#MM: Enjoying the bout of mischief

[sil-and-seals-blog-something]

Just Danny casually using the Black Lantern ring to make constructs and scare unsuspecting victims is beautiful.

Like, next meeting? Casually brings out Black Lantern ring to make a fidget toy, in view of everyone, but its so casual and calm that it takes a moment for people to realize then it seeps across the table. Heroes are blue screening, panicking, getting ready to fight, and only a few are still calmly sitting there. The Green Lantern or Lanterns there has probably already heard and just accepted this fate, Batman found out courtesy of a report or something, and Martian Manhunter got to feel the mischief in Danny’s mind before the meeting (cause Danny probs subtly informed him out of respect).

DP x DC prompt #78

There's a reason why the black lantern ring turns all who encounter it into mindless, crazed zombies. It's because the black lantern ring wasn't designed for living people, it was designed for ghosts. Enter Danny Fenton, the newest member of the Black Lantern Corps.

[akaitsugi]

@azurescaled | morning after starters / accepting-ish

for one muse to wake the other up with oral 

akimi enjoyed a little mischief once in a while , enjoyed teasing the other to see how far they can push izumi before the dragon decided enough is enough . this was certainly one of those mornings where akimi decided to rouse izumi is a rather unconventional way , wanting to see how long it'd take for the other to wake from the bouts of pleasure doled out to them . having woken much earlier than they liked , the thought crossed their mind after a while of restless sleep ; if they cannot sleep , then they'll just have to entertain themselves until izumi wakes up and the thought crosses their mind when they felt the other's groin pressed against them . even after a night spent in pleasure , they suppose the ' aftereffects ' of pleasure don't fade so quickly . . . clambering under the covers , they situate themselves between the other's legs , a soft hum eking from their lips before setting to work , wrapping their lips around izumi's girth . keeping a keen ear on the sounds the dragon makes , feeling the way the other's muscles twitches beneath their palm with each stroke of their tongue . . . hollowing their cheeks and swallowing around izumi's cock with ease , wholly focused on pleasuring the other . it's not until a streak of light and cool air hits their face that they realized izumi had woken in pleasurable confusion , the blanket enshrouding akimi much like a veil . ruby eyes flickers upwards to meet izumi's sleepy orbs , " mm . . . " comes the muffled greeting , feeling the man's hand curl into their hair . even if izumi wanted akimi to get off , the tiger's set their mind to it . they wanted izumi to cum first . . . they'll deal with the consequences later .

[spritewrites]

Breakfast Threats (Squealing Santa 2k20)

Fandom: Haikyuu

Characters: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou (Kuroken)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This is my submission for Squealing Santa 2020, organized by @ticklygiggles​!! My assignment was @secretleeblogging​, who requested lee!Kenma wake up tickles. I LOVED doing this assignment, Kenma’s my favorite character and especially soft sleepy Kenma is everything to me. Happy holidays, hope you enjoy!!

Kozume Kenma was absolutely, 100 percent certain that the sun was a malicious force of nature specifically designed to ruin his day. No benevolent fire orb could ever be so rude as to burn into his retinas with that much intensity. It had to be the work of some evil spirit; maybe a demon, maybe a homophobic ancestor, who could say? Definitely something out for vengeance, because whatever was coercing the cosmos to shine all their light directly through his window at all hours surely sought his demise.

He scrunched his nose, wincing, and tried to explain this phenomenon to the lanky lump of messy black hair and volleyball muscle beside him. Tetsurou would understand.

Unfortunately, between the sun and the pillow and the muscle, the best language he could manage was “Time s’it?”

Beside him, the lump moved. A long arm reached over Kenma, fumbled, and grabbed a phone. Kuroo Tetsurou, in all his bedhead glory, blinked blearily at the screen. “Eight.”

Kenma groaned, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. “S’too bright.” He heard Tetsurou yawn, and selfishly peeked one eye open to catch a glimpse. His boyfriend was sitting up, shirtless and glowing in the early morning light, all tousled hair and red lips. Kenma hid his smile in the pillow.

“Need coffee,” Tetsurou grumbled. “Want any?”

Kenma shook his head, pulling the blankets further up around his shoulders. Artificial energy was the last thing he needed; what he really wanted was more sleep. He was dimly aware of the weight next to him on the bed disappearing and soft footsteps making their way out the bedroom door, accompanied by mumbled words that sounded suspiciously like “More for me.”

With a sigh, Kenma relaxed into the plush sheets. Mornings, especially mornings after he’d been up late playing games, were never his thing. Bright mornings like this one were extra trying on his vision, which was nearly nocturnal after years of gaming. Still, the prospect of being able to fall back asleep and wake up later to a hot breakfast from Tetsurou was too delicious to resist. Already he could feel himself drifting off, slipping back out of consciousness and into the soft embrace of sleep. 

It didn’t feel like a moment had passed when something was shaking his leg. Somebody was speaking, but it didn’t really matter who, not when his bed was as warm as it was. Just a few more minutes, he thought to himself.

“C’mon, kitten,” Tetsurou insisted, sounding equal parts annoyed and fond. “You got an extra two hours, it’s time to get up.”

“Mmf,” Kenma grunted eloquently, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. Another shake of his leg made him squirm, irritated. “Little longer.”

“You’ve had long enough; our breakfast is cold.”

There was a brief pause as Kenma formulated and internally executed an elaborate multi-pronged argument, which ended up finally exiting his mouth as “Microwave.”

“Okay, fair,” Tetsurou replied, and damn him, Kenma could hear his smile. How dare he tease when the stakes were this high? Extra sleep was pretty much a matter of life and death. “Guess I’ll have to make you.”

Kenma still wasn’t entirely conscious, but some tiny alarm went off in his sleep-addled brain. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him furrow his brow and curl his toes beneath the sheets. “…Can’t make me.”

“Oh?” There was something in Tetsurou’s tone that Kenma couldn’t put his finger on. Amusement, maybe? Mischief?

Suddenly, he felt the warmth of the blankets tugged away, leaving only Kenma in his pajamas on the bare mattress. He curled in on himself, whining in protest. “Hey!”

“See?” Tetsurou teased, holding the bedding teasingly out of reach. “This is how your breakfast feels. Cold, sad…”

“Give em back,” Kenma groaned, aware of how petulant he sounded but too exhausted to care. “Lemme sleep!” 

“Sleep is for the weak.” The mattress creaked, and Kenma felt a soft weight settle on his legs. “And you’re strong, aren’t you, kitten?”

Before he could reply, Kenma felt Tetsu’s presence on his legs shift and move closer to the head of the bed. Cold fingers snuck under his hoodie and waltzed up his spine, sending goosebumps racing to follow. He tensed, clutching the pillow. Oh.

“Tetsu—”

“Mm?” Tetsurou replied, all innocence. His strong body slid up Kenma’s, easily slotting into place on top of him and letting the weight of his body drape over his boyfriend. Kenma twitched as Tetsurou’s strong legs straddled his hips – soothing as the feeling was, he was also hyper-aware that he couldn’t squirm away. The fingers on his back spidered back down, effortlessly light in their touch.

Kenma took a shaky breath. “W-what’re you—”

“Told you I’d make you.” Tetsurou’s smirk pressed up between his shoulder blades, and Kenma had to stifle a gasp. “You’re not ticklish, are you, sweetheart?”

“I—” The fingertips changed direction again, trailing back up his back, but skating dangerously close to his sides this time. Kenma gritted his teeth, fighting an inevitable smile. “You – you know the answer! Tetsu—”

This time, when the touch on his spine reached the nape of his neck, it stayed there, circling the soft part of his back where his neck met his shoulders. With a squeak, Kenma’s shoulders hitched up by his ears.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed.

Tetsurou’s reply was so close to his ear that it was barely a whisper, ruffling his hair and making Kenma absolutely shiver. “You brought this on yourself, kitten.” 

With that, Tetsurou’s fingertips curled, prodding carefully into the sides of his ribcage, and he began to press smiling kisses all over the back of Kenma’s neck. Kenma, for his part, did not fall into laughter immediately; rather, he let out what could only be described as a squeal and began kicking wildly. Fortunately, his ribs weren’t so bad that he couldn’t hide the laughter building in his chest. Unfortunately, the sleepiness that still clouded his mind had left him weak, soft, and seemingly even more ticklish than usual. Still, it wasn’t until the kisses migrated north to his ears, nosing into the gaps in his hair, that his squeaks turned into real giggles, high-pitched and sweet and absolutely delightful to Tetsurou.

“You’re so cute when you laugh!”

“Please, please, I – enough with the ears!”

“You have the cutest ears; I can’t not kiss—”

“You—” Kenma snorted into the pillow— “you obsess over ears?”

“Hmmm…” The kiss that Tetsurou pressed into the nape of his neck was whisper-soft. “Only yours.” 

Kenma could feel his face burning, but didn’t dare lift his head lest Tetsurou see the redness on his cheeks and tease him about that, too. His concern didn’t last long, though, as the tickling in between his ribs moved to become squeezing at his sides, and he nearly gave then and there.

“Monster,” he gasped through his laughter, trying to kick. “Absolute menace, truly–” 

“Now, Kenma,” Tetsurou chided, giving Kenma’s hipbones a squeeze and relishing the cackles that the action produced. “I don’t think you’re really in a position to be throwing around insults, are you?”

While his point certainly held up, Kenma wasn’t exactly in a rational place mentally. He was lost in laughter, hardly able to think through a haze of ticklishness, and his usual line of defense against attacks such as these (wild thrashing) was being significantly hindered by Tetsurou’s presence on his back. He tried kicking once more, but it was more of a flailing than anything else, and his boyfriend’s strong legs easily countered the attack.

“Careful,” Tetsurou teased, reaching back to give one of his knees a quick squeeze (and producing a delicious howl).

“I cahahan’t,” Kenma wailed, burying his face once more in a pillow that was now wet with tears of laughter. “Please, Tetsu, please–”

“Are you going to get up?” asked Tetsurou, who had just found a wonderful spot on Kenma’s waist that made him hiccup.

“I—I—” Kenma giggled helplessly. He could feel his cheeks started to ache from smiling, but something in his pride kept him from giving in. “You’re teasing, I—Oh, not there, Tetsu, plehehease!”

“Please what?” came the reply, but Kenma was laughing too hard to answer. “Please tickle you more?” 

“Wahahait, I can’t—” 

“Can’t what?”

Kenma snorted, twitching under his boyfriend as a rogue fingernail found its way into his underarm. As merciless as the tickling was, the relentless teasing was almost infinitely worse.

“You’re—that tickles, Tetsu—”

“Does it?” asked Tetsurou, amused. “Almost enough to make you come have breakfast with me?” 

“I—ugh, fine, yes!” Kenma finally shouted between bouts of giggles.

Grinning triumphantly, Tetsurou pressed one last ticklish kiss to his boyfriend’s ear and rolled off him. Finally, Kenma turned over, blinking in the morning sun, face flushed and streaked with tears of laughter. His ribs heaved with the effort of replacing the lost oxygen, but he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. 

“That… that was rude.”

Tetsurou reached over to boop his nose, earning a swat and a weak chuckle. “Just be glad you surrendered when you did, kitten. Your toes were next.”

Kenma tried his best not to curl his toes at the thought, but Tetsurou’s knowing look told him that he’d failed. “You can’t—stop making fun of me, alright, I was asleep and you practically tortured me.”

Tetsurou hummed thoughtfully at that, brushing some of Kenma’s hair out of his face. “Never told me to stop, though, did you?”

Crap. Kenma froze, face burning. Tetsurou, on the other hand, burst into laughter.

“Aww, does my little kitten like being tickled?”

“Shut up,” Kenma hissed, but Tetsurou was practically rolling with giggles.

“That’s so adorable—”

“Enough teasing!”

“Oh, come on,” Tetsurou smiled, giving his boyfriend’s forehead a quick kiss. “You’re just bitter that I won.”

“M’gonna get you back, you know,” Kenma grumbled, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes and revealing a competitive shine. “Except a billion times worse.”

Tetsurou snorted derisively, but Kenma would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes widened. “I’d like to see you try – hey!”

The finger that had wedged itself just south of Tetsurou’s ribcage gave an experimental wiggle, and Kenma’s lips quirked at the sound his boyfriend made. Flushing, Tetsurou wrapped a hand around the intruding touch and pushed it away, playing up his puppy eyes to his full ability.

“Can it at least wait till after breakfast?” 

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “You have two minutes.”

“Two?!”

“Better be quick, sweetheart. One Mississippi… two Mississippi…”

Tetsurou was out of the room in a second, socks slipping on the hardwood and leaving Kenma snickering into his hoodie. After a moment, he plucked a blanket from where it had been discarded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over him, sighing and wiggling his toes in the warmth. Hmm.

Maybe three minutes.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien/Lukadrienette Drabble: Nachtmusik Chapter Eleven

A Little Night Music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) Chapter Eleven: Dies Irae, Dies Illa

“What were you humming just now?” Marinette inquired through a yawn as she took Hugo from Luka, careful to support the baby’s head. “It seemed to calm him down.”

Luka froze. “…Uh…”

He’d been absentmindedly humming a Gregorian chant, the Dies Irae from the requiem mass. Literally, the title meant “day of wrath”, and the lyrics in Latin described the Day of Judgment: ashes and fire and punishment and despair. Not exactly the most age-appropriate lullaby for their four-month-old.

It was quoted in a lot of classical pieces, though, and, thus, currently stuck in Luka’s head.

Not that he wanted to try to explain any of that to his wife at three in the morning.

“Nothing,” he lied but then immediately repented. “It’s just a little snatch of something the Orchestre is playing at an upcoming concert.”

“Teach it to me?” Marinette requested as she got situated in the rocking chair and held Hugo up to her breast to feed him.

“How about we do Bach’s Little Fugue in G Minor instead?” Luka suggested, coming over to give the side of Marinette’s head a kiss. “He likes that one too. That’s the one Adrien always sings to him…when he’s not singing something from a musical or a video game.”

 Luka hummed softly as he gently bounced Hugo, walking him round and round the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Why are you humming the Dies Irae?” Adrien finally inquired from where he leaned in the doorway watching.

Luka jumped.

Adrien sprang forward to steady his husband and make sure their eight-month-old son was secure in his sling. “Sorry. Sorry. I am so sorry. I thought you knew I was there. I’m so sorry, Luka.”

“It’s…okay,” Luka struggled to get out, breathing ragged.

“You okay, Sweet Prince?” Adrien peeked down at Hugo to find the baby laughing happily.

“Looks like someone enjoys jump scares,” Luka snorted in amusement, leaning in to rest his forehead against Adrien’s.

“Sorry, Orpheus,” Adrien whispered, hands going up to Luka’s cheeks to gently pull him in for a kiss.

Luka hummed contentedly into Adrien’s lips as they waltzed with his own.

“So why the Dies Irae?” Adrien mumbled, back on task the instant they pulled away.

Luka groaned, bouncing Hugo once more. “Not only is the Orchestre doing Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique, but I’m also soloist for Liszt’s Totentanz, so that melody is doubly stuck in my head.”

“My poor baby,” Adrien teased.

Luka rolled his eyes.

“I loooove Totentanz,” Adrien chuckled, catching one of Luka’s hands in his own. “Play it for me?”

“Now?” Luka laughed incredulously, shaking his head at his husband’s capriciousness.

“I mean…we’re up anyway, and Hugo seems to enjoy the Dies Irae, so…why not?” Adrien reasoned. “Besides, why did I go to the trouble of marrying a sexy piano virtuoso if I can’t have songs played live on demand at any hour of the night I want them?”

Luka tried not to grin as he tugged Adrien into the front room where they kept Adrien’s old baby grand piano. “You certainly didn’t marry me for my money or my body. I honestly don’t know what you were thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Adrien shrugged. “I’m so in love with you, I’m not capable of rational thought.”

Luka snickered. “You weren’t capable of rational thought before you fell in love with me.”

“Rude. See if I make babies with you anymore.” Adrien flicked his husband on the cheek before carefully taking Hugo in his sling from Luka.

“Angel,” Luka cajoled, lifting the lid on the piano keys.

Adrien shook his head as he sat on the piano bench. “Nope. Don’t you ‘Angel’ me. I will not be seduced.”

With a shrug of defeat, Luka sat beside Adrien and began a quick warmup.

“You’re not even trying to seduce me,” Adrien pouted. “What’s the big idea here?”

“I thought you wanted me to serenade you with macabre dance of death music about the black plague,” Luka replied with a smirk.

Adrien’s lower lip jutted forward. “Well, yes…but you could at least kiss me first.”

Luka gladly obliged, and when he pulled back, Adrien looked deliriously happy.

Luka grinned, chuckling at Adrien’s expression.

“What?” Adrien pouted, rocking Hugo from side to side.

“I love your smile.”

Luka could just make out a pastel pink blush on Adrien’s cheeks in the dim lighting.

“I love you,” he added.

“I love you too,” Adrien whispered back, scooting closer on the bench to rest his head on Luka’s shoulder. “It’s good to finally just be together and happy, isn’t it?”

“Mm,” Luka agreed, content to sit there with the man he loved and their child for as long as the moment lasted.

That turned out to be about thirty seconds.

After that, Adrien decided that they’d cuddled enough and that it was time for Luka to play piano. “I’ll go ahead and sing the orchestra parts. You play the piano solo.”

 “My baby!” Adrien cooed, eliciting a happy shriek of laughter and an answering, “Daddy!” from sixteen-month-old Hugo.

Hugo reached out his arms, and it was all Gabriel could do to keep a hold on the squirming toddler.

Adrien took his son, covering him with kisses and nuzzles.

Gabriel grinned, putting a polite hand over his mouth as he chuckled.

Plagg and Nooroo shared an amused look before returning to their posts in Adrien’s left and right shoulders respectively.

“How was he? Did he wake you guys a lot?” Adrien smiled up sheepishly at his father.

“Not too bad,” Gabriel replied judiciously. “A little fussy, and he wanted you three, but Nooroo and Plagg helped a lot as far as his homesickness went. Hugo ate just fine and eventually went to sleep after we laid him down last night. He didn’t disturb us too much. Not unreasonably so for sleeping away from home, anyway. You were much, much worse at his age.”

“Good to know,” Adrien snorted, a bright smile breaking out on his lips as he hugged his child to him, bouncing Hugo slightly. “Thank you so much for doing this. Luka and Marinette are super grateful too.”

Gabriel waved the thanks away. “It was no trouble at all. You know how much we enjoy babysitting. Hugo is a joy to spend time with.”

Adrien’s grin widened. “I’m really, really happy to hear you say so.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Nathalie and I would be glad to watch him whenever you need. Tom and Sabine hog him too much, and I’m uncomfortable with you leaving him alone with Anarka.”

Adrien grimaced. “She’s his grandma too, Dad. Play nice.”

Gabriel gave a petulant scoff. “It’s a wonder that Luka managed to raise himself so well with a mother like that Gaelic witch. She thinks she has more right to Hugo than I do.”

Adrien refrained from commenting that Gabriel himself had been a little slow to embrace Hugo as his grandson in the absence of a genetic link. “Well, she’s wrong. Try to be the bigger person when we have a green-eyed baby, okay? Regardless of biological paternity, all kids of this union belong to all three of us equally, so make sure you treat them all the same. Hugo adores you, and I’m sure it would really hurt if you started giving a hypothetical green-eyed sibling preferential treatment.”

“I would never,” Gabriel snorted in disgust, reaching out to stroke Hugo’s thick, dark hair. “He may not be biologically yours, but he’s one hundred percent your son, Adrien.”

Adrien blinked, taken aback by the certainty in his father’s voice. “Really? What makes you say that?”

Gabriel chuckled. “He has your mannerisms. Sometimes he’ll do something that’s obviously Marinette or patently Luka, but, a lot of times, he’ll make a face, and I can tell he got it from watching and mimicking you.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Adrien pressed, excited by this revelation. He had never really thought that Hugo resembled him even though both Marinette and Luka had commented upon it separately before. Perhaps it was because Adrien couldn’t see himself to have a mental picture to compare his son with, but…

“His pout is a carbon copy of yours,” Gabriel sighed. “He’s got your puppy dog eyes too.”

Adrien’s smile turned pained. “Ah. I see. So all the manipulative ploys, huh?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “He has your smile too…and your sweetness with none of your mischief. He’s inherited a lot from you despite the lack of shared genes. Don’t pout so, Adrien.”

“I’m not pouting,” Adrien pouted.

Gabriel gave Adrien an eyeroll encore. “How was your date last night? I trust you three had a nice dinner out?”

Adrien immediately perked up. “It was wonderful. Thank you. It was also nice to be able to get a solid eight hours of sleep without having to get up with Hugo.”

Gabriel assumed an air of nonchalance as he inquired, “Just out of curiosity and not to sound like I’m competing with Anarka, when are you three planning on having a green-eyed child?”

Adrien’s brow scrunched up like gathered fabric folds. “Seriously?”

Gabriel shrugged primly.

“We’re not actively trying, but we stopped actively not trying two or three months ago, so…but it’s not like we’re being intentional about who the biological father is. You and Anarka really need to cut it out.” Adrien shifted Hugo onto his hip with a sigh. “Should I have Luka talk to her?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gabriel assured sullenly and then abruptly switched topics so as to put an end to the discussion. “By the way, I’ve wondered this for a while, but…why does Hugo hum the Dies Irae? He wanted it as a lullaby last night. It was rather…odd. Not that I’m one to comment on your parenting choices, I suppose.”

Adrien gave a snort as he struggled to stifle a bout of laughter. “That’s Luka’s fault. It’s one of the most quoted musical passages in the repertoire, so it gets stuck in his head a lot, and when he’s tired and up in the middle of the night with Hugo… I think it’s because he didn’t get a lot of traditional lullabies when he was little. Anarka sang him rock and roll, so he doesn’t have the standard classics to fall back on, and he fills in the gap with music he does know.”

Adrien bit his lip. “…Kind of like how you and Maman had crappy parents who didn’t sing standard lullabies to you two, so you didn’t know them to sing them to me, so now I sing musical numbers like All I Ask of You from Phantom of the Opera or video game music like Zelda’s Lullaby from The Legend of Zelda to my own child. I think Marinette’s the only one who really knows traditional lullabies, and half of hers are in Chinese…which she doesn’t speak, so she’s not even sure she’s getting the words right.”

Gabriel frowned. “Can’t you tell?”

Adrien shook his head, bouncing Hugo gently. “They’re not in Mandarin. Sabine’s parents both spoke Mandarin, so that’s what they spoke in the house growing up, but her mother was originally from a different region in China before they moved to France, so the lullabies she sang to Sabine were in a different dialect which I do not speak.”

Gabriel pursed his lips, tempted to ask whether the dialects were similar enough that Adrien could make any of it out, but he remembered Adrien once telling him that most Chinese dialects sounded like completely different languages to him.

“What dialect do Bridgette and Félix speak?” he inquired instead.

Adrien shrugged. “Mandarin. I’d have to ask Sabine about the lyrics…. Well, I should probably get going. The first thing Luka asked me this morning was when I was going to pick up Hugo. I think he’s going through withdrawal,” Adrien chuckled, giving Hugo a nuzzle. “Your Papá misses you.”

“Papá!” Hugo trilled happily.

Adrien turned back to Gabriel. “Thanks again, Dad.”

“Bring him back any time,” Gabriel stressed. “Make sure you ask us before Anarka.”

Adrien shook his head, making a mental note to have Luka talk to the Capitaine about this grandparent rivalry she and Gabriel had going on. “Will do. Thanks, Dad.”

Adrien turned to go, and Gabriel hesitated a beat before calling out, “Adrien?”

“Hm?” Adrien looked back, tipping his head.

“Do you…” Gabriel worried at his bottom lip. “Does it bother you that you’re not familiar with the traditional lullabies?”

Adrien shrugged unconcernedly. “Not really. In a way, it’s more fun to sing anime theme songs and Bach and the Dies Irae. I think it makes Hugo more cultured too, so it’s not a bad thing.”

Gabriel nodded, relieved. “Good. That’s good. Take care, Son.”

Gabriel later stopped to think that his grandson was going to be a very eclectic child with so many varied influences. He wondered if the other children at school would appreciate Hugo’s uniqueness.

Gabriel winced and wondered whether Marinette, Luka, and Adrien would allow Hugo to be homeschooled.

[hpdrapery]

and all was well

fandom: harry potter ship: draco malfoy/harry potter/severus snape word count: 1642 also on ao3 and ffn

Sometimes all that's needed to turn a bad day around is a little company.

Harry collapsed onto the sofa, utterly oblivious to the world around him. It had been a horrible day. Skipping Charms likely wouldn’t make it much better, since he was sure he’d wind up with detention for it, but he couldn’t stand the idea of sitting through an hour of class with the Gryffindors that afternoon. Kicking off his shoes, slipping out of his robes, and taking off his tie, he laid down, now much more comfortable in the remainder of his uniform. According to the clock, it was just past three, so he had three hours in which to relax before once again facing his classmates for dinner.

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he hardly noticed when the couch cushion dipped next to his feet. It was only when he felt a gentle hand against his shin that he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, hey,” he murmured distractedly, shifting to stretch his legs across Severus’ lap, so that the other would have more room.

“Oh, hey?” Severus echoed, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t you have class right now?”

“Yes, but I think it’s best for everyone if I don’t go today,” Harry replied, avoiding eye contact. It always felt like Severus could read him effortlessly, even without using Legilimency.

“In other words, you’re cutting class because you’re in a mood.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re the moodiest person I know, and the second most dramatic, after Draco.”

“Impertinent brat,” Severus muttered fondly, hand still resting on Harry’s leg. “I should turn you in to Flitwick, you know. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

“But you won’t.” If he hadn’t been sure of that, he wouldn’t have gone to Severus’ chambers, after all, even though he hadn’t thought the professor would actually be there.

“Not this time,” Severus agreed grudgingly, glancing at the clock. “But don’t expect me to make a habit of covering for you.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Harry smiled faintly, noticing that Severus seemed to have had a rather unpleasant day himself. “Did the first years blow anything up today?” he asked lightly, sitting up to move closer, still half in his lap.

“When don’t they?” One arm slipped around Harry, holding him close. “I swear, they’re all idiots with absolutely no regard for safety.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry leaned comfortably into Severus, pressing a kiss to his cheek. While he sympathized with the other’s frustration, it was always just a little funny to hear how Severus genuinely didn’t comprehend why eleven year olds didn’t have the same focus and attention to detail as NEWT-level students.

“Well, Sev, they’re kids. It’s kind of to be expected,” Harry said, for what felt like the hundredth time that month.

“You and Draco were never like that,” he retorted, sounding much like a petulant child himself.

“Mm, whatever.” Harry had long since learned that there was no use in trying to have a proper conversation with Severus on the topic. He’d be much more suited to a job as a university professor, if such a thing existed in the magical world.

“What has you upset?” Severus asked after a few minutes, seemingly remembering that he wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day.

“Just...stuff.”

“Such as?” Severus chuckled, a sound that never failed to make Harry smile, and tugged the younger man fully onto his lap.

“Rumors going around again,” Harry mumbled, wishing he could hex whoever had started them.

“Ah, the one about Draco being in a secret relationship with Zabini? I overheard that one in the hall earlier.”

“Yeah, that and another one about the three of us being evil. I suppose I should be used to all of it by now, but sometimes I just can’t stand the way everyone looks at me.” Harry frowned, glaring at the wall. The idea that the Boy Who Lived wouldn’t be affected by anti-Slytherin sentiments couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“There will always be people who are suspicious of us, unfortunately. You must try not to let it affect you. As for the rumors about Draco’s love life, I’ve said that the two of you can be together openly.”

“No,” Harry replied with a sigh. “We should wait until we don’t have to keep you a secret. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. It just...makes me jealous, imagining him with other people and not being able to correct anyone about it.”

“I know,” Severus agreed, idly thumbing over Harry’s hipbone. “It makes me jealous too.”

“Well, I suppose as soon as the war is over, and Draco and I graduate, all people will be able to talk about is our sinful Slytherin triad,” Harry joked, capturing Severus’ lips in a quick kiss.

“Perhaps for a while, but eventually there will be new rumors about one of us cheating on the others,” the professor replied dryly, though he leaned in and gave Harry another kiss afterwards.

“Can’t you ever just be optimistic for a minute?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I’m simply being realistic. Our relationship will always be rather high-profile, given how well-known we all are, and as such, there will be gossip.”

“Mm, we could always just hide away somewhere nobody will find us for a while.”

“And then there would be rumors about that.”

Harry simply nuzzled against Severus lazily, trailing kisses over his jaw and neck.

“Mind if I spend the night?” he asked a few moments later. It was remarkable how quickly one of his boyfriends could cheer him up after a day of rumors and Gryffindor teasing.

“You know I don’t.”

Harry’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, and he nodded. It had only been a couple of months since he and Draco started sneaking into Severus’ chambers at night, but it was already clear that it put all of them in a better mood. If he thought he could get away with it, Harry would gladly spend every night tangled up with Severus and Draco, but as it was, he simply had to savor each opportunity he got. The rest of Severus’ students would have to do the same, as, from an outsider’s perspective, the man’s moods were more varied and unpredictable than ever before.

“I know,” Harry said, still draped in Severus’ lap. “You’re lucky you have us, really. I don’t think you’d ever relax otherwise.”

“I rarely sleep through the night alone,” Severus admitted, grimacing as though the words caused him physical pain. As much as Harry liked knowing that he helped his lovers as much as they helped him, he knew that the older man would never like admitting to any vulnerabilities. He gave a sympathetic hum, opting not to press the issue.

“I’m sure Draco will want to stay too,” he replied instead, deciding that the blond was a safe conversation topic.

“If he isn’t out cavorting with Mr. Zabini instead.” Severus’ eyes gleamed with mischief, and Harry scowled, leaning his head on a black-clad shoulder.

“You admitted that it makes you jealous too,” he protested. “It would bother you even more if you had to listen to it all day like I do.”

“Yes, it does,” Severus said, fingers gently stroking through Harry’s messy hair. “I don’t enjoy the thought of either of you with someone else any more than you do. What I do know, however, is that Mr. Zabini is an insufferable playboy, working his way through as much of the student body as he can. Not at all Draco’s type, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose it is a little funny when you put it that way,” Harry agreed, mind drifting to all the things that made Draco so lovable, and so high-maintenance.

“I’d much rather picture Draco shagging you.”

“Who’s shagging Harry?” Draco asked, having entered the room halfway through Severus’ sentence.

“You,” Severus replied, dark eyes watching as Draco walked over to the couch and settled down next to them.

“Lucky me.” Amused, Draco gave each of them a kiss, then drew back to give Harry an appraising look. “Right now?”

“Not right now, you git,” Harry replied, laughing and swatting at Draco gently. “Sev was just saying that he’d rather picture you shagging me than Blaise.”

“Ah. Well, I’d hope so, prat. You are rather adorable.”

Chatting idly between bouts of companionable silence, the remaining time before dinner passed quickly. With an agreement to spend the night together as planned, the three split up before going up to the Great Hall.

The evening passed uneventfully, and Harry was able to ignore most of the gossip around him, aided by Draco surreptitiously holding his hand now and then. Before he knew it, he was able to slip out of the common room. Once in Severus’ bedroom, Harry was able to relax again. A glance to the others showed that it was much the same for them. Everything was easier when they didn’t have to pretend.

“Graduation can’t come fast enough,” Draco said, once they were all settled in bed.

“Sneaking around might have its benefits too,” Harry mumbled around a yawn. “I don’t even want to think about the sorts of things the press will say about you when they find out. But...I can’t wait either. Being able to do this every night, and not have to hide that we’re together in public will be amazing.”

Severus made a soft noise of approval, and Harry continued on talking for a while, musing about their future lives together.

Realizing that he hadn’t gotten any replies for a while, Harry glanced to either side of himself, only to find that both Draco and Severus had fallen asleep.

“I love you,” he murmured fondly, closing his eyes. Harry almost always had pleasant dreams when falling asleep in his lovers’ arms, but his last thought before dozing off was that right now, reality was even better.