be there to offer the guidance or support Y/N needed.

“I love you, Mama,” was all she said. It was the only reason all of this was happening. She loved her mother too much to let her down.

“I love you more, my princess,” her mother said gently, before turning away and scurrying off to do something else. Y/N tried to ignore the wince on her face when she moved too fast and the slight wheeze she made when she was speaking.

Surveying the scene around her, Y/N felt like she was about to die. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears, her palms were slick with sweat, her breathing was labored, and her chest felt tight. She had never been so overwhelmed with anxiety before. She had known today was coming her entire life, but the fact that it really was here was too much for her brain to wrap itself around.

It was like she had blacked out from fear, an hour of her life completely unaccounted for. She didn’t remember the last minute checks and touches to her hair and makeup. She didn’t remember her mother delicately resting her veil over her face. She didn’t remember getting in the car bringing her to the cathedral. She didn’t remember someone shoving a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She didn’t remember the music starting up or walking down the aisle of the giant imposing and ornate cathedral.

She was only brought back to reality when she reached the imposing altar and Harry delicately took her hand into his. His green eyes were painted with concern when he saw the worried crease between her eyebrows and the way she was chewing on her bottom lip under her sheer veil, swiping his thumb up and down her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It was the first time he had ever touched her voluntarily; it was a gentle and tender touch, full of care. She gripped back tight onto his hand, holding on for dear life as she thought over everything that was about to happen.

They were instructed to stand forward, watching the officiant as he droned on about love and duty to one’s country and spouse, but their hands stayed clasped tight onto each other, like they were being thrown into a stormy and unpredictable sea and the other’s hand was their only life line. And in a way, they were.

When they were told to turn towards each other to begin their vows, their eyes locked and she began to really look at him for the first time. She watched his plush lips closely as he recited the words fed to him from the officiant, although she didn’t hear a single word of them. Her eyes traced his strong cheekbones and landed on his adorable button nose before returning back to his eyes. She noticed the slight blue bags that sat under them, signaling he had just as much trouble sleeping as she did.

His eyes brought her a calm that she hadn’t felt in years, silently telling her that she wasn’t alone in all of this, his warm hands still holding on to hers punctuating that sentiment. There wasn’t anyone else in the massive cathedral but the pair of them anymore, just two scared kids trying to make it through the demands weighing on their shoulders together.

Shaky hands exchanged rings, her heart stopping for a moment when the ring caught and didn’t slide onto his finger gracefully. But her heart regained it’s rhythm when she heard a light chuckle coming from the man across from her, a gentle smile that was just big enough to flash a dimple at her, signaling that it would be okay.

She recited her vows without much thought, letting ‘I do,’ slip past her lips while still entranced by Harry’s intense yet comforting gaze. She watched his strong hands disconnect from hers as he lifted the lace trimming on the veil covering her face, dark lashes flickering down to her glossed lips. She let her eyes fall closed as he leaned in towards her and rested a hand on her cheek, prompted by the officiant and clapping coming from the pews, bracing herself for a feeling of disgust she hoped wouldn’t come.

He carefully connected their lips softly with a sweetness that felt gentle, tender, and caring. But there was more to the kiss than a softness, there was a respect there as well. His hand felt secure and protective on her cheek, and he pulled away with a smile after a short time, sure not to overwhelm her. The feeling of disgust in her belly that she was waiting for never came; if she didn’t know better she would say she felt an excited flutter.

They stood on the altar for a moment and just stared at each other, excited and relief filled smiles creeping into their lips, his dimples prominent. “Shall we, wifey?” Harry beamed with a sigh, extending a hand to lead her back down the aisle, now as a married woman.

“We shall, husband,” she giggled back, cheeks still a fiery red from their contact. Calling him her husband felt foreign, but not unwelcome.

Harry held her hand tight, keeping her in the moment by the warm contact. He held her hand down the aisle and all the way back to the palace, all throughout the signing of their marriage license, and all throughout the many, many photos taken of the two and their wedding party. She found comfort in his warm touch, continuing to ground her through the chaos that unfolded around them. Even when they had briefly disconnected from each other, he was always close by, only a call of his name away.

She was shocked by how careful he was around her giant dress, taking calculated steps to avoid dirtying the crisp white fabric. He was playing the role of a dutiful husband, and was seeming to enjoy it.

They spent the next hours just following orders from wedding planners, shuffled around from place to place, constantly surrounded by people. All she wanted was a moment to speak to him alone, but it seemed far out of reach.

That moment finally came in the middle of a dance floor, with hundreds of eyes staring at them as they danced. They swayed together slowly, a gentle rock to the delicate sound of strings. “Thank you for staying by me all day, Harry,” she said quietly, hoping that no one could hear them over the music.

“No need to thank me, wifey,” he said with a chuckle, his lips grazing against her ear as he spoke. She chuckled like always at the name and shook her head.

“I mean it. I don’t think I would have been able to get through all of this,” she said looking out at the crowd watching them and the giant ornately decorated ballroom they were in the center of, “if you hadn’t been by my side.”

“I quite like it, actually. I could get used to standing with you.” He said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal, while her heart just about stopped.

She wasn’t able to answer before the music slowed to a stop and they were pulled apart by their mothers and dragged off to speak to “very important” people. He seemed just as disappointed as she was when they were separated.

When they finally found each other again, Y/N had changed. She had abandoned her massive conservative skirt of tulle and lace for a creamy silk gown that she could actually move in. It was a simple a-line v-neck dress with cap sleeves, but the back held a deep V that ended at the small of her back coupled with a loosely tied bow.

The cool breeze on her back made her feel sexy. She knew she was pushing the boundaries on what was appropriate for a princess and she loved it.

“My darling, you look gorgeous,” he said, taking her hand and spinning her so he could fully take in the new dress, mindful of her tiara and trying his best not to knock it off. Her cheeks burned at his flattery, something he could surely feel when he pulled her close and pressed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

“You’re just saying that,” she said bashfully staring down at the floor, deflecting the compliment easily.

“Wifey,” he singsonged the teasing nickname that had evolved into a term of endearment. He lifted her chin to look up at him and he looked down at her with the most honest expression she had ever seen him wear. “You look beautiful. You have all day.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She spoke quietly, barely audible, unsure what to make of her husband’s compliments. He leaned in to her, layed a tender kiss on her forehead, and dragged her across the room to the dance floor.

They stayed on the dancefloor most of the night, almost always touching in some sort of way, while dancing and celebrating with their friends and family.

And Y/N was happy; a genuine type of happiness that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously, this wasn’t ideal. She was now married to a man she knew virtually nothing about, who had been a sworn enemy of hers only a few days ago, and had only begun enjoying his company last night. But happiness isn’t linear, she thought to herself.

Their night had passed in a joyous and opulent blur that went late into the night; full of food, dancing, and a swimming pool's worth of champagne.

Eventually both of them were led, by dutiful staff as they were both quite drunk and couldn’t exactly be trusted to make it on their own, to their new bedroom, or bedrooms depending on who you asked. They were led into the massive room consisting of two separate suites connected by a dressing room of sorts in a cloud of giggles, finding themselves in a fit of laughter after passing a portrait in the hall of some distant ancestor who had an amusing mustache.

“Thank you for leading us back,” she said, trying to gain a sober composure to the men who had flanked them on their way back, “you can go now.” The men shared a look between themselves that seemed to say ‘someone should be watching them,’ but followed the princess’ orders anyway.

“I just can’t understand how he got it to curl like that,” Harry cackled, beginning to wheeze from his hysterics and slightly stumbling as he was doubled over.

“Maybe it was natural like your curls,” she suggested, through her giggling hiccups that she let return when their staff left the room. “I quite like your curls, ya know? I like it when you let them grow a bit.”

They were still holding hands, despite being alone in their new found privacy, no longer needing the support from the other to shield them from the pressure of looking eyes.

“Then I’ll have to grow them out a bit,” he said, a smile still beaming at her with droopy drunk eyes. He tugged on her hand softly, bringing her body into his and setting his hand on the exposed skin of the small of her back. His hands were warm and soft and in the moment, she never wanted his hand to move from that spot again. “I can’t refuse the princess’ orders.” His voice had dropped low, not to a whisper but to a soft and lazy volume that made her feel safe.

Their faces were close and she could smell his strong vanilla and sandalwood cologne coming off him that she wanted to envelop herself in. He looked back down at her with a face that was loving, but she attributed it to the alcohol in his system. For a moment, she was overwhelmed with adoration for this man who she had spent so much of her life violently hating. Admiring and adoring him was much easier on her soul than harboring the hatred that had eaten at her for so long.

“I have another order,” she spoke quietly, letting the words tumble from her lips without her usually logical brain’s permission, “I want you to kiss me. For real this time.”

His lips were on hers as soon as the words left her own. It was sloppy and sweet, but with a passion behind it that Y/N felt in her bones. Their lips moved in a drunken rhythm, with Harry’s aimless wandering hands sliding up and down the silk of her dress before resting on her waist and pulling her impossibly closer to him. Her hands found and twirled the few of Harry’s curls that remained after they had cut his hair shorter than usual for the ceremony at the base of his neck and sunk her fingers into it, pulling him further into the kiss by his hair.

It was not long before their tongues found each other and the kiss deepened into a desperate dance of gasping for breath and soft moans into each other’s mouths. Harry’s mouth left hers and began to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down her neck while fiddling with the bow at the back of her gown that would release it from her frame.

Feeling him fuss with the bow made her pounding heart shift from one of excitement, to one of panic. This was too soon, she didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know his favorite color or any of his hobbies. She didn’t know how he liked his tea, or if he drank it at all. She didn’t even know his middle name.

Her fuzzy mind couldn’t deny how much she didn’t know about him or the anxiety that made her want to pull away from the man and run.

“Harry,” she breathed, voicing the apprehension and anxiety that had begun to rise in her chest, “please stop.” She had squeaked out the words, a mix of embarrassment and panic taking over her slightly slurred words.

His hands froze, pulling himself back quickly from her, a mix of worry and guilt on his face. “Did I do something wrong? I just thought…” he let his words drop off, his own fuzzy mind not sure of what to say either.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Her cheeks grew hot and her eyes became glassy.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but the kiss on the altar that morning was the first time she had ever had another pair of lips on her own. Her entire life she had been shielded from men with any interest in her, her affection already spoken for and claimed. No man had ever held her hand romantically, or danced with her, or kissed her with the passion Harry just had.

Harry had lived a life with freedom that she had never been granted. She remembered all the times she had watched him interact with various girlfriends at school, and remembered the shame she had felt when he had ended up on the cover of tabloids after he was photographed naked and kissing a random woman on a yacht. Every article had ended with the same line that she still knew by heart.

“The prince is arranged to marry Princess Y/N when she comes of age in an effort to unify their countries.”

They had lived very different lives, with very different freedoms up until this point. It was sexist and archaic and unfair, but she couldn’t deny the impacts it had on her while she was around Harry. Even though she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to feel something real for him and she believed that he felt the same; she didn’t fully trust him like that yet. She couldn’t.

“I’ve never done any of this before, Harry. This morning was my first kiss.” Her cheeks burned in a mixture of embarrassment and shame as she spoke the words. “I like you a lot, but today has been nerve wracking and scary enough. I just can’t add another new thing into the mix, especially that. It’s just all too much. I’m sorry.”

Her sheltered and delicate heart couldn’t even bring herself to say the word ‘sex’.

As he listened to her explanation, his features softened. They were no longer fearful that he made a mistake or crossed a boundary, but they moved into a soft and caring smile.

“Y/N, my darling,” he began in a soft and sweet voice, “come here.” He beckoned her with open arms to rest up against his chest again. She had curled her arms in front of herself, holding them close to her body, as she walked into his arms and let herself be enveloped by them while resting her head on his chest. “You are my wife now, but I think we both understand that we are not exactly in this position by choice. I would never ask you to do something you are uncomfortable with and I am sorry that I crossed a boundary.”

“Thank you,” she peeped before he continued on.

“Also, I heard that part when you said you liked me a lot,” she could hear the smirk in his voice, making her cheeks inexplicably hotter. “And I like you a lot too.”

The pair stood in that hold long enough for them to lose track of time, just resting against each other in silence, listening to the other’s breathing. The silence that enveloped them was comforting, but Harry eventually spoke again, inexplicably soft and gentle in tone.

“Y/N, I really want to try to make us work.”

“So do I, Harry.”

The pair stood together in their stillness and peaceful quiet, until she let out a small yawn.

Harry released her from his grasp and began walking around the room, opening wardrobes and dressers searching for something. He breathed a small triumphant noise when he opened a drawer, spinning around with a light pink and baby blue nightgown in his hands.

“Do you need any help getting out of your dress? Would I be allowed to help?” His face was so thoughtful, carefully navigating the boundaries she had made him aware of but not set in stone yet.

She took the nightgown from his hands and slipped it over her head, the silk dress beneath it. “I just need help untying the bow.” Her voice was still low, a quiet and delicate murmur.

His hands carefully untied the bow, turning around for modesty’s sake, only turning back around when he heard the silk hit the floor.

She had begun carefully removing the bobby pins that still held her bun together, causing them both to giggle when her hair was finally released into a giant poof of curls and hair spray.

She looked so sweet to him. This was the first time he had seen her relaxed like this, no longer in a fancy dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. She looked like a real person to him, not a princess who would soon become queen.

He moved gingerly towards the door of her room, but not before pressing one more soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, wifey.”

“Can’t wait, my husband,” she called from under the covers, watching him close the door behind him.

***

The two were sitting on a hot beach, baking in the sun when the call came.

It was day four of their honeymoon and a week after their wedding, spending their time alone together on a small island in the sun neither of them could remember the name to. It was a paradise straight out of a movie, and she swore nothing could ruin it.

They spent their days learning each other well, often joking that they should make up trivia quizzes for each other to see who knew the other best. She had learned that Harry’s eyes lit up like a child when he saw any type of animal, especially the small lizards that would run across the deck hanging off the back of their small beach house. It was also a surprise when she found out he loved to cook, whipping up a meal that could rival some of the chefs at the palace for dinner one night.

But her favorite thing she had learned about him by far, was how he sang in the shower. He had a low and melodic voice that he didn’t know traveled into the house from the outdoor shower. She would sit by the window closest to him, often pretending to write in the pink notebook he had given her in the garden, close her eyes and appreciate the man’s voice. She swore if he wasn’t a prince, he would be a singer.

In the time since their nuptials, the pair had become lovers. Always attached at the hip and sneaking kisses; they were blissfully and unstoppably becoming increasingly obsessed with the other. The word ‘love’ often played at Y/N’s lips, seeming to always be only a drink away from letting it slip out towards him.

Every day, they would walk down a short path from their house to a pristine white sand beach, picnic basket in hand, and sit. Sometimes they would sit in silence, just staring at the clear blue ocean, and other times they would talk about everything and anything that came to mind, or they would read silently next to each other. But they were always holding onto each other; sometimes it was a hand placed gently on the other’s thigh, or fingers intertwined between them.

The shrill ring of Y/N’s phone broke their fantasy while sitting on the beach on the fourth afternoon. Her heart dropped as soon as she heard it, knowing that the palace had agreed not to bother them unless the worst case scenario was happening.

She closed her eyes and braced herself, tears already threatening to breach her eyes, as she answered the phone with shaky hands. “Hello?” she choked out.

“Your highness, you need to come home.” She immediately recognized the panicked voice of her mother’s secretary on the other end. “It’s happening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to remain as composed as possible. “We’re leaving now.”

Harry’s face held a furrowed brow and concerned eyes as she spoke. He immediately began rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her palm like he had done on their wedding day, but today, it did nothing to soothe her pain and anxiety.

She hung up the phone before letting out a heart wrenching cry. “We have to go home,” she sobbed. “She is dying.”

The entire journey home was silent after Y/N had composed herself on the beach.

She sat emotionless, staring straight ahead, flinching away every time Harry moved to touch her. She spoke only when absolutely necessary, but her voice brought no tone with it. She had become a shell of herself, losing the warmth behind her eyes that had begun to appear after the wedding.

She felt empty, like she had lost the ability to think, while simultaneously feeling so overwhelmed, by thoughts of her future as queen and the loss of her mother. She had become blank, inside and outside, the happiness she had begun to build for herself with Harry, melting away and leaving the hollowness of grief and dread.

It took them about twelve hours to reach the palace from the time she hung up the phone, but it wasn’t fast enough. The second she stepped out of the car, she saw the guards outside the palace dressed in their black uniforms that were reserved only for the passing of the sovereign. She closed her eyes silently, as if when she opened them up again their uniforms would turn back to their usual blue and maroon; but they didn’t, their clothing still black as night.

Her heels clicked the pavement, maintaining her immaculate posture and steely blank expression as she entered the palace, the loving man she had been excited to have a life with trailing mournfully behind her. She watched as if she was out of her body when she passed people, all now dressed in black, in the hall. They all acted the same.

First, they would give her the saddest look, silently extending their sympathies to the daughter who just lost her mother, and then bowing their heads in respect to the now reigning queen.

“I need to see my mother,” was all she said, before being led into her bedroom.

She hadn’t remembered when her father had died, too young to understand. All she could wrap her head around was that her Daddy had an accident and wasn’t coming home. But she remembered her mother’s cries, loud and earth shattering sobs that traveled up and down the hallways of the palace for all to hear.

She looked like she was just sleeping; arms peacefully crossed over her chest and eyes shut gently. But she was cold when Y/N reached for her hand. She tenderly brought her mothers hand to her lips, and pressed a final kiss to her hand, before walking blankly out of the room.

Her mother was gone. And the country fell onto her shoulders.

She heard Harry saying something as he followed close behind her. While she heard him, she didn’t process a thing he said. She stalked towards their bedroom which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace, locked in her daze. He trailed close behind her the entire way, trying to say anything that could break through to her, and stood dutifully outside the door of her side of the bedroom for an unknown amount of time after she had shut it in his face.

***

She didn’t speak, or show emotion, or allow anyone at all to touch her for three days. Only nodding or shaking her head in response to the rapid firing of questions she was asked about planning her mother’s funeral. Harry only saw glimpses of his wife, or the shell of Y/N that she had become, usually while she shut the door to her bedroom between them.

He left his door open all day everyday.

When he awoke the morning of the funeral and found her bedroom door open, his heart jumped. He slowly walked inside to find her in a room full of black dresses. Dresses had been laid carefully over every surface for her to choose from; the dress she would wear to her mother’s funeral and her first public appearance as queen.

“Good morning,” was all he said, quiet and careful.

The person that looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognize. The light was gone from her eyes, and she wasn’t the woman he was head over heels in love with anymore. She looked like her, but emanated sadness and anxiety like nothing he had ever seen before. Dark blue bags held under her eyes from not sleeping, her hair was tied behind her head in a messy unkempt ponytail, and she was dressed in a giant and ill fitting nightgown, shoulders bent down in a fashion that made her look small. The only feature of the put together, confident, and commanding woman he was married to that remained was the bright emerald ring that sat on her ring finger.

“I can’t decide what to wear,” she said without expression, but the tears started to fall down her face before she could finish the sentence. Harry moved quickly across the room to her when he saw her knees began to shake, catching her just in time as they gave out and she fell into his arms, settling them both onto the soft carpeted ground. That was when her heaving sobs began. It was a bone rattling cry that consumed her wholly and her exhausted and hurting brain could only put together two thoughts: she missed her mom, and she didn’t want to take on all this responsibility alone.

She sobbed into his shirt, holding onto the soft and worn fabric of his t-shirt for dear life, and he held her close to his body, slowly rubbing her back and letting all of the emotion fall out of her. She cried for a long time, giving herself a pounding headache, and when the tears finally began to slow she connected her tearful ones with Harry’s ever vibrant green eyes and mumbled, “I just thought I had more time with her. And I thought we had more time to just be us.”

“I know you did, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reveled in being able to touch her again, as his heart broke a little every time she would pull away from his touch.

“I’m not ready, Harry. I can’t do this all alone. It’s too much.” She spoke softly, shaking her head from side to side, still choking back sobs as she tried to regain her composure.

“You’re not doing anything on your own. The second we were married, your problems and responsibilities became mine too,” he assured her. He moved to grab her left hand in his own and showed her the rings that sat on their hands. “Remember these?” he breathed with a light chuckle. “You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not.”

He watched as she processed the realization that he was there to lighten the load. It was like a lightbulb had gone off for her, slowly nodding along with what he said. She let her eyes fall to the dresses that surrounded her, but he gently took her chin and directed her eyes back to his. “Y/N, we are a team. I am always here for you and I always will be.”

He took a deep long breath before continuing on, “I love you.”

She didn’t think when she pressed her lips to him, she just did, desperate to be close to him again. A coldness had swallowed her for days, and his words brought back the smallest feeling of warmth, a glimpse of hope she had been desperate to find.

She had known the passing of her mother was coming for years, her illness getting progressively worse over time. She had always believed it would bring more pressure, weighing down on her heavier than ever before. But looking at their rings and the man before her, she was hit by the fact that she never had to carry the weight of the country all by herself. She had Harry the whole time. He was her partner; in life and in power.

“I love you, too,” she said after breaking the kiss, salty from all her tears. She was quiet and her voice was still shaking and unsteady from her sobs, but he was there, holding her and keeping her safe.

He held her hand, slotting their fingers together as he picked them both up off the ground and helped her pick a dress. It was a black blazer dress that fell below her knees with three crystal buttons going down the left side. Harry carefully helped her into the dress, his warm and respectful hands sliding up her bare skin as he pulled it up over her shoulders. He then sat her on her bed, and began to carefully brush out her hair, doing his best to work through knots without hurting the girl who was already hurting enough. And he held one of her hands gently while she sat at her vanity and did her makeup with her free one. He refused to leave her side.

Harry stayed firmly planted by her side throughout the entire day, not daring to leave her while she needed him. He knew that photos of him holding her hand tight during the funeral would make the press, and the photos of him wiping away her tears as they left would make the front page, but he didn’t care. She might be the queen, but she was also his Y/N.

***

Their fingers were always locked together, Harry’s thumb passing back and forth over the back of her hand in the steady rhythm he always used when she was stressed. He was there whenever she needed him, gently taking hold, to remind her that he was there and they were a team.

He cradled her hand as she crushed his, gritting through the most excruciating pain she had ever experienced. It felt like her entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but Harry’s hand was the light at the end of the tunnel. She was screaming and crying in the small crowded room, feeling like a science experiment as all the doctors looked on at her pain.

But it all stopped when she heard the smallest little cry.

Then shouts of “It’s a girl!”

Exhausted and elated tears flowed freely from her eyes that were locked on the slimy little baby a nurse was burredly placing on her chest. She was so small, delicate and breakable, with strong lungs that screamed out to announce her entrance into the world. And when her eyes opened for the first time, they revealed the same bright sea glass green tone that matched her father, the green she had been falling in love with and swimming around in for years.

This baby was so much more than just a little girl, not only to them, but to their countries. She would forge a kingdom united in the future, a product of peace and partnership. She was a symbol of unity and a future of kindness between their countries. She was the future.

But for right now, the tiny baby was just theirs.

She felt him press a proud kiss to her head before she connected their lips together in a tear filled kiss before they both looked back to their new pride and joy who was still screaming for all the attention.

“She’s beautiful, darling,” he whispered quietly though tears next to her, hand still grasped tightly onto hers. “You did such a good job.”

“Literally couldn’t have done it without you,” she chuckled, still staring down, entranced by the little girl who looked like her daddy.

The pair stayed with their baby, quiet and just being, long after the doctors and nurses left the room. They learned she liked to scream and sleep, about as much as you could learn about someone only hours old. But she didn’t have a name. They had been debating for the last nine months over what the little princess would be called.

“I think she should be named after your mother,” Harry would say.

“But I think she should be named after your grandmother,” She would reply.

Their roundabout banter never left the pair, only changed; from malicious and teasing, to one of loving partnership.

“So neither?” he quipped with a small smirk while holding the little girl tight to his chest.

“I guess we have to compromise; diplomatically,” she said with a giggle, alluding to how they got to this position in the first place.

“I feel like a loving marriage and a new baby is pretty good for diplomatic relations.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Please send feedback and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #prince harry styles #Royal AU #Harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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atlafan · 4 years ago

Text

And They Were Roommates - One Shot

a/n: I’ve had this idea for a long time, and I’m glad it’s finally come together. I love friends to lovers fics, they make my stomach twist in the best possible way, so I hope you all enjoy these two! Feedback and reblogs are always helpful. (not proofread)

Warnings: two idiots refusing to just get together until they do, SMUT, mentions of Only Fans (which I truthfully know nothing about, but I wanted to make things saucy)

Words: 11.3K

“We just need to be quiet in case my roommate’s home.” You say to your date, Jeremy, as you key into your flat. He nods with a grin as you enter.

“Hey, lovie, how was the-“ Harry smirks when he sees you come in with your date. “I see it went well, never mind.”

You roll your eyes at him. He was sitting on the couch in some sweat pants, and that was it, watching some romantic comedy.

“Harry, this is Jeremy, Jeremy this is my roommate Harry.”

“I’m her best friend too, but I can see she clearly hasn’t brought me up all night. M’a little offended, pet.”

“Okay, well, I’ll try to be more courteous.” You shake your head at him, and tug Jeremy along to your bedroom. “Sorry about him. He usually goes out on Friday nights, but lately he’s been staying in more.”

“You…you live with that guy?”

“Sure.” You shrug and then wrap your arms around his neck. “We’ve been friends for years, and we’re in the same grad program, so it just made sense to split a flat.”

“Listen…uh, I was excited that you invited me up, but I can’t fuck you with that guy sitting out there.”

“What?” You frown and step back. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll just think you’re thinking of him the whole time. He’s…like…perfect! I can’t compete with that.”

“Jeremy, you’re being silly, just clear your head, we can-“

“Sorry, Y/N.”

Jeremy opens your door and leaves you standing in your room. You were in shock. Jeremy walks quickly back out into the main area, and sees Harry still sitting and watching his movie.

“Oi, that was quick, mate. Hope you left my girl satisfied.” Harry grins at a disgruntled Jeremy, and he leaves.

“You know it’s comments like that…” You sniffle as you stand there in your pretty dress and heels. “That make guys just up and leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He took one look at you sitting there like that and ran off!”

“So, I can’t even sit in the comfort of my own living room without some douche feeling emasculated? Are you sure you want someone like that fucking you, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to hook up! Christ, now I have to go take care of it myself.” You groan.

“Well, when you’re done, come join me. We can watch My Best Friend’s Wedding.” He leans forward and smiles. “You look really nice tonight, I’m sorry he was an idiot.”

“Thanks.” You wipe your finger under your nose. “Would you make some popcorn or something?”

“On it.”

Alright, some explanation is probably needed here. See, you and Harry met your sophomore year of uni, no, not drunk at some party, in class, actually. You both were education majors, so you ended up having a lot of classes together once you really dove into your major courses. You got paired up on a project together, and there was no separation between the two of you after that.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t have been the type of guy you’d be friends with. To be honest, he dressed like a douchebag when you first met him. You wondered why he’d want to be a teacher. He had floppy curls, wore a snapback with every outfit, and you didn’t think he owned a pair of jeans that didn’t have any rips in them. Although, you did enjoy his Chelsea boots, his sweaters, and his nail polish and rings.

You were innocent, and sort of preppy while he was loud mouthed and scruffy. Your friend groups never merged, but your best friend knew about your friendship with Harry. She’d constantly poke fun and say you had a crush on him. You didn’t. Harry was hot as fuck, anyone with eyes could see that, but you weren’t into him in that way. That was one of the reasons he liked hanging out with you so much. Most girls that tried to be his friend were just trying to fuck, and that could be fun, but sometimes he genuinely wanted to meet up for coffee and have a conversation without it leading to screwing on an extra-long twin bed.

Harry’s friends knew you well. As the years went on, you’d often be the one he’d bring back to his place drunk. You started off by sleeping on the floor, and then one night you realized you both adults and could sleep in the same bed. His friends would give him an equally tough time about you. Sometimes you’d come over and wait in his room for him while he was out with another girl. To some that may have been weird, but nothing was better than drunk platonic cuddles.

There was one night, your senior year, you had woken up with him spooning you. In all the nights spent together, you two never fell asleep or woke up like that. You didn’t shift when you felt his morning wood poking you. His arm was draped loosely over you. You almost wanted to see if he’d make a move, so you pretended to stay asleep a little longer. His hand had slid to your hip and squeezed it, but that was the extent of the interaction. He rolled onto his back, and you did the same. You looked up at him and started giggling.

“It’s not funny.” He groaned, putting his forearm over his eyes.

“Didn’t know I did it for you, Har.” You poked the dimple forming on his face as he smiled.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, happens to every guy in the morning.” He peered down at you and you rolled your eyes.

You had never spoken about it afterwards. You didn’t want to embarrass him. When you both talked about grad school, and got into the same university, he asked you to be his flat-mate.

“You don’t wanna live with Niall and Louis anymore?”

“They’re getting real jobs, they won’t wanna listen to me complain about school. I’ve found a great two bedroom place. I think it could be fun for us. Dontcha wanna live with me, baby?” He pouted at you and you nudged his shoulder and laughed.

“Christ, I hate it when you start getting all beggy. Alright, we can live together.”

He took you in his arms and hugged you. You were both extremely excited. Sometimes it seemed like you and Harry knew everything about each other, but that was not the case. After you moved in and got settled, it was time you revealed something to him. You called him into your bedroom to talk.

“Is everything okay? You’re not having doubts, are you?”

“No! Not at all, I’m glad we’re doing this. I feel safe with you here, and I’m glad we still have classes together. I…I just need to tell you something. Um, I don’t know what you do to...like, when you’re alone, I don’t know what you use, but I know things can pop up geographically, so I just wanted to warn you.” You bit your bottom lip, and turned your laptop around to show him your Only Fans page. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head.

“This is a joke, right? You made a fake website.”

“It’s not fake…” You muttered. “I don’t do lives, I don’t get naked, and I don’t show my face.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I was a dance minor, as you may recall.” He nodded yes at you. “So I make little strip tease videos and blur my face. Sometimes I take lingerie photos too. It’s a wonder what people will pay for.”

“How’d you get into this?” There was no judgement in his voice, he was genuinely curious.

“It started as a joke between Jenna and I, but then we started making money, and it’s enough that I can pay all my bills and live comfortably. I’ve already paid off one of my student loans thanks to this. I don’t even know if you use Only Fans, but I knew you’d probably recognize me or something if you stumbled across it so…I just wanted to warn you.”

“You know…the coffee shop I work at is hiring if you don’t feel like doing this kind of stuff.” He smirked.

“I actually don’t mind it. I essentially work for myself.”

“So you don’t sit in front of your camera and get yourself off with little bunny ears on?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just videos of me dancing in some intricate lighting, and saucy photos.”

“Can I see?”

“What?!”

“Not one of the videos, show me some pictures.”

“Harry…”

“Come on. I’ve seen you dressed to the nines before, but I’m having trouble believing you would take any provocative photos.”

“Fine.” You clicked through the various photos, and find a mostly decent one. “Here, you can look at this one.”

His eyes widen again as he scans it over. You could only see your face from the lips down. You had a lollypop pressed to them, and some of the juice from it was dripping down your chin. You were laying on your bed in a pink lace bodysuit, and if he squinted he could probably see your nipples, but he chose against it. Your legs were up against the headboard, crossed at the ankle.

“Well?” You asked.

“It’s, uh, it’s very tasteful.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for telling me…I…I mean I definitely look at porn sometimes, so…uh…definitely wouldn’t have wanted to accidentally wanked it to you.”

“I doubt you would have even stayed on my page for long. You probably like to watch the really freaky shit.” You grinned and closed your laptop.

“I don’t know, there’s something sort of sexy about someone looking so innocent.”

“And that’s exactly what my viewers seem to say in the comments.”

Harry never brought up your page after that. You didn’t make him promise not to go searching for it, you just figured he wouldn’t. With all that aside, your living situation was working out perfectly. Sometimes Harry would bring home the day old muffins or bagels from the coffee shop, and you both had all the free coffee you could drink.

When you first moved in he was like his old self. He went out on dates almost every weekend. Normally he wouldn’t bring someone back, but once in a while he would. You never minded, you’d bring people back too, but you started to notice a pattern. Most guys either would have a tough time fucking you if he was home, or would end up leaving the way Jeremy did. You weren’t sure why they felt so threatened by Harry.

You supposed Jeremy could have been taken aback by seeing Harry shirtless. He was muscular, but not quite skinny. Buff in a way. He could hurt someone if he really wanted to. Once you’ve changed into some comfy pj’s, you plop down on the couch with Harry, and dive into the bowl of popcorn he made so you could watch your movie.

“So, I take it you’re not gonna take care of things yourself?”

“I’m too annoyed now.” You sigh. “It’s fine. I’ll try my luck with some random when we go out tomorrow night.”

“Good idea.” He throws his arm around you, and you both settle as the opening credits start.

Harry had to be up early for his shift at the coffee shop. After getting some schoolwork done, you took the opportunity to get some other work done. You had to be dressed for the club tonight anyways, so you got dolled up, and took some new photos for your page. You always got comments about your lips, so you’d use blow-pops to kiss against, or to rub against. You got some really great shots in, and got dressed in your regular clothes before Harry got home.

“Got your evening makeup on already? It’ll be hours before we leave, love.” He says as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re not the only one that worked today.” You wink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You know, if I didn’t have all my tattoos I could be doing the same thing you’re doing.”

“Plenty of people with tattoos have pages.”

“The last thing I need is to start working at some school, and have a parent recognize me for the wrong reasons.”

“True.” You nod and go into the fridge. “I’m gonna make some stirfry, are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Alright.”

You didn’t necessarily mind that you’re dating life was a little tricky. You had all the domesticity you could need with Harry, however, you were certainly hoping to meet someone tonight at the club. You just wanted to have a meaningless hookup.

After dinner, and having a couple of drinks at home, you and Harry meet up with Niall and Louis at the club. Louis and Harry were laughing over something, so you decide to pay Niall a little attention. You always thought he was cute and funny. He was always nice to you too, as was Louis.

“How are things with your classes?” He asks. “Sort of wish I was doing the grad school thing.”

“Oh, but your job is so cool! Data analysis is riveting.” You giggle against the rim of your drink and he shakes his head. “Classes are good. I’m more so just excited to start teaching, but I have a while for that yet. Practicum last year was such a tease.”

“I bet you’d be a fun teacher, you’d certainly have no problem keeping my attention.” He slings one of his arms around the back of the booth you were sitting in and he inches closer. You smile at him and take a sip of your drink.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You put your hand on his shoulder and twirl the material of his shirt around your finger.

“Your voice for one thing. It’s smooth, soothing. Your smile is sweet, so that helps too.”

You blush a little from his compliments, and finish your drink.

“Need another, babe?” Harry asks, breaking you and Niall from your little chat.

“I can get it.” Niall says. “Vodka tonic?”

“Please.” You smile and watch him go up to the bar. Louis and Harry look at you. “What?”

“Are you trying to fuck Niall?” Louis asks.

“Of course she’s no-“ Harry says, but he’s cut off by you.

“So what if I am?” She scoffs. “It’s safer than trying to get some guy I don’t know, right?”

“If that’s the case, why not just fuck Harry?” Louis smirks.

Harry death glares Louis as your face scrunches.

“It’s a little cliché, isn’t it?” You say. “Fucking your roommate and best friend? I’ll pass. That’s a load of drama we don’t need.”

“So, what you’re saying is, if Harry wasn’t your roommate or your best friend, you’d fuck him?”

“Hmm…” You tap your chin playfully and look Harry up and down. Before you can answer, Niall returns with your drink, and another round for the guys. “Thank you.” You say to him, and he sits down closely next to you.

“You wouldn’t wanna dance, would you?” Niall asks you.

“I’d love to!”

You both get up and make your way over to the dancefloor. Harry sulks while he plays with the straw in his drink.

“What are you all mopey for, huh?” Louis asks him.

“I don’t really like the idea of them hooking up. Could change the dynamic of things for all of us.”

“Instead of worrying about that, why don’t we try to go meet some ladies of our own, hm?” Louis smiles at Harry, and Harry nods in agreement.

You were having a lot of fun dancing with Niall, and his laugh was infectious tonight. You told him you needed to use the ladies room, and when you came back he was acting like a completely different person.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask him over the blaring music.

“No! I just…” He looks over at Harry and Louis and then back to you. “We really shouldn’t be messing around like this.”

“We were just dancing.”

“But it was going to lead to something more, no?”

“Did you want it to?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my friend, and…I wouldn’t want to make anything weird between us.”

“So…you don’t wanna go into the single stall bathroom and have me suck you off?” You bat your lashes at him and his eyes widen.

“Shit.” He says under his breath. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, and leads you through the crowd of people. You both go into the bathroom without a single thought and lock the door. You could hear the music faintly as you looked at each other.

“You seemed pretty sure of things before.” You say to him.

“I…I wigged out for a second. I really want this.”

You smile and step forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands go to your hips, and he squeezes you. He tasted like the tequila he had been drinking, and you smile against him. You kiss across his jaw, and to his neck while your hands work to undo his belt.

“You’re okay with this?” You ask him.

“Yeah, go for it. Would it be easier if I sat up on the counter?”

“No, I don’t mind getting on my knees, thanks.” You smirk at him and sink down, tugging his pants and boxers down just enough for his hard dick to spring out. You look up at him, impressed.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“Sorry.” You chuckle. “Good for you, though, honestly.”

You kiss his tip and he jerks slightly towards you. You wrap your lips around him, and suck on him. His hands move your hair back, and you close your eyes as you work him over. You pump what you can’t fit, or what you don’t feel like fitting, and you hear him panting. This is all you wanted, you just wanted to make someone feel good.

“Y/N, I’m gonna come.” He warns you, and you give his thigh a squeeze to let him know it’s okay.

He comes into your mouth, and you swallow it to not make a mess. He helps you stand up, and then you help him zip his pants. After rinsing your mouth out he grabs you and kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed as he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Would you finger me?” You ask him just above a whisper against your lips.

“I’ll do anything you want.”

Louis was off making out with some girl while Harry was at the bar, brooding. You and Niall come back from the bathroom with flushed cheeks. Harry looks at you, and then looks at Niall. Niall just rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

“Y/N, are you ready to go home?” Harry asks her.

“Um…I was hoping to have another drink, but if you wanna leave we can.”

“I’d like to, yeah.”

You both say goodnight to Niall, and head out. He doesn’t say anything to in the back of the cab, and he’s quiet as you both go inside your flat. He fills two glasses of water and hands one to you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him.

“Why’d you have to fuck my friend? Of all the guys in there, it had to be Niall?”

“I’m going to bed, I’m not having this conversation with you.” You start to walk away from him.

“So if I took Rachel into the bathroom at club and fucked her, you’d be fine with it?”

“Rachel’s a lesbian, so that’s a moot point.”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I wouldn’t care, Harry. Also, you make it seem like Niall isn’t my friend, when he is. And not that it’s any of your business, but we didn’t do more than diddle each other. I sucked him off, and then I let him finger me, that was it.”

“You know, if you just needed to get off, I’m sure your own hand would have sufficed.” He huffs.

“Sometimes you just wanna feel someone else’s hand.” You say quietly.

“So Niall’s a good enough friend to diddle you, but I’m not? I’m extremely offended.”

“Harry…I don’t have to see Niall every day. It would get weird between us, and you know it.”

“I’m just saying, if you needed some help-“

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Go put yourself to bed, I’m gonna go wash up.”

“I’m assuming no cuddles tonight then?”

“You’ve assumed correctly, goodnight.”

Harry emerges from his room around ten the next morning, thankful he had the day off from work. You were sitting on the couch in the living room, coffee cup in hand while reading one of your textbooks. He sees you’ve made coffee, and he pours himself a cup.

“Morning.” He yawns as he sits next to you.

“Morning.” You say without looking at him.

“Are you mad at me for some reason? Usually you come to my room after we’ve been out like that, and you didn’t…”

“Harry, do you seriously not remember what happened last night?” He shakes his head no at you. “It just wasn’t a good night for drunk cuddles, okay? Can we leave it at that?”

“Alright.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Do you feel like going to the campus library with me in a bit? I’ve got a paper to work on, and a change of scenery would do be some good.”

“Sure! I have some mock lesson plans I need to work on so that sounds good.”

He watches you get up and go into your room so you can get ready. He sighs to himself, feeling bad for lying to you. He takes his phone out to text Niall.

Harry: I’m sorry about last night…I know I can’t control what you do and who you do it with, and clearly what I said to you didn’t matter anyways

Niall: I was going to listen…but she really wanted it, mate, I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything serious, just two friends helping each other out, alright?

Harry: alright

Niall: are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?

Harry: I just don’t think it’s smart for our little circle to comingle like that, that’s all

Niall: whatever you say

“Harry, go get dressed, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and watch a movie.”

“Right.” He says with a smile and gets up.

Harry fucked up one night. He didn’t feel like trolling on Tinder for a lay, so he found himself on Only Fans. There were a couple of pages he was subscribed to, but they just weren’t doing it for him tonight. He wanted something a little different, so, against his better judgement…he went to your page. Sometimes he’d check it out just to make sure no one was leaving you any sick comments, he never really went there to ogle you. But because you didn’t use your face, he could use his imagination a little bit. He puts his headphones in, and clicks on one of your free videos.

He smiles when he hears one of your favorite songs playing in the background. You were a skilled video editor, hoping to teach that media arts. The video fades in, and there you are, completely clothed. You start dancing, it wasn’t over sexy, but you had a way about taking your clothes off. You were doing a chair dance, one of your specialties. The video ends with you just about to take your shirt off, and then it fades out with a smirk on your lips.

“Oh, she’s good.” He says to himself.

Leaving people wanting more was certainly key on this site. He sighs, and clicks through a couple of the other free things you had on your page, and then eventually he pays to subscribe. You’d never know it was him, it’s not like he used his real name. He was more curious than anything to see what else you could have on there. He clicks through some of your photos. His jaw drops when he sees you licking a lollypop.

There’s a knock on his door, and he nearly throws his laptop across the room. He exits out of his all his tabs and closes his laptop.

“Come in!”

“Hey.” You say, leaning against the door frame.

“What’s up?” He was sweating. Had you seen that you had a new subscriber? Had you somehow figured out it was him?

“I have cramps, can I come lay with you?”

“Oh.” He sighs with relief. “Sure.” He makes some room for you on his bed, and climb on, laying on your stomach.

“What were you up to?”

“Looking for some porn to watch, to be honest with you.” He chuckles as he rubs at your lower back.

“Oh, Christ.” You laugh and nudge his leg. “You didn’t need to let me in.”

“It’s alright, you’re more interesting anyways. How was your day? Feel like I barely saw you?”

“It was good. I had a lot of work to get done so I was at the library, and then I met up with Rach for dinner.”

“How’s she?”

“Good. She’s finally starting to make some friends at work.” You sit up and move to sit on your bum. “I have a cheeky idea. Let’s find a really bad porn to watch.”

“Together?”

“Yeah! We could find a cheesy one from the seventies or something, stuff our faces with ice cream and have a good laugh.”

“I’ll go get the ice cream, you find one to watch.” He slides his laptop over to you, and gets up.

You knew his password, so you enter it in. You open up his browser, and go on incognito mode. He comes back shortly with a gallon of ice cream and two spoons.

“Okay, I think I’ve found one. Major bush on this woman, and the guy.”

“Incredible.” He laughs and hands you a spoon. “Let’s see how they did it back then. Who knows, I may learn something new.”

“God, porn back then was only made for men.” You scoff, and take a bite of the ice cream. “I mean, these women just lay there and take it! What’s the fun in that?”

“I know, I like it when the girl’s a little more involved instead of just starfishing.”

“I’m all for a guy being on top, but you really shouldn’t just lay there. There’s still plenty a girl can do. Although, I have to say, when I’m not super into it, I just lay there until the guy comes.”

“Why not just speak up and tell him to do something else?”

“At that point there’s no coming back. Besides, you know how fragile the male ego is.” You smirk at him.

“True…although, I think it’s really hot when a girl is vocal in the bedroom. If she’s telling me how she likes it then I know she knows her body, and that image alone is so satisfying.” He takes a slow bite of the ice cream to watch your face.

“It doesn’t get frustrating?”

“Not for me.” He shrugs. “I mean, I’m usually able to figure it out without much help, but I always make sure to ask if it feels good.”

“What a gentleman.” You poke his cheek and he swats it away. “I like it when a guy is vocal too, like, isn’t afraid to moan, that kind of stuff.”

“I never understood why guys are so afraid to moan. If it feels good, let it out.”

“Exactly!”

You both completely forgot you had an old porn on in the background until you heard an extremely fake moan rip through the speaker. You both laugh hysterically.

“This must’ve been before boobs jobs got popular, those are as natural as they get.” Harry laughs.

“Jesus, I know, look at those things bounce!” You laugh, and then look down at yourself, frowning.

“What?”

“Well….I have, like, bowling ball tits, like when you go candle pin bowling, is it attractive to watch big, heavy boobs like that?” You point to the screen. “And mine are kinda saggy, and-“

“Please, stop talking about yourself like that. Don’t you have, like, thousands of subscribers on your Only Fans? People clearly like the way you look.”

“They’ve never seen me naked.”

“Still.” He looks down at your covered chest. You were wearing a sweatshirt. “You…not to sound creepy, but you’ve got a great set on you. I’ve always thought so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just never said anything because I didn’t want you knowing I was checking you out.” He smirks and throw one of his pillows at him. “It’s hard not to with some of the shirts or dresses you wear to the clubs sometimes. You really know how to make yourself look sexy.”

“Oh, and I’m not sexy right now?” You chuckle.

“No, you are, it’s just a different kind of sexy. Like, you more cute than anything else, but still totally fuckable.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes and take another bite of ice cream. “Mm, we picked a really good flavor this week.”

“I know, way better than last week.”

“I’ve been having fun trying new flavors with you. Gives me something fun to look forward to. Is this twenty-two? Getting excited over ice cream flavors?”

“Pretty soon we’ll be excited over buying a new vacuum, or a dishrack.”

“Oh, I love a good dishrack.”

Harry bursts out laughing, and so do you. You ended up falling asleep with him in his bed, your head cradled to his chest. Harry was always the perfect cure to cramps.

“Oh…hello.” A girl says to you some random Wednesday morning. You were stood in your kitchen making some toast before class.

“Um, hi?”

“Oh, god, he has a girlfriend doesn’t he.” She whines.

“No! I’m Harry’s roommate. Did you spend the night, would you like some coffee?”

“Got scared for a second there. No, I’m all set thank you. Um, have a good one!” She says and leaves the flat.

“Is…is she gone?” Harry whispers from around the corner and you chuckle.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Thank god.” He sighs.

“Since when do you bring someone home with you on a Tuesday night?”

“I was working late at the coffee shop, and she was there doing homework, and one thing lead to another.” He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“And it was no good?”

“Terrible, I didn’t even ask for her number.”

“What made it so terrible?”

“She just…she wasn’t…doing it for me, I don’t know. There was no connection, Y/N.” He sighs.

“Maybe it’s time you start actually dating and work your way up to fucking someone.”

“That would involve me having to get to know someone, and I can’t stand people.” He pouts.

“Good thing you’re going to be a fucking teacher then.” You laugh. “Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late for class.”

Harry gets ready, and you both walk to campus for your K-12 instructors class. You were thankful to have class with Harry, you weren’t sure what you’d do without him. Just having someone to make eye contact with when someone said something stupid, or if the professor did something cringey.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hey, Daniel.” You smile up at him. “What’s up?”

“Well, I…I was wondering if you had plans this weekend? On Saturday?”

You look at Harry and he shakes his head no.

“Not that I can think of, no.”

“Great, uh, would you like to go to the movies? We could grab dinner as well.”

“I…I’d like that a lot, um, here.” You take your phone out to hand it to him. He puts his number and texts himself.

“Cool, I’ll text you later.” He moves to go sit down a few rows behind you. You look at Harry with a grin on your face.

“See, dating, it’s sorta fun.” You say to him.

“Wining and dining someone sure is a lot of effort. Don’t think I quite have it in me, but you have yourself a good time, pet.”

You have a wonderful time with Daniel on Saturday night. He took you to Panera, and then to see a comedy. He let you pick the movie, and you were delighted. You shared a lot of laughs, and made out with him in his car before he took you home.

“I ha d a lot of fun.” You tell him.

“Me too.” He says. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that.” You smile and get out of his car. When you get up to your flat, you can’t wait to dish with Harry about how your night went.

“Hola chica.” He says to you from the kitchen.

“Late night tacvos, my favorite. Save me any?”

“Course, grab what you like. How was your date?”

“Really good. Daniel’s super sweet.”

“Not sweet enough to bring home?”

“I’m taking my own advice and giving dating a try. He asked me if I wanted to go out again sometime and I said yes. We did kiss for a bit, it was nice.” You shove a taco into your mouth. “Mm, you make the best tacos, Har.”

“Don’t I know it? So…so you kissed, but nothing else?” He mutters as he finishes his food.

“Nope.”

“Did you want to?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug.

“Then you shouldn’t go out with him again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you didn’t wanna rip his clothes off, it’s probably not gonna last.”

“Lust doesn’t make a relationship.”

“No, but it should be passionate. Even if you’re respectful and wait, you should still wanna fuck the person.”

“Sometimes you have to work up to feeling that way.”

“Nah, when you know, you know.” He winks at you and goes over to the couch. “I was about to watch-“

“Oh my god!” You screech.

“What?!”

“Did you not check the mail earlier?! Kevin and Ashley are getting married! This is their save the date. Holy fucking shit.”

“Makes sense, they’ve been together forever.”

“Well, we have to go, Harry.”

“Okay.” He hears you suck your teeth. “What?”

“No plus ones…”

“So? We’d just go together anyways. We can save money on a hotel room too.”

“That’s true. I just…wow, I couldn’t imagine getting married right now.”

“Like I said, when you know, you know.” He plops down onto the couch and turns the TV on. You sit down next to him. You look at him for a moment, and then turn your attention to the TV. Nothing else really needed to be said.

You hated it when Harry was right. Daniel was nice, but there was no spark. You went on four dates with him, and you didn’t want to fuck him.

“Hey, I was looking on the hotel website for the wedding, the room with the king sized bed is actually cheaper than the one with the two queens. That work for you?” He asks you as he comes into your room holding his laptop.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just tell me how much I need to Venmo you.”

“Will do, it’s not terribly expensive. I’ll only need a hundred bucks from you.”

“Perfect.” You take your phone and send him the money. “Thanks for booking it.”

“No problemo.” He comes in and sits on your bed. “What are you up to, babydoll?”

“Just putting some mock lesson plans together.” You sigh. “Could definitely use a break, though.” He lays down on your bed and pats the spot next to him. You roll your eyes at him, and he pouts. “Ugh, fine.” You get onto your bed with him. “Happy now?”

“Very…although….”

“What?”

“Well, you get to lay your head on my chest all the time. I’d like to do the same. Or…okay, there’s this trend on Tik Tok…could I lay down between your legs?”

“Um…like…with your head in my crotch?” You laugh. “I can put a pillow there and you can lay down if you like.”

“Okay.” You grab a pillow for him, and he gets on his back, resting his head, and looking up at you. You run your fingers through his curls and his eyes flutter closed. “I love it when you play with my hair.” He sighs.

“I knew you were coming in here with a motive. Booking the hotel room to get something out of it, huh?”

“Your nails just feel so good, and you know it.”

“Well, you better return the favor. I like getting my hair played with too.”

“I’ll touch you wherever you want me to, alright?” He yawns. “Just don’t stop for a bit.”

You brush off his crude comment, and does as he says. You liked playing with Harry’s hair, so it wasn’t a burden, and you liked when you two would just get cozy together like this. There weren’t many people you felt this comfortable with.

“Y/N, we need to get going down to the ceremony.” Harry calls from the bedroom of the hotel.

“Well, I wouldn’t be running behind if someone hadn’t taken twice as long as they said they would in the bathroom!”

“Can’t rush perfection, darling.” He smirks to himself.

“Mhm, so what does that make me?” You ask as you walk out of the bathroom. His mouth nearly falls open.

You had gotten your hair into a loose, low bun, with plenty of hair in the front to frame your face. You had a strapless purple dress on with black tights and black heels.

“Um…stunning, you look stunning.”

“Thanks.” You smile and grab your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” You wink at him and head out.

You both were blubbering messes during the ceremony. Rachel made sure to make fun you both for it. Once the cocktail hour hit, you were good to go. You found your table and sat down. You talked with some other friends and explained how grad school was going. You make it through the speeches and dinner, and then it’s time to dance.

Being at something like this reminded you of being at an old uni party, only more upscale. Ashley and Kevin’s families were around, so the music wasn’t exactly what you’d normally get down to, but there was an open bar that you were able to take advantage of. Partying with Harry was one of your favorite things. He always used to bring you to the best ones. A slow song starts to play, and you giggle as he bows and extends his hand to you.

“You’re an idiot.” You say as you take his hand and he pulls you close to him.

“Ah, but you’re still choosing to dance with me, babe.”

“Only cause I’m too lazy to find someone else.”

“Ha! That’ll be us someday reading vows at our won wedding. I was too lazy to find someone else, so I settled for my best friend.” He smirks at you and swat his shoulder.

“Would you be quiet? Enough of the people here think something’s going on between us as it is.”

“True.” He looks around at a few people’s wandering eyes. “Should we give them a bit of a show?” He slides his hands further down your back, getting dangerously close to your bum.

“Harry!” You squeal and giggle. “Stop it.” You grab his hands put them to their previous spot. “Just dance with me, would you?”

He chuckles and sways around with you. You both got pretty plastered. You couldn’t stop giggling with him all the way up to your room. You sigh once you get your heels off.

“Okay, I’m using the bathroom first.” You say to him.

“Fine.” He sighs and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.

You head into the bathroom, and use the toilet. You get your tights all the way off and groan when you can’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Ugh, Harry!” You call for him. “I need your help!”

“Yeah?” He says, stepping into the bathroom in only his boxers. Nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“My zipper.”

“Oh.” He places a hand on your shoulder, and the other grips the zipper, slowly dragging it down. You clutch the front of it. “You’re not…uh…no bra?”

“No, there’s one built into the dress.” You turn around to face him. “I just need to grab my pj’s and then I’ll need a couple minutes to take my hair out.” You brush by him to go into your suitcase. He takes the opportunity to use the toilet and brush his teeth.

“Need help with anything else?” He asks as you step back into the bathroom.

“Nope, think I can handle the rest, thanks.” You giggle. “Wouldn’t mind some head scratches once I get into bed though.”

Harry gets into bed and waits for you. You come out with your hair a mess, your makeup smeared from rinsing it, and he furrows his brows at you.

“That’s my shirt.” He says as you knee onto the bed.

“Mhm, well, that’s what happens when you ask me to do your laundry for you. I steal your shirts as compensation.”

“Fair enough I suppose. Come here.”

You smile and lay on his chest so he can run his fingers through your hair. You moan softly from it as you relax into him.

“Feels so nice.” You mumble into his chest.

“I can tell.” One of his hands moves to rub your back. He mimics your moaning and you punch him in the arm. “Oi! I won’t love on you if you do that.”

“M’not asking you to love on me, I just wanted me head scratched. Be grateful you get to hear me make those noises, not everyone does.”

“Bet you’d make thousands if you posted something like that on your Only Fans.” He mutters and you move to look at him. “What?”

“Do you…ever look at my page?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I check your comments to see if anyone’s being rude.”

“Oh…” You swallow. “I make enough doing what I’m doing. I…I’d be too shy to do the really explicate stuff. I also just feel, like, I don’t want just anyone to see me naked, you know? That’s why I don’t go live, everyone would just ask me to take my clothes off.”

“I get that. Wanna keep it private for someone special.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’ve talked about this with you before, but there are plenty of people that are into what I post.”

“You certainly leave them wanting more.”

“You’ve…watched?”

“I’ve checked out some of the free videos you’ve posted, yeah.” He admits shamelessly. “You’re a very good dancer.” He smiles at you.

“I’m going to sleep.” You yawn and turn over. “Goodnight.” You look over your shoulder at him. “If you behave you can spoon me if you want.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Slide my prick between your ass cheeks? Grow up.” He says as he wraps his arm around you. You can’t help but laugh. “However, if I get hard while I’m sleeping you can’t get mad.”

“Suppose it’s not my fault I have such a fat, juicy ass, hm?”

“Go to sleep.” He laughs, and presses his chest to your back.

“Mm, you’re so cozy, Harry.”

“I know I am. Go to sleep, lovie.” He coos, and rubs at your side.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” He sighs and nestles into the back of your head.

“So…you let him spoon you all night, and nothing happened?” Rachel whispers to you at breakfast the next morning.

“Happens more often than not, it’s not a big deal.”

“You two are so fucking weird! I’ve literally never met two people who were close that do what you do. Why not just make the jump? Neither one of you can manage to make another relationship work.”

“I don’t know…I…I just don’t see him like that, and I know Harry. If he really liked me like that he’d go for it.”

“Maybe he’s just scared to fuck it up with you.”

“Exactly, so, let’s just not fuck it up and try anything.”

“What are you two hens clucking about, hm?” Harry says as he sits down, putting a cinnamon roll in front of you. “Had you favorite.”

“I’m trying to watch the carbs…” You mutter.

“Please.” He scoffs. “Would you just eat the fucking pastry? It’s good for you.”

“How is that thing good for me?” You laugh.

“It makes you happy when you eat it. You always hum and smile when you eat a cinnamon roll.”

“How sweet of you to notice.” Rachel remarks. “You’re practically her boyfriend.”

“Rachel.” You seethe, and take a bite of the pastry. You hum softly. “Why do these bloody things taste so good, huh?”

Harry chuckles and rubs the back of your neck briefly as he eats his own breakfast. He and Rachel share a glance, but that’s the extent of that interaction.

“Hey, Harry?” You tap on the outside of his door frame.

“Yeah, babe?” He says, taking his headphones out. It was a Friday evening and you both were doing homework. His eyes widen when he looks at you. “Your face is all flushed, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I just…could you come look at something for me?”

“Sure.” He follows you to your room and sits with you on your bed.

“Um...could I…could I show you some new photos I took yesterday? I just finished editing them…and I’m feeling a little self-conscious.”

“Aw, why? You’re so beautiful.” He keeps your cheek and rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. “Course I’ll look ‘em over for you.”

“Thanks.” You swallow and put your laptop on his lap. “So…like usual, they’re not overly explicit, but I feel like my boobs look weird. I should have gotten something with more support.” You blush and point to the photo.

“They’re perfect, you look perfect, Y/N.” You suck your teeth at him. “You do! What else do you want me to say?”

“Okay, what about this one?”

“Perfect.”

“This one?”

“Perfect.”

“But what about this one?”

“Perfect, they’re all perfect. I don’t know why you don’t think so.” He frowns and sets your laptop down on your desk. He turns to look at you. “What’s really going on?”

“It’s just…I have all these people leaving comments saying they wish they could know me, date, fuck me…and…like I don’t know any of them! All they know about me is that I can dance, and I look cute sucking on a lollypop. I…if I wasn’t making the money I that I am I’d stop doing it because I just want someone real to say all of those things to me, you know?”

“Y/N…” Harry sighs. “I know you, I wanna date you, and I certainly want to fuck you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s so cliché it’s disgusting, isn’t it?” He smirks. “But it’s how I feel. I’m sick of tip toeing around it.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Can’t really pinpoint it, I don’t think it’s been long, but it doesn’t feel new either.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and he puts his hand back on your cheek. You lean into it. You felt deeply confused.

“I just never thought we’d…like…I just didn’t think you were into my like that.”

“Well, I am, so…what do you think? We already get along great. We like spending time together. I truthfully can’t stand other people. I think you’re the only person’s day I actually like hearing about. Have you really never thought about it?”

“I don’t know! You never made a move when we were in undergrad, with all those nights we slept next to each other, you never did anything…”

“Yeah, because you were asleep, Y/N.” He deadpans. “What did you want me to do? Feel you up while you were unconscious? Or better yet, make a move while we were both intoxicated?”

“No, of course not.” You shake your head. “I…I don’t know what I wanted. I just felt lucky that I had such a good friend.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighs. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, this doesn’t need to be weird. Just know if you wanted to give it a try, I’d be down.”

“You’re genuinely attracted to me, like, physically?”

“Yes.” He chuckles. “And I like what you got going on up here too.” He taps your forehead with his index finger. “But you knew that already. What about me, are you physically attracted to me?”

“Well…yeah, you know you’re hot.”

“I didn’t ask you what I know.” He smirks.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve always thought you were handsome, but you used to really be a douchebag, it turned me off. Made it easier to just be your friend.” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes.

“M’not like that anymore.” He inches closer to you. You could feel his minty breath fanning over you.

“I know.” You say just above a whisper. The mood had changed immensely. The dim lighting in your room was creating an atmosphere you had never really felt with him before.

“So…I guess the only thing left to figure out is if there’s any real heat between us.” You nod at him as his hand goes back to cradle your cheek once more. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

You move towards each other slowly, your lips gracefully pressing against each other’s. You felt scared as your eyes pinched closed. It was scary to kiss your best friend, and what was scarier was that fact that it felt so natural and seamless. He pulls away, just to see if you’ll chase him, and you do, kissing him again. You do the same to him, and he comes chasing after your soft lips.

“Harry.” You whisper as you press your forehead to his.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“I…I wanna have sex with you.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He cups both of your cheeks and pulls your lips back to his. His tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. He runs his lips back and forth over yours, and you open up for him. Your tongues meet, and you lick against each other, eliciting a moan from the both of you. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lets you lift it off. Your run your hands up and down his stomach as you continue to explore each other’s mouths, lips getting puffy and swollen. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth while he unzips the sweatshirt you’re wearing. He pushes it off your shoulders, and you shimmy it the rest of the way off. He’s met with your bare breasts, and he licks his lips as he looks at them.

Harry pulls you closer to him, and his lips press against your neck. You cling to his biceps as he works his mouth down your chest. He looks up at you as he sucks on one of your nipples, rolling it between your teeth. You can’t help your head from falling back. He slides down to the floor as he continues to kiss on you. Your mouth falls open as he nips and sucks on your stomach, and his fingers hook into your leggings. He looks up at you and you nod. He tugs your leggings and underwear down your legs and gets them all the way off.

“Y/N, you’re sure?”

“Yes, I want you to, please.”

You open your legs for him, and he just about loses it from your confidence. He leans forward and kisses each of your hips. You think he’s about to go for your center, but he sucks on your inner thigh. You flinch from the sensitivity, but it feels good. You make sure to sit up on your elbows so you can watch him. He looks up at you and licks a flat stripe between your folds. He sucks on each of your lips before spreading you apart with his thumbs to focus on your clit. He sucks on it at first, harshly, and you gasp. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth against it. He runs his hands along your thighs to keep you open for him. You were clenching around nothing. His tongue was warm and wet, and everything you needed.

Your body starts to feel warm all over, you can feel your orgasm start to bubble up from within your lower belly. You let yourself fall back against the bed as you start to pant. Your voice cracks as louder moans begin to rip through your throat. He was sucking and slurping on your cunt, noises you had never heard before while someone was going down on you. And to really push you over the edge, he was moaning into you. Not little whimpers or grunts, genuine moans that were vibrating into you.

“Oh my god!” You cry out. A few tears roll down your cheeks as he continues to lap around you, helping you come down.

He kisses back up your body until he’s hovering over you. He smears his lips over yours, and you grunt, pulling him closer to you. It was the filthiest kiss of your life, completely tasting yourself on him, but you didn’t care. He just made you feel better than anyone ever did. You push him so he’ll on his back, and this time you’re the one to sink onto the floor. You get his jeans and boxers down his legs. Your eyes bug out when you see his large prick slap back against his stomach.

“Christ, Harry.”

“As if you didn’t already know.” He smirks.

“I mean, I had an idea.”

You spit into your hand and wrap it around his length. He grits his teeth as you start to slowly pump him up and down. You run his tip along your lips, and his mouth falls open. Your tongue presses over his slit and you wrap your lips around him. You suckle his tip, eliciting a moan from him. You hollow your cheeks and sink almost all the way down on him. You just wanted to feel him down your throat. You breathe your nose and just hold him there.

“Y/N.” He stutters.

You slowly pull off of him, a string of spit keeping you connected. You suck in a breath before sinking back down on him, not quite as much as you took before, and you bob up and down his length. You cup his balls and massage them as you make a mess of his prick. There was spit, drool, and precome dripping down your chin. Harry was a panting mess on the bed. His hands were gripping at the sheets, and the sight of him doing that causes you to moan. To see his veins popping out the way they were was enough to make you come again.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You moan around him as his come spurts into your mouth. You swallow it all and suck him dry. He pulls you up to him, dumbfounded that you just did what you did.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He breathes.

“I do, I’ve heard you have pretty good stamina.” You peck his lips. “I’m sure you’ll get hard again soon.”

He groans and shifts his thighs between your legs, making you gasp. He grips your hips and starts moving you back and forth along his tiger tattoo. Your nails dig into his chest as you work to grind against him.

“H-Harry.” You mewl.

“Yeah, ride my fucking leg, baby, show me how you do it.”

“God.”

“I want you so bad, I wanna fuck you so bad, Y/N.”

“Oh, oh!” You come undone on his thigh. You lean down and press your lips to his, licking into his mouth. Before you know it he’s moving you up his body, turning you around, and licking back into your cunt. “Shit!”

He’s relentless with you, fucking you with his tongue, telling you to bounce up and down on him, and you listen. He sucks on your clit again, and you fall forward, head resting on his thigh. You watch as his cock bloats back up. You’d never know someone to enjoy doing this so much. You kiss on his thigh because you just needed to do something with your mouth. He makes you come again, and he lifts you off of his face.

“Think you can keep going?” He smirks as your head falls back against your pillows.

He grabs your legs and pushes them back so your knees press against the bed. He lifts your bum enough to rest on his thighs, and he dips his tongue back into your cunt. This was some serious teasing. You watch as his tongue goes in and out of you, deeper each time. He reaches forward with one of his hands to rub your clit. It was throbbing for him.

“Harry, please.”

“What, no good?”

“No, it’s amazing, but…I really wanna feel your dick now, please, I know you’re hard again.”

“You just taste so good.” He brings his mouth down to your cunt and sucks on it.

“This won’t be the only time I’ll let your head between my legs, I promise.” You let your legs drop back to lay normally. He sits back as you look at each other. “When was the last time you were tested? I…I’m clean, and if you are too, I’d prefer not to use a condom if you feel comfortable with that.”

“STD test came back negative a month ago when I went in for a checkup. You’re on the pill?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down to kiss you, and then he pulls back to paint his cock with your wetness that was uncontrollably leaking out of you for him. He presses his tip against your clit, and slides it down your slit. He pushes inside you slowly. He fills you to the hilt, and waits. For a moment he just wants to enjoy how tight and snug you are around him. You push your hips up and start rocking against him.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Because I’m moving myself on you?” You giggle.

“I just think it’s cute that you’re so goddamn impatient.”

“Would you just shut up and show what you can do with this thing? Or am I gonna have to do all of this myself?”

He accepts the challenge, pulling his hips back, and snapping them forward. You reach behind yourself to press against the headboard so your head doesn’t smack against it. He drives it into you fast and deep. He pushes you to the brink of coming, but he pulls all the way out of you. Before you can complain he flips you over, and grabs your hips. He pulls you back to him and slips back inside. You moan out from the new angle, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours makes your eyes roll back. He gives your bum a light smack and you grunt.

“You can do that a little harder, a little.” You didn’t want him to fully spank you, you weren’t into that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind feeling it a little more. He delivers a harsher smack and you groan again.

“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen.” He smacks you again and you grip onto the pillows. He grips the back of your neck to get a steadier pace going, and he uses his other hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re so attentive.” You manage to say. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna ruin you for any other guy.”

“Don’t want any other guy.” You admit. “I don’t want anyone else to fuck me.”

“Christ.” He moans.

His fingers move faster on your clit, and his tip pounds against your g-spot, and you’re coming. You’re coming hard around him. He pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You look up at him, completely frazzled.

“I want you ride me.”

“Okay.” You breathe. You shuffle around and swing your leg over him. You line him up with yourself and sink down on him.

He fondles your breasts as you move up and down on him. He kisses on your chest as you get a rhythm going. He leans back just to watch your tits bounce up and down. He looks up at you and grips you by the back of your neck to pull your mouth down to his. You breathe each other in and out as you moan and gasp. He takes control by gripping your hips, and you cling to him to let him just do what he wanted with you. You tighten around him and his head falls back for a moment.

“Where can I come?” He asks.

“Where do you want to come?”

“Inside you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grunts.

You cry out as he does when he comes. You don’t think you had ever felt so full in your life. He kisses you as you both catch your breaths. You tug at his hair, and grind against him. You were close to coming again. He takes the hint and snakes his hand between you both and rubs your clit. Your orgasm rips through you, and you moan into his neck.

“I’m so fucking sweaty.” You whisper.

“Do you wanna take a shower?”

“Yeah.” You look up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do I still have legs? Because I can’t feel them.”

He puffs out some air as he laughs, smoothing some hair away from your face.

“Yes, you still have legs, Y/N. Should I carry you to the bathroom?”

“Please, I really need to pee.”

He kisses your forehead and slowly lifts you off of him. You clench so nothing falls out. You didn’t want to make a bigger mess of your bed.

“We can sleep in my room and wash your sheets tomorrow, don’t worry about that.” He says as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom.

He sets you down on the toilet and steps out to give you some privacy. Once he hears the water for the shower start he comes back in. He splays a hand on your back and gives you a gentle rub before you both step in. You felt overwhelmed. You just had the best sex of your life with your very best friend. As he reaches for his body wash you swat his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Would you…would you just hold me?” Your bottom lip quivers, and he pulls you into his chest.

You nestle into him, and just stand under the warm water with him. He cradles your head and lets you cry into him. He starts to cry too, although he’s not really sure why.

“I don’t want anything to get fucked up between us, Harry.” You look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I love you so much, and I don’t want something bad to happen that’ll make us hate each other.”

“M’not gonna let that happen.” He wipes your tears away, and then wipes away his own. “We’re gonna do this right. We’ll go out on dates, and we’ll see where it goes, and I hope it goes well because I love you too, and I value so many of the things we have with each other.”

You each take turns scrubbing each other down, getting clean. It’s soothing, and calming. You both relax, and get wrapped up into some towels. You run the blow dryer through your hair quickly just so it’s not sopping wet. He gives you one of his bed shirts to wear, and you crawl into bed with him. Being immersed in his scent was exactly what you needed. You rest your head on his chest, and he throws his arm around you.

“When was the last time you actually dated someone?” You ask softly.

“Um…think I was sixteen to be honest with you.”

“Ah, so a while.” You chuckle.

“You literally know my entire sexual history, and I know yours, let’s not pretend we’re both experts with all this.”

“So…we’ll just make this up as we go? I mean, I like that we sleep together sometimes, but I wanna keep my room, I don’t wanna move into the same room.”

“Christ, slow down, we just got together and you’re already talking about moving into the same bedroom?” You swat at his chest and he laughs, kissing the top of your head. “In all seriousness, I feel the same way, I think we should still have our separate spaces. You get pissed off with me easily.”

“Maybe you should try not to piss me off then.”

“Well, now that I know you enjoy a good tonguing, I’m not really worried about it. God, we can make up from a fight with sex instead of watching Dirty Dancing, it’s gonna be incredible.”

“Can…can we not do both?” You look up at him. “I love singing Hungry Eyes with you.”

“Yeah, both is good.”

“And I wanna make sure we clarify what are dates, and what’s just hanging out. I want dates to feel…special, I don’t know.”

“Can do. I think study dates at the library are gonna be my favorite.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I can rile you up. I’ll sit across from you to play footsie, and then I’ll run my foot up your leg. I’ll make eyes at you. You’ll end up blowing me in the bathroom, it’ll be great.”

“Mm, yes, well, what if my leg’s the one doing the rubbing? I could probably make you come in your pants from my foot on your crotch alone.”

“Okay, no study dates. You know what I would really like, though?”

“What?”

“Sometimes…sometimes I really miss you when I work double shifts at work, and then I feel bad because you’re here all by yourself…so maybe you could come to the coffee shop more? Hang out, do homework, I’ll give you free food.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me.” You bite your bottom lip. “You’re not gonna ask me to give up my Only Fans are you?”

“What? No, why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know…you’re the jealous type, Harry.”

“True…but if that’s what you wanna do for work, I don’t have a problem with it. Can I tell you a dirty secret?”

“Always.”

“I’m subscribed to your page.”

“You are?!”

“Yeah…I’ve never wanked to your stuff because I feel like that would be creepy, but I do keep up with what you post.”

“I’m not gonna do it forever, once I get a real job I won’t need it…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, babe. Even if you were doing the really filthy stuff, I wouldn’t care. That’s your business.”

“God, if I wasn’t so tired I’d hop on your dick again.”

He chuckles at that and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so. Although, I’m not looking forward to telling Rachel. The it’s about time or I told you so is not gonna be fun.”

“Same with Niall and Louis. We just gotta rip the band aid.”

You hum your response and get a little cozier by putting one of your legs over his. It was easy enough to fall asleep. You talked, so you weren’t worried about your friendship ending. If anything, it was all going to get better. Being able to kiss and touch on top of how you were with each other already was just the cherry on top. It didn’t happen over drinks, it didn’t happen in a club, and it didn’t happen by mistake. This was on purpose. He was the person you were supposed to be with, and he felt the same way.

#and they were roommates #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #jealous!Harry #bestfriend!Harry #roommate!Harry #roommate!reader

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early2000smovieimagines · 4 years ago

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Meeting and Dating George Weasley

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and George first meet when you’re both attending Hogwarts. Him and Fred are obviously pretty popular so you probably know about him before he knows about you.

- As most couples in school do, you met because you were placed in the same class and wound up sitting pretty close to each other. This class also just so happened to only contain one Weasley in it; something I’m sure happened quite a lot with the trouble the twins always started.

- Since he doesn’t have his twin, he’s a bit more focused on the classroom itself and eager to find himself the oh so important class buddy. While he was sitting at his desk, bored out of his mind, his eyes fell on you for the first time and he immediately perked up. He found his buddy.

- Both of the Weasley twins are quite social; or at least not scared of social interaction, so he has no problem coming up to you and introducing himself. He’s eager to make you his friend and get closer to you, and since he’s funny, sweet, charismatic and much, much more, you’re more than happy to accept his friendship.

- George sort of has a crush on your for a while before he asks you out; which Fred obviously rags on him for. And his crush on you only worsens as time passes and everyone he knows starts to catch on to his affections, hinting at him needing to ask you out.

- You were invited to the burrow at least once and his Mom even gave him a knowing look, telling him he should get a move on and saying “sure you don’t” when he shyly insisted that he didn’t know what she was talking about.

- Although it takes him a bit of time, he does manage to ask you out with little problem.

- George has always been a bit affectionate with you so when he took your hand in both of his and started toying with your fingers as you were doing something, you really didn’t pay it any mind.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to go out sometime, love?”

- You froze for a second, not expecting to hear those words leaving his mouth, and his heart raced as he awaited your response. You looked over at him to see if he was joking or not and gave him a genuine smile as you were met with his sincere face.

“I would love that George.” He smiled and pressed his lips to the back of your hand.

- The two of you have sort of already done everything you could together; in regards to going to places at Hogsmeade and stuff like that, so you really don’t have a very extravagant first date. You both just walk around the more wooded areas of Hogwarts, talking, teasing, and nudging each others shoulders.

- You share your first kiss that same day; he just couldn’t help himself. He was walking backwards in front of you for a while before he stopped, forcing you to stop as well. He took your face in his hands, looking into your eyes for a moment before slowly leaning in, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

- Your lips met in a soft, somewhat chaste kiss and you both smiled at each other after pulling away. He kissed your forehead before wrapping his arm around you and continuing your walk.

- And just like that, everything in George’s life seems to fall perfectly into place. You’re his and he couldn’t be happier.

- Lots of Pda. He’ll usually keep his affection sorta innocent when you’re in the public eye, the idea of getting heated when one of his siblings can see is a bit awkward to him and he’s just more of a reserved person in general. The absolute most you’ll get is a makeout at a party, other than that, he’s just tooth achingly sweet.

- He loves giving you affection but he especially loves you giving him affection. He had to share his mother and father with six siblings growing up so having one person; especially one that he loves so much, giving him their undivided and loving attention is like a dream.

- Handholding and hand kisses. He likes taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it before he laces your fingers together.

- Getting pulled into his side whenever you’re standing next to him. He’ll wrap an arm around your waist and keep you close to him, finding comfort in you being all nestled into him.

- Cheek and forehead kisses.

- Having kisses pressed all over your face before he catches your lips in his.

- Sweet and slow kisses. He likes keeping your lips on his for as long as he can. He also likes holding your face in his hands whenever he kisses you, lovingly brushing his thumb against your cheek bone as the two of you pull away.

- You holding his face in your hands? Godlike.

- He loves when you straddle his lap as you’re snogging; nothing beats it in his eyes.

- Sometimes, he’ll lean down and rest both his arms on your shoulder, his chin laying against his forearms/hands and there’s just something about it that never fails to fluster you; at least a little bit. It’s probably the close proximity and the fact that he brushes kisses along the back of your neck absentmindedly.

- Princess, darling, love, etc. He adores giving you pet names. And you giving him them? He didn’t think he could love you more but he stood corrected the first time you called him one.

- He likes spooning as much as the next boy but there’s just something about resting his head on your chest or borderline sleeping on top of you with his head in the crook of your neck that he finds so comforting.

- Waking up next to you is one of the best feelings in the world to him. His eyes slowly opening to see the sunlight streaming on your face, hearing your soft breathing, having those snuggly, soft spoken conversations. He lives for it.

- Him reading to you. It melted his heart the first time you cuddled up to him, asking what he was reading and saying that it sounded nice, admitting happily that you’d like to hear some when he asked if you would.

- George is used to being the one who explains things so if you have a question, he usually has the answer; and he always gives it to you with minimal teasing.

- If you ever give him a gift, just know that it will be worn, displayed or shown off with pride. He’ll always give you a kiss and an adorable thank you, showing it the upmost love as though it’s the best thing he owns.

- He likes to rag on you for it but he secretly loves when you ask him to reach things for you.

- Competitions and bets for kisses.

- Cheering him on at Quidditch games. Its quite funny to see how aggressive your typically sweet and fairly docile boyfriend can be whenever he’s out on the field.

- Showing him different muggle things. He’s a particular fan of Saturday morning cartoons.

- Going to Zonkos. You’re always dragged there whenever you go to Hogsmeade, well, there’s less dragging and more relenting on your part after he gives you puppy dog eyes.

- Going to Madam Puddifoots. He definitely feels a bit out of place but he doesn’t mind too much, he thinks it’s sort of sweet and finds the sight of you in the shop to be quite cute.

- Sneaking around the school using the marauder's map and just his impressive memory of the castles layout. You swear that he must have the entire school memorized.

- Helping him and Fred with pranks.

- Getting to hear all about his new product and prank ideas.

- He’s sorta used to just going along with Fred's plans so he tends to be fine with whatever you want to do. He may teasingly whine and complain but he never really has an issue with any of it.

- Fred third wheeling or going on double dates with you guys, though it isn’t really third wheeling when it’s Fred; he’s just as involved in your relationship as you are.

- Visiting the burrow and writing each other letters during your breaks. Molly absolutely loves you and welcomes you with open arms. She always finds something to invite you to.

- Helping out at the shop once they buy it. The two of you make goo goo eyes at each other from across the store and Fred teasingly pretends to gag whenever he makes eye contact with one of you afterwards.

- He somewhat fusses over you; especially when you’re out in the elements. He’ll pull your jacket collar closer to your neck, put your hat and scarf on for you, etc. He has this cute need to take care of you.

- Fred teasing the two of you; or just George when the two of them are alone. You’re pretty used to it by now but he does occasionally manage to somewhat fluster you.

- Him whispering little comments to you; especially when he’s bored. You’ll have to stifle more than a few laughs during class.

- He’s always able to make you laugh and he absolutely lives for it. It doesn’t matter if your laugh is the ugliest thing in the world, it’s still music to his ears.

- He hates when you worry over him; though he does like the fact that you care about him enough to do so, so he’ll usually try and joke around to make you relax and feel better.

- Assuring him that you don’t mind his holiness. He’ll pretend that it doesn’t bother him but you know that it does so you take special care in reminding him that it doesn’t matter to you.

- George has always sort of felt like the lesser twin so it means a lot to him whenever you reassure him that you only love; and have only ever loved, him. He could have proposed to you right then and there when you first said so.

- He understands you better than anyone else. If you’re going through something, he’s right there with you, comforting you and trying his best to help.

- We’ve got ourselves a jealous boy right here. Since George is a bit insecure, he definitely has a habit of getting jealous over you. He tries to reason with himself that it’s not his place to interrupt or ask you about the guys you’re around but sometimes he just can’t help it.

- He’s definitely a bit overprotective of you, almost in a maternal/paternal way at times. He’ll almost kill himself a dozen times for the sake of a prank but the minute you do something remotely risky, he’s trying to stop you like he’s your parent.

- Whenever anything upsetting or scary happens, he’s the first person to ask if you’re okay. He sticks by your side and watches out for you like his life depends on it.

- George is a lover, not a fighter. The two of you rarely have fights but when you do, they’re more so just arguments that may or may not get a bit heated; depending on the subject matter.

- George has always been good at smoothing things over and understanding other peoples point of views so your arguments never last very long. You rarely ever not resolve an argument before you leave each others sides, unless you really need to leave for something, but when that happens you’re usually over it by the time you reunite again.

- Lots of I love you’s and all kinds of them at that. He’ll say them sincerely, he’ll say them playfully, he’ll jokingly sing them; whatever comes to mind or fits the mood. He just loves to say I love you.

- He may lose an ear but he doesn’t intend on losing you anytime soon. He knew you were the one the moment he laid eyes on you and he never ceases to be amazed by you.

#hp imagines #hp imagine #hp headcanons #hp headcanon #george weasley imagine #george weasley headcanons #george weasley headcanon #george weasley imagines #harry potter imagines #harry potter headcanons

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hopelesshawks · 3 years ago

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Hey hey pspspsps if ur down to write some genshin headcanons👀👀 I’d loveee to see some modern au Tohma, Xiao, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli and Diluc headcanons 👀👀 like college age mayhaps 👀👀

Ohhh ok BUCKLE UP KIDS it’s Genshin modern college au headcanons here we go!

Warnings for alcohol mention and very brief mention of recreational drug use

I feel like I should disclaimer that I’m in a coed frat and went to a small to mid size technical school that’s pretty nerdy so my experience with frats is probably very different and not nearly as gross as the like general US State School experience can be

Tohma

Smooth talker, big man on campus 100%

Probably joined a frat literally the minute he could for the connections and so he could meet even more people

Dude has been throwing ragers since like the first month of his freshman year, you don’t know how he knows so many goddamn people on campus he just does

Seems like a player and hopeless flirt but is actually such a dorky little himbo when you get to know him

If you need any kind of recommendation on anything he’s your guy. From the best spots to nap on campus to the best restaurants within walking distance.

In a relationship he’s super open about his affection and probably is into PDA. It’s not a possessive thing, he’s just so in awe he gets to have you that he wants to enjoy every second of it so why miss out on a hug or kiss from you just because there’s a few people around

Xiao

The first several times you interacted you were probably forced too. Like you were partners on a group assignment so he had to deal with you for a little bit and eventually warmed up

Has a reputation among the rest of your class for how standoffish he is so when he started hanging out with you a few of the other people from your year legit were just like “h o w” and you can’t even give them a proper answer tbh because even you don’t know

Is probably some kind of writing/English/history major

Not only is willing to fight anyone who tries to imply his degree isn’t as useful as a STEM one, but actually has gotten in multiple, some of which almost came down to an actual physical fight before you dragged him away

Definitely pouted about you pulling him away but will yell at you if you call it pouting

In a relationship there is almost no PDA. He might hold your hand and if someone makes him jealous enough he may pull you a little closer and/or put himself between the two of you but for the most part he feels like his relationship is no one else’s goddamn business and he has no interest in giving people a show

Kaeya

The biggest little shit as always

Also joined a frat but is mostly in it for the free booze and he says the brotherhood but you’re pretty sure he just likes the way the other members hang on his every word when he speaks

Doesn’t believe in the cult-like level of loyalty some frats expect and so will 1000% report any of his fellow brothers who try to be shady/scummy/gross. No one would dare get mad at him for it so it’s actually helped the frat stay a healthy environment, 10/10 could trust the guys there with your drinks

Honestly at this point the frat is pretty much just Kaeya’s Followers(tm) and by his senior year the juniors get worried about it because “uhhh who becomes Kaeya when Kaeya graduates” and when they try to ask Kaeya this question he just winks and gives an answer that is entirely unhelpful and sounds like it’s at least 80% bullshit

Never seems to go to class and yet somehow always has amazing grades

In a relationship acts very flirty and is constantly teasing you in public, but stops short of anything above mild pda and in private gets really soft and sweet he’ll deny it if you try to point this out in front of others though

Childe

Is in the literal douchiest frat on campus fuck the Fatui like you’re constantly trying to get him to de-brother but he’s got a misplaced loyalty to them that keeps him in the organization

First time you met him you wanted to punch him in the face but he also quickly becomes the only thing stopping you from failing out of a class the two of you share and over the course of that time he manages to win you over at least a little bit

It’s all fun and games until someone pisses him off. He’s another one that you have to try and drag away from physical altercations on a semi-regular basis

Once he notices that you care enough to try and drag him away or worry about him if he’s injured in a fight, he starts picking more of them just to see your reaction

Even if y’all’s relationship is entirely platonic he flirts with you. He thinks it’s funny when he can manage to fluster you so he tries to make a game out of it even if he doesn’t actually mean any of the things he’s saying

If you guys are in a relationship he definitely packs on the PDA, partially to fluster you, partially because he’s possessive and he doesn’t like the way some of his frat brothers look at you sometimes so he wants everyone to be totally clear on who exactly you belong to

Zhongli

Still rich, still never has any fucking money on him. The number of times you’ve had to cover for this man because he’s forgotten his wallet in his dorm or straight up lost it is honestly ridiculous at this point but you can’t even be mad at it because he invites you to his family’s beach house and shit to compensate

He’s the kind of rich where his family has had money forever so he genuinely doesn’t even realize that some things aren’t normal experiences like not everyone grew up with a butler and all designer clothes, etc.

Definitely an Econ major because his parents want him to take over the family corporation but on the low has 0 intentions of doing so and actually intends to create his own start up after graduation and do something he wants to do without having to answer to anyone

He’s so pretty and for what? Mans is oblivious as fuck. Literally half the people on campus that are into dudes have a crush on him but he has no idea and if you try to point it out to him he’ll wave you off

In a relationship he’s either taking you to the shitty Mexican restaurant on campus that’s open until like 3am on weekends or five star restaurants, no in between. You’re either eating like royalty because he knows you deserve it, or eating like broke college kids because he wants the ✨experience✨

He gives me gentlemanly PDA vibes, like he’s not gonna makeout with you in the quad but he’ll kiss your hand or your cheek, hold you close to him, and otherwise make it clear that he’s very much happily in love with you

Diluc

Not only is this man not in a frat, he probably actively campaigns against their existence and isn’t quiet about hating them

Always goes to class and thus always has amazing grades

Won’t get into physical fights the way Childe and Xiao do even though he could hold his own in one if he wanted to, but regularly gets into debates with people and is not afraid to drag you into the middle of it even if it has nothing to do with you

Doesn’t drink which frequently means him playing caretaker/mom friend when y’all go to parties together and while he might complain about it he secretly loves that you trust him to take care of you if you get sloppy drunk/high/crossed

Flusters easily but good at hiding it. If you flirt with this man in public his expression won’t change while he’s telling you to stop fucking around but his face will be going as red as his hair

In a relationship he’s not a fan of PDA but is a fan of you, so while he probably keeps the affection to a minimum while you’re out and about he still is maintaining some sort of physical contact with you most of the time or at the very least is keeping you close

#hhrequests #hopeless.olivia #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin tohma #tohma headcanons #genshin xiao #xiao headcanons #genshin kaeya #kaeya headcanons #genshin childe #childe headcanons #genshin zhongli #zhongli headcanons #genshin diluc #diluc headcanons

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fumiko-matsubara · 3 years ago

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Chiba and Kurahashi Friendship Headcanons

How they address each other: It used to be "Chiba-chan and Kurahashi-san" at first. But literally less than a week after they started to hang out more, they began addressing each other as "Ryuuchan and Hinano".

They make up the 2/6 of the moodmaker line in the class (the other four being Okajima, Nakamura, Maehara, and Kayano.)

But instead of doing things like cracking jokes or pulling actually funny pranks, they were considered as moodmakers of the class because the energy they carry around them is contagious, especially when they interact. One just can't help but to smile at the sight of two happy people happily talking to each other.

Flowers basically bloom and light up the room the moment these two smiley kids began walking towards each other, what more if they began talking 😭

Surprisingly, it was Chiba who initiated the friendship, or at least started approaching Kurahashi which soon led to them being friends.

At first it was just for things like reminding her about certain school works or usually being the first to answer Kurahashi's questions if she has any. Then it slowly transitioned to Chiba casually joining into group conversations until it had come to the point where he initiates a conversation with her instead.

Of course it didn't take long until Kurahashi started to approach him first herself, especially since she has always been reciprocal to Chiba's approaches.

This is one of the main reasons why Chiba likes talking to her, the fact that she returns the sentiment with the same, or even more energy. It was the first time someone had not been once hesitant towards him and it made him incredibly happy knowing that there is actually someone who doesn't judge him for his appearance.

He actually almost teared up when Kurahashi once remarked that he's not as scary as some people claim him to be.

There's a very wide range of topics that they converse about, as they have differing interests yet still don't mind listening to the other.

Especially since Chiba is one not to be shy about having to listen to "girly" topics, as his family comprises of mostly women which may have gotten him used to hearing such topics growing up, and may even possibly be interested in them himself.

So like if Kurahashi was looking at a fashion magazine and asked him if a certain outfit would look good on her or not, expect that Chiba can easily give her a solid answer, sometimes even recommend other fits he'd seen in the magazine to her instead.

Chiba: "Ahh my sisters were looking at the same copy this morning and there's a cute dress here I think you'd like, Hinano! :D"

Kurahashi: "Omg can you show me?? :D"

Chiba has been long aware about Kurahashi's crush admiration towards Karasuma before it became obvious to the whole class. He would totally let her ramble or even complain to him regarding Karasuma, never interrupting her, then successfully consoles her whenever it shows that she needs it.

Kurahashi: "Karasuma-sensei seemed so distant from us :("

Chiba: "He's even busier these days... Don't worry too much about it, Hinano. Who knows, he might have actually wanted to join us but can't have the time to because of how much work he has to do."

Kurahashi: "... yeah you're right! I hope it gets better for him soon then so we all can hang out together :D"

[This conversation totally happened in canon. You cannot convince me otherwise].

Chiba offhandedly mentioned once that he has a whole family of cats and it led to Kurahashi inevitably visiting his place on the same day just to see the cats.

You can imagine the shock written on his mother's face when she saw her son bringing such a cute and sweet girl who claimed to be his friend to their home that day.

Of course, she ended up adoring Kurahashi a lot not long after. Chiba already expected this from his mother and so wasn't even the least embarrassed that she kept approaching Kurahashi even for the tiniest things (unless he was the topic oh lord).

Naturally, among his sisters, Kurahashi got along with Yuko (youngest sister) the most, as they have very similar personalities and instantly clicked.

She wasn't able to meet Kohaku (second youngest sister) that day, as she was apparently staying at a friend's place. But Chiba was sure that they'd also get along.

There are two adult cats living in the Chiba residence. The male cat, which is the eldest, is pretty much attached to Chiba as they have been together since he was 7 years old. Yuko basically claimed their female cat, who recently had given birth to plenty of kittens.

While Kurahashi was busy cooing over the cute kitties, Rena (the eldest sister), who had just got home from club activities, approached her brother and remarked: "I already find it hard to believe that you actually got a girlfriend but oh wow I didn't think she'd be this cute."

Chiba: "That's not her 😐"

Chiba would actually fight anyone who dares to assume that his relationship with Hinano goes beyond being good friends. It felt so nice to have such a genuine friend and he doesn't want anyone to ruin that with their assumptions.

Maehara: "Oho? Kurahashi went to your place yesterday??"

Chiba: "Yeah she did and you better not have any weird thoughts about it or I'll deck you."

And don't even get me started with their shopping adventures 💔. Their friendship has come to a point that if Kurahashi's circle of friends aren't available on a day when she wants to go shopping with them, she can easily invite Chiba instead without having any second thoughts.

The first time it happened, she was mildly surprised that Chiba knows his way through the shopping district and would even take the lead in certain locations as if he had been there often enough to seemingly memorize the whole place.

Kurahashi: "There's a huge sale today but everyone has plans after school... ;-;"

Chiba: "Hmm? I'm free today, Hinano. Will you be okay with having me instead?"

Kurahashi: ":D"

Chiba always offers to carry their shopping bags (yes he always ends up shopping for himself as well lol) and Kurahashi is the one who suggests places for them to rest or eat at after spending a long time walking from one store to another.

While they are resting or eating, they would still have lots to talk about.

Actually, there was almost never a time where they're not chatty together. It was as if the moment one sees the other, there is already a topic in their minds that they want to talk about. So yeah, the room is never quiet with them together lol.

Some stuffs I thought about them because I love them and their friendship so much omg.

I like to think that Kurahashi is Chiba's natural social battery, as in she easily brings out the once rarely seen bubbly side of him the moment she gives him a smile. And I also like to think that Chiba is clinging onto the fact that there is someone who actually genuinely likes his company, which is why being with Kurahashi makes him so happy that his smile had gotten so wide without him realizing it 💔

They're just the cutest 😢

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #assclass headcanons #chiba ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke chiba #kurahashi hinano #hinano kurahashi #my headcanons #my ideas #my art #class 3e

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miyalove · 4 years ago

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realization | tsukishima kei

—pairing: tsukishima x gn!reader

—warnings: name calling, uneditied*

—synopsis: 3.3k | tsukishima, with the help of a certain freckled cutie, realizes that the weird feeling in his stomach whenever you’re around isn’t anger or irritation but rather the complete opposite.

even if you were only at kurasuno for a few weeks you’re already known for being an intelligent student, but even you know that classes can be stressful.

that’s why whenever asked, you will say with pride that lunch is your favorite subject. after some classes pass by with you tentatively paying attention as best as possible. a few more minutes pass and the familiar ringing of the dismissal bell delights your ears.

lunch time! finally!

not even hesitating, you turn your seat around to share a table with a few friends. you’re meet with two faces already gathered; yamaguchi, a sweet freckled cutie, looms near your right side. picking away at the packed lunch he was with his chopsticks.

and a much taller male sits in front of you, tsukishima is his name. he’s blunt, level-headed, and honestly needs to be humbled every now and then, but he’s grown on you over the past few weeks you’ve known him. something about the way he isn't afraid to speak his thoughts or the way he doesn’t care about what people think about him is, to say the least, admirable.

but hell if you were ever going to tell him that.

tupperwares of all different kinds of foods were laid out on the small table. the waffling smell of the contrasting sweets and meaty meals made your tummy grumble. as you ate, the three of you chatted and teased each other, giggling about gossip or how each of their days went.

in the middle of talking about the latest rumor about your school’s golden couple, yamaguchi turns to you, “i know we’ve known you for a few weeks already but what school did you say you transferred from again, (y/n)?”

you take a quick sip from your water, “i don’t know if you’ve heard it before but it’s called seijoh?”

yamaguchi stiffens, “s-seijoh? do you know Oikawa Tooru?”

instinctively, your nose scrunches at the name, “ahh, you know shittykawa too?”

“yeah, we played him in a volleyball match,” yamaguchi sheepishly rubs at the back of his neck. his dark eyes steal a glance at the taller blonde to gage his reaction.

“and we lost,” tsukishima plainly adds.

“mhm, we tend to do that with other schools,” you gut your chin out at the two boys in front of you. a teasing smile on your lips as you spoke with confidence. tsukishima turns his face away obviously annoyed by your pride for your old school but says nothing against it. yamaguchi deadpans, laughing nervously.

you hum adding on a few, “we aren’t close so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

the shorter boy relaxes, audibly letting out a sigh of relief. you understand his terror when you mentioned the idol of your old school, you’ve been to some of their games. aobajohsai is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to sports especially volleyball.

“well, are you liking it here at least? isn’t seijoh a private school are we really that different from them?” you smile at his genuine eagerness. the greened haired boy standing in front of you really is a sweetheart despite hanging out with such a crude character.

“honestly...” your eyes trail to the two boys in front of you. yamaguchi keenly awaits your answer while tsukishima has suddenly put his headphones on. a heavy feeling weighs on your chest. it doesn’t sit right with you how easy it is for tsukishima to wave your words off.

you don’t know if he’s paying attention to your conversation or not but you leave the taller boy alone deciding to answer the freckled cutie truthfully.

“i understand why you’re called the flightless crows,” yamaguchi’s shoulders fall, confused, “your sports teams really lack that fiery passion that a lot of other teams have. it’s one of the reason’s why i didn’t join the girl’s volleyball, actually.”

despite yamaguchi’s obvious disappointment, you continue, “yeah, i really do love volleyball. i was considered one of the best players at seijoh but— it would be troublesome for me to motivate a whole team by myself so i decided against trying out.”

tsukishima simply spares you a glance before grabbing some food out of his bento. he seems unbothered by your stance on the sport. “o-oh,” is yamaguchi’s broken response.

suddenly, an all to familiar voice cuts through your conversation, “ah, are you considered part of the royal family too?” you glance his way, a teasing glint in his golden eyes that match his icy words.

but you’re quick to respond, “i may have been called... something.” you mumble out the last word quickly looking away because you know that if you were to challenge tsukishima right now, you’d lose.

he dislikes talented people. especially those that rise to the top solely with their skills alone. this is why he often teases kageyama and the shrimp. you know that there is no good way of getting out of this conversation now.

your head is down, chin tucked into your neck. eyes cast low focusing on the floor. he can’t help but let out a laugh at your hunched over figure. not the typical hyena cackle that haunts your nightmare but there’s a slight authenticity to this howl.

he’s hunched over ever so slightly, glasses gleaming at the angle it gets hit from the bright classroom lights.

“what? were you called princess or something?” he spat out the term like venom. obviously, his teasing was meant to stab just a little bit. at the call of the familiar name, your blushing.

you can feel the heat deepening on your cheeks. “so what if it is?” you bark back at his taunts. at this point, yamaguchi is snuffling his giggles too.

tsukishima takes in a breath, waving off his words “it’s nothing...” he squats down to your height furthering his taunts. with his face mere inches away from yours, you can see every detail.

how his golden eyes are practically glowing. you can see the splashes of light red on his uneven skin tone. how his thin brows furrow with concentration, but most prominently you can see how his lips come up higher at one point.

a self-satisfied smile plays at his thin lips. your thoughts are constantly caught between wanting to smack that stupid smirk off with a slap or kiss. so concentrated you almost miss the next words the blonde mutters out.

“... princess.”

your heart was always still whenever people addressed you like that. like tsukishima, you thought giving titles to those who are merely good at sports was more than futile... but you hated how your heart fluttered at the way he said your former title.

it’s been nearly two months since your transfer to kurasuno and the budding friendship you have between tsukishima and yamaguchi has quickly become one of the few reasons you start enjoying coming to school. since that encounter, you had with tsukishima and how he teased you relentlessly for your former title, the two of you have now become somewhat of a duo at this point.

one is not seen without the other, a similar dynamic he and yamaguchi have going on. except he and yamaguchi can be civil whenever they converse. you and tsukishima’s encounters often end up with bitter teasing and hard-headed words.

but don’t get it twisted, you like that tsukishima can keep up with your witty remarks and if he thought of you to truly be as annoying as he says so, you know he wouldn’t put up with you at all. without even confirming it, you both know that the two of you are good friends.

good friends that sometimes cross lines when teasing each other? yes. naturally, you’ll find yourself leaning into tsukishima’s face inches apart from each other to get a rise out of him and at first, your tactic worked. successfully getting him flustered but you used it one too many times and now he knows when it’s coming. however, that doesn’t stop you from doing it though.

it is another typical day at kurasuno, besides you sits the dark greenette and behind you tsukishima. both of them are tediously writing down notes to the teacher’s lectures. you learned that the duo is known to be quite clever around school.

you’re doing the same. trying your best to scribble notes while tentatively listening to the teacher’s words. “ack!” you quietly exclaim. hand cramps suck! the abrasive sound catches the attention of many students around you.

“perhaps we’ve been at it for a little too long?” your teacher turns back to your peers, faces of agreement flood the sea of students. the older man nods, “well, there’s about—” he looks up at the clock, “six more minutes ‘till lunch. we’ve covered more than enough for this topic. how about we have some free time ‘till then, yeah?”

your seatmates in unisons thank the teacher and then go about their things, getting up or talking to their friends nearby. your not even able to breathe before tsukishima comes for you, “see that, dolt? he had to stop the lecture because of your complaining.”

you don’t miss a beat as you snap back, “dolt? please, the last test we took, i got a mark higher than yours! hhm, what did you get, again?”

tsukishima narrows his eyes glaring daggers at your standing (he still remains sitting in his desk) figure once you mention the one time he lost to you. your arms are confidently crossed over your chest and for once, your lips adore a cocky grin that could rival his.

he pushes up his glasses, “i don’t recall—”

“huh? yams, do you want to remind him then since tsuki doesn’t remember?”

yamaguchi tries his best to hold back his sniggers because this is the first time in a while where he’s met someone who’s able to confidently challenge his intimidating friend. he finds it really enduring how you’re able to put up with his blunt tone no matter how often he “attacks” you (as you so lovingly put it).

yamaguchi pips up, “well, tsuki i think it was last week when you got a 93% on the english test and (y/n) got a—”

“98!” throwing up your arms in the air, you smile down at the boy, “do you recall that now, tsuki?” playfully you lean forward, closing in on the blonde’s face. this happens often between the two of you. tsukishima makes an excuse he has to be at least eye level with you to hear your words and whenever you get the chance, you reveal in the fact that you’re taller than him when he sits or squats down on the floor.

there’s a beat of silence as tsukishima averts his gaze from yours.

this takes yamaguchi, an innocent bystander, by surprise. the tsukishima he knows would not silently put up with this kind of teasing. the tsukishima he knows would have a just as snappy comeback to bark back instantly.

“shut it, princess.”

this is when the shorter boy knows something is off. the nickname tsukishima has given you is not in any way enduring (though perhaps this moment right now is proving yamaguchi’s initial thoughts to be wrong). his best friend often threw it at you when he wanted to rile you up even more. not as a lat resort kind of insult. it’s meant to dab an even deeper wound into your chest not... cushion the blow.

tsukishima thought it was a ridiculous name (and so did you) and having him constantly call you it made you hate it more than ever. now he uses it to torment you everyday.

but you wouldn’t want him to call you anything else.

it’s a nickname specially reserved to taunt you.

you lean close to the blonde boy’s face. hands resting flat on his desk, smile bright and ridiculing. even sitting down, tsukishima has managed to stare down at your standing figure in a way that irked you even more than usual. to you, this is normal tsukishima acting, but yamaguchi knows better.

he sees the slight way his best friend shifts back trying his best not to go too far into your space. he sees the way tsukishima stiffens and golden eyes flash an unfamiliar expression the second you get a little too close for the blonde’s comfort.

he sees the way his cheeks flush an uncharacteristically faint pink whenever you say something even slightly enduring towards the taller boy. as yamaguchi continues to observe the interaction, he concludes one thing.

and he can’t help but snicker to himself at his own discovery. this catches both of your attentions.

“what’s so funny over there?” tsukishima speaks first, mentally thankful that he’s able to use yamaguchi as a subject changer (but don’t tell (y/n) that). feeling both sets of eyes on him, yamaguchi suddenly caves into himself.

“ah– n-nothing. sorry, tsuki!” he squeaks out waving his hands in front of him in defense. clicking your tongue, you send a glare straight to the blonde.

“stop getting so angry at yams! he’s a sweet boy. he doesn’t deserve your scrutiny,” you scrunch your nose in distaste, sticking your tongue out at the taller boy's negative words.

taken back, yamaguchi freezes at your sudden praise. he mumbles out incoherent words, relentlessly shaking.

“look what you did to him. he’s broken, now.”

“huh...? yamaguchi, are you alright?”

“i– the.. w-w-what are... h-h-”

“good going, princess,” tsukishima rolls his eyes, “how are you gonna fix him?”

feeling bold, your eyes lock with tsukishima’s. he doesn’t dare to break eye contact. his pride just not allowing him to do so. accepting his challenge, you lean into his face once again, your hot breath fans his ear, “the same way i plan on fixing you, tsuki~”

he’s quick to react, abruptly standing up in his seat. a loud screech emits from the metal chair dragging on the floor. it catches everyone’s attention and now all eyes are on a flustered tsukishima awkwardly fidgeting with his fingers.

despite his obviously hot cheeks, his face remains stoic. lips pressed into a thin line and brows relaxed. he clears his throat before gracefully taking a seat again. you’re booming laughter is the only thing he hears now.

yamaguchi and you are howling at this point. you’re clutching your stomach, pointing at the tall blonde. and he knows you're enjoying his flustered state but he can’t say anything in return right now because he can still feel the heat in his face.

he knows that if he says something in return he’ll fuck it up. his voice will waver or worse crack like some kind of middle school child. so for now, he lets you enjoy this second victory. he decides that technically it’s a win for him too because now he can listen to your laughter without admitting that was what he wanted the whole time.

the sun is setting and the sky shines with different hues of orange mix with a deep blue. it’s late in the evening when another day of afternoon practice is completed. tsukishima and yamaguchi walk briskly, the night sky enveloping the world around them. they both live relatively close to each other, so often times they walk to and from school together.

they make small talk, mostly. yamaguchi often drifts off into his own little world going on about certain things that happen throughout the day. the freckled boy usually gets a curt answer unless it deals with something that catches the blonde’s attention.

a good example is the topic of you.

“did you hear that (y/n) might be applying to be our manager?”

yamaguchi takes it as a good sign when his blonde friend turns to him. he can’t help but smile, he officially has caught his best friend’s attention.

“really now?”

the pinch server nods, “yeah, i didn’t think she would apply for any clubs, yanno? mostly because she didn’t want to be associated with the “flightless crows” or something.”

yamaguchi sees tsukishima’s brows furrow, “well it’s not really our business if she didn’t confirm or deny it.”

“oh wait—” yamaguchi turns to his taller friend, his dark eyes wide, “she didn’t tell you?” tsukishima nearly stops in his track. what does he mean ‘she didn’t tell you?’ you’re just as close to him as you are to yamaguchi.

of course, you would tell him about as something as mundane as joining a club, right? because... why wouldn’t you?

deep in his thoughts, yamaguchi’s call breaks his train, “hello? ...tsuki?”

a short hum is his response not completely snapped back into the conversation just yet. he’s still hung up about you not telling him small details like that. do you trust yamaguchi more than him?

the mentioned boy finds himself studying his best friend once again. the blonde has his hand covering his mouth, his eyes are downcast focusing on the way his feet move on the sidewalk. thin brows creased in thought.

yamaguchi sighs, “tsuki, have you ever considered that you might... i don’t know...” the shorter boy stops his words, picking at his nails. it’s a nervous habit that yamaguchi developed at a young age. tsukishima knows this and if it was some other time, he’d scold his friend to just spit the words out.

but he doesn’t. why? he doesn’t exactly know. whatever it is that the pinch server wants to say seems so important that it’s got him choked up so maybe, just maybe, this’ll be worth the wait.

“what is it, yamaguchi?”

with a strong breath in, he speaks, “l-l-like (y/n)?”

and just like that tsukishima kei is sent into a spiral of thoughts. his fist tightens on the strap of his backpack, brows crinkled and eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of him.

does he like you? of course not! is a reasonable answer. he’s known you for what? a few months and even if he sometimes can’t get your soft laughter out of his head and your glowing smile either... that doesn’t necessarily mean he likes you!

he also makes yamaguchi laugh! that’s what friends do, right?

but he doesn’t think about texting yamaguchi late at night just to recommend some music that he knows you’ll fall in love with.

no, he doesn’t think about if yamaguchi will even notice if he were to switch his glasses out for contacts.

no, he doesn’t think of yamaguchi like that despite being his friend... but that doesn’t mean that he likes—

“see ya tomorrow, tsuki!” the blonde looks up and watches his friend depart to his home. how long was he in thoughts for? he doesn’t know but he stays silent not even sparring a mere wave.

when yamaguchi is finally out of sight, he continues his tread home. head down and focused on the loud notes blaring through his headphones. yamaguchi doesn’t deserve a wave goodbye. not now at least, not when he left him with so much to think about.

finally, he is at home. shutting the front door behind him his older brother and mother are in the living room watching some sort of show that tsukishima has no interest in. his family’s cheerful greetings fall on deaf ears and in a matter of seconds, he’s in his room. his lights are off and his door is shut clear signs that he wants to be left alone.

at least, he is able to clearly think about what’s going on without yamaguchi influencing his mind or even you infecting his thoughts.

he lays in bed, artificial darkness enveloping him. his golden eyes are darting across his ceiling, the flat surface feels like it could come alive with how much life his staring is giving it. he’s thinking so much that he can feel the subtle ache of a headache forming.

rubbing at his eyes, they drift to his desk; 2:48 AM.

the glowing red of his desk clock reads. he curses lowly to himself, shifting in his sheets, “this damn girl.” the words are bitter but he knows more than anyone that those words aren’t exactly meant to be negative.

in fact, the only other person that he probably thinks would understand what he means by those words is, well— is you.

it is then, in the comforting silence of his dark room that he shakes his head, turning over and getting comfortable in his dinosaur sheets. he can feel his eyelids getting heavier as the seconds pass, but that doesn’t stop the ghost of a smile that curves on his lips.

on the edge of unconsciousness, he lets out a sigh thinking back to yamaguchi’s claims.

“that you might, i don’t know, l-like (y/n)?”

your soothing giggle echoes in his head while your confident smile doesn’t seem to get out of his mind.

“and so what if i do...”

502 notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I��m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

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Meeting and Dating Ron Slater

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

“Ayyyy the pizza goddess is here!”

- Out of all the things you’ve been called as a food delivery person, that has definitely got to be your favorite.

- Working the late shift at your local pizza place was not what you had in mind when you began looking for a job but the pay was decent and the tasks were easy so you really couldn’t complain. Sure, you had to deal with a few creeps, but there were also some much more wholesome customers.

- The stoners were your favorite and you were quite sure they always would be. Calm, good natured, very thankful; they were the perfect people to deal with when you were tired and just wanted to go home.

- So you met Slater pretty early into your pizza delivery career. Him and his friends were frequent customers of yours and were always the highlight of your night.

- You sort of figured out that the long haired boy was at least attracted to you, but you were completely unaware of just how hard he was crushing on you.

- It took months of him ordering pizzas just to see you before he finally gathered up the courage to ask for your phone number. You thought he was cute, even while high as a kite, and he was as sweet as could be during all of your interactions so you obliged, writing your number on his arm before you left.

- He called you up the next day, inviting you over to his house for a movie marathon and some takeout. Halfway through a particularly boring film, he asked if you wanted to see something cool to which you agreed. Fast forward a few minutes and the two of you are sitting atop the moon tower, gazing at the stars.

- He nervously reached for your hand in the dark and you let him take it, a small smile finding it’s way onto your face. The two of you walked back to his house hand and hand, a relationship blooming between you.

- You shared your first kiss after about a week of dating. It may not seem like it but Slater’s actually a pretty nervous dude, at least when it comes to girls, so it took him a bit of time to make a move.

- The two of you had spent an entire night together and were sitting on a random curb in the early hours of the morning, watching the sun start to rise. You had your head leaning against his shoulder when he placed a tentative hand against your cheek and leaned in.

- It was short and sweet but it did the trick. After that he was free to kiss you whenever he wanted and you were granted the same privilege. ...Boyfriend and girlfriend.... He was ecstatic.

- Having long, deep and sometimes rambling conversations. There’s no stopping once the two of you start, you can hop from one subject to the next in a matter of minutes.

- Handholding.

- No matter how you’re sitting or laying, he’ll find a way to fall asleep on you.

- Hugs, just lots and lots of hugs. He always pulls away saying that you smell good.

- Braiding his hair, he loves it and he’s hardly afraid to admit it.

“Hey do you think you could like, do one of those twirly things to my hair?”

- Sometimes he’ll just randomly come over to you and hand you a flower he found, they’re usually just dandelions and other weeds but you think it’s adorable.

- Cutting class together.

- Sitting outside the school with him every morning and during breaks. His friends will usually come and join you.

- Letting him copy your homework.

- You either get high with him or just have to deal with a stoned boyfriend sometimes.

- Leaning your head on his shoulder whenever you’re standing/sitting with each other. It always makes him really happy but he can’t figure out why. (It’s because you’re proving to everyone around you that you’re together and showing him that you actually like him.)

- Late night snack runs.

- The two of you are constantly sharing food with each other, and he’s constantly stealing food off your plate like you wouldn’t just give him one of whatever you’re eating.

- Since he’s usually not too sober during parties, he rarely realizes that whoever is talking to you is actually flirting with you. He’s pretty laidback regardless though so he doesn’t get too upset over it. He usually just lets you do what you have to do, waiting for you to excuse yourself from the situation on your own.

- Finger guns, just constant finger guns.

- If you don’t smoke, he does try to refrain from doing so whenever you’re planning to hang out. Being around you is fun enough without the weed and he “wants to be a good boyfriend” even if you assure him it doesn’t really bother you.

- Comedy movie marathons.

- Concert dates.

- Dancing with him to your favorite songs.

- Driving around with him and his friends.

- Double dates with Pickford and Michelle. You hang out together constantly.

- Keeping a lighter and an extra hair tie on you in case he needs one.

- He tries to impress you whenever he can even if the things he’s trying to impress you with are somewhat made up. They aren’t outright lies just... little exaggerations, that’s all.

- He’s honestly really caring and sweet, always checking in with you to see if you’re having fun or if you’re okay wherever the two of you go.

- He’s very happy that he can officially brag to Don about how girls do in fact want to hear “check ya later”.

- He laughs at all your jokes, whether that’s because he genuinely thinks you’re funny or because he’s just a little bit stoned is anyone’s guess.

- Getting told little scary stories and cautionary tales. He thinks it’s fun to try and spook you a little bit.

- Sitting on top of cars and stargazing/watching the sunset together.

- For someone who gets blazed a lot, he sure remembers a lot. Your birthday, anniversary, favorite color, animal, that movie you wanted to see; nothing slips his mind, especially when it comes to you.

- To be fair, I don’t think Slater gets high constantly, we just saw him on the last day of school and while he was attending a party. So don’t worry, you won’t have a constantly baked boyfriend.

- Watching Saturday morning cartoons together.

- You cuddle hugging each other. You usually wind up with your face pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around you.

- Wearing his shirts.

- Talking about conspiracy theories and other weird shit.

- Lets be honest here, your parents probably don’t like him. He’s a long haired hippie who wears weed shirts, not exactly the kind of person most people want their daughters hanging around, especially people who were teenagers in the 50′s.

- Cheap but fun dates. He rarely has much money so the two of you find different inexpensive ways to entertain yourselves.

- Slater’s a very friendly person even if most people don’t give him the time of day. He could have a conversation with just about anyone so you’ll sometimes just have to wait for him to finish talking to whichever random person he’s become friends with.

- A lot of the time the two of you just do your own thing while enjoying each other’s company. You both agree that you don’t have to be doing something together, it’s just nice to have each other around.

- Innocent affection, you’ll learn pretty early on in your relationship that he’s a big softie.

- Holding his cigarettes for him whenever he has to do something, i.e. tie his shoelace, fix his hat, show something off, etc.

- Slater simply vibes too much to fight with you. The two of you have, maybe, gotten into two arguments during your relationship and small ones at that. They’re those little whisper “fights” that couples get into when one of them is unknowingly doing something wrong.

- Spontaneous dates/hangouts. Out of nowhere he’ll decide he wants to do something specific and you’ll just go along with it.

- He’s a clumsy boy, sometimes you’ll just pretend you didn’t see him trip as to not embarrass him.

- It’s hard to be in a bad mood when you’re with him. He’s adorable, animated and hilarious; it’s like hanging out with a cartoon character.

- A true feminist. You’re a strong independent woman and he loves you. You inspire him, he’s so proud.

- He tells you he loves you constantly and he means it from the bottom of his heart.

- Behind every good man is a woman and he wants you to keep on being his for the rest of time.

#dazed and confused #dazed and confused imagine #dazed and confused x reader #dazed and confused headcanons #dazed and confused headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon #ron slater imagine #ron slater headcanons #ron slater headcanon #slater imagine #slater headcanons #slater headcanon

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.9}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 6k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Do I have to?!"

"Yes."

"But WHY?"

"Because being better than everyone else comes at the price of studying more than everyone else. It's as simple as that, and if you want to be better, you'll have to practice." Robin replied with a small smirk which she tried to hide though as she placed the apple in her hand back on the book in front of her where she had taken it from moments ago. "Another ten times."

"Sometimes I hate you, Robin. This is boring as hell!" Jorien sighed, but did as she was told anyway. She was sitting across from Robin on one of the otherwise deserted wooden benches in the spectators' stands of the Quidditch pitch, with her legs crossed underneath her just like Robin herself was sitting. Her closed textbooks in a stack in between them made for a makeshift table, a pedestal for the apple which was soon to be charmed.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon close to the end of May, and Robin and Jorien had decided to move their weekly tutoring session outside for once, onto the ranks of the Quidditch stadium, while the Slytherin house team was having a practice before the last game of the term next week. Cas had made it into the team in the beginning of the year, and while neither Robin nor Jorien understood what she liked about the sport, they had for once come out here today as moral support.

The ranks were almost completely empty, the high towers closed off as always between games, and thus it was merely Robin and Jorien sitting in the spectators' ring surrounding the pitch. Nobody else was stupid enough to be out here to watch a mere bloody practice... Robin was no fan of the game, admittedly, and neither of the stadium as a place to work, but Jorien had wanted some fresh air as a change to the dungeons for once, and thus Robin had let herself be dragged out against her preference. And she had regretted it immediately. The warmth and bright light made her dizzy, the bench she was sitting on had seen better days, and she was only too glad that she only had to give instructions and see to it that Jorien followed them correctly.

Today they were revising the second year charms for the upcoming exams, and Robin actually found herself fairly amused to let Jorien enlarge an apple to the size of a pumpkin and then shrink it down to a pea. Slowly, that is, which was way more difficult than having it just switch size with a start. It required great focus on one's own magic and the object of choice, and she thought it important for the young girl to learn this now instead of in the middle of next year when everyone else would. Focus was absolutely vital, and the sooner she learned that the better.

While Jorien practiced her spells and obviously tried very hard not to throw the apple as far away as she could instead of changing its size, Robin observed the Quidditch practice. More specifically, she tried to observe Cas, because she didn't care about anyone else on the team enough to risk getting her eyes scorched out by the sun for them.

"Robin?"

"Yes?" She answered Jorien, but kept her eyes in the sky to seek out which one of the small black spots could be Cas.

"Why are you so good at this?" Jorien asked in as close to a whine as Robin had ever heard from her.

"Because I'm three years ahead of you. I've simply had more time to study magic. Obviously I'm better at it."

"No, I mean… why are you so good at making us learn things? I hate you for being so strict about it, but it does work."

"I don't know." Robin shrugged and squeezed her eyes together as the sun hit them full force once again. She knew why she preferred rainy weather; perhaps she should consider buying some sunglasses. "I don't try to make you learn, I just like to talk about the subjects."

"Is that why we're basically two years ahead in everything related to potions and herbology, but not in history of magic, for example?"

"Yeah." Now Robin couldn't keep the smirk to herself. "I love potions and everything related to it. Could talk about it all day, every day. I probably do, actually."

"You certainly do. God knows why… I find the class barely bearable, and only because Professor Snape isn’t as mean to us as to the others. Because he likes you."

"I find that hard to imagine." Robin said and found herself glad for the first time that her face was red from the heat anyway.

"That he's nice to us or that he likes you?"

"I know that he likes me, and I expect him to be nice to you if you're nice to him, but I doubt that there is a connection between those two."

"You expect him to be nice?! I don't know in which world you're living, honestly. He is really scary and mean most of the time, and he usually snaps at people for literally no reason."

"Believe me, he usually has a reason." Robin snorted and shook her head as she finally looked at Jorien once again. "But that reason doesn't always make sense to anyone but him. He isn't an easy person to understand, and he sees to it that no one does."

"You do understand him though, don't you? I mean… you spend an awful lot of time with him, so you guys have to get along somehow."

"We do get along. It isn't always the easiest thing, but we're making progress." And somehow, Robin thought, they had simply refused to give up on each other for so long that by now they were at a point where they had adapted to each other's flaws enough for their rough edges to fit together. Very well even, at least in Robin's eyes. Maybe that was just her feelings getting in the way of her judgement, but would they be working together this successfully if they didn't function well together anyway? Robin shook her head to push the thought back into the depth where it had come from.

"But… how?! Can you tell me that secret?" Jorien asked with more curiosity than Robin would've liked.

"You are trying to distract me, and I can tell you that it's not working. The apple, ten times." She said, and gave Jorien a pointed look.

"But I've already done two! You just weren't looking."

"Have you now? In that case, start over. Twelve times. Starting by one again. Now." Perhaps, Robin thought, she was being too strict about this. But if Jorien couldn't focus for the mere twelve minutes it would take to make the stupid apple grow and shrink twelve times, then she would run into serious problems sooner or later. Charms weren't Jorien's problem, they never had been, it rather was her lack of focus when she didn't deem something important enough. So doing a boring task over and over again might seem like a punishment, but Robin was only trying to get her to concentrate. Even if the task was easy.

This time Jorien didn't complain, only sighed, and actually did fifteen times the task just to prove to both of them that she could. Robin didn't say it, but she knew that she would probably have done the same thing if the roles had been reversed, and she felt very much pleased with Jorien for that ambition. But she also believed that they had done enough practicing for today, especially out in the sun like this, and thus they packed up before finally observing the practice game of Quidditch going on in front of them.

While Jorien seemed almost genuinely curious about the fast pace at which their housemates scored points, Robin found her only entertainment in watching someone getting hit by the bludgers. It just made her snicker to see some of the people she couldn't stand get hit by very heavy flying balls. They should make a sport out of that alone, because then Robin would definitely enjoy watching the games a whole lot more. The visual she had of it in her head alone was more entertaining than the current Quidditch game in the real world, and Robin snorted to herself as she watched imaginary people get knocked off their imaginary brooms by imaginary bludgers. That was fun. Snape would love it, even if he'd never admit it, and Robin made a mental note to tell him about it later. She just loved to make him smirk or even smile sometimes, for it always seemed to brighten up her whole world for a while. And he probably did smile more often these days indeed, when he thought that Robin wasn't looking, but she'd caught him often enough to know. A smile was on her lips before she knew.

"Asshole!!!" Jorien's yell snapped Robin out of her mind with a start, but before she had the time to fully register what or who the girl was yelling at, her eyes were drawn to the bludger that came speeding right into their direction.

Robin grabbed her wand from the waistband of her jeans, but Jorien was faster to direct hers at the iron ball with a shaking hand. "Engorgio!"

Robin's blood froze over with a start when she realized what Jorien had said, but the shock sat so deep in her bones that it robbed her of any ability to react. All she could do was watch how the bludger grew to the size of a wrecking ball in an instant, before it crashed straight through the wooden construction below them with a thunder of demolition. Robin's eyes met Jorien's for a broken second of shared panic, then the stand below them gave way as the entire construction collapsed in itself. One last spark of an instinctive need to act grabbed Robin, as adrenaline accompanied her fall, and she threw a blind spell at Jorien without any fathomable thought in her mind about what she did. When everything went black, she couldn't remember anything but fear.

… … …

Pain ripples through her body, piercing her from left to right with heated blades that covered her skin in a layer of cold sweat. Robin felt nauseous to the core when her eyes snapped open.

"I don't know what is wrong with her!" An exasperated yell cut through Robin's eardrums and she groaned. What's going on…?

"But we need to do something before her heart rate drops too low, so think of something!" Someone else yelled back, but the voices were moving away rather than closer to her. They weren't talking about Robin… oh god. Jorien!

Robin sat up with a start, yelping in pain as she did, as she scanned the room with frantic eyes in search for her roommate. The collapse, the fall… it came back to Robin with a start, and she went on to ignore her pain as she struggled to her feet. Jorien had been put into the infirmary bed next to hers, and even though it was surrounded by various people trying to help, Robin saw enough. Oh no… this was all her fault.

"You shouldn't be up!" Someone addressed Robin as soon as she stepped to stand next to Jorien's bed. "You must lay back down in this instant until we have inspected your injuries!"

"Don't bother, I'm fine." She replied with a frown, and had to realize that speaking made her feel even more sick. Gods, her entire body hurt. But she was alive, wasn't she? That was good enough for now. Jorien in the bed in front of her perhaps wouldn't be so lucky. She seemed to be petrified, but also not really… Robin's vision went out of focus for a moment, and she aggressively blinked to get her eyes to function again. She needed to function, damnit! Jorien's eyes were wide open, her lips parted in a silent scream, and her hair floated around her head in slow motion. "What's wrong with her?"

"We don't know, she was floating in the air while we found you lying in the shatters. She was almost motionless, just like this. Frozen in time..." The nurse with the oddly blurry face replied, and tried to push Robin back down onto her own bed. Robin however had no intention to let her do so, and simply stepped around her with a shiver. Her head was spinning… but she knew that she had to help Jorien. She knew that this was her fault, all of this. She had pushed the girl to far in her practice of the stupid charm. She'd failed to protect her from her own mistake.

"I… I did this." She managed to say in a decently steady voice, and the more she focused, the more she could suppress her nausea and even the burning pain. They could deal with that later. "Before we fell."

"And what exactly did you do?!" Madam Pomfrey asked from the other side of the bed, and let her hands drop from Jorien's neck. "Her heart is very close to not beating anymore, so you better tell me right in this instant!"

Robin blinked a few times, and finally felt her mind clicking into work mode. She moved from her position in the middle of the beds to stand directly above Jorien and across from Madam Pomfrey. "You have tried the anti-paralysis potion, yes?"

"Of course, but it has shown no effect! What did you do to her?"

"It should have worked…" Robin frowned and dug through her memory for a moment, but she couldn't remember what she had done, what had happened. There was nothing, her mind was blank from the moment on when she had looked into Jorien's terrified eyes. "But she is definitely paralyzed rather than petrified. It should be working."

"It doesn't, so lay back down and let us try to save her in another way!" The matron snapped at Robin, who however couldn't care less about what the woman said. The stabbing in her side made it hard to breathe and even harder to think, but Robin only had to look at the girl in front of her and her own guilt and fear pushed any haze out of her mind. Focus… she took a deep breath. What was the problem? The potion wasn't working. Why wasn't the potion working? Not because it was faulty. Which means… Jorien must have something in her system that neutralized one of the ingredients of the potion! But what could it be? Geez… there were endless possibilities.

"Perhaps we should-... Ah, Professor!" Madam Pomfrey said in a relieved voice. "Good that you show up at all at last!"

"What is this entire ordeal about that my presence was demanded so insistently?" Snape's deep voice finally had Robin look up from Jorien's floating hair, and the room was spinning again at her movement. But her eyes found his nonetheless, and she could tell that his expression went from annoyance to a brief second of shock, then back to the thickest neutral facade. "What happened?"

"Later. Right now we have to keep Miss Blakeley alive." Madam Pomfrey shut his demand for answers right down and turned back to Jorien. "The anti-paralysis potion had no effect, and if we don't find another solution quickly, then-..."

"No, we don't need another solution." Robin interrupted her with a tone as determined as she could manage. Her entire left side felt like someone had poured liquid fire over it at this point, her throat raw as if cut open and then stabbed her with a million daggers more. "We need Kalinistra."

"Not now, Miss Mitchell, just move aside and let us do our work!" Pomfrey scolded her, and the nurse next to Robin once again tried to subtly get her to sit down at least, but Robin pushed her hands away and suppressed another whine at the harsh movement.

"I am doing your bloody work for you and if you had any sense in you, you would just do as I say!" She groaned, and blinked the tears away that had sprung to her eyes. "Jorien has a substance in her system that neutralises the potion, and we have to get rid of that."

"Good point, go on." Snape replied immediately, before any of the others could even try to put an end to Robin's explanation once again.

"If you look at the… ingredients in the anti-paralysis potion, you see that… that it's mainly based on herbs somewhat related to Pellatium. What neutralizes Pellatium would be something like Mandrake root, and-..."

"And Kalinistra would erase any trace of Mandrake." Snape concluded before Robin could, and she started to nod before she had to stop when it made her ears ring and her head feel like exploding. Another wave of cold sweat broke over her skin, and her breathing grew more shallow by the second.

"Miss Blakeley came here yesterday for some Pepperup Potion, actually…" The nurse said quietly, and all eyes flew to her in an instant.

"That's about seventy percent Mandrake, just so you know." Robin huffed, then rolled her eyes, and regretted it immediately.

"And you couldn't have mentioned that twenty minutes ago when she was brought here?!" Madam Pomfrey scolded her young colleague, but then turned to Snape. "So your suggestion would be to give the girl Kalinistra and then another dose of the anti-paralysis potion?"

"It is Miss Mitchell's suggestion, but I absolutely agree." He replied with a glare down at the matron next to him. "Didn't you say time was scarce? I would suggest you get started then."

As Madam Pomfrey and the nurse jumped into action, Snape moved out of their way and instead came to stand next to Robin. She noticed his presence close by her side, but kept her eyes fixed on Jorien while waves of cold heat rolled over her continuously and brought back equal waves of dizziness. If she had looked him in the eye, for just a second even, he immediately would've known that something was up with her. She didn't even dare to brush her hair out of her face, nor away from where the sweat made it stick to her neck.

"Kalinistra was a brilliant idea." He mused after a while, as they both watched how Madam Pomfrey gave Jorien another vial of anti-paralysis potion at last.

"Hope so." Robin pressed out in as neutral a tone as possible, but there was no way he could miss just how fake her entire demeanor was. Every breath hurt like a knife stabbed into her ribcage, and it was hard enough to breathe at all. Talking was worse.

"What happened to her?" He asked another time, clearly addressing Robin, for his voice was too quiet for the other two to hear. She loved that he actually talked to her, but right now she just couldn't keep up with that on top of everything else.

"I happened." Robin whispered, in a new wave of guilt, and wrapped her arms around her middle only to jerk them back when an overwhelming pain rippled through her torso upon a mere touch. She bit her lip to keep quiet; this was not good. But the current moment wasn't about her. This was about undoing what she had done.

A gasp cut through the silence then, and it was followed by a violent quake going through Jorien's body. Then her eyes closed and snapped open again as she started blinking rapidly, breathing hard as if someone had made her jump only moments before. But she was moving again, at a normal speed, and Robin could have cried in relief. The quiet sighs of the others told her they shared that sentiment.

But Jorien for her part looked around with frantic eyes, her features dominated by sheer panic until at last her gaze fell onto Robin. Then, within a second, she sat up in her bed and wrapped her arms around Robin as tightly as she could.

Robin's lips parted in a silent scream that fortunately no one paid attention to, then she bit her lip tightly enough to taste the bitter sting of copper. And yet, the faintest sound must have escaped her, for Jorien let go of her immediately and instead stared up at her with teary eyes.

"I'm sorry…" The girl choked out. "I… I didn't…"

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry." Robin replied immediately, with a small smile and a mild tone she had no idea how she was capable of right now. Ignoring everything else, she sat down at the edge of the bed and allowed Jorien to cling onto her again, while she tried to comfort the girl in return. Robin knew that she wasn't good at this, wasn't someone others came to for comfort. But as it seemed, she was what Jorien wanted right now, and she could never deny her that. Not after what she had done to her. Not even as the taste of copper in her mouth grew stronger, and her pain was fueled by the squeezing arms around her ribs.

"Miss Blakeley, how do you feel?" Madam Pomfrey finally asked, but the voice sounded dull and distant in Robin's ears even as Jorien finally let go of her.

"I'm good." The girl replied with a small sigh, and looked from Robin to Snape, then to the matron at last. "Confused, and my eyes hurt a little, but otherwise I'm good."

"That's amah-..." Robin said as she forced herself back onto her feet with as little swaying as possible. "Amazing."

"I expect an explanation. What exactly led to this chaos?" Snape asked at last, and while Robin wanted to give him an answer to that, she found herself too busy trying to keep the room from spinning. So she simply stared down at the ground with wide eyes while Jorien and Madam Pomfrey explained how the bludger had destroyed the wooden construction and how Robin had somehow frozen Jorien in time and space to keep her from falling, which had resulted in the paralysis. That Robin herself had fallen into the ashes however remained unsaid, and honestly, she barely took notice of it anyway. The voices were a white noise to her own alternating waves of cold heat and pain, a drowning echo in a sea of sound.

"But… I shouldn't be feeling perfectly fine, should I?" Jorien frowned suddenly, and tugged at Robin's hand. "We were falling, and I was paralyzed and…"

"You might feel good, but you still need to rest! You have been through a lot, and perhaps it is best if we continue this discussion at a later point. Try to sleep now." Madam Pomfrey cut in before anyone else could reply, and Jorien reluctantly laid back down as she was told.

"I'm okay though, right?" She inquired before everyone else could move away. "Robin?"

"Don't worry. We gave you a little sip of a potion I made, against the paralyzing charm and now you're all good again." Robin replied with a badly feigned smile that however seemed to suffice.

"Thank you for saving my life..." Jorien offered her a small smile in return, and finally closed her eyes with a surprisingly peaceful expression that squeezed Robin's heart in a death grip.

"You shouldn't thank me." She breathed to herself, far too quietly for Jorien to hear. "Not when I'm the one who almost got you killed in the first place." Then, at last, she let herself be shooed away into the wide aisle in the middle of the infirmary, where she wouldn't stand in the way any longer. Perhaps they had forgotten that she had been part of the accident too, not just its cause… but Robin wouldn't draw attention to it. In her eyes she wasn't the victim, but the one to blame. In her eyes, she deserved every bit of the pain she felt.

So she merely kept standing in the aisle like she was the one frozen in time now, hollow eyes staring at nothing while her own arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt to make it easier to bear the nauseating waved of cold sweat. But every shallow, rasped breath still hurt like a new knife between the ribs, and made brilliant spots of shadow and light dance across her vision in a swirling haze. She blinked them away, and her focus returned barely when Snape's eyes found hers as he came to stand a mere step in front of her.

"Are you alright? You look-..."

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Robin snapped before he even had the chance to finish the sentence. She didn't deserve concern, or sympathy; she deserved to be yelled at as if she wasn't hurt. In defiance of her own state, she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to look towards the distant windows instead. His eyes were too much to bear, they could shatter her with all the things he would never say out loud.

And yet when cold fingers brushed against the heated skin of her neck, a force beyond her drew her gaze back to his. His touch both pleasure and pain brought the sweetest agony of doubling heatwaves to her body, and her lips parted in both a silent sigh and weeping. His fingers traced over the curve of her neck, barely touching upon her collar bone as he pushed away the strands of her hair that clung to it. Then finally the touch disappeared altogether, all too soon. His gaze dropped from her neck to his hand between them, then he met her startled eyes at last.

"Is this nothing to you?" He asked, in a low tone that was both accusation and inquiry, and finally Robin could pry her eyes away from his to let them drop to the hand he held out to her. The sight of deepest crimson on his fingertips let her shudder while a new wave of cold heat ran over her. The sticky feeling on her skin… her neck and ribs and shoulder blades… it had never been sweat. Her hands rose on their own account to cradle his between them, trembling fingers clawing at his skin in an attempt to steady what she saw. But it was her own vision quivering, not his hand.

"Tell me the truth, Robin." He demanded after a moment, but never removed his hand from hers.

Robin looked up at him then, but her hold on him only tightened as gravity seemed to change by the second. Her stomach was at war with her lungs, was at war with her entire left side. "Jorien-..."

"I understood what happened to Miss Blakeley. I need to know what happened to you."

"I was terrified and I don't know what I did to her... There is pain everywhere, and I feel sick, and... and… your face is getting really… blurry... Maybe I should just-..." Robin gasped, and Snape's features above her turned into a swirling explosion of color before it faded to all black. With a start, all the tension in her body was gone.

… … …

"Why do you have to be so stupid… so stupid and so ridiculously brilliant." The deep voice of her favorite person was the first thing that wrapped Robin in an immediate cloud of comfort as her senses slowly returned to her, rising up from the depths of sleep.

"Why do you do this to me?!" He asked quietly, but it still cut through the silence like a clean silver line. "Couldn't you have cared about yourself at least half as much as you care about the ones you choose as yours?"

"No." Robin replied in the same quiet, and finally opened her eyes to look up at the ceiling of the infirmary once again. A single candle was lit on her nightstand, and it made the shadows dance on the cold stone high above.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, no reply to Robin's answer, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at Snape to her left. He was sitting on the backrest of a chair, and looking at her with an almost startled expression.

"How much did you hear?" He asked at last, but made no move to leave nor to sit down properly.

"More than you would like and less than I would." Robin offered him a small smile, and tried to sit up a moment later with surprisingly little pain. Her ribs ached a little, her neck felt itchy, and her wrist did a weird clicking sound when she moved it, but otherwise she could sit up and even cross her legs without any problems.

"I see you're feeling better." Snape commented in regard to her movement, and when Robin motioned for him to have a seat across from her, he reluctantly obliged to sit down at the far end of the bed.

"Physically, yeah… But it still is my fault that Jorien almost died." Robin sighed in defeat, and quickly scanned her surroundings in the dim light of the one candle. The room seemed to be entirely empty but for the two of them, and she found herself relaxing as her eyes returned to Snape. "I screwed up."

"That you did."

"At least you admit it. But I'm drowning in guilt as it is already, there’s no need for scolding me."

"You screwed up because you were stupid enough to pretend that you were fine. Not because you saved the girl's life."

"No! I screwed up when I was too slow to stop that bloody bludger, and then Jorien mixed up her spells because she was panicked and I hadn't taught her any better, and… I cursed her, in our fall. I remember it now. I studied relative time spells and curses just last night, it was the first thing that came to my mind. Throwing experimental magic at her was fucking stupid."

"Seeing as she is perfectly fine and back in her own room right at this moment, while you are here with two previously broken ribs and a scar to remind you of the events of today, I wouldn't necessarily consider the last part as screwing up." He said, and turned entirely towards Robin in his seat on the bed at last. "It might not have been an ideal reaction to blindly throw a spell at her, but you did prevent the worst. If you hadn't acted, she might still have died from the fall. You might have died either way."

"But I didn't. I'm fine, for real this time. I promise. I only feel like it would have been my job to protect her, and I let her down when I didn't stop the bludger before she did. I'm guilty of that no matter what, and I'm guilty of not teaching her better. I know that it is my fault, no matter what you say."

"I wouldn't dare to disagree. I know exactly how you feel."

"Do you really?"

"Yes." He stated, and at last dropped his gaze from hers down to the wrinkled sheets before he continued. "You feel an oppressing guilt for letting something happen to her while you could have prevented it if you had acted differently. You feel remorse for the pain you caused by not preventing her from being hurt in the first place. And when she still looks at you like you were the one thing saving her, you know that all you deserve is the very worst, but not her thankfulness."

"That's… yes." Robin breathed, and her throat felt too tight, her lips too dry, and she wet them before she spoke on. "So you do feel like that as well? When your students get hurt?"

"Only when it's you." He replied, obviously before he thought better of it, and his honesty surprised both himself and Robin as their eyes met once more. After long seconds of silence, he spoke on. "I do feel responsible for what happens to all of my students, in a general manner, especially for the ones in my house. But of course it just has to be entirely different with you. It always is."

"Obviously." She gave him a small smile in return. How could one single person make her feel so incredibly safe and set so exhilarated at once?! He didn't even do anything but look at her… and say that she was different to him than anyone else. "Perhaps it's not a matter of responsibility. Maybe it's trying to protect someone you care about. And when you fail, it hurts so much more because you didn't just fail a responsibility put upon you, but because you failed the one you care about. The thought of losing someone you care about is always scary… if not straight out terrifying."

"You scared me today. I want you to never do that to me again."

"I'll do my best." Robin said, as both his words and the sincerity in his face melted away the last bit of sadness left within her. Her lips curled into a wider smile at last. "Don't worry, your reputation as the emotionless, scary professor who doesn't care about anyone won't be damaged."

"I am not concerned about my reputation. And it seems that people are already well aware that you are my favorite."

"Your favorite nuisance, perhaps." She laughed, and yet the uproar of her heart couldn't be fooled by humor. "But any kind of favorite will do, really."

"If nuisance is the word you would like to go with, I will not stop you." He replied with a small smirk, which only made her smile even more. "But anyone else who dares to say so would make an enemy."

Robin bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from grinning like an idiot. Perhaps it wasn't such a good change that he was getting better at saying nice things to her… it only made her love him more.

A spark of electricity started in her heart, and then crawled through her body in an expanding wave that gained momentum with every fiber it consumed. She really did love him, quite desperately so even, but her mind had never dared put that term to it before now. Before it was finally absolutely impossible to deny. Bloody hell… one stupid term for what she felt changed everything, and yet it changed nothing at all. She still wouldn't do anything but keep it as a dark secret in the shadows of her mind. Perhaps it gave her the permission to dwell in those shadowy places more often… and it definitely would make it harder to leave them again. But she'd never quite minded such a sweetest kind of torture.

"You should rest now. It is three o'clock in the morning and I know you better than to assume that you won't want to study and work as soon as the sun is up." He finally said with a sigh and stood up from the end of the bed.

"Don't go." Robin said before she could convince herself not to. "I'll lay down if you insist, but I can't sleep. Not right now. Can we just… talk? Like always?"

"Do you seriously believe I have nothing better to do at three in the morning than that?"

"Well, seeing as you have been here even since before I was awake, I would dare to say no." Robin raised an eyebrow at him with a smile, and when he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly but sat back down anyway, she knew that his entire protest was merely for show.

"In fact, I do not." He sighed, and quirked an eyebrow at her in return. "What would you like to talk about then?"

"How about some defense against the dark arts revision? OWLs are in two weeks, and I could use some help."

"How fortunate for you that I am well versed in the subject."

"How very fortunate indeed."

____________________________

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firelxdykatara · 4 years ago

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Hi, heavensweetheart in an ask mentioned you’ve written meta on adults writing about teen sex and told me I should ask you about it. I was wondering if you could give your thoughts on this in the context of ATLA, in fanfic and the Suki and Sokka tent scene. Some teens are having a meltdown over that scene saying it’s immoral for 16 y/o to have sex and imply that and I’m so confused. When did teens suddenly become allergic to sex? It wasn’t like that when I was one not long ago?

I’ll probably have follow up questions, but I’ll save those for now. Unless you say you don’t wanna talk on that anymore, which I totally respect. I’m just so confused as to why teens now are rioting against the Sokka and Suki scene, and even the *slight* implication that Zuko and Mai had sex too. They sound like church moms rather than teens and that’s jarring shift in culture in just a few years

I COMPLETELY understand teens wanting to avoid sex and stuff in their own lives or the media they choose to consume on personal levels but don’t know why they’re waging war against it

they’re complaining about that scene now too???? idk why i’m so surprised, considering everything else i’ve seen ppl getting up in arms about in the fandom it was only a matter of time, but jfc

listen, here’s an inconvenient factoid that fans--adult and minor alike--need to bear in mind before they go off half-cocked: underage teens have sex. it’s not like there’s some magical switch that gets flipped the instant someone turns 18 that unlocks their Raging Hormones where before they were Completely Sexless Beings. that’s not how it works. (i’m not bringing asexuality into this because ace ppl can have sex and even decent sex drives, libido and sexuality are not the same thing, and sexual awakenings can happen at just about any age post-puberty.) furthermore, coming-of-age tales (which often involve blossoming sexuality, as that is frequently a part of such narratives) are always going to be published and written by adults.

adults are, by and large, the ones with the resources and time to create finished and polished pieces of fiction and pitch them and get them into publishing houses and sold. teenagers who manage this are the exception to the rule, and the only one i can think of off the top of my head (christopher paolini, who started writing eragon when he was fifteen) was still an adult (at 19) by the time he actually managed to get published. adults are also, sorry to say, going to have a better understanding and perspective on what it was like to be a teenager--because they not only lived through it, but they have distance and a better ability to look at it objectively than someone still in the throes of massive hormonal changes and struggling through high school.

this doesn’t always work to our advantage--’adults forgot what it was like to be kids’ is a major theme in a lot of media for a reason--and sometimes it’s depressingly obvious just when any given author actually experienced being a teenager, because regardless of the setting their characters and plot points and tropes are incredibly dated--but it does typically mean that when an adult author is writing about teenagers having sex, or experiencing a sexual awakening, having a first love and everything that comes with that as a teenager, they aren’t acting like some voyeur watching teens gettin’ it on from the outside, but rather drawing on their own lived and remembered experiences and using those to inform their writing. (or experiences they wish they could have hand, like many queer authors who weren’t able to safely come out as teens and so get to experience being a kid and being able to be queer through their own writing in a way that was denied them in their own lives.)

i’ve done ‘first kiss’ and ‘first time’ type stories, now, as i am, as an adult, and i was never thinking about it as some outside observer perving on teenage characters--i was remembering what it was like when i was that age, and channeling that into my writing. no one is obligated to read or enjoy the things i write, of course, but trying to tell me that i’m not allowed to write about the things i felt as a teenager, just because i’m an adult now? that’s a quick way to get told in no uncertain terms to fuck off.

now, that being said, it’s absolutely flat ridiculous to me that people are complaining about the idea that suki and sokka were having sex, when they were child soldiers in a goddamn war. why is it more acceptable that they were preparing to fight and possibly die in a fierce battle, but gods fucking forbid they be implied to have a sexual relationship with each other before-hand? why is it more acceptable that children fight and die and kill (and yes, the gaang had a bodycount to their names, even aang), but the idea that mid- and older teens having sex is so taboo? nothing was even shown! it was all but spelled out, but in that scene we didn’t even see them kiss, it just immediately cut away after sokka called suki back to his tent!

what this tells me is that people are having a meltdown over the mere suggestion that these fifteen and sixteen-year-olds were sexually active, and considering that by the time i graduated high school (over a decade ago) i knew five girls personally who’d gotten pregnant and either dropped out or been homeschooled for a few months to have their kids before coming back to finish out their classes, i’m having trouble with this idea that even thinking of the fact that teenagers have sex should be so virulently anathema.

teens have sex with each other. sometimes teens get pregnant. sometimes these things find their way into YA fiction, and that is a genre that is almost 100% written by adults. (i’m sure some started writing as teens and maybe even got their early fiction reworked and polished, but the vast vast majority are at least adults, if not totally out of their teens, by the time they are officially published.) sometimes these things find their way even into narratives aimed at a younger audience, because there are always going to be elements that children won’t understand but the adults watching will get a kick out of--think of all the jokes in Shrek that you didn’t understand if you saw it for the first time as a kid, which seem even more hilarious once you’re an adult and have context for them.

no seven-year-old kid is gonna look at the scene of zuko walking in on sokka and the latter inhaling a rose he was holding between his lips as he waited for suki and think ‘OMG HE WAS EXPECTING HIS GIRLFRIEND AND THEY WERE GONNA HAVE SEX’--not unless something else was going on in that household, and at that point its not the show’s fault by any metric. but adults or even older teens are probably gonna get a chuckle, understanding the wink and the nudge that younger kids won’t get cause they don’t have context for that kind of romantic/sexual coding. and that’s ok!!!! the fact that people won’t get it unless they already have context for that sort of behavior is exactly why it works as a subtle joke!

and, again, the fact that a kid was killed on-screen and the fact that the main characters are all effectively child soldiers in a war, and these are somehow not topics that are too mature for the audience at which the show is aimed, but implications (which the target audience won’t understand, but older people who enjoy the show will) that teenagers are having sex is somehow beyond the pale???? (sure sokka might die tomorrow, but at least he wasn’t having -gasp- SEX before he did!!!!! that’s how they sound and it’s fucking ridiculous)

i genuinely do not understand that attitude, and i don’t think i ever will.

#atla #sukka #atla fandom salt #salt for ts #im just so.... so flummoxed #asked #Anonymous

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dyaz-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Screaming Color — A SessKagu One-Shot

“The rest of the world was black and white... but we were in screaming colors”

Tagging: @shinidamachu @sailorbabydoll92 @sweetchcolate @clearwillow @zelink-inukag @cstorm86 @digital-art-monster @danycontreras90 @redflamesofpassion @lost-amidst-the-stars @eternalnight8806-3 @desiree239 @keichanz @ashleys-canvas @mustardyellowsunshine @meggz0rz @contacting-u @ramen---boi @superpixie42 @kazeinori

Also available on Ao3 and ff.net.

Prom night. Balloons suspended around the school gym in a desperate attempt to make it look a little more dreamy, not-so-dazzling lights, the one mirrorball the school owned, which had probably been purchased at the peak of the disco era, considering its looks, glitter on the floor, and bad music. Girls dressed to the nines and boys, well, making an effort, at least. Smiles, heartbreak, epic highs and lows of teenage romance.

And, standing by the drinks table, bored out of her damn mind, Kagura Kaze, art teacher in her thirties, chaperoning.

To say this wasn’t Kagura’s dream night would have been a complete understatement. See, when Onigumo, the school director had approached her to give her that job, she had had a moment of hesitation. It had lasted a second, if not less, as memories flooded her mind. When she’d been in high school, she was way too cool for prom, so she had never experienced it, and it made her— it made her somewhat curious, you know? Made her want to know what all the fuss was about.

Of course, the thought quickly vanished from her mind. Obviously, she couldn’t experience it as a teenager again, and while it might have been fun back then, though she seriously doubted it, there was no way she would enjoy it even the tiniest bit now.

But because of her hesitation, she’d lost her way out, and that was how she found herself, well, here.

“I’m standing right here, Manten.”

The teenage boy seemed genuinely surprised to hear her talk, and almost dropped the bottle of alcohol he’d been about to pour in the punch that was available for all students to drink from.

“Yeah, I know, I just—”

He just hadn’t thought she’d say anything. She’d heard that a lot tonight, and she didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. It definitely confirmed that she was the ‘cool teacher’, a title she’d earned because she was, by far, the best dressed teacher in school, because she actually had some renown in the art world and also because, if she dared to say so herself, she was an a-fucking-mazing teacher.

That would have come as a surprise to anyone, including her own self, just five years ago, when she’d gotten the job. She’d thought that would be the nail in the coffin of her creativity and of her already dying art career. She’d thought, and everyone around her agreed, that she would murder one of the young imbeciles she’d have to look after after just one day, and end up in jail, and if that didn’t happen, she would certainly die a long and boring death in the small high school of a small town, miles away from the city and everything she loved.

But, as it turned out, that had not been the case. She could, in fact, live without Starbucks, and she didn’t need to go shopping at high-end clothing stores every week-end.

Not that she could afford it these days.

As for teenagers, they were horrible, stupid, and hormonal, but some of them, sometimes, were also interesting. Those, she did her best to help. After all, Kagura liked talent. She took pride in her ability to spot it, even in its rawest form. She had thought it would make her bitter, to see these talented teenagers, with all their lives still ahead of themselves.

It didn’t. It just made her want to help them, and if that meant she had to do her damnedest to find scholarships they could apply to, well, she’d do that.

Other students didn’t complain about her class, either. It gave them an outlet for all sorts of emotions, and if there was one thing no one had ever said about her, it was that she was boring.

So it didn’t exactly surprise her, to hear that Manten had thought she’d let him spike the punch, but on the other hand— how did he dare? Did he really think she was that irresponsible? She wasn’t going to let teenagers get wasted on her watch.

“Give me the bottle, Manten,” she sighed, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

“But…”

“And tell your brother to come here and give me his,” she added, eyeing Hiten, who was watching the scene carefully, and who, of course, had sent his brother do his dirty job for him.

“Oh, Hiten would never—”

“You heard her, kid,” a deep voice growled from behind him. “Get it done.”

Manten immediately seemed to shrunk and disappear, which could have been a pretty funny sight, in different circumstances. The look Kagura gave to Inuyasha Taisho, P.E. teacher, was not amused.

“I was handling it,” she said dryly.

“Yeah, and I got it done faster.”

She had to resist the urge to snarl at him. Inuyasha was an alright person, but what an asshole he could be.

”Hey,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly unaware of the less than charitable thoughts that were going through her mind, “you wouldn’t have happened to see—”

“I’ll tell you where she is if you get Miroku and Sango back from their break,” she interrupted him. “I want to take mine, and we need someone by this table.”

She didn’t add that they were probably making out. Miroku had taken two bottles she’d gotten from kids who also wanted to spike the punch — which showed that there was no coordination there and was very irresponsible of them, because what if they’d all succeeded, that would have been a disaster — and winked at her before leaving with the perpetually unimpressed Sango. Thinking back on it, she probably should have stopped him then and there.

She’d high-fived him instead.

“Sure,” Inuyasha shrugged, not realizing what he was probably opening himself to seeing. “So?”

“She took a group of lonely kids to the library.”

“Keh. Of course she would,” Inuyasha scoffed, but his dumb, soft smile betrayed his feelings. That was how he’d been tricked into being here tonight, too. Because, of course, ‘she’ had also volunteered to watch over the dance.

Another day, another time, Kagura would have loved to meddle in the slow-burn developing between him and the literature teacher, the lovely Kagome Higurashi, because they were so damn entertaining, definitely her favorite couple among the faculty, but if she stood there one minute longer, she was going to spontaneously combust or something.

“Good. I’m off.”

“Hey, wait a second—”

“Hiten, here!”

The teenage boy begrudgingly handed her a bottle of what she knew at a glance was a very, very nice wine. Those kids really had too much money and too little supervision for their own good, which wasn’t something she could fix. Wasn’t her job, either, but sometimes, it disappointed her a little. Gave her heart an unpleasant squeeze. Every year, how many of those kids graduated, about to jump headfirst into a shitty life that would never get better? How many of them had she failed?

That wasn’t something she ever thought about, before starting to work here. It wasn’t a pleasant thought by any means, but she didn’t hate it, either. It felt— needed. It felt like it was something she should have thought about before. Then maybe she could have made a difference sooner, maybe she would be doing a better job.

On the other hand, if she didn’t think about it, maybe she wouldn’t need a drink so bad right now.

“Mrs. Kaze,” a calm, even voice, called from behind her as she was just about to leave the gym, “may I ask where you are going?”

Kagura froze, closed her eyes a second, then turned around, a charming smile on her lips.

“I was just taking my break, Mr. Taisho,” she said, ignoring the way her heart was hammering in her chest, as it always did whenever she talked to him. “Care to join me?”

Sesshomaru Taisho rose an eyebrow at her offer, and she had to remind herself not to hold her breath waiting for an answer. She wasn’t one of the teenagers she was supposed to chaperone, dammit!

That was all his fault, by the way. He had no business looking this good. He hadn’t dressed up, exactly, but he was wearing a fitting white shirt, which underlined a nicely chiseled chest, and black pants, and that was enough to create the illusion. She knew, from the looks he was getting, that she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. His long white hair, which he usually tied into a ponytail, were falling over his broad shoulders, and she would have killed for that hair, but that wasn’t what got her attention.

No, she was entirely focused on his face. He had the type of face she would love to paint someday, and that was the first thing that had struck her about him, when she’d first met him. He was beautiful, sure, but beauty could be boring. With him, it wasn’t. It wasn’t just his sharp jaw, thin lips, straight nose and high cheekbones. He was much more than the sum of his parts, but Kagura was convinced that even without all of that, if she had met his golden eyes, if she had seen the intelligence behind it, she would have been irremediably lost, regardless of anything else.

Sesshomaru glanced behind him at Inuyasha, who was sullenly watching over the drink table where she’d abandoned him. The two of them were brothers, but you would never have guessed it from the way they acted with one another. There was a rather painful story behind that, which Kagura had heard from Miroku, but she knew better than to bring it up with the brothers, so she kept her mouth shut.

“I suppose I could,” he finally said. “Inuyasha knows better than to let Rin get in trouble.”

Another subject it was better not to speak on. Sesshomaru’s adopted daughter was the apple of his eye, and he was, perhaps, just a little overprotective. Some had tried to point it out to him, but they’d learned that he didn’t take kindly to comments on his parenting, something no one in school ignored, at this point.

Unfortunately — for herself —, Kagura had never been really good at not speaking her mind, and there was only so much she could hold back in one night, especially for the same guy.

“Rin’s perfectly capable of getting in and out of trouble if she chooses to. I doubt there’s much Inuyasha could do to stop her from doing that.” I doubt there’s much you could do to stop her from doing that.

Sesshomaru glared at her in silence for a few seconds, but that wasn’t nearly long enough for Kagura to regret speaking her mind.

“Why would Rin want to do that?” he finally asked.

“She’s sixteen,” Kagura shrugged. “She might want to… experiment.” Like with that Kohaku kid I’m positive you don’t know about. “Are you coming or what?”

Sesshomaru looked over his shoulder one last time, sighed deeply, then nodded. Kagura deemed to be an absolute win. He was by no means talkative, after all, and this conversation had gone well enough, considering who it was with.

“Let’s get to my room,” she said, tilting her head towards the door. “Yours is depressing.”

By that, she meant there was a plain, black board — because Sesshomaru refused to change it to a white one — and nothing else. Evenly spaced desks, one larger one for him, no books, no posters, no nothing.

“And yours is too full of useless things,” he replied, frowning ever so slightly. “You should throw them out as soon as you’ve finished that project.”

Kagura let out a horrified exclamation. She could never do that. She knew what it felt like, when someone threw out something you’d poured your heart into, and she didn’t see the need for her pupils to experience that just yet. Of course, she couldn’t keep everything, and at the end of the year, she did have to throw away things that were left, but it had never crossed her mind to do that during the year.

“My room,” she argued as the two of them walked through the silent hallways, “is pretty and the students are happy to come here. I doubt you can say the same thing.”

“I’ve never heard anyone complain.”

“That’s because they’re terrified of you!”

In the dimly lit hallways, she missed the half-smile that curved Sesshomaru’s lips while the two of them argued. Even if she’d seen it, she would probably have assumed she’d imagined it, and yet, it was there. Sesshomaru was enjoying himself.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the doors to her room and let him in, turning on the light to reveal a place she was genuinely proud of. On the walls hung finished products, on the tables, paintings were still drying, and on the shelves were the results of that time they had tried pottery. Inuyasha probably hadn’t been happy that she had used his ex’s contact information to find a teacher for that, but he hadn’t said anything about it.

He’d just hidden in the gymnasium all day.

“There,” she said, satisfied with the scene. Esthetically, maybe it wasn’t the most pleasing sight, but she could see all the efforts poured into this work. She knew what belonged to which student, by name. She knew which themes had felt the most personal to whom, she knew…

Ugh, she was getting all mushy now.

“Let’s drink,” she said, pulling out the two bottles she’d gotten off of Hiten and Manten earlier.

But Sesshomaru wasn’t listening to her. Instead, he stepped closer to one of the walls and examined it in silence. Kagura narrowed her eyes at him. What exactly was he… Ah.

“Fractals,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, well, an assignment that was inspired by fractals,” Kagura said, rolling her eyes. She started tapping her fingernails on the wood of the desk she was sitting on. This was more embarrassing than she’d thought it would be. Not that she’d thought about it much, actually, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have done it. “Are we drinking or what?”

Sesshomaru looked at her over his shoulder.

“I do not think that is a very good idea. We need to look out for the students. We cannot do that drunk.”

Why did he have to be so reasonable all the time?

“Why fractals?”

Kagura pushed herself off the desk with a sigh and walked to his side.

“Well, I was looking into some geometrical things,” for no reasons whatsoever, “and I thought fractals were… an interesting theme. Most kids went for a mirror type of thing, but some took more interest in the snowflake shape and others on…” She sighed, but couldn’t quite contain her amused smile. “The Triforce, I guess.”

Sesshomaru watched her as she spoke. Kagura was always passionate about things. When she cared about things, it was obvious in her voice, in her attitude. Right now, her eyes shone as she examined her students’ project, her lips curved into a smile he knew she couldn’t quite control. She smirked, a lot, but she always looked like she was caught off-guard when she realized she was genuinely smiling.

“That isn’t a bad idea to get them interested,” Sesshomaru conceded, voice perhaps softer than it usually was. “To pick things they can— have fun making, I suppose.”

“Well, we don’t all have that luxury,” Kagura grinned, shooting him a wink. “You’d have trouble doing that, wouldn’t ya?”

Sesshomaru rose an eyebrow, and took a step towards her. Kagura tried to step back, only to realize her back was already against the wall. She swallowed as the tall, white-haired man leaned towards her, towering over her even though she was wearing high heels. Curse him and his stupid height…

“Is that a challenge, Kagura?” he asked, and God, his voice was doing all sorts of things to her.

She didn’t think he’d used her name before. She found she quite liked it.

“Might be,” she replied, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m pretty sure even if you tried, you couldn’t get your students interested.”

Something dark briefly lit up in his golden eyes, and Sesshomaru sighed.

“You’re an impossible woman,” he said, possibly for himself more than for her.

“Yeah, I kind of pride myself on—”

Sesshomaru kissed her. At first, it felt brusque, his lips crashing against hers but remaining immobile, his body so completely tense against hers.

Kagura reacted immediately. She didn’t try to understand it, didn’t stop to consider whether or not that was a good idea. Before she could have any form of cohesive thoughts, she was pushing herself against him, her hands were in his hair as she pulled him down against her. If that took him by surprise, he didn’t show it. In a second, he’d pulled her away from the wall and lifted her onto a desk, where she promptly wrapped her legs around his waist.

She’d thought about this for years, wondered of what he’d taste like, how his body would feel against hers. His warmth, seeping through his clothes, was almost surprising, opposed to his usual cold demeanor. His large hands, his long fingers, moved slowly, up her legs, then on her waist, as he took his time to discover her body. It was the clash of her passion, her impatience, and his slow deliberateness.

When he pulled away from her, she let out an annoyed whimper, but didn’t try to hold him back. Instead, she took in the sight of him in that moment, and it made her smirk. She liked the way he looked right now. Disheveled, shirt all creased, tie half-undone, hair a mess. She liked the way his lips parted as he tried to steady his breathing. She knew that in a second, he would look as tidy as ever, but for now, she enjoyed a sight she doubted many people has set their eyes on before.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, and her smile widened. It only lasted a second before he did compose himself again, and when he looked back at her, it was gone.

“I think it’s time we go back. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

Kagura took it and jumped from the desk, quickly smoothing out her skirt. It wasn’t her first rodeo, and she knew she could make herself look perfectly presentable before she walked back into the gym.

“You should give that back to Hiten’s parents,” Sesshomaru added, pointing at the bottles she’d abandoned by the door. “He probably took it from them.”

She rolled her eyes. He just had to know everything better than everyone else, didn’t he? Fine. She would. Because, of course, it was the right, smart thing to do. It was just very annoying. Ugh. The things she was doing because she liked him…

She grabbed his tie and took to straightening it, and he went very quiet. His face didn’t express any emotion, but he didn’t have to for her to be able to read him. Pulling him forward, she planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Watch out, professor,” she whispered huskily, “you have some lipstick there.”

Then she took a step back, winked at him, and disappeared through the door.

Sesshomaru spent long seconds there, regaining control of his breathing. He couldn’t explain to himself what was different about Kagura. Everything about her was fascinating. The way she moved, the way she talked, the was she smiled. She brought color to his mostly dull, black and white world, something only his adopted daughter had been able to do before. He had never really considered acting on — whatever it was he was feeling, until tonight.

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about when to do it again.

It was a shame the year was ending, but they’d both still be here for the next one. At the thought, his lips curved into a smile.

He would be looking forward to it.

Hiii, thanks for reading! I’m tentatively coming back on Tumblr so you might see more of me in the next days. I don’t think I’ll be engaging with any content from the sequel, at least for the time being though. Hope you enjoyed this piece I wrote while I was gone!

#inuyasha #sesshomaru #kagura #sesskagu #inukag #in the background sure but it still counts #inuyasha au #teacher au #inuyasha fanfiction #my writing #annnnd i vanish into the night again

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