#and the first question any interviewer ever asks is always about what political party i support

[lord-luci]

Had an interview for a newspaper this morning right before I needed to drive to class, which went very hilariously given I was fully in cosplay for it.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

I haven't written about Rolan in a while and now I have the brain rot for him again.

The threat of the Netherbrain had fallen, throwing the celebration of Baldur's Gate into question. Any hands that had participated in the downfall of the city had now been eradicated. A city wide party was now in order, festivities went on for days, parties took place on the street and not a single person was absent. Though Rolan only played a minor part in the thwarting of the Netherbrain, he was celebrated and revered as a hero, offer upon offer was made of wine, beer and company to him.

Ever the stoic gentleman, Rolan declined every offer, he aided in the downfall of the Netherbrain but felt unworthy in the claiming of its defeat, instead he turned those who would honour him towards his friend Tav, watching their annoyed face and smirking to himself, laughing internally as he watched Tav politely accept each offering whilst shooting Rolan dirty looks, knowing that he had sent them their way on purpose.

Baldurs Gate had calmed after a week or so, the celebrations finally died down and business as normal had resumed, albeit frantic for a brief period to cover the lost time spent partying.

It wasn't the story of him helping the "Hero of Baldur's gate" that drew you to Sorcerer's Sundries, you were drawn by the stories of Rolans talent, eager to learn what you could from him, the stories you heard about him we almost like fiction. Holding his own in the shadow cursed lands, saving the teifling children and then to aiding in the defeat of the blight that was the Netherbrain. How could you not be enthralled by such talent and power.

The day you arrived at Sorcerer's Sundries was a busy one, many were attempting to seek employment just to be near Rolan. You counted yourself amongst the few people there who were concerned with Rolans skill, not the ever inflating legend that people were spreading in the city. The interview process was brutal, though you were only seeking to apply as a librarian for now it still made you nervous, having to explain the nuances of each area of magic before Rolan himself was nerve wracking. In the end you were granted the job, recieving a personal thanks and praise from Rolan as you were by far the most outstanding applicant for the role.

As you started your role as librarian and assistant you took to it like a duck to water, whether it was client or colleague that needed assistance you attended them with vigour. The library of Sorcerer's Sundries became a second home to you, you knew every bookshelf and cranny intimately, you could tell the difference in the wood grain between certain shelves, knowing which ones were chipped and which had been freshly stained.

You had excelled at your job as librarian, recieving praise often, yet it was your role as assistant that saddened you some days. Attending Rolan made your heart flutter every time, you would bring him his meals and cleaned his private study. It was a quick job cleaning his study, Rolan was meticulous and kept things in their proper place, only a quick clean was ever required of you.

Each day you brought Rolan his meals he was always enthralled on some research, yet it never stopped him from approaching you to bow and thank you profusely for attending to him, each time it made you shudder and caused butterflies to stir in your stomach, blushing and trying to hide your face as your left his office in a hurry, a fact that Rolan noticed and smirked at every time.

The Netherbrain plot had now faded into distant memory over the last few weeks, life had returned to normality for the citizens of Baldur's Gate. Working at Sorcerer's Sundries was heaven, you were left to attend to the books and had regular audience with Rolan, a thing that was envied by most people as he was the wizard of the grand tower.

Each meal you brought Rolan elicited some small talk, asking how the day was going and what plans you had for the night. It was performative at first, to make the situation less awkward between the two of you, yet after a while the performative facade faded away.

Rolan saw you often and wanted to know more, to know what you liked and what made you tick. Rolan began to enjoy the daily visits where you brought his meals, the food was inconsiqusntial at this point, he was interested in the short small talk you had together, laughing internally at the blushes on your cheek that he caused. He was an intelligent man and knew that you haboured some sort of feeling for him, admittedly he found your presence and form attractive in equal measure, all he needed to do was take the risk and act upon it.

The day was like any other in the library, answering queries and suggesting certain tomes was just daily business. Lunch was approaching and so was your next visit with Rolan, a thought that excited you every time. Brushing off the dust of the old books from your dress you made your way to the kitchens. Never before had there been a full kitchen in the shop, yet the growing amount of staff meant it became a necessity to have one. Today's option was a roast pork meal, you plated it up ready to take to the master of the tower.

As you approached the tower with hot food in hand you daydreamed about Rolan once again, you knew it was folly to believe he would want you, yet it never stopped the daydreams. The door to Rolan's study was thick and heavy, after some time you had now become acquainted with it's weight and opened it with ease. You approached his desk, meal in hand and placed it gently upon it, calling for Rolan and announcing his meal was ready.

It was quiet in his study, not an uncommon thing but this time he hadn't responded to your call. Instead you felt a hand stroke your hair, jumping at the feeling of it before hearing a familiar laugh. "Are you always this skittish?" A low rumble of a chuckle left Rolan's throat as he continued to play with a strand of your hair, savouring the softness of it.

You felt Rolan's other hand upon your waist, hungrily grasping at your curves, feeling like his hands wanted to learn more about your body. All it took was a quick gasp and you were turned to face him, to stare in those hypnotic golden eyes of his. You felt his finger hook underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he spoke to you. "I appreciate all you do for me, yet I would ask more of you, if you would be so inclined"

Rolan's thumb stroked softly over your lips as he spoke, you knew what task he was implying and it excited you, it was something you had also desired. You stared into his golden eyes and considered his proposal, it was not a hard decision to make, you aimed to please and had desired him from the beginning. The feeling of his thumb upon your lips is what convinced you, taking it into your mouth and biting playfully, it was all the confirmation both of you needed.

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer - July 2015, interview with Till and Peter

The name’s Lindemann. Till Lindemann. And together with his friend Peter Tägtgren, the Rammstein man has produced the most obscene side-project in metal. For songs about ladyboys and golden showers, step this way…

Hammer is sitting in the lobby of a five-star hotel in London, listening to Till Lindemann sing about golden showers. As the Rammstein singer booms ‘cunt’ down our headphones, we imagine what the businessmen around us would make of all this — ‘this’ being Skills in Pills, the debut album from Lindemann, Till’s new side-project with Swedish multi-instrumentalist and Hypocrisy mastermind, Peter Tägtgren. 

When we share this thought with Till later, he creases up. Seemingly seven feet tall, the 52-year-old German is one of the most physically imposing people in metal, yet it quickly becomes apparent that, for all the onstage insanity, in real life he’s soft-spoken, polite and, dare it be said, gentlemanly, proffering his arm on the way to his room where the interview will take place.

In contrast to Peter’s chatty and business-like demeanor, Till is more intense, sometimes shy, but his twisted humor reveals itself as we’re led around to the hotel’s side entrance and into the lift. « This feels a bit like a hooker situation, » he grins. Gentlemanly, indeed…

It follows that the duo’s album is just as multifaceted. Skills in Pills seems to reflect the different aspects of Till’s personality, boasting playful, smutty songs like Ladyboy and the aforementioned Golden Shower, with the bleakly beautiful Children Of The Sund and Home Sweet Home also in the mix. Peter’s years of experience producing for the likes of Dumm Borgir and Children Of Boom have given it a tight sound, with a metallic crunch and industrial heart beating beneath a hooky, Euro-synth Lustre.

In their fancy suite, Peter recounts how the Lindemann project began. It was September 2013, as Rammstein wrapped up their explosive Liebe Ist Für Alle Da tour.

« Till invited me to a festival in Sweden, just before Rammstein were going on a two-year break, » Peter recalls. « He said, ‘Let’s do something!’ I sent him the files for the first song and a couple of days later he sent it back with vocals! It went so smoothly that we had to try another. And another. And another… »

While Peter’s been busy with different musical projects over the years, Lindemann is Till’s first ever major musical departure from Rammstein. That makes this collaboration kind of a huge deal. So, the question must be asked: what has the dynamic been like between these two similarly eccentric, yet delightfully unique characters?

« There is no dynamic, » says a straight-faced Till. He glances at Peter and they start cackling. They share the same sense of humor, but there is obviously something special going on here…

The story goes that their friendship began years ago when Peter rescued Till from getting beaten up by a jealous boyfriend and his mates.

When we comment that we know who we’d rather have on our side in a bar fight, Till smiles shyly, as if he’s unaware of how terrifying he is.

« That fight was all about Flake, » Till admits. « He started shit, like he always did in those days because he’s a tiny guy and nobody ever harms him. He knew somebody would save his ass! »

So basically, this is a kinship born of fights, frolics and partying?

« Why does everybody think we party all the time?! » Till asks Peter, feigning exasperation.

« It’s not like we quit drinking… just not when we’re in the studio, » clarifies Peter, before gesturing to Till and adding, « Although he always has a few beers when he records. »

« It’s good for the voice, » says Till seriously.

« That’s what she said, » whips back Peter.

« The point was to have fun, » Peter adds. « We wanted to do a couple of songs, see what we could learn from each other. Then suddenly half the album was done and it wasn’t just a hobby any more. We had to try and keep it a secret! »

In 2015, that’s no small feat. So far the guys have managed to keep things mostly under wraps, revealing, prior to this interview at least, only the project name, a date and a single image of themselves dressed as a bride and groom — a truly odd couple. But Till tells us he initially wanted to use the internet to gauge fans’ opinions, rather than spread the word.

« I wanted to put the first song up online, to see how people would react, » he reveals. « It was really strange to sing in English because I’d never done it, except on a couple of stupid songs, like Pussy. Peter encouraged me, but I was unsure. I wanted feedback from fans, but he didn’t want to give anything away, which in hindsight was good because otherwise » —  he snaps his fingers  — « the box is open, y’ know? It was great; a year and a half of no pressure, nobody on our backs. »

Was this freedom from expectation the main appeal of doing a project outside of Rammstein?

« It was a total vacation, » stresses Till.

« And just to create something together, » adds Peter. « We’re from different worlds — he’s more into gothic style and I’m into metal. We learned a lot from each other, helped each other a lot. I think Till sings a lot more on this record. »

« We don’t have these melodies in Rammstein, » Till explains. « Sometimes it’s just the bass and drums and no hook, so it amounts to this talk-singing [known as Sprechgesang in German]. I wanted EBM, Depeche Mode-style sequences, so I pushed Peter to do it and he came up with some great stuff. And writing songs can be hard. You go to bed with it, you dream about it, you wake up with it… and at the heart of it is the chorus. If you find a good one, you never have to work again, » he adds, at which Peter starts crooning, « Laaaast Christmas… »

« …I gave you my heart, » sings Till back to him, before adding with a chuckle, « Asshole! »

The more time spent with this curious twosome, the more it becomes clear that they have an understanding of each other that runs a lot deeper than mere musical collaboration, and that their roles within Lindemann are ones that they have taken with relish. While Peter wrote and played all of the album’s music, the filthy lyrics are all Till’s.

So now that they’ve seen what they can do together, how far are they planning to take it?

A single and video are on the cards, promises Peter, and gigs look to be a possibility, too. But when asked if he still enjoys performing live, Till goes quiet and shake his head, almost imperceptibly — a little sadly, even.

« But I have to, » he sighs after a heavy silence.

He does, however, say that if Lindemann were to play live, he wants a stripped-down show: «I think it’s better when it’s just pure energy, rock’n’roll, no pyro, » he says. « Leaves all this bullshit behind and just play the songs. »

Colour us intrigued — the frontman of one of metal’s most shamelessly showy bands labelling pyro and ballyhoo as ‘bullshit’? Given the nature of Till’s day job, this statement is perhaps a little worrying, and with Rammstein guitarist Richard Kruspe telling Hammer late last year that he didn’t know what the future held for the German titans, it adds further uncertainty to when or even if we’ll see the six-headed pyromaniac monster rise again. Luckily, though the other Rammstein members are indeed off doing their own thing at the moment, it seems, according to their frontman at least, that that chapter hasn’t been closed just yet.

« We’re all still in touch, » he reassures us.

« We don’t see each other, but that’s the point — it’s a vacation. We’re all going to meet back in Berlin around September, October. » Perhaps the wheels on the Rammstein machine will start rolling again sooner that we’d thought…

In the meantime, metal’s newest odd couple are still in their honeymoon period. They’re enjoying the freedom to make music on their own terms, however and wherever the hell they feel like it. So what’s the endgame for Lindemann?

« That we’re gonna get sued and burned for the lyrics, » laughs Peter. « But I’m just going to pretend I don’t understand any English. »

We won’t tell if you don’t.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

For Amélie Biava - When you met Amarra, you were Imperial Intelligence and she was a powerful Sith Lord, with little if any restrictions on how she could treat you. With such a disproportionate power dynamic, how did things wind up going the way they did for you?

OC Interview

Thanks for asking @swtorpadawan!

Amélie leans back in her seat and chuckles darkly.

“Yeah that’s a fair question. I sometimes ask myself how I managed to swing it with the damned Wrath of all people. Talk about out of my league and a huge threat to my life.”

She hums faintly and gently thumbs at the polished band of black metal on her finger.

“I fully admit that I didn’t trust her when we were first properly introduced. I mean it’s like you were saying, Sith can do what they want and the Wrath? She sits outside of the Sith hierarchy and answer to no one but the Emperor. She even has enough authority to challenge the Dark Council. So really what chance did I have if I wanted off her ship?”

Her eyes become hard, clearly recalling stories of others that suffered at the hands of mad Sith but she shakes her head before continuing on.

“Now with any kind of relationship it takes all parties involved to make it work but I will say that she did most of the initial heavy lifting to try and reach out to me. Just looking at her crew spoke volumes about her. How many Sith do you know that have a free twi’lek with more tech skills than a Fixer, a Black Ops squad on perpetual standby, a former Jedi apprentice that happily engages in philosophical and political debates with her new master and a sadistic assassin droid? Hm... actually forget the droid. Lots of Sith would probably have an HK unit if they could. But the others? You won’t find many Sith that actually have a crew like that who are all loyal and don’t just trust but love the Sith that they follow.”

She sighs and stares wistfully off at nothing.

“You hear old stories of noble Sith and their cherished followers. Old Korribani and Ziosti legends of Sith protectors defending those that they love. Most of those stories are lost to time and Republic purges but the romanticism of those tales endure... Of all the Sith in the Empire, I've found that Amarra embodies those old tales more than anyone I’ve ever seen. She cares about those under her command and that apparently extended to me.”

A genuine smile spreads across her face, reaching her eyes and even causing her body to relax. Her deep sense of gratitude is very clear.

“So, like I was saying, once I was finally out of the kolto tank, she reached out to me. I've often wonder if she could sense that I didn't trust her and that made her reach out. Whatever the reason, she offered to find me a doc to clone me a new hand after I lost mine on Corellia. She also gave me the chance to transfer to any command I wanted. I could write my own ticket and go anywhere I wanted. She didn’t even know me at the time, just wanted to help out another Imperial citizen.”

Her eyes return to her wedding band and she cannot stop smiling.

“After looking at my options and taking a serious look at her file- which can I just say, was damned impressive? Defeated a well known Jedi Master before being named a Lord, took out the Republic War Trust, killed a Dark Councilor, won the initial battle for Corellia and personally ended a coup led by her former Master. And never once did she ever act out of personal gain. She had no interest in personal power and only wanted to serve the Empire. What an ideal,” she says with what could only be described as hearts in her eyes.

“So, I chose to stay on and became her official pilot and unofficial liaison to what was left of Imperial Intelligence before Sith Intel got set up. I worked hard getting her whatever information I could, because I felt she was the best chance the Empire had for moving forward. She took notice and made sure that my actions were always commended. Got a promotion thanks to my work and she eventually started trusting me with more responsibilities, even putting me in charge of her own personal spy network she took from her old master."

She pauses then and her face scrunches faintly as if in sympathy, likely due to truly understanding just how stressful a position like Keeper's had been, managing so many agents.

"So, truth? I got lucky. I could have died at the hands of my captors on Corellia, honestly that's probably what was supposed to happen, knowing the last two Keepers. But I was lucky because she found me. If I had been found by anyone else in the Empire, I probably would have been court martialed for being on an unsanctioned intelligence operation. But she got to me first. And I must say, I am eternally thankful that she did."

[itsmissing]

Hi, you said we were allowed to ask random questions, so I wanted to get your take on this if it is ok. I have followed you for years at this point, and your creations are incredible! They inspire me so. I recall some time ago posting a.... reskin? Revamp? Of one of your DnD characters? I know most of your characters are not dnd nor should people use them in their own games, but if I am reading this correctly it means you yourself play or have at least played TTRPGs in the past. So, since you are welcoming questions, I thought it fair to ask an insanely creative person like you.

So I am in many DnD games right now, and most of them are very RP heavy. I find I can articulate myself well digitally when I can edit what I'm saying to make myself look thoughtful and knowledgeable. But when I RP verbally in the moment - particularly characters that have different thought patterns than I do- I flounder and words become difficult.

Suffice to say- how do you approach RP from a creator's stand point? Creating many different characters and making them unique from yourself but still compelling and competent? What is your thought process to RP?

If you do not feel comfortable answering this ask and that is perfectly fine- I realize this is coming out of left field but you did say you were bored and wanted asks, so I thought this line of questions was fair game. Regardless, I do wish to share how insanely creative and incredible I find your works. If you do not mind more questions in the future, I would love to ask a bit more of your inspirations and thought processes towards how you approach art, but instead I'll settle on my odd ask and hope I am not egregiously overstepping.

thanks for the question! bit of a long answer so i'll put it under a Read More.

i've actually played a couple of campaigns of dnd and blades in the dark (tho they were all over discord calls, and none of them ever concluded naturally), and i totally understand where you're coming from! tho i'll be honest, i haven't played ttrpgs in general in a good long while. i definitely had frustrations in my first ever couple of sessions of dnd (using a character i lovingly designed from scratch), and i think a lot of those pain points stemmed from me trying to force a narrative journey i already had in my head, pre-planned, that i imagined during the design phase for that character. but at the end of the day, dnd is improv, and if you're not used to that, your character's going to end up a little different than how you imagined, and that's ok! a session is always going to be a collaborative roleplaying space, where the party's stories as a group and as individuals are crafted gradually, over time, and some of the ideas you had for your character at the start-- their backstory, their personality, the way they talk and think-- are going to be constantly workshopped into something different, naturally, over the course of a campaign as you get more comfortable. i also find it's a lot easier to rp when you stop trying to inhabit The Exact Character That You Made With Love, and instead try to rp with their essence in mind instead. the most important thing for me when roleplaying is to understand the basics of my character-- whether they're nice or mean, outspoken or reserved, polite or straightforward, etc-- more than anything else. more practical, actionable advice is that it helps to ask yourself questions in your off time and try to answer them as best as you can, out loud and in-character. interview yourself as your character! what's their favorite fruit?

thanks for the question, and also the kind words about my art! i had typed a lot more than this out but i felt like it was mostly incoherent rambling. this might still qualify as that, actually. hope this helps in any way!

[runa-falls]

you are woman, i am man

summary: you have a hard time getting to the dinner portion of the meeting

pairing: andy barber x reader

rating: explicit (pls DNI if you’re under 18)

warnings: SMUT, fascination with bruises, infidelity, andy is married, oral f!receiving, slight daddy kink

word count: 2k

A/N: based on the song ‘you are woman, i am man’ from funny girl the musical. i know i should be working on chapters for the several series i have BUT i couldn’t work on anything else until i got this out. also i did not proof read or edit anything because i be like that ;)

masterlist

-=+=-=+=-=+=-

You know you shouldn’t be here alone with Andy. Ever since you met, he’s sent you looks, ones that shouldn’t be sent to anyone except his wife. 

You were first introduced to each other by your father. It was a passing introduction at a business cocktail party, just a polite greeting and short conversation. His wife, Laurie, was on his arm, dressed to the nines, merely there for show, not really contributing to any discussions. 

That seemed to be the role of all the wives at this party, to sit there and look pretty as the men talked business. 

You did the same, floating near your father, always there for him to pointlessly introduce you to his colleagues and higher-ups. You weren’t exactly sure what your father did for his work. Every time you questioned him, he’d shut you down, telling you it’s unimportant if he keeps a roof above your head and food on the table. 

The party was a bore, the air is filled with fake laughter, empty chatter, and emptier champagne glasses. The one thing that did spark your interest was his boss. He’s easy to see among the crowd, standing tall in a pristine tux. You wondered how he got into this position since he is so much younger than your dad.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barber, it’s great to see you here tonight.” Your father beams a smile at the man as he tugs you in front of him. “This is my daughter, her mother couldn’t make it tonight so she offered her presence instead.” 

Mr. Barber’s eyes bore into yours with a charming smile. He offers you a hand to shake, “Hi, I’m Andy,” you slip your hand into his, feeling as it’s engulfed in his warmth, “and this is my wife, Laurie.” She smiles politely but doesn’t say a word.

“Nice to meet you.” You say in your practiced sweet voice. You try to pull your hand from his, but he holds on to you. You look up at him with a questioning expression and he just tilts his head like he’s trying to figure you out. 

“And you.” He finally releases his hold.

—-

You didn’t expect him to request dinner with you a few weeks after. The meeting was very insignificant in your opinion, he barely talked to you. 

Your father told you about the dinner and you assumed you’d be accompanying him for another business meeting, but when the sleek black car arrived at your door, he didn’t join you. He wasn’t even dressed to go out.

“He asked for your presence, not mine.” He said it so casually as if he wasn’t sending his only daughter out to an unknown meeting. “I think he said something about an internship since I told him about how it’d help you in college...” Of course, it wasn’t specified in the message, but he doesn’t really care as long as it puts him in Barber's good graces. He just needed an excuse to get you to the car so you aren’t late. 

“Oh. That’s very kind of him!” You were pleasantly surprised at this turn of events. You quickly put on your shoes before heading out to the car and waiting out front. 

—-

You assumed you’d be interviewed and then eat with his family so you mentally prepared yourself for a night of good behavior, practicing your smiles and nods. But when you are guided into his larger-than-life house, it was just him. 

He was dressed in a soft-looking sweater, making him look much more domestic than you remembered him to be. He leads you to the living room as dinner is prepared. 

“I’m glad you could make it.” He sits down on his grey couch that doesn’t look very comfortable but must cost a fortune. “Come here.” He gestures at the spot next to him, but you opt for a cushion that leaves a professional amount of space between you. There’s soft jazz playing above you through barely distinguishable speakers. 

You sit there, back straight and knees together, waiting for the interview to begin. He looks amused by your posture taking a once over at your figure. You look at each other, anticipating the next move. 

“Are you expecting something?” His tone is light, confused by your behavior. 

“Um, the interview, right? For the internship?” He raises an eyebrow evaluating your words, a chuckle moves through his chest. 

“What internship?” Your face drops. You’ve been fooled. 

“Oh, I guess some messages must have been mixed up. My dad mentioned an internship, but that could’ve been for something else…” You make up the excuse with a sheepish look, now really confused as to why you are here. He scoots closer to you and leans forward to place his arms on his knees. 

“I just wanted to see you again.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at you, the same move he made at the party. You don’t know what you are supposed to be doing. 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and a piece of hair falls into your face, tickling your eyelid. He pushes the lock of hair behind your ear then takes a hold of your jaw to make you look at him. 

When your eyes gaze up at his, he thinks he’s never seen anything more alluring. He feels a blush travel up your body as his fingers drag down to the point where your jaw meets your neck. Your skin is warm and soft against his calloused hand. It’s a sensation he likes feeling very much. 

He stares at your unblemished skin thinking how he’d do anything to mark you as his. Your throat swallows under his palm as if you could hear his dark thoughts.

“Mr. Barber…” Your soft voice gasps out. He looks back at your face, eyes glazed over and lips bitten red. His left hand drifts up your thigh, pushing at the fabric of your skirt. Your thoughts are interrupted by a cool touch of metal. His wedding band. You push against him wanting to create space. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your actions were deliberate, but your voice remained quiet. It’s like your body is fighting against your mind.

“Why? Because of this?” Andy easily pulls off the ring and tosses it to the side. “Don’t worry about that, honey. It’s not real.” He pushes himself off the couch, and sits on his knees in front of you, slowly parting your legs so he can scoot himself closer to you. Despite him sitting on the floor, he’s at the perfect height to kiss you. 

“Such a sweet girl trying to do the right thing…” He whispers against you, placing a hand against your cheek which you lean yourself against. “You look so pretty tonight in your little dress,” His other hand drags up from your calf to your thigh. “But you’d look even prettier with a neck full of bruises and bites…” A moan vibrates in your chest at his words. He leans in, softly placing his lips on yours. 

He breathes you in as you push yourself against him. Your hands find themselves on either side of his jaw, pulling him closer. You could feel his hand grip your thigh hard enough to leave a mark. He was clearly holding himself back. His beard brushes against you as he dips down to your neck. 

He starts off with plush kisses, then moves to gentle nipping. The borderline ticklish feeling sends shivers up your spine and your legs wrap around his waist. Andy takes that as the cue to start sucking your soft skin into his lips. Your body squirms at the intensity of his actions, but he holds you firm against him, moving to a new spot on your neck when he’s done. 

You’ve never felt this way about neck kisses before. It sets fire to your stomach, making you squeeze your legs against his hips. You can feel your underwear stick to you from the slick you created. You hope it doesn’t leave a stain on his priceless couch.   

He pushes himself away from you once he’s satisfied with his work. His chest heaves as he admires your purpled neck and dazed look. He runs his finger down your delicate bruised skin watching as you shudder against the feeling. His eyes stare down at you, darkened with lust. You stare back, anticipating his next move. 

He hoists your legs over his broad sweater-covered shoulders, not hesitating to pull at your thighs to fold you onto yourself. You’re not resting on your upper back, your legs are nearly at your ears as he leans to breathe you in. He groans when he sees how your wetness left a darkened patch on the fabric, making it stick to the contours of your cunt. 

He feels your fingers push through his hair, pulling at him when his breath fans against you. He looks up to see you watching him with your eyebrows furrowed in desperation. His lips quirk up in an arrogant smirk knowing he reduced you to this quivering mess with just neck kisses. 

“You expecting something?” He repeats his words from earlier. Your face holds a deep frown and you let out a whine. 

“Mr. Barber…Please…” He tsks at you and tilts his head against your thigh.

“Use your words, baby. What do you want?” You feel humiliated at the way he spoke to you, but it just made you more desperate for some reason.

“I want you…” He paints a confused expression on his face, amused by your shy demeanor.

“You have me, honey. I’m right here.” 

“No, like I want you, t-to touch me.” You squirm in frustration. You know he knows what you want.

“You want my mouth on you?” You give him a little nod, still embarrassed by the crass words. “Want me to clean up your dripping pussy, hm? Talk to me, baby.”

“Yes, sir, please…” You try to push him into you, but he doesn’t budge.

“Please?” 

“Please…” You take a breath and quietly mutter out, “clean up my dripping pussy…” He nods, using his hand to push your underwear to the side. He pushes his thumb through your wet folds, occasionally rubbing against your sensitive clit. 

“Made such a mess for me.” You gasp as he barely pushes it into you before slipping it out and sliding it back against you. 

“Aw, look at you, you poor little baby. You need daddy to take care of you tonight?” You nod vigorously, not even reacting to the new nickname he coined for himself. He uses his fingers to spread you apart before using his tongue to lick a broad strip against you. You flinch when he flicks it against your clit, not expecting the burst of pleasure that hits you.

“Been wanting to taste this cunt since you walked into that party the other night…” It’s whispered against your cunt like he’s talking to himself. He laves his tongue against your clit looking up at how your trembling body reacts to him. He can feel your thighs press against his head when he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks on you. 

He decides right then and there that your stifled moans and huffed breaths are a perfect accompaniment to the music that’s still playing above you. 

“Oh…Daddy, I’m-uhh” A groan is forced from your chest as your body instantly drops against him. Your thighs are still shaking as he places them back onto the couch. He uses his sweater sleeve to wipe his beard as he stands and looks down at your recovering body. You push yourself back up to a sitting position, and shyly smile at how he gazes at you. He loves how you still look so innocent even after face-fucking him. 

He takes his hand to push your hair out of your face and away from your neck. You look beautiful in your post-orgasm glow, wearing his bruises on your neck. A knock on the wall pulls you away from his stare. You look around Andy to see a formally dressed man standing there with a blank expression.

“Dinner is served.” 

[of-foolish-and-wise]

a uni survival guide: tips from a phd

if there's one thing i know about, it's college. i've done it, i've taught it, i've lived and breathed it. these tips are for first years in particular, but honestly for everybody. i think it's so important for people to have balanced lives in these years -- academics are not everything. you know what didn't help me in the real world when i was afraid i wouldn't live through it? my fancy college note-taking format. you know what did help me? the friends i made there who i knew would get on a plane and fly across the country in a matter of hours if i told them i needed them.

academic

- figure out where class is held ahead of time: don't be that kid who's late on day one, i beg of you

- use the writing center: especially for basic grammatical editing, which a lot of professors don't have time to mark on papers

- speak up in class: talking through ideas helps you work through them, and asking questions about something you don't understand can open up great lines of conversation

- find a regular schedule that works for you and stick to it: my college schedule was morning free time, class, lunch, class, practice, homework. that consistency was a life-saver

- keep a planner: it's so important to have a central place to track deadlines, assignments, and engagements

- annotate your reading: when you're stressing about a paper topic, being able to go back to what you've highlighted and written in the margins is a life-saver

- color-code your coursework: i use the same color highlighter, pen, and notebook for any given class. it's super helpful

- if you can't focus while studying with friends, don't: i reserved group studying for days when i didn't have important work because i can't be in a room with other people without talking to them. if your school has one, the quiet floor of the library is your best friend

- treat yourself to a "fun" class: art was always my place to just sit back and chill, a way to end the night all zen in the darkroom instead of conjugating russian verbs in a fluorescent-lit cinderblock prison. for you, it could be gym, it could be pottery, it could be some random course about, like, the history of cooking or something -- explore!

- profs are people too: don't be too nervous around them. also, know that if you're struggling -- even b/c of something in your personal life -- you can admit it, and they'll almost always understand why you missed a deadline or bombed a test

- go to office hours: it's the only way to get to know professors in big courses, and it's so helpful for both your grades and learning how to navigate relationships with authority figures

social

- don't let academia keep you from your friends: it's a case-by-case basis, but sometimes it's okay to let the reading slide and spend time with friends. i graduated seven years ago and my college group text still talks every day. that's so much more important to me than the fact that i never finished brideshead revisited

- joining a club is one of the best ways to make friends: i played ultimate frisbee through college and it was the source of so many lasting relationships, as well as the way i met all my local friends when i was abroad

- say yes to things you don't know if you'll like: you'll surprise yourself. me? turns out i love drinking games. and theme parties. and skinny dipping. and rock climbing

- don't be that person who looks down on their peers for partying: honestly? that person kind of sucks. you don't have to party if you don't want to, but actually, a lot of those people are super nice and also good at school -- don't just write them off!

- show up for your friends: go to their games, their concerts, their art shows, their standup nights. show them that what matters to them matters to you, too

- set aside a night to do a group activity with others: whether your vibe is wednesday night trivia, a weekly "terrible movie" showing, or a get-high-and-watch-nature-documentaries-type thing, these are great ways to liven up the week and de-stress

- this is a great time to figure out who from high school really matters to you: you don't have to force relationships that were built mostly on convenience if there are friends at uni with whom you click more. people you became friends with purely based on the coincidence of where your parents lived do not have to be your forever friends. they can be! but they don't have to be

personal

- don't expect too much of yourself: a 4.0 is not the end-all, be-all. if your family or somebody tells you it is, tell them to call me, and i will personally talk some sense into them

- take advantage of university support services: mental health counseling, free yoga classes, multi-cultural societies, etc

- drink water: please, please don't get kidney stones in the middle of the semester, says the girl who got kidney stones in the middle of the semester

- let yourself take breaks: if you need to lie to a professor and say you're sick when really you're just feeling down and you need to sit in bed and watch a movie, that's totally valid

- don't freak about individual assignments: my students come to me freaking over a B+ and i tell them, honey, no job interviewer is ever going to ask you about your second paper from communications 101. i wish i'd known that

- go see speakers if there's someone interesting coming to campus: these talks are always cooler than you expect. i'll never get over the fact that i didn't go see anita hill when she came to my undergrad

- do your laundry on the same night every week: i can't explain why this is so helpful but it really is

- keep up on the news and the memes: read the school paper, the school blog, the memes page -- college politics and inside jokes are fun and convoluted and fascinating

- set the groundwork for long-term self-care: all of the above is really just to say -- university isn't just for learning about the french revolution, it's also about learning how to balance, how to handle failure, how to ask for help, how to make a salad that doesn't totally suck, etc

[comfortbucky]

Hey! If requests are still open I was wondering if I could request a fluffy fic where reader is having a bad day and Bucky notices and cheers them up? 💗💗

HELL YEAH!!!

REQUESTS!!! ARE!!! OPEN!!!

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘁 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚

pairing: bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack

tags: grumpy!bucky, bodyguard!bucky, fluffy bucky!!!

A/N: okay i have never written bodyguard!bucky before but i just thought it would be such a sweet concept to see him being soft🥺

sorry if the ending is kind of bad😭 i didn’t know how to quite wrap it all up, but i hope u enjoy!!!!!!!! <3 i had so much fun writing about bodyguard!bucky!!!!!

word count: 2.9k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N groaned as her phone alarm went off and hit snooze for the fifth time. She reached her hand out, head facing away and resting on her pillow, fumbling for her phone to turn off the incessant sound. Before she could shut it off, the noise stopped. Y/N turned her head slightly to see a large, dark figure in the corner of her eye. She turned her head fully to see her bodyguard with a frown on his face as he shut her alarm off.

“Your alarm, it’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled. “You should get up anyways, busy schedule today.” He walked out of the room before she could respond. Super soldier hearing was no joke if he was able to hear her alarm from his bedroom down the hall. Y/N sighed as her face planted into the pillow.

She was not looking forward to the events planned out for the day. During the day, there was a slew of interviews she had, back to back, and at night, a gala she was being forced to attend by her father.

Being the daughter of a wealthy tech tycoon had its perks for sure, but Y/N did not consider all of the press she did as a part of them. She never liked being in the spotlight but was forced to be, a birthright she had. Growing up with her dad, she’d developed a fascination for tinkering with computers, game consoles, and everything in-between. She spent a lot, practically all of her free time, with her dad when her mom had passed away. Her dad ended up throwing himself into his life’s work and she worked with him closely in the beginning, but slowly started to drift apart from him as she started to make a name for herself.

Earlier that week, her dad had sent her a text, informing her that a big announcement would be made at the gala. Big parties and large crowds weren’t really her thing, but it seemed like she didn’t have the option to avoid this one.

She got ready for the day, walking down to her kitchen to see her bodyguard, Bucky, sitting at the table, reading a book. As soon as he heard her come down the steps, he stood up and put his book away.

“C’mon, we’re already running late,” he mumbled, making his way to the door. Y/N rolled her eyes in response, grabbing a granola bar as she briskly followed behind him.

When her dad became a big name in the world of tech, the last thing Y/N thought she needed was a bodyguard, but her dad felt otherwise. It took one, very close call, of her almost getting mugged for her dad to immediately assign a personal bodyguard for her. She insisted that it was unnecessary, seeing that she was a fully grown adult, but her dad refused, as he was the one paying for Bucky’s salary.

Bucky had always been rather closed off since the beginning, and not much had changed since he was first assigned to her a little over a year ago. He kept their relationship very professional, only speaking when necessary and leaving the room whenever he wasn’t needed. She had tried to get him to open up more, learn about his past, but he always shut her questions down by either ignoring her or changing the topic to discussing something work-related. He was an enigma to her, which only left her wanting to solve the mystery that was James Bucky Barnes but couldn’t seem to crack the code.

Her first two interviews went smoothly, exactly what she was used to. A couple of questions about her current projects at work, some about her dad sprinkled in, and what she had planned for the future. It was a format she was used to and had come to appreciate, not exactly enjoying being the center of attention. During her last interview, however, she was caught off guard by one of the last questions she was asked.

“I know this might be an awkward question to ask, but I just have to! The people want to know: do you think your dad’s ever going to return to the dating pool?”

Y/N choked on her saliva. She knew her dad was an attractive man, seeing posts on social media of people fawning over him. Although she found it to be very weird and uncomfortable, she just brushed it all aside, not wanting to think about it as it only led to her thinking about the loss of her mom, a sore spot for her.

Y/N cleared her throat and forced out a chuckle. “I think that’s a question only he can answer, I don’t always know what’s going on in that crazy head of his.”

The interviewer laughed and proceeded to transition into the next segment. Y/N quickly thanked the interviewer and left, Bucky swiftly following behind. He had a feeling that something was off, as Y/N would typically stay behind to chat with the interviewer, crew members, even the service staff, whenever she finished an interview. It was always something he admired about her, how down to earth she remained, despite all of the privileges she had. She went out of her way to thank everyone on set, no matter how small their role might seem. He always told the drivers to pull the car up a little later than originally planned, just so she would have the extra time to talk.

Y/N pushed the doors open, only to find an empty street. She turned around and gave Bucky a curious look.

“Sorry, the driver just texted me,” he said, as he sent a text to the driver, telling him to come now. “He’s running late.”

Y/N nodded and leaned against the wall, looking down to fiddle with her hands. Bucky leaned against the opposite wall, facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?”

Y/N looked up at Bucky to find a gentle look in his eyes, slightly taken aback at the sight. She always found herself drawn to his piercing blue eyes, but they usually had a colder glint to them. This was a look she’d never seen before.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied, averting her gaze down as she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of Bucky’s soft gaze.

The car arrived, cutting off Bucky’s train of thought as he was thinking of what to say to her. For a moment he debated on continuing the conversation in the car but figured she already had a long night ahead of her and didn’t want to push any further.

After a quick pit stop back to Y/N’s place, allowing her to change into an evening gown, the car headed to the venue of the gala. Bucky got out of the car before her, walking around to the other side to open her door. Before she stepped out, Y/N took a deep breath in and exhaled, plastering a fake smile on her face as a surge of flashing lights from cameras greeted her. Bucky watched, seeing her seamlessly transform from Y/N, the girl who needed to set a million alarms before actually waking up, to Y/N, tech extraordinaire, one of the most powerful people in the tech world.

Once they were inside the venue, Bucky stuck to his usual routine. Scope out the exits, look for any potential threats, and make sure Y/N was in his eyesight. Bucky kept close by but also kept his distance. He wanted to make sure that he gave her enough space whenever they were out, knowing that having him around was her dad’s idea and that she wasn’t too fond of having security detail in the first place. So he did everything he could to make himself blend in with the crowd, allowing her to roam freely, only following her when she moved out of his line of vision.

Y/N walked around, not knowing a single soul but making polite small talk with the rest of the guests. She became accustomed to knowing how to act at these types of events over the span of her adult life. Food, drinks, more food, home. Crowds made her uneasy, but she always felt calmer when she saw Bucky in her peripheral vision. Y/N would never admit it out loud, but over the last year, he had become a constant source of relief at these public events. Just knowing that he was there if she felt uncomfortable, unsafe, or wanted to leave early made her public outings much more bearable.

“Hey, sweetie! I’m so glad you made it.” Y/N turned around at the sound of her dad’s voice and smiled, moving in to hug him.

“Yeah well, you said you had a big announcement, so I figured I’d stop by,” she joked, eliciting a chuckle from her dad as they pulled away from each other.

“I’m about to make it now,” he started, placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “And I was wondering if you could join me on stage for it? I know that’s not your thing, but it would mean so much to me, Y/N.”

While she absolutely hated the idea of having to stand in front of thousands of people, she reluctantly nodded. Y/N and her dad had slowly grown apart the past several years, only talking a couple times a month to catch up. With both of their busy schedules, they always seemed to miss each other. Despite their growing apart, she would do anything for her dad, especially if it meant so much to him.

Bucky slowly followed behind, as Y/N and her dad walked up to the stage. Y/N glanced behind her to give a slight smile to Bucky, to which he nodded back. He stood backstage, watching them from behind the curtains.

“Hi everyone, thanks so much for coming out tonight,” Y/N’s dad spoke into the mic. She was standing beside him, hands clasped in front of her, trying to look calm and not totally anxious.

“Since the success of my brand, people have said that I am a man who has everything. And I definitely have a lot to be thankful for, my company, my friends, and most importantly, my daughter.” Her dad extended a hand out to point to Y/N and the crowd cheered. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. Despite his brooding attitude, he had come to grow fond of Y/N, being able to see her for who she truly was. She was smart, witty, and had a heart of gold.

“The only thing I’ve been missing,” her dad looks down at the ground for a second, before looking back out at the crowd. “Is someone to share it all with.” Y/N’s smile faltered and felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t fully register the words coming out of her dad’s mouth.

“After Sarah, my wife had passed, I didn’t think I would be able to love again. Until I met Alyssa.” Y/N was frozen in place upon hearing her dad’s confession. She’d never heard of anyone named Alyssa during any of their catch-up calls and now he was saying he loved her? Y/N quickly turned as a woman walked out on stage. The woman walked over to her dad and he wrapped one of his arms around her waist before speaking.

“Now I feel complete, now I have everything.” He pulled Y/N to him and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, smiling for the cameras ahead. There were a lot of strategies Y/N had devised over the years to deal with potential unexpected and uncomfortable situations in a composed manner to avoid having a PR nightmare.

She didn’t have one for this.

Tearing herself from her dad’s hold, she ran off stage, heading towards the exit that led to the outside. Y/N took in the fresh air, trying to stop her hyperventilating. It wasn’t working. Her chest felt tight as she began gasping for air, struggling to take in oxygen.

She was having a panic attack. It was nothing she hadn’t experienced before, but it had been so long since she’d had one. The last time she remembered, was at her mom’s funeral.

Her mom. Her dad. Alyssa.

Her thoughts were pushed aside as her vision blurred, her eyes swelling up with tears. Y/N felt like she had no control over her body and shut her eyes, allowing the panic to consume her.

Then, a firm, but gentle, warm feeling in her hands.

Y/N blinked her eyes open to reveal Bucky, standing in front of her. She looked down and saw that it was his hands in hers, holding them tight.

“Can you breathe for me, honey?”

His voice came out in a soft whisper, accompanied by the warmest and welcoming smile. She shook her head, unable to control her quick and rapid breaths. Bucky squeezed her hands a little tighter, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of her hand.

“Yes you can, just breathe with me, okay?”

He started to breathe in and out slowly and eventually, she was able to follow his lead, deciding to focus on his eyes. There was that look from before the ride to the gala, the gentle look in his eyes. She’d always felt that his blue eyes reminded her of stormy seas, but now, now they made her think of the calmness of the ocean in the early morning, waves crashing softly on the shores.

As she regained her composure, she realized she’d been staring into Bucky’s eyes for, probably, far too long. Bucky felt her tight grip on his hands loosen and reluctantly let go of her hands. He immediately missed the softness of her hands and how small they were in comparison to his much larger, calloused, hands.

“T- Thank you,” she stuttered out, her gaze locked on the ground, as she placed her hands to her sides.

“It’s no problem. I get them too,” he replied. She looked up at him as he clarified. “Panic attacks. PTSD from serving overseas.”

Y/N face drops, her stomach churning at the thought that Bucky had ever experienced panic like she had. She returned her gaze to the ground as a silence washed over them.

“He didn’t tell me about her,” she spoke in a quiet voice. “Never brought her up once. But I guess she must be pretty special for him to do all of this.”

Bucky stood a couple steps in front of her, seeing teardrops fall from her face. She lifted her head up to wipe away her tears, her hands shaking from anxiety. Y/N placed her hands on her face and started to sob.

She was slightly hurt by the idea of her dad loving any other woman than her mom but knew that he’d have to move on eventually. What hurt her the most was the fact that he didn’t tell her, not until they were on stage, standing before a crowd of people. It was too much for her to handle and she reached her breaking point.

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sight. He cautiously stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Something his PTSD had taught him was how pressure from a hug could help relax the nervous system and calm him down. He held her firmly in his arms until he felt her breathing slow. She looked up at him, remaining in his embrace, her eyes glassy from crying, nose red and sniffly. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat and immediately pushed the thought away.

“You wanna leave, honey?”

She nodded in response, staying in his arms for just a second longer before pulling away. Y/N longed for his warm touch, feeling like a child who had their security blanket taken away. It didn’t help that it was also cold outside, sending a chill down her spine.

Bucky noticed and shrugged his suit jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She beamed a smile at him and he smiled back.

The pair walked around the outside of the venue to find the car when they ran into a mob of paparazzi, shouting questions at Y/N about her sudden exit. Like a reflex, she grabbed hold of Bucky’s hand and he gave her a comforting squeeze as he cleared a path towards the car.

Bucky and Y/N were sat next to each other in the car, which was not the typical seating arrangement they usually had, usually sitting on opposite ends of the car. But Y/N hadn’t let go of his hand, not quite ready to separate herself from his warmth. Bucky had absolutely no problem with that, mindlessly rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. She felt safe. She always felt safe with Bucky around.

Y/N felt her eyelids become heavy, struggling to keep them open. She was exhausted from her long day, and her panic attack had taken most of her energy away.

Bucky felt a weight on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see Y/N’s head resting there. He felt a warmth rush to his cheeks and smiled, resting his head on top of hers.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed. “You always make me feel so safe.”

Bucky felt a surge of tenderness rush through him. That was all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to keep her safe. He kissed her forehead, causing her to snuggle closer to him.

“Of course, honey. I’m here, always.”

[rocorambles]

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!) 

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~  

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you. 

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction.  Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight. 

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words. 

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear. 

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood. 

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it? 

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room. 

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable. 

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you. 

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of. 

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win. 

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you. 

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together. 

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was. 

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.  

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.  

You're desperate. 

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left. 

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment. 

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to   afford a decent quality life? So be it. 

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind. 

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant. 

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you. 

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place. 

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.  

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up. 

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined. 

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job. 

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground. 

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down. 

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I  could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope. 

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you. 

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?” 

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words. 

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long. 

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you. 

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out. 

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust. 

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size. 

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever. 

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you. 

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess. 

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while. 

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.” 

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets. 

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear. 

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?” 

[mandoalorian]

Aphrodite’s Stone [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT *sex pollen*

Summary: Your boss, Maxwell Lord, tasks you to acquire an important gemstone from the Smithsonian museum's annual gala, not realising the powers that it possesses and how it can possibly affect you when an accident occurs.

Rating: 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, automatic dub-con due to the nature of it being a sex pollen), female recieving oral, thigh riding, fingering, creampie, boss x employee relationship, mutual pining. No spoilers for WW84 but some slight references and mentions of canon type mythology/lore. Oh, and there's actually plot!!

Author's note: Feels like all I ever do is write for Max Lord hehe. This is my first ever sex pollen so I hope it’s okay! I tried to make it as canon-typical as I could and I’m actually really happy with the outcome. Also I haven’t written mutual pining in so long so this has been really fun!

Masterlist

"Did you get the stone?" you whispered, waltzing over to Maxwell who had been schmoozing with a few of the gala guests. He stiffened up when he heard the sweetness of your voice. Your presence always took his breath away. He cleared his throat and placed his half empty champagne glass on one of the silver trays that were getting passed around.

"No, not yet," Maxwell admitted and you sighed. "I've tried swindling the geology department but they won't budge."

"Can't imagine why," you rolled your eyes sarcastically, referencing the time earlier in the year when Max had stolen a very specific citrine stone from the Smithsonian Museum. Of course their trust in him would've been altered. Maxwell quirked an eyebrow at your brief comment and you raised your hands defensively. "Sorry sir." you looked down nervously and he nodded his head, choosing to dismiss what you'd said.

"This is where you come in," Maxwell said, clicking his tongue. Your eyes met his again with curiosity. He took your hand, carefully dragging you to a quiet corner of the party. "You can get the stone."

"Me?" you asked almost rhetorically, your eyes turning comically wide. You were his assistant. He trusted you with menial tasks such as making coffee, handing over paperwork and grabbing his mail— not acquiring some ancient artifact from a different continent.

"You can do it!" he grinned enthusiastically. You were beginning to think he was putting on his charming and persuasive television voice and you furrowed your eyebrows together unimpressed. "Carol Thomas over there, she's the director of the museum. You must make sure she doesn't see a thing. But that tall guy with the dark hair? That’s Ken, and he’s been watching you all night."

You blinked in bewilderment. "He has?" you tilted your head, looking at the man Max had pointed at.

Maxwell's gaze burned into your body as you watched the geology department interact with one another. Of course he has— Maxwell felt like saying. Every man at the damn gala had their eye on you. You looked remarkable, and you were too humble to have even noticed. He brushed off your question.

"Go over there and butter him up a little," Maxwell smirked as you turned back around to face your boss. "But not too much." he quickly added on to the end, feeling a little too defensive over you. "Find out where the stone is. Can you do that?"

"What does it look like?" you mumbled, not really liking the idea of having to flirt with a slimy looking man just to get some random rock thing.

"Ruby." Max snapped back like there was no question about it.

You looked back at Maxwell, a small gasp escaping your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked drunk with desire, and you realised how much he must've wanted that stone. Maxwell's eyes were a beautiful shade of honeyed brown that sparkled under the amber lights; they were beautiful. You felt your lips curve into a small smile of agreement and you felt Maxwell's large, ring clad hand rest on your shoulder, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You made the decision to get the stone, knowing how much it meant to him. You hadn't even realised that the primal, hungry look that crossed his face was actually nothing but pure lust for you.

The second you walked away, Maxwell picked up his champagne glass and finished it off with one quick swing, the bitter taste of alcohol rolling down his throat. He tried to shake off these feelings he had for you, deeming it as unprofessional. He knew from the very start that it was a mistake hiring you. The moment he saw you waiting outside his office to be interviewed, was the moment he had to have you. But of course, his own insecurity meant that he felt as though he couldn't act on these feelings. He may have been a charismatic TV personality but deep down, he had his own, personal reasons that made him feel smaller and weaker than everyone else. For who could ever love a man like him?

"Hey, Ken, is it?" you smiled, extending your arm and grabbing the man's hand. You immediately cringed, feeling the sticky nervous sweat that coated his skin. The dark haired archeologist pushed his glasses up the curve of his nose and shook your hand a little too aggressively.

"Wow," he muttered, looking you up and down before clearing his throat. "Uh, yes. Ken."

You fake smiled, hiding your disgust, tearing your hand away from his and rubbing your palm against the material of your dress in disgust. You wanted to kill Maxwell for making you do this. From the dark, shadowed corner in the ballroom, Maxwell watched you intently, a flame of envy burning in the pit of his stomach.

"I hear you have an exhibition happening?" you took a glass of your favourite alcoholic beverage that was being passed around by a waiter.

"Yes, but it's not ready yet." Ken revealed and you nodded your head understandingly.

"That's a shame," you sighed, a fake sadness dripping from your tongue. "I'm a sucker for gemstones."

"Yeah?" Ken asked as you peaked his curiosity. "What's your favourite kind?"

"Oh, I like the red ones," you joked, and to your surprise, Ken actually laughed.

"We have a whole sub-section on garnet," Ken admitted and your lips parted slightly, omitting a small ‘oh’ as he continued on. "It's beautiful."

"I'm actually more of a ruby type girl myself." you explained, wondering if you were evening making the slightest bit of sense. Even if you weren't, Max knew that you'd be able to wrap Ken around your finger from your good looks alone. And he was right.

"We have one ruby," Ken whispered, leaning into you. Maxwell scowled as he watched Ken push his body into yours. He was seconds away from intervening. Max wanted the stone, but not if some slimy gemologist was making you uncomfortable in the process. Maxwell paused dead in his tracks when he saw you gently push Ken away from you, laughing politely. Max decided he couldn't watch anymore and decided to walk away, finding a group of women to distract himself with.

"Can I see?" you shot Ken your best pleading eyes.

"I'm afraid not. I could pull a few strings with the garnet collection but the ruby is 3000 years old. It's from ancient Greece, and it's the last of its kind."

You pouted, turning your heel, about to walk away, when Ken grabbed your arm and stopped you. "I mean!" he called and you raised your eyebrow, trying to hide your winning smirk. "I suppose I could pull a few strings. It's in the gallery, you must go alone though. And don't tell anyone. And remember to look— not touch."

You grinned, leaning in and gently pecking Ken on the cheek. "Thank you." you said, feeling his cheeks heat up under your lips. You pulled away from him and spun around. You watched out for Carol Thomas, making sure she wasn't looking before you slipped out of the gala and made your way to the gallery.

You were truly in awe as you looked over all the different rocks, each different sizes and different colours but all equally as beautiful as each other. Your eye finally caught the attention of the ruby Max had sought after for so long. You were no expert on geology but this didn't seem like any normal ruby, it sparkled and glittered and stood out from all the others. It was caged in an acrylic box, but it took no effort for you to lift the box off the crystal and swipe it, pushing it into your purse. It barely fit, but you managed to make it work. Double checking that no one was around, you swiftly exited the gallery and made your way back to the main party.

Maxwell wasn't in the corner you had left him, but instead, he was talking to a group of women; flirting no doubt. You rolled your eyes as they tossed their hair and giggled as he leaned into them. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was saying to woo them. Grimacing, you stormed past the group of girls and grabbed Max's arm, tugging and pulling him away from them.

"I got the stone," you informed your boss, briefly glancing back at the girls who were scowling at you for whisking away Max. You frowned, feeling unamused.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, sounding genuienly concerned. This was so dumb— of course you were okay. You had to be okay. It was completely fine that Max was flirting with other women, it's not like he had any interest in you anyway. It's not like you owned him. He was a grown man and he could do whatever he wanted.

"Yeah." you shot back, offering him a gritted smile. Maxwell nodded his head slowly and leaned into you.

"My driver is outside waiting. Head back to my office with the stone, I'll only be right behind you." you didn't know what it was, but suddenly, your boss' voice sounded dark and... seductive. The way his breath fanned over the shell of your ear made you shiver. Without saying another word, you left the party and travelled back to your workplace.

It was no surprise that Black Gold Cooperative was deserted when you let yourself in, sliding your employee card through the terminal and squeezing through the revolving doors. It must've been almost midnight, and you were the only one in the building. You slipped behind the main desk and booted up the computer where you had access to turn on all the lights in the building so it didn't feel so sinister. As you waited for the computer to turn on (and it felt like forever), you took out the gemstone and placed it on the top of the desk. Even in the darkness, there was something so attractive about it. No wonder Maxwell was so desperate to get his hands on it. He had an affinity for geology, although it was almost secretive. You remembered the one time he invited you over to his house, he had a whole shelf that was proudly displayed with rocks and minerals. It was a hobby of his that he didn't share with anyone else. But he trusted you.

He definitely shouldn't have trusted you.

You left your purse on the main desk as the lights finally illuminated the building. Holding the ruby in both of your hands, you carried it up the stairs, through the call centre and into Maxwell Lord's extensive sized office. You admired the way it sparkled and shone under the bright lights, so much so, you weren't watching your step. You let out a yelp as you tripped over a chair which had been carelessly pulled out, falling to your knees as the stone went flying across the office, landing near his desk.

You felt your heart sink into the depths of your chest when you heard it smash. No— there was no way. Gemstones don't just smash like that. Terrified, you crawled over to where the stone had landed and saw that it had quite literally smashed into smithereens; almost like glass. At least, that's how it sounded. The crystalized rock had turned into some kind of sparkling red fairy dust that looked almost magical. It was like a shimmering illusion. You scurried around the floor wondering how the hell this had happened. How the rock had smashed and turned into a pile of glitter. You knew you wouldn't have long until Max came back.

Your legs began to feel weak, but you decided it was just from your anxiety. Shit, the rock meant so much to Max. He gave you one job. One easy fucking job and you couldn't even do that right. You were so fired.

You began to collect the sparkling red dust in your hands, desperately scooping it up but sighing when it fell through your fingers. Your actions became more erratic, knowing your boss would be back any second. No matter what, you couldn't pick up the dust. You looked around his office, wondering if he had a brush or something to shovel it up with, but of course he didn't.

There was something weird… the dust from the gemstone wasn't just glittering, it was quite literally sparkling— gleaming, even. When you touched it, it made your skin tingle. It sent aches of heat flooding down your body. It was enough to make you suspicious but once again, you shrugged it off as nerves. You cared about Max so much, and he was going to be so pissed with you.

When you heard the double doors to his office swing open, your whole body stiffened up, your eyes squeezing shut. You were on your knees still, your back faced away from Maxwell as he merrily came waltzing into his office.

"I called Roman Antiquities from the carphone," he announced, his voice as vibrant as ever. "They're so happy we managed to get the stone," You felt your eyes grow comically wide. Wait— the stone wasn't even for him. It was for somebody else. Things just went from bad to worse. "So," Maxwell slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants. "Where is it?"

You slowly rose to your feet, scrunching your nose up in displeasure as you prepared to tell your boss what had happened. How you had been so clumsy. "I- I didn't realise you were sending the stone to Roman Antiquities." you mumbled, slowly turning around and nervously biting your lip.

"I didn't mention it?" Max shrugged casually. "Yeah, apparently it's in high demand."

"Ken said it comes from ancient Greece, and there's only one made," hearing the words leave your lips didn't make the situation any better, you realised. "Do you know what's so special about it?"

"Yeah," Max replied, walking towards his desk. "There's a lot of things special about it. Can I see it?" His dismissive tone made you feel small and uneasy.

"Max…" you drew his name out like it was the longest melody in the world. He looked up at you, waiting for you to continue. "Something happened. I uhm…" you let your eyes wander around his spacious office, refusing to land anywhere but him. He, however, was staring directly at you. "I had it with me. And I carried it carefully to your office but— I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings and I-" you halted suddenly, feeling your whole body heat up, and a fire shooting through your core. You squeezed your legs together and pursed your lips into a fine line, stopping a moan from escaping. What was going on?

"And?" Maxwell urged, his voice growing increasingly more concerned.

"And-" you gulped. It was a weird, strange feeling. Like suddenly, all your scents had been heightened. The smell of Maxwell's rich cologne filled the room, intoxicating you and sending you into a frenzy. "Wow." you mumbled out.

Maxwell said your name sternly, breaking you out of your strange yet blissful haze. You were used to him saying your name, usually in a condescending way. But this time it was different. It was deep, gravelly and outright delicious.

"I broke the stone," you announced with a shaky exhale. You began to feel slick between your thighs and your eyes widened. Were you… aroused? You just about managed to look back at Max and suddenly everything felt different. You saw him in a completely different light.

Sure, you'd had fantasies about your boss before. He was an attractive, single bachelor and he always made you feel special. He always made you feel important. You would sometimes daydream about him at work, watching him from the back of the conference room as he led team meetings. You'd go home after a long day only to think about him whilst you showered, and even before you went to sleep. Suddenly, your feelings made sense.

"You. Broke. The. Stone?" Maxwell gritted out. Your eyes dropped down to fixate on his Adams Apple. Had his voice always been so sensual?

"Max," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed onto the edge of his desk, your fingers curling around the corner so hard your knuckles turned white. "I don't feel so good."

Max slowly walked over to you, looking you up and down. "Where are the remnants of the rock?" Max quizzed. You let out a moan as the feeling of arousal became excruciating. He called your name again and you just about managed to point in the general direction of the pile of glittering red dust. Maxwell's eyes widened. "Oh no no." he said, hurrying over and examining it, but being extra careful not to get too close.

"I know," you cried. "I'm sorry."

"Did you-" Maxwell swallowed the lump in his throat before turning back around to face you. "Did you touch it?"

"Y-yes," you drew out, rubbing your thighs together trying to create some feeling of friction, but doing so discreetly so your boss wouldn't notice. "I tried to clean it up."

"Shit," Maxwell muttered, hurrying over to his desk and spreading out a pile of papers. The papers were filled with information about the very specific ruby stone, and Max read it closely and as quickly as possible.

"What is it?" you asked worriedly. Maxwell's eyes widened and he wrapped an arm around you, carefully navigating you behind his desk and sitting you in his chair. You curled up into the softness of the leather seat, humming in delight your dress rode up slightly and the material stuck to the back of your legs.

"There's something you should know," Maxwell frowned. "The rock… they call it Aphrodite’s Stone."

"Aphrodite?" you breathed out. "Like, the goddess of love?"

Maxwell nodded, flicking through a few more of the pages. "Yes," he confirmed. "But uh- not just love. I mean, it was love, yeah but. She was also the goddess of beauty, uh- procreation, passion and…" Maxwell took a deep breath. "Pleasure."

You made a fist so tight your fingernails pressed into your skin as you shuffled around in the chair. Maxwell was so close to you, you just wanted to pull him on top of you and take him now— exactly how he was. But no, he was going on about some Greek goddess.

"Max please," you begged and his head snapped in your direction. You didn't even realise the way your chest was rising and falling, the way you were heaving and panting. Just the sight of you alone was enough to stir something up inside of Max. Beads of sweat laced your collarbones and hairline as you whimpered and moaned. "Can you just- please- tell me- what’s going on? What's happening to me?"

"The stone contains a kind of sex pollen," Max blurted out and your eyes snapped open.

"Are you kidding me?" you asked and Max shook his head quickly. "Like- a drug?"

"Yeah… and you touched it. Shit okay, let me go grab a bowl of water and we’ll try and clean the remnants from your hands…" Max said quickly, biting his lip and bolting over to leave his office when you shouted for him to come back.

"N-no, it won't work," you whispered, holding your arms out and ushering for him to come back over to you. "Please, please Max…" Your hands travelled to the hem of your dress as you started to peel it up. Max watched with intent, his once honeyed brown eyes turning so dark— almost black. His eyes raked your body as he watched you squirm in his office chair. The same chair he sat in every single day. "Please help me take this dress off. I feel so constricted."

"I-" Maxwell began but stopped when you sighed dramatically, tossing your head back.

"Don't fucking argue," you groaned and Maxwell felt taken aback by your attitude. You had never spoken to him like that before. He'd hate to admit it, but the desperation that dripped from your tongue caused Max's cock to throb in his pants. "Please."

Maxwell took your hand and pulled you up from his chair, briefly noting the wet patch from where you had been sitting. He had to sit back in that chair tomorrow morning, and you had made such a beautiful mess of it. His large hands manouvered around your body as he turned you around, finding the zip to your dress and pulling it all the way down to the small of your back. He took a step back as you shuffled out of it and he politely looked away, not wanting to invade your privacy or make you feel uncomfortable. He took off his tuxedo jacket and offered it to you, in case you felt the need to cover up, but instead you just glared at him.

Maxwell found himself subconsciously licking his lips as his heart rate climbed at the mere sight of you. There you were, standing before him in nothing but lacy black lingerie. He felt his cock grow thick and stand at full attention as he took in the sight of your alluring body. It was perfect in every way, even better than he had ever imagined in his dreams.

"What do you need?" Maxwell asked, his voice low. "What can I do for you?" The pollen in the stone made everything sound so seductive but you could swear that even amongst all the heat, you heard genuine care in his voice.

"I don't… I don't…" you weren't about to tell him that you didn't know, because that would be a lie. You knew exactly what you wanted, and he knew enough about the stone to know exactly what you wanted as well. You needed him, craved his body and ached for him to fill you up and pleasure you. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to find the pride to actually ask your boss for this. Maxwell took a step closer to you, breaking any distance. He smelt so good.

"Anything you want," he whispered, wanting you to know that he'd be more than willing to help ease you. "Anything you want you can have it."

"Anything?" you asked, pressing your hands to his chest and letting your fingers trace the soft material of his dress shirt.

"Anything." he affirmed.

With that, you grabbed the straps of his suspenders and pulled his body into yours. A low groan emitted from the back of his throat as you pressed your lips against his. You wrapped your arms around his body, your palms laying flat against his back as he kissed you. His tongue licked your lower lip and you moaned wantonly, opening your mouth slightly and granting him access to explore you further.

Max's hands settled on your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. You moaned, dragging your own hands to his hair and running his fingers through it.

You loved his hair, you always thought about touching it and playing with it. He always styled it so perfectly but, to your surprise, it wasn't hard with hair-product. Instead, it was soft and glossy and it was like you could feel every wave. He eventually pulled off you, gasping for breath.

"I don't want to take advantage of you when you're like this," Maxwell frowned, as you pushed him into his office chair. "I mean, shit. I want this. I've wanted this for so long…" he rambled on as you slid out of your panties and unclipped your bra. His eyes widened when he saw you stand on his office, completely nude and shameless. He thought you looked breathtaking. You were quick to discard the garments, unable to hide the triumphant smirk that played across your lips as you straddled him. You perched yourself on top of his leg and instantly began to ride his thigh, rubbing your soaking wet pussy over his expensive pants.

"Let me," you moaned, leaning into him and kissing his neck. "Let me use you then."

"Yeah?" Maxwell asked shakily and he felt you nod into his shoulder as you gasped out another moan. "Okay. Take what you need." he said before wrapping his arms around you and dipping his fingers into the small of your back. You could feel the coolness of his gold rings tingle against your warm skin and it only turned you on even more. You couldn't count the amount of times you had imagined the ridged feeling of his rings press up against your walls as he slid his fingers inside of you. Max flexed the muscles in his thigh and you yelped slightly at the friction. "Oh, you like that?" Maxwell asked, and done it again before you could even respond. You tugged on his tie, fumbling as you slid up and down over his leg. You just about managed to loosen it, pull it off, and discarding it on the floor amongst your other pieces of clothing.

"I like these," you giggled, tugging on his suspenders. "But I want them off."

"Cum for me first," Maxwell growled, feeling his hard member press against the confines of his pants. They'd grown extremely tight around his now throbbing erection. You looked down and gasped just at the sight of him. You lowered one hand, while keeping the other hand draped around his body, keeping you steady. With your free hand, you traced the imprint of his cock and smiled when you watched his eyes flutter shut from only your gentlest of touches.

"You weren't even affected by the stone," you giggled, humming in delight as you reached for his zipper. You didn't stop sliding your slick pussy over his thigh, your movements building up your oncoming high. "And look at you." you wiggled your fingers into his pants and your eyes widened as you felt his cock. "Fuck… Max Lord going commando?" your laugh came to an abrupt end when Max's grip around you tightened. He took your hand away from his manhood and set it on his bicep as he held you by your hips and muttered dirty words into your ear.

"Cum for me." He gritted out again, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling at your skin. He pulls his hands down to your breasts and squeezes at them, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"So close," you warned him as your walls began to contract against nothing. You ached for his cock, now more than ever. Still massaging your breasts, he reattached his lips to your neck and trailed sloppy kisses all the way down your collarbone. "Shit Max, fuck I cant," you gasped.

"Can't what? What is it baby?" Max asked, pulling away slightly and cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I can't cum without… without…" tears pricked your eyes as the gushing sense of sexual desire coarsed through your body.

"What do you need?" Max whispered.

"You. Inside me," you managed to stammer out with absolutely no shame. Max looked absolutely wrecked, his dark blonde hair that was once perfectly styled had completely fallen out of place and his chocolate brown eyes were glazed with lust. But he was gorgeous and you couldn't help but smile knowing what exactly you had done to the esteemed Maxwell Lord. You shuffled back slightly, and Max glanced down at the wet patch you had left on his pants. He couldn't contain his grin.

"I don't have a condom," Max admitted. The revelation surprised you as you pegged Max for the kinda guy who endured a lot of sex in his office. It seemed like the perfect place, but come to think of it, he never really had girls around. Only you. You didn't care that he didn't have a condom. In fact, you kinda liked it. You wanted to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock as it filled your pussy.

"Good," you smiled, standing up with a wobble. Max stood up after you and cleared his desk before patting the expensive oak wood, ushering you to lay down.

But first, you pulled down his suspenders, unclipping them from his pants and throwing them to one side. You worked at his shirt buttons one by one until eventually, you pulled it off and dropped it to the ground. You wasted no time, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his ankles. You licked your lips in delight as his cock sprung free and he stepped out of the pants that had pooled around his feet.

Max gently pushed you backwards into his desk and you hopped up, sitting down and laying back. "You're so beautiful," Max sighed as he drank in your appearance, wanting to savour this moment and remember it forever. "Open your legs." he commanded as he stroked his cock. He gathered his precum which had been leaking from the tip for God knows how long, letting it slick between his fingers as he jerked himself off at the mere sight of you spread out on his office desk. You obeyed his instruction, closing your eyes as you prepared to feel his cock push inside of you.

But instead, you felt his hot, wet tongue lick a stripe up your clit. Your whole body stiffened up as you released a groan you didn't even know you were holding back. "Fuck- what the fuck," you curled your fingers into a fist as he continued to cat lick you. You just about managed to open your eyes and see the vision of his head in between your legs as he devoured your dripping pussy. "You're really dragging this out, huh?"

He was good. He was so good. He knew his way around your body perfectly and you swore, in that moment, that perhaps you were made for each other. Maybe it was just the effects of the stone but you had never had such a satisfying sexual encounter.

"When I saw the mess you made on my leg, and how wet you were, I knew I had to taste you," Max admitted, his voice was gruff and sent vibrations through your core. He continued lapping you up, humming and moaning in delight on the occasion he'd suck at the bud of your clit and draw out a moan from your lips. "And fuck, you taste so good."

"But I want your cock inside of meeee," you whined.

Max didn't attach his mouth from you once, but he did bring up his hand and push a finger in between your folds and began to massage the entrance to your hole.

"Gotta prep you first," Max told you, before pushing his index finger deep inside you. He moaned at the feeling of your walls around him and felt his cock twitch against his stomach. Obscene wet noises echoed through his office, as well as your moans and pleas for more. "So greedy," Maxwell chuckled. "Always wanting more," he pushed in his middle finger, stretching you open. He looked up at you, his eyes hungry as he pumped his fingers into your pussy. It wasn't long until your legs began to quiver and shake profusely. You screamed when Maxwell pulled out his fingers and shoved them in your mouth. "Taste," he told you as you sucked on his fingers. "Good girl. See? You taste so fucking good. I could get used to this."

When you had cleaned your juices from his fingers, you felt him line himself up against your entrance. You reached out, holding onto his strong biceps for support as he thrusted inside of you. He grunted, squeezing his eyes tight shut as your walls tightened around you. He was big— bigger than you'd ever taken before. If you weren't so aroused from the stone, you wouldn't know if you'd be able to take him. He filled you perfectly. He pushed himself balls deep into you and then came to a halt.

"M-move," you whimpered, pressing your nails into his skin.

"Beg." he shot back, smoothing the hair out of your face and running his thumb over your puckered and sore lower lip.

"Please Max, please. Fuck me." you felt tears prick your eyes and Maxwell took the hint, finally thrusting in and out of you. Your cunt was so tight around Maxwell he couldn't believe how perfect of a fit you were. He dragged his thumb to your clit and started rubbing intricate circles as he increased his speed. His movements became sloppy and rapid as his fingers pushed you over the edge. "Cum inside of me," you gasped out the second you felt his cock twitch inside of you, indicating that he was close.

"Are you sure?" Max asked and you nodded your head.

"Never been so sure about anything in my life." you screamed, your back arching as you finally came undone. You absolutely drench him, and if it was any other situation, you might've felt a little embarrassed. But Max was in ecstasy when your cunt tightened around his cock like a vice and milked him of all that he had. He spilt his seed inside of you, the warmth coating your walls and shooting jolts of pleasure down your body.

You found yourself completely engulfed in a post coital haze, and Max kept himself inside of you until he softened and could slip out of you without causing you any discomfort. "You might be sore tomorrow," he mumbled, pressing a kiss into your neck. You hummed, whispering something incoherent but your smile was very telling. You had never been so happy. "But the effects of Aphrodite's Stone should wear off now."

"You took care of me," you whispered, your eyes slowly opening. You sat up and wrapped your arms around Max, pulling him into you. You felt completely and utterly spent, and Maxwell couldn't disagree either. He walked you over to his chair and sat you in his lap.

"Of course I took care of you," his voice was gentle and sweet like honey. "This was all my fault. And I should've warned you about the stupid fucking rock in the first place."

"Stupid?" you raised an eyebrow. "That was the most fun I've ever had," you laughed and Maxwell couldn't contain how happy your revelation made him. "But… are we going to be in trouble?"

"You don't have to worry about a thing," Maxwell hushed you, smoothing out your hair and pressing a kiss into your hair. Something in his voice made you trust him and believe in him. You just knew he wouldn't let you get into trouble. "I'm glad this happened."

"Me too." you whispered before closing your eyes and burying your head into his chest. Curled up into his lap, your naked bodies tangled together, you both fell asleep in his office chair. Maxwell Lord created a frightening and intimidating aura, but, the truth is, you had never felt more safe and more comfortable in your whole entire life. You knew that this happy accident was going to be the start of something great.

Taglists (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love

This fic: @lostcherryinwonderland @thewayofthemandalorian

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Holding Hands

Just dipping my toe into the "faking a relationship for a holiday party" trope. (And blame @shealwaysreads for this cause she was like do it and so I did it.)

This is unbeta’d. Please be gentle with me.

*

Draco waited. The silence that had fallen a couple of minutes ago was still loud. The fire in the hearth kept spitting threateningly instead of just crackling quietly and sweetly like it should. The fairy lights around the tree twinkled gently, slowly, throwing golden patterns over Potter's skin, his dark hair.

They were sat across from each other in front of the hearth, Draco in his armchair upholstered in silver-grey velvet, and Potter in the plushy green armchair he had conjured when he'd arrived. Their drinks were sitting on the spindly-legged table between them.

Potter looked very politely confused, a tiny smile on his face, a thin line between his brows. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, his long, strong fingers clasped together neatly, his full attention focused on Draco. He looked...like he was waiting for Draco to finish speaking, to...explain.

Draco licked his lips and tilted his head a bit. "Erm...?"

Potter's smile widened a bit. "Yes?" he said eagerly. Draco blinked and shook his head imperceptibly. Potter's confusion deepened. "I'm...waiting for you to...you know--" he waved his hand vaguely and then grinned, "--laugh," he finally said, a tad lamely.

Draco frowned. "What's funny?"

Potter's mouth fell open on a stupid gape. "I mean... I thought..." He pushed his glasses up his nose and then scratched the back of his neck. "So, what was it you were saying? What are you asking me?"

"Did you not hear me, or are you feigning stupidity?" Draco asked coldly.

Potter frowned, bristling a bit. "I heard you, Draco, and I feel like you're taking the mickey."

"I'm doing no such thing. I explained my predicament and asked you a simple yes or no question. Would you be so kind as to grace me with an answer?"

Potter shook his head irritably. "Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like... Like a fucking ponce. That's how you used to speak to me." Draco just looked at him. "Can you just be normal, please?" Potter snapped.

Draco spread his hands out. "I am being normal."

"Uh huh." Potter was still frowning. "So, you're saying--" He broke off and shifted in his seat, straightening up. "So, you're saying..." Trailing off, he just sat there looking like a fucking idiot. "What are you saying?" he finally asked.

Draco picked up his brandy and took a sip before leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, lifting his chin high. "Fine. I will ask you again. Since you're a bloody troglodyte, apparently." He had to gather the will and courage all over again to repeat himself. "Will you accompany me to my parents' Christmas party as my boyf- partner? Meaning, they'll think you're my partner. We’ll just have to pretend."

"You...said something before that earlier."

"Oh. Yes. Well, when my mother asked me if you and I are lovers, after she read that article about us in the Prophet, I simply said yes." He'd managed to say it without displaying any emotion the first time. Now, however, Draco could feel heat rising up his neck and face.

Potter was looking particularly stupid as he stared with his mouth open. "Your parents think we're dating?" Draco nodded. "And they want to...meet me?"

Draco brushed imaginary lint off his trousers. "If you consent."

Potter leaned back, slumping in his chair, knees spreading, his arms hanging over the sides of the chair. He blew out a long breath with a whooshing sound, his lips very pink as they formed an 'o'. Then, rather abruptly, he chuckled, rubbing his face and making his glasses jump onto his forehead.

"Which bit did you find amusing?" asked Draco with feigned politeness.

"The whole thing."

"Oh?"

"Draco," Potter said on a laugh, "can you stop talking like that, please? It's fucking hilarious right now. Especially because that's not how one talks to their 'lover'."

Draco knew he was probably purple in the face by now. It was embarrassing. He ought to have told Potter right after he'd confirmed the rumours to his parents. They'd have laughed about it, and then asking him to go to this fucking party now wouldn't be such a fucking task.

Because they're friends. Close friends even. And Potter was probably going to say yes. He never denied Draco anything. He was always indulging Draco; taking care of Draco. Siding with Draco when that fucking Weasel ragged him. Always promoting Draco's label in his interviews, endorsing his little boutique. Trusting Draco enough let him dress him for important events even though Draco knew Potter had the most basic, unadventurous sense of fashion.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes. Potter was the softest, most indulgent person and he was probably going to say yes. But that didn't make any of this any easier. Because obviously Potter thought it was funny that the two of them might be lovers. He found this whole thing really amusing.

There was a thin strain of hurt somewhere in Draco's chest but he ignored it.

"So how long before you say yes like we both know you're going to?" Draco drawled.

Potter grinned widely. "What am I going to be wearing?"

*

The Manor was an absolute wonder to behold. Draco was sure even Hogwarts was never this heavily decorated for the holidays. Fairy lights, glittering icicles, ice sculptures, wreaths, ostentatiously decorated Christmas trees, more lights - the whole house, inside and out, was dripping in red, green, gold and white.

Potter stared around in silence, his expression very serious. He was dutifully holding Draco's hand (just like a lover might) and was taking in the sight of the gigantic ballroom they were in, guests milling about sipping golden champagne from crystal flutes, house-elves trotting around between people's knees holding up trays of hors d'oeuvres; the four gigantic, glittering Christmas trees in each corner of the room, the ice sculpture of a delicately carved fairy, her wings spread, in the centre of the room, sparkling fairy dust falling from her hand and disappearing mid-air.

To Draco this was just about normal, if a tad bit overdone (for the enjoyment of the guest of honour he'd brought along with him, he supposed), but he still blushed in embarrassment when he looked around with Potter's eyes; he was probably convinced now that his parents were pretentious or something. Feeling a bit timid, he glanced sideways at Potter.

He was looking very, very handsome tonight. He had on robes of deep, royal violet - dark enough to nearly pass off as black - with intricate gold embroidery that Draco had spent hours working on himself. He'd let Draco clip a matching cape, embroidered and lined along the hem with fur, onto his shoulders with matching brooches that glittered under the light of what had to be at least a thousand candles hovering above them. He'd made a decent attempt at taming his hair - not a successful attempt, but Draco gave him credit for trying anyway. He'd switched his usual clunky glasses out for the vision correcting spells that Draco knew he hated but it meant his eyes were shining so bright and green that it made Draco's stomach clench a bit with something he’d always staunchly ignored.

Then, his parents spotted them. Lucius was in black as usual - the material expensive, but still black - and Narcissa looked decades younger than she was in robes of pale lavender and silver. Draco smiled as she beamed at them, gliding over alongside her husband.

"Darling." She feathered her lips over Draco's cheek. "Fashionably late, I see. And fashionably dressed," she added, turning to Potter and holding out her hand, her smile small but her eyes warm.

Potter bent over her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her hand briefly - just like Draco had instructed him to - before straightening up and smiling politely. "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful party, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You are very welcome - literally. And please call me Narcissa."

Lucius had watched and listened in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, his serious gaze fixed on Potter. When Narcissa stepped back, he slowly extended a hand to Potter.

Draco held his breath. They hadn't discussed this. He had no idea how Potter was about to behave with his father but he knew he wouldn't blame him for anything he said or did. Potter was a much better man than his father. This was fact.

But Potter simply shook hands with Lucius and nodded. Draco felt his shoulders relax.

They mingled. Draco had to repeatedly 'introduce' Potter to people as though they all didn't already know who he was, who his fucking parents were. It was laughable. But this was a stupid fucking formal Pureblood soirée and Draco still had his manners. What surprised him was how well-mannered Potter was being.

Potter was also being very loyal to his role as Draco's partner.

"He was such a little terror as a child, bless his heart," said some old crone, patting Draco's cheek with one wrinkled hand. Draco wanted to hiss at her like a cat.

"Aren't we all, at that age?" Potter said calmly, smiling.

"Oh, you're very dedicated to him, I see" she simpered. "Such a pleasure to see. You hardly ever find this in you youngsters these days."

"He doesn't give me much reason not to be dedicated to him."

Potter was still holding his hand.

"Draco doesn't tell us anything about how the two of you put your rather unhappy history aside in order to accept your...softer feelings for each other." Narcissa looked like she'd been bursting to ask Potter this all evening; she'd finally gotten a chance now that she was done making the obligatory rounds amongst her guests.

Potter looked at him, and Draco, his face hot, returned his gaze, trying to apologise wordlessly. But Potter just grinned.

"Well, I don't know about him but," Potter smiled down at Narcissa, looking handsome and charming and, well, fuck, "it was just a natural, automatic thing for me, really. The more I got to know the real Draco Malfoy the deeper I fell in love with him."

Draco felt his eyes widen a bit. He wanted to look at Potter to figure him out, to try and discern just how much he was bullshitting. He wanted to read Potter because Potter was supremely easy to read. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. Draco could always tell, just from one glance, the kind of mood Potter was in.

Trying to appear casual, like Potter hadn't said anything that made Draco's breath catch, Draco looked sideways at him. Potter was smiling, his eyes honest and soft and crinkled at the corners. He was nodding along to something Narcissa was saying.

And he was still holding Draco's hand.

"Very well done," Draco muttered, once his mother had wandered away into the crowd.

Potter smiled and squeezed his hand. "You said you'd give me a tour of the gardens," he said. Draco nodded and led him out.

They strolled in a leisurely manner. It was snowing but there were charms in place which meant that the snow never actually touched them, instead disappearing about a foot over their heads. The gardens were decorated too, lights twinkling everywhere, lighting up the paths.

"This must've been a great place to grow up," Potter eventually said.

They turned the corner and in the distance was the turret-shaped gazebo, hung with white-gold lights. Narcissa, when the weather permitted, loved to paint in the gazebo. Draco smiled.

"It was." Then, guiltily, "I mean... I don't mean to brag or any--"

Potter laughed. It was a low, deep, familiar sound that made Draco break out in gooseflesh.

"Draco," he said gently. "You don't have to feel guilty every time you talk to me about your childhood."

Draco lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "'m not guilty," he mumbled.

"No? You're still that insufferable, obnoxious little shit you were in school?"

Draco actually felt his face fall. He turned to Potter, unbothered about sounding vulnerable. "That's what you thought of me?"

Potter laughed. "Can you blame me? Do you remember you back at school?"

Draco slumped a little. "I suppose." They were nearly at the gazebo now. Together, they turned onto the path that led to the steps leading into it. Then, "That's...not what you think of me now, is it?"

"Draco," Potter's voice was gentle, yet teasing, "Everyone thinks you're a prat. You have to know this."

"Yes, but you?" They climbed the two steps and walked into the gazebo.

"I think you're a prat too." They were still holding hands. "But you're my prat."

Draco turned to look at him but Potter, with a sharp yank, was pulling Draco to himself. With a soft 'oof', Draco hit Potter's chest. Now they were holding both hands.

He quickly pulled himself together although Potter could probably feel his heart galloping in his chest. "Am I, now?"

"Isn't that what we've just spent the last hour and a half proving to people?"

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I was under the impression that it was an act."

"Well," Potter said quietly. "I'd rather it...be real."

They were standing pressed together in the centre of the gazebo, fairy lights surrounding them, Potter's green, green eyes reflecting them as he stared intensely at Draco. He looked like he was challenging Draco, like he was daring Draco to laugh in his face and carelessly brush aside what he'd said. Because that's what Draco Malfoy would do when Harry Potter declared something like that, right? He'd stomp on Harry Potter's proffered heart and revel in it.

Draco couldn't even imagine doing something like that. Especially not when Potter was holding his hands and smelt so good and looked at him like he was promising him so, so many things.

"You were very convincing tonight," said Draco.

"It was really easy," said Potter.

"You held my hand throughout."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"I wasn't about to give up the chance I had."

"Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Harry if we're together?"

"Would you like that?"

"I would love that, Draco."

"You've called me Draco for years now."

"I have."

Draco looked down at the lines of gold thread on Harry's chest, gleaming against the violet silk. "I think I'd like to call you Harry," he admitted.

When his gaze lifted back to Harry's, he was smiling at Draco. Then he looked up above them.

"Mistletoe," Harry said simply.

Draco's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Oh," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry just smiled again, and slowly let his head drop forward so that their foreheads touched. Then he brought his mouth up to Draco's brow and kissed it.

"Oh," repeated Draco.

They were just gazing at one another now.

Damn it, thought Draco as he broke first and kissed Harry full on the mouth.

They were still holding hands.

*

[snlhostharry]

try try again

harry x reader

2.2k words 

summary: harry wants to propose, but life keeps getting in the way 

a/n: first off... I suck at titles... why am I like this.... second off this is my secret santa gift for @jambrosemc ! happy holidays em! hope you like this, you are a super talented writer I just binged all your pieces and I am obsessed. and thank you to @peeterparkr for hosting 

The first time he tries is after the first concert he does for Fine Line. 

Fine Line at the Forum is a success in all the ways that matter, and Harry is so happy coming off the stage that he almost forgets about his plan to propose all together. When you barge into his dressing room after the show is over, smiling and ecstatic for him he suddenly sees the ring box on the counter and rushes to shove it in his pocket before you can see it. 

“That was insane, love,” You say wrapping him into a hug. “I think they really liked it.” 

He gives you a cheeky smile, “You think?” You roll your eyes in response, “What gave it away?” He asks, “The frantic screaming or the bra’s that were thrown onto the stage?” 

“You should’ve kept a couple,” You tease, “They could’ve been my size.” 

He laughs, “If you want one that bad I will buy it for you.” 

“I’m holding you to that,” You say, taking a seat on top of the counter. He runs a hand through his hair, knowing that this would be the perfect moment to just get down on one knee. He can see himself doing it, simply bending down and saying the words he’s wanted to say for what feels like forever. “You okay?” You ask him, seeing the look on his face and supposing that he’s thinking about something that happened during the concert. “You did a great job out there, seriously. Everyone really loved it H, the album is spectacular.” 

He shakes himself back into the moment, “I know, I know.” He says, and it comes off a little sharper than he means it too, he’s just very much in his own head about this whole thing now. What felt like it would be the perfect moment now feels wrong, like doing it now would cheapen the entire thing. He sighs, “Sorry,” He says, planting himself down on the floor dramatically, “Thank you.” 

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” You tell him, guessing that he’s just tired from a long night. “Let’s get takeout and go home, or go home and get takeout whichever order.” 

He smiles, “You ate before the show.” 

“That was like three hours ago, and it was a snack, I always planned on eating again, and you were too nervous to eat before the show.” 

He hugs his knees to his chest, “Watching you eat an entire kids meal in under five minutes actually helped with the nerves.” 

You shrug, “What can I say? I have my moments.” 

He stands and presses a kiss to your forehead as you swing your legs over the side of the counter. “You have a lot of moments, I love you.” 

“Love you too,” You wait a second before asking, “So home then?” 

He thinks about it for a minute, “Yeah.” 

“When you call in the food order make sure you put it under my name,” You tell him and he collects his things from the room, “People are beginning to get suspicious when I go into the restaurant to pick up an order for Harry.” 

He nods, and gently grabs your hand as the two of you leave. Maybe he’s not going to do it tonight, but he’s more resolved to actually pop the question than ever. He’s just so in love with you that he wants the whole thing to be perfect, and for some reason he has it all in his head that it needs to be a story that the two of you can tell in the future, something meaningful, he just has absolutely no idea what that is. 

The second planned attempt is a lot more off the cuff. 

You insist on throwing him a birthday party at the house, saying something about wanting to one up your sister who threw a very tasteful christmas party that the two of you went to. Not that your sister was invited seeing as the party was in London, but you knew that there would be enough pictures that she would see that you’re just as good as she is. Harry doesn’t understand it at all, but he decides that he doesn't even want to know how a rivalry like that can develop and leaves it alone. 

Objectively, you throw a very nice party. Of course Harry makes it a point to tell you this as often as possible without seeming overly invested in it, because he loves you and he wants you to be proud of your own work just like you want him to be proud of his. It’s hard for him to leave your side at all because he loves to see you talk to his friends and family and seem so happy to do it. You fit right in with everyone and he’s so grateful for that, and it’s as he’s standing there watching you talk to people that it hits him that this could be his moment. 

Not in front of everyone because that would be so much more pressure than he needs, but he thinks that after when everyone has finally left the house that he could catch you in the middle of cleaning or something and gently ask you to marry him. He decides that tonight, that’s the plan and he spends the rest of the night just thinking about that. It really is a great party, full of all his favorite things and people, it’s one of those nights where he feels like he loves you so much that his heart might just burst out of his chest. 

When finally every last guest has left the house, and things are a bit messy, he can’t seem to find you anywhere. He locks the door behind him, and starts walking through the house calling your name. He checks upstairs, in the kitchen, in all the bathrooms, and nothing. Until finally he walks into the living room and finds you sound asleep on the couch, snoring loudly enough that he’s surprised he didn’t hear it while he was looking. He looks at you and just smiles, suddenly completely fine with the fact that another plan has been ruined. He simply picks you up and takes you to bed, well aware he’s going to have to move onto plan C if he ever wants to get this done. 

The next time he tries, you end up surprising him. 

Plan C is a nice candlelight dinner at the house, which Harry tried to cook but ended up burning so eventually he relented and ordered food before putting it all together. Of all the plans he had come up with thus far, this one seemed the most foolproof. Everything was already planned: he knew you were going to come home from work at a certain time, he knew that there wouldn't be any distractions, and he had psyched himself up enough that he wasn’t just going to forget about the whole thing like he did the first time.

When the entire table is set up and the ring is in his pocket, he sits waiting for you to come home. He thinks about getting up to change some of the place settings just a little, but when he does he hears the clicking sound of your key in the door and sits back in his seat. After you walk into the house and set your stuff down in the entryway, Harry hears the sound of your shoes on the floor as you excitedly run into the kitchen. When you make it to where he can see you, he sees that you have a megawatt smile on your face and a large box in your hands. 

“I have a surprise,” You say, keeping a firm hold of the box. 

“I suppose it’s in that box,” He says, leaning over the chair so that he can see. 

You roll your eyes but keep smiling, “Yeah, obviously.” 

“Do you want me to guess?”

“God no,” You say, “That would take way too long. Basically I was at work today, and Mark has been producing this piece about a no kill animal shelter for a new segment about everyday heroes or whatever which is gross because puff pieces but when the woman came in to do the interview she brought in all these cats, no dogs for some reason, but anyway so we were all playing with the cats because our job is stressful and cats, and then she was like ‘you guys seem so good with these cats, they are looking for homes and-” 

He looks at you with a wide eyed expression, “You didn’t.” 

You ceremoniously walk over to the table, open the box and pull a small orange cat into your arms, “You bet your ass I did.” You gently pet the cat, which mews quietly from your arms, “She does not have a name mostly because I couldn’t think of any.” 

“We talked about pets like a week ago, briefly.” 

You give a guilty smile, “Yeah but I felt like I really needed this cat. I live here now, we live here, and I finally feel like I’m settled-” You sit down at the table and sigh, “I think I might be nesting, which is kind of gross but I don't know. I love you, and I love being here and I finally feel stable enough to get a freaking cat so that’s the explanation I have.” 

He can’t stop himself from breaking into a smile, even though he knows his plans have been thwarted again. (He thinks later, after the moment has already passed that he very well could’ve done it right then and there after you’d given a whole speech about the two of you being stable). He shakes his head after looking at you making funny faces at the cat like it’s a child, “Okay hand her over.” 

You hand her over and say, “I will not accept any names that have to go with the fact that she’s a ginger, because that’s just lame.” 

“Well seeing as those were my only ideas-”

You sigh, “We will think of something, just not now because you got dinner and I’m starving.” 

“What’s she going to eat?”

“I got food and a bowl, and a bunch more things being delivered within the next week or two.” 

“Did you go out and buy a box just for the dramatic reveal?”

“Yes, I did and it was totally worth it.” 

The cat’s name ends up being Hillary, after you discover an affinity for pet names that are usually person names. Something about the way you’ll end up talking about Hillary in polite conversation and someone will have to ask you who that is makes you want to choose it overall. Even though Harry is not sure about the sudden change at first, he soon becomes best friends with Hillary, and you often find the two of them cuddled up together on the couch. She likes to listen to him play music just as much as you do as it turns out. 

Harry is still trying to think of a way to propose. So much time has passed since he bought the ring, and the first time that he planned to pop the question that he wonders if he’ll ever find the right time to do it or if you’ll just end up asking him one day because it’s all gone too far. One afternoon when the two of you are relishing a rare shared day off, he watches you cook lunch in the kitchen and decides that now is the time to do it. No more excuses, no more surprises, just him and you and the question on the tip of his tongue for too long. 

When you put all of the food on plates, and set them out on the counter he walks over and just looks at you. It weirds you out at first so you ask, “What? Is there something on my face?” 

He gets down on one knee and you still are very confused about what he’s doing. You open your mouth to ask him, but the realization suddenly hits you and you cover your mouth with your hands. 

“y/n,” He says, “I have been waiting to ask you this for what feels like forever. And everytime that the plan fell through you somehow managed to make me want to marry you even more. I love you so much, I love everything about you, how excited you get about your work, how much you love Hillary and how supportive you are whenever I do anything. I love our life here, and I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?” 

You don’t say anything for a second, still shocked, “Yes of course.” He stands and kisses you, slipping the ring onto your finger. “I was wondering when you would ask me.” 

“You knew?”

“I saw it that night after the forum,” You say, “I figured you got nervous.” 

“And you just let me flounder here for almost six months?” 

“Yes,” You smile, “I figured you wanted to do it on your own terms.” 

“Next time just call me out love, because I sat on this for too long.” 

[cocosstories]

Chris Evans One Shot

Prompt:

maybe you could write something cute/fluff mainly where the reader has been dating (either seb stan, cevans or tom holland :) ) and they get into a small fight and at the end they get engaged? (Like a fight where they are at the readers sisters wedding and the reader gets kinda mad why they haven’t been asked to get married yet after 5 years or so??) im sorry this is a long ask haha but hopefully not confusing 🥰 (its also my first ask im sorry 🤍) anything like this would be appreciative 🥰🤍

The wedding went off without a hitch, your older sister looked beautiful as she walked down the aisle to marry her love of just over a year.

You look down from your spot at the altar to your own love, Chris and give a small smile.

The two of you have been together for over five years now and many, were surprised that you have yet to tie the knot.

Anytime the subject of marriage came up, which seemed to ba a lot in the last forty eight hours given the theme of the weekend, you politely smiled.

"Were in no hurry. Just enjoying being together."

It was a generic answer but one that would satisfy and nosy relative that would ask.

The truth was, you would give anything to marry Chris. You were completely sure of what you wanted and with him dragging his feet, you were beginning to worry he didn't have the same certainty.

As your sister and her husband were pronounced man and wife, your mind comes back to focus and you celebrate with the rest of the guests.

There was a two hour break between the ceremony and the reception, giving time for guests to take a break from the festivities.

With your sister and new brother-in-law safely settled in the limo, you find Chris and head off to the hotel to change into your party dress.

"Can you help me with the zipper please?"

Chris is laying on the bed, watching T.V. when you come up to him. He sits up and pulls himself to the edge of the bed as you turn your back to him, placing yourself between his legs that are hanging over the side.

"I don't know why she insisted on all of us changing. I mean sure, the second ones will be easier to dance in but it just seems like a lot of money for only a few hours."

Your small rant catches his attention as he unzips the dress then turns you to face him.

"Why do I get the feeling this is more than about changing your dress?"

You sigh, not really wanting to start an argument.

"Its just the dress, Chris"

He takes your arm as you try to walk away.

"Y/N, talk to me. What is bothering you?"

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you contemplate what to say to him.

"I'm just ready for this weekend to be over. If i have to endure one more relative asking when we are getting married, im going to scream."

Chris sighs.

"I knew that's what it was. We don't owe them anything Y/N. Our relationship is our business, not theirs. When we decide to get married, is our choice. Don't let them bother you. The weekend is almost over."

Irritation builds with his answer.

"And when are we going to make that decision?"

You pull away from him, heading back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

"Why is this a big deal all of a sudden?"

Chris follows after you, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom and leaning against the frame of the open door.

"This isn't all of a sudden, Chris. We have been together for five years. Is it so odd that marriage is in my mind? Apparently it's just not on yours."

You pull on the new dress and struggle to reach the zipper, not really wanting to ask for help in the moment.

"Is that what you think? That i don't want to marry you?"

Your confession shocks him more than it probably should have. You had never let on just how much it bothered you before.

You had talked about marriage a few times throughout your relationship but he had always gotten the impression, you were happy with the way things were.

"What am i supposed to think? I've heard you say you want to settle down and start a family in so many interviews but i guess you just don't want that with me."

There is now hurt in your voice as the realization of your accusation hits both of you.

He walks over to you and brings you into his arms, you resisting a bit at first, not wanting to be more vulnerable than you are.

"I want to marry you. I want to raise a family with you. I love you. You are it for me. I hate that you would ever question that."

Hurt in his voice matches yours as he speaks.

"Then why haven't you asked me?"

Your voice was quiet and shaky with the question.

"Because I am a stupid man."

It was a simple answer that held a lot of truth. He pulls back from you, getting down on one knee and taking your hand.

"Y/N, it may have taken me some time and i may not have a ring but I would be even more stupid to use that as an excuse to wait any longer. I love you. You are my best friend, the love of my life. Would you do me the great honor if becoming my wife?"

It wasn't exactly the romantic proposal you had always imagined but it was perfect nonetheless.

You pull him up from the ground and kiss him deeply.

"Yes Chris, I will marry you!"

Tears stream down your face and you kiss him again.

Your phone rings a few minutes later, bringing you both back into reality.

'Y/N, where are you? Everyone will be here soon.'

You read the text from your mom with a sigh.

"Back to the craziness. Zip me up?"

You turn your back to him and he zips your dress up slowly, his fingertips lingering at the base of your neck.

"If we have to. Just promise me something, our wedding won't be like this. Just a ceremony and a party. No full weekend of events and costume changes."

You laugh, mentally agreeing with what Chris had just said. You loved your sister but her wedding did go a bit over the top for your taste.

"Deal."

With that, you head off to the reception, ready to dance the night away celebrating your sisters happy day while quietly planning your own.

Feedback is always welcomed and greatly appreciated

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to the others members not liking their s/o

❦ Genre: Angst.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 15k.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋 

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG

Hongjoong noticed that you were the only one initiating the conversation with his members. You were always asking them if they had a good day or if they needed anything. Even at the dorm. But the members weren’t really comprehensive or talkative with you. They were simply thanking you. Nothing more. To solve this problem, Hongjoong reunited the whole team in the kitchen. You were watching a movie in his room, so you won’t need to hear this conversation. “What is going on Hyung?” Asked San, sitting on the counter. “I wanted to have a serious talk with all of you.” “What did you do guys?” asked Seonghwa. “All of you. It means that you are included,” added Hongjoong, looking at the eldest boy. “Wow... if Seonghwa Hyung is included then, it might be really serious.” Claimed San.

Hongjoong sat on the empty chair, just next to Yunho and Yeosang. “Do you have a problem with Y/N?” He finally asked, glancing at all of them. A big silence settled in the room. Hongjoong understood that he was right about this whole situation. “Should I take this silence as a ‘yes’?” He ran his hands in his hair, completely frustrated. They all stayed quiet. Discreetly staring at each other. Waiting for someone to talk first. “Can someone tell me why?” “Listen... we don’t trust Y/N.” Finally replied Wooyoung. “Why? This is absurd.” He started. “She’s amazing.” “Come on, open your eyes.” Added Yeosang. “She’s clearly with you because we are getting some recognition.” “Are you serious?” Grunted Hongjoong. “She doesn’t care about our fame or whatever.” “Love makes you blind.” Quoted San. Hongjoong were about to take your defense again, but he spotted you at the door frame. “Y/N-” You saw the worried look on your boyfriend’s face. “It’s okay.” You started. “I’m going back home.” “Wait Y/N,” Hongjoong stood up. “No, stay here. It’s better if we stop here.” You declared, leaving and not letting your boyfriend to talk. Hongjoong stayed in the middle of the room, not processing what just happened. “Hyung-” Not wanting to hear anything else, he left the kitchen to go to his room. He didn't want to see anyone else at the moment. Except you.

SEONGHWA

“Do you want to come with us for a movie night?” Asked your boyfriend. “No, it’s pretty late, I should head home.” You declined politely. Seonghwa raised his brow. He was curious. You were always declining his offer when the boys were there. When he asked you why, you always said that you needed to rest or you were not really in the mood. It was weird for him since you were always offering to do something with him. “Do you want me to bring you home?” He offered. “No, you have something to do.” You stared at the boys shyly. “I can join them back. It’s pretty late I want you to be safe.” He added. “I’m a big girl. I’ll just take a taxi and head home don’t worry.” You tried to reassure him. Seonghwa really needed to ask what was going on and why you never wanted to hang out with the whole group. “I’ll just wait for the taxi with her.” He said to his friends. “Just give me 5 minutes.” “Seonghwa... don’t let them wait. I’m okay.” You tried to push him back. “Why are you always declining when I ask you to go around with the boys?” “I’m just tired.” You lied. “Don’t lie to me Y/N.” He said seriously. “It’s nothing Seonghwa. Just join them.” You insisted. “Y/N, tell me what’s going on.” He grabbed your arm. “They don’t like me!” You yelled a bit too loud. The boys probably heard you, but at this point, you couldn't care less. “This is nonsense Y/N, they lo-” “No they don’t.” You repeated. “I don’t know what I did wrong but it’s obvious!” Seonghwa turned around to look at the group. “Guys, I’m right huh? You like her?” They all stayed quiet. Some of them had this blank expression on their face. “See,” you whispered. “Let me go home now,” escaping from his grip. Seonghwa ignored what to do. Should he follow you? Or follow his team? When he was still questioning his fate, he saw you hopping on the first taxi you saw. “Y/N...” Why do they hate her? He tried to think about any arguments you had with one of them, but nothing came to his mind. But he wanted his best friends and girlfriend by his side. He can't choose one of them.

YUNHO

“I don’t like her! She’s too kind, too nice with us. I know what she is trying to do.” Said Mingi, laying on the couch. “Don’t you think we are a bit rude with her? We don’t know her.” Doubted Wooyoung, playing on his phone. “She’s clearly dating him because of his money.” Concluded Mingi. Wooyoung was about to confirm when Yunho entered the living-room, a big smile on his face. “Hey guys, what were you talking about?” He asked. “Nothing special.” Replied Wooyoung, not wanting to confront his friend. “Really? Because it seemed pretty steamed.” “Yes, really.” “Well okay.” He gave up. “By the way, I need your help guys.” They both sat up, waiting for their friend’s request. “It’s Y/N’s birthday soon and I want to buy her something but I-“ “Sorry I can’t help you with that.” Said Mingi straight before even hearing the end of the sentence. “Why? I was looking for your help since you are the one who always gives the best mother’s gift and stuff like that.” “I don’t know Y/N enough to think about something she would like.” He replied, turning the volume of the TV up. “Okay...” he sighed. “And you Wooyoung? Can you help me?” “I-” he started but Mingi gave him a soft kick on the waist, to prevent him from accepting to help Yunho. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said. “I don’t know her either. It might be awkward.” “Guys... I really need your help. It’s her first birthday since we met, and I want it to be more than perfect.” He explained. “Listen Hyung,” started Mingi, focusing back on his friend. “We don’t think Y/N is interested in you.” “Oh gosh... he really said it like that.” Facepalmed the other member. “She clearly wants money, or I don’t know what, but I don’t trust her. And any of us don’t.” He declared. “You don’t like Y/N?” Repeated Yunho, hardly processing the situation. “But you were always so nice to her.” “We are being polite with her. But we don’t like her.” Finally added Wooyoung. “I can’t believe it...” “Please don’t be mad. We wish you all the best. But Y/N is clearly not the best.” “Shut up.” They both stared at their Hyung, surprised. It was definitely not his type to be so rude. “You don’t know Y/N or even our relationship. She clearly is one of the best things that ever happened to me after my debut.” He started, visibly mad. “Hyung-” “I don’t want to talk with you right now. I need fresh air.” He claimed before leaving the dorm. “I think he’s mad.” Stated Mingi. “No really?”

YEOSANG

You prepared everything for their first win celebration. Finally all these years of hard work paid off. They got their first win today and you were absolutely happy to organize a mini party for this. With the manager’s agreement, you went to the dorm before them, when they had the last interview for the day. You simply prepared snacks, such as chips, mini burgers and things like this. To express how proud you were, you even bought the same cake they had after their first performance. Everything was perfect. But sadly, you hadn’t the reaction you expected. Only Yeosang and barely Jongho were happy about this. You always knew that the boys didn’t really like you. You always did your best to be nice and polite but it’s as if nothing worked. Yeosang never noticed it. You couldn’t blame him, though. But thanks to the group’s reaction to your little surprise, he noticed that something was wrong. When the boys were gathered around the table, he glanced at you. You were quietly hearing their conversation but not saying anything the whole time. “Are you okay?” Whispered Yeosang. You nodded and smiled shyly. He bit his lips. He couldn’t stay in this situation. “Guys,” he said, trying to get their attention. You looked at him, waiting to know what he wanted to say. “Do you have a problem with Y/N?” “Yeosang-” you whispered, trying to stop him. “It’s okay Y/N. I just noticed that they were barely talking to you or trying to know you.” “They are busy.” You claimed. “Saying thank you for organizing a little party for us doesn't need more than 3 seconds.” He stated. “So?” None of them answered. Silence was like an answer for you anyway. “I understand that we can’t like everyone, but I would be glad if you could give Y/N a chance. She’s really important to me, and I would appreciate it if you could do some effort to know her.” “They know me a little bit.” You tried to reduce the awkwardness. “This is not enough for me.” He claimed, standing up. Yeosang left the room. You were there alone, around all of them. Like a gazelle in a lion cage. “I’m sorry about that.” You apologized, leaving too. You couldn’t force them to like you. But you couldn’t hide that you were truly sad about it.

SAN

“Oh, you are alone here?” Asked Wooyoung to his friend. “Yes, Y/N is still sleeping.” He let him know. “Do you want cereals?” He pointed at the pack in front him. “No I’m dieting.” “You are beautiful enough. You don’t need to go on a diet again.” He said, trying to dissuade his friend. “Are you happy with Y/N?” Suddenly asked Wooyoung. San stared at his friend surprised. He wasn’t expecting to hear this question from him. “Are you trying to change the subject? Because I won’t give up.” “No.” He sat in front of him, visibly worried. “I’m serious San.” San put down the cup he was holding. “Why do you think I’m not happy enough with Y/N?” Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t want to be rude with his closest friend and member, but he couldn’t keep this for himself. “I don’t like her.” He whispered, not wanting you to hear it. “What? Why?” Asked San. The member ran his hands through his scalp. “Honestly no one likes her.” “I can’t believe this...” replied San. “Did she do or say something bad?” “No. It’s just that we don't like her attitude with you. She’s so... clingy and stuff like that.” “I’m barely sure we never showed any love affection in front of you guys. She hates that.” San crosses his arms on his chest. Wooyoung was visibly lying, and he didn’t like this at all. “Just tell me the truth, so we can solve this.” “I don’t think it’s solvable. We don’t like her. We don’t like her being here all the time and hearing her asking if everything is okay! She seems so fake San!” San scoffed, completely astonished by this confession. You were doing your best to be nice with them, and he was glad you made this effort. “She clearly just dates you because you are famous and-“ “I don’t.” You cut him straight, standing in the door frame. “Babe,” whispered San, worries that you heard the whole conversation. “I just love him. I don’t care if he’s an idol. His career isn’t defining my love for him.” You added. “This is not what he wanted to say Y/N.” “This is exactly what he wanted to say and to be honest he couldn’t be more clear than that.” San stood up, trying to talk to you correctly, face to face. But you stopped him with your hand. “I think it’s better if we break up.” “W-Wait Y/N,” stuttered San. “They will learn to know you. I promise.” You smiled sadly at him. “We can’t force them to do that. And honestly I’m done trying to be nice for nothing.” Without adding anything else, you went back to the room to grab your stuff and in a matter of time you were ready to exit the dorm. “Y-“ Before he could stop you again, the door slammed loudly. Wooyoung was so sorry for his friend, he messed up and was totally aware of it.

MINGI

You were like invisible to them. They were only greeting you. You never knew what you did and honestly you gave up. Everyone was saying all nice and kind they were but you couldn’t see this side of them. For sure, Mingi knew that this situation was hard for you. He didn’t invite you to the dorm anymore and he was doing his best for you to not see the boys. He always said that he was okay and that they will trust you soon but you knew he was pissed and sad about this situation. It was important for him to get along with the members. But it wasn’t the case at all. Today, you waited for Mingi to finish his daily dance practice. Not wanting to meet the boys, you waited in the hall as usual. “Y/N!” You stood up and turned around to greet your boyfriend. You were sure it was him because his deep voice is engraved in your mind. Just when you wanted to wave back at him, you saw all the others boys behind him. You immediately felt bad. “Hi,” you greeted them quietly. They just bowed politely to you and waited for Mingi to say something. “Do you want to come with us at the restaurant? We are starving right now.” He rubbed his belly cutely. “No I’m fine! I’ll head back home.” You refused politely. “Told you.” Grunted Seonghwa behind him. “Oh come on? What’s your problem with Y/N guys? And babe what’s your problem with them?” Asked Mingi angrily, putting down his bag. You stayed silent, waiting for one of them to talk since they were the only ones being rude. “Can someone talk?” “She’s not the one for you.” Finally declared Yunho. You felt absolutely hurt about this. Why were they thinking so bad about you? “And why?” Asked Mingi almost angrily. “We are 7 here to think the same way, you just can’t see it because love makes you blind.” Added Jongho. “Well-“ “I think I should leave.” You stated. “No we will solve-“ “I don’t want to.” You declared. Mingi stared at you, not understanding why you gave up suddenly. “Please don’t call me again.” You said coldly. “Hold up... are you-“ “Yes.” You said before he could finish the end of his sentence. He tried to catch your arm, preventing you from leaving but in vain. You were walking so fast, trying to not go back to him and tell him how sorry you are. But you couldn’t handle this situation anymore. It was not good for your health or either for your relationship.

WOOYOUNG

You were getting along so well with Wooyoung’s parents and his little brother. You spent a whole week with them in Jeju Island, and it went really well. But you couldn’t say the same thing with Ateez members. They knew you for almost 6 months now and impossible for you to be comfortable enough with them. Every time you were trying to talk with one of them. They would pretext to be busy or to have something to do. At first, you really thought that being an idol was overwhelming, but when San told you that he was busy but that you spotted him, laying on his bed, totally relaxed, you understand that they were not sincere with you. Because of this, you decided to take your distance and to enjoy only the moment with your boyfriend. He didn’t notice anything, for him you were totally fine with his friends. You secretly hoped that he would never notice, so he wouldn’t need to choose between you or his members. Until today. When you arrived at the dorm, Wooyoung was having a big argument with Yeosang and Hongjoong. You simply stayed at the corner of the room. None of them noticed your presence yet. “I told you I would be late! I even texted you for that!” Claimed Wooyoung. “You told me 5 minutes, not 2 hours.” Replied the leader. “You should have told us the truth. We wouldn’t be in this situation.” “I don’t know the traffic. They told me we were there in 5 minutes, so I texted you.” “And the next hours? You should have texted us!” “My phone died! And the driver wasn’t informed about one of your phone numbers.” “Sure...” muttered Hongjoong. “Anyway since you are dating Y/N you are not yourself anymore.” You raised a brow. You weren’t in the van with him. And you were not the traffic. “I don’t get why you are talking about her.” He replied coldly. “Since you are dating her, you are making mistake by mistake.” Stated Yeosang. “You can’t even see that we don’t like her. She’s grabbing all of your attention and-“ “Oh finally, I understand why you don’t like me.” You said, standing up against the wall. “Shit...” cursed your boyfriend after you heard the whole argument. “Next time I would prefer if you could say it to me directly.” You added a bit angrily. “You have nothing to do with-“ “Anyway, I need to go.” You said before leaving. Wooyoung sighed at this situation. He was so focused on you who just left that he didn’t see that his team members felt a little bit sad about this situation.

JONGHO

At first you didn't believe Jongho when he said that he was interested in you. He was a whole famous idol now, and you were just a normal and random human being. When he was telling you his day, you couldn’t relate to anything at all. You never went on stage or made a fan cry just because of your existence. It was pretty hard to talk with him at first but now you were so used to it. Everything seemed perfect now, but the only thing you couldn’t handle very well was his teammates. You knew that they weren’t really okay with the idea of you dating the maknae. They thought it had been too early to date and more because he was the “baby” of the group. But Jongho was so motivated to be with you that he wrote a whole letter saying that he won’t forget his career. He added that he needed you in his life because he felt like you would give him the last piece of happiness that he needs. Of course, they couldn’t say no to this. But instead of telling him the truth, they were acting totally cold and distant with you. You were doing your best to interact with them, but they were only replying by a single word to stop the conversation. One day you asked Yeosang about this whole situation, but it didn’t lead well. He pretexted that everyone was fine, but obviously you could see well that he was lying. So you decided to talk directly with Jongho. “Jongho,” you squeezed him. “Hum?” He replied, still sleepy. “Do you know why the boys don’t like me?” You whispered. “What are you talking about? They like you...” “They don’t.” You insisted. “I think you noticed it too. I mean we never talk or laugh together.” Jongho grunted and got up off the bed. “Where are you going?” You asked. “I’ll erase this stupid idea of your mind." You stared at your boyfriend leaving the room. You waited for him for almost 30 minutes before he came back a bit paler than earlier. “So? I couldn’t hear the conversation,” you pouted. He scratched his head embarrassedly, “seems like that you were right...” You rolled your eyes and fell back on the mattress. “We are doomed...”

[beyoncesdragon]

title: catch up now? 

× pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Interviewer!Reader, old friends from highschool kinda stuff, abandoned but maybe rediscovered love on both sides. 

× summary: Three years are a long time. In three years, many things can and will change. But three years hadn’t been quite enough to change how two people feel about each other. 

× warnings: a little teeny bit angsty but it’s nothing, really. Mainly fluff, some flustered, overly eager Gguk and old memories coming up. 

× wordcount: 2k

× a/n: Not gonna lie, this might be one of my favourite pieces I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy this too! it’s somehow inspired by ‘Love Maze’ (BTS) and also ‘50 Proof’ (eaJ). Will probably not have a pt.2

main masterlist | bts masterlist

When he had read the name of the interview host - or hostess more like - Jungkook had already felt the familiar tingle in the pit of his stomach that he had thought had disappeared over the course of time. Yet, he wasn’t surprised that it was still there.

He had however not dared to hope that it could actually be you, there sure were other people called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who has pursued their dream of becoming an interviewer, media person, whatnot. He didn’t even know if you had actually graduated uni and made it in the job, hence he hadn’t seen any of you in about four years of him debuting now. He had occasionally checked out your Instagram or Twitter, yet he shied away from following you on any social media platform. You weren’t really public about your work or personal life on both, you mainly retweeted stuff (he found out about your love for Bingsu and Makgeolli ice cream like that) and posted a few selfies or landscapes. He hoped that you had been able to pursue your dream of traveling around for a bit, in South Korea and outside of it. Though again, he didn’t know.

Jimin was seated right in front of him and Jungkook couldn’t help but nervously play with his hyungs honey blond dyed hair. Jimin chuckled surprised yet amused about his open display of nervousness and turned around slowly.

“Everything okay, Jungkook-ah? You seem more nervous than usually.” He remarked, making Namjoon look over to the maknae in wonder. “He does, right? I thought so too. Did something happen?” Jungkook only shook his head.

Not yet, he thought to himself.

The cameras around them started to blink all at once, the light has been set up correctly and the camera and sound team had settled down around them in the dark. Manager and publicists stood somewhere in the back, swallowed up by the dark. The only person that was missing still, was you. Or the person called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Jungkook tried to tell himself.

Suddenly there was a soft laugh from somewhere off the scenes and his heart tripped over its own beat and finally, finally, you stepped into the light.

You looked pretty as ever, grown into your features entirely, like a lotus flower finally in full bloom. Jungkook had to swallow dry. The light coral red of your lip balm complimented your skin and the subtle almost invisible make up you wore, accentuated your already beautiful features even more. You hadn’t changed your hair much, but it was a bit longer and looked so soft in the bright light. His eyes almost subconsciously darted to your fingers, searching for evidence of a possible relationship. He was almost ashamed how quickly he ended up thinking about this, his own boldness making him even more flustered. (There was no formal looking ring on your ringfinger though, to his relief.)

There was a warm smile on your lips as you bowed deeply to them all, greeting them respectfully. The boys returned your greeting immediately and a bunch of annyeong haseyo-s sounded through the studio. Jungkook felt Namjoon look over at him again, a piercing gaze Jungkook knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand if he met it. So he just kept looking at everything but Namjoon...not that this was hard to do when you were right in front of him.

“Thank you so much for being here with us.” You said with a smile, looking at everyone with the same look of respect and polite distance. Like you were supposed to, at work, as a professional. Like you didn't know them personally. Everyone, including Jungkook.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Could it be that you...forgot about him? It couldn’t really be, right? How would you actually be able to, you really...in this moment your eyes crossed again and something flickered in your eyes, a facade crumbled for a few seconds only. It was an amused twinkle, like a cheeky wink and a minimal curl of your lips. 

Acknowledgement.

And Jungkook’s heart did multiple flips, breath caught in his throat and eyes widened.

You had started with the questions, keeping the conversation light and flowing. The vibe in the room was comfortable and built up on mutual respect - yet Jungkook felt as if he was sitting on red-hot needles. He wanted to talk to you, ask about how you had been, what you were doing (if you had a boyfriend) if you were happy, if you got a cat, how your mother’s little business was going (he’d anonymously purchased countless items, to support your family), if your favourite colour still was cyan blue and your still religiously bought Pajeon and Makgeolli on rainy days, if you ever spent a second of your day thinking of him (because he did).

Him, your somewhat ex-best friend from highschool, him, the one you spent hours talking to in the ungodly hours of the morning, him who you had lost your first kiss to (though lost wasn’t the right word: you gave it to him more like). Him who you had poked fun of when the first girl approached him in his Rookie days and he’d been flustered to no end.

Him, who had promised to you that he wouldn’t abandon your friendship and yet the two of you drifted apart anyways.

Not for the lack of trying on either side though. Jungkook’s schedule had just become even fuller, his nights shorter, training longer and fans more obsessive. And you had seen each other less often, greetings were shorter and late night talks turned into good night wishes over text quicker.

You on your part weren’t mad, a little disappointed maybe. Sad for sure, but not mad. After all, you had expected it to turn out like that. So had the rest of your little circle, Haneul, Hwang, Kyong and Myunghee. Whilst the five of you had supported Jungkook on his journey with all you’ve got, you all tried to overcome the obvious pain of him drifting off.

Some (mainly Hwan and Kyong) with working harder in school for example. You did that too, but sometimes you also partied a little harder, were awake at three AM a little more often, missed him a lot more. It hurt letting someone you love go.

Jungkook and you had always been a bit...closer. Why you didn’t know, how you couldn’t possibly explain. But you were and him rising into the heights and new dimensions of being an idol destroyed this almost completely. This strange world of fame, those walls of flashing cameras, the flow of expensive goods and seas of screaming people, that was his world. He was a star, figuratively and somewhat literally. He shone more radiant, higher, longer, prettier and too bright for an innocent, young love to coexist.

So you stayed behind, soon having lost his number due to him having to change it, his contact information soon had less to say than what you could find on the internet.

His new hair colour? Well, you could google it. Height? Current weight? Several fan sights knew the answer. Achievements? The internet again.

 It was strange, ridiculous to some extent. And it hurt. But you couldn’t blame him, so you never did.

⋄

When you had heard that you would be interviewing BTS last week you could help but feel scared. You hadn’t seen him face to face for three or so years, three years with no FaceTime, texting, three years of not seeing his bunny smile, smiled just for you.

And when you had seen him again, laid eyes on him for the first time in thirty-five months, you realised that nothing you ever felt for him had faded away. It was all the same again, your heart still jumped in your chest and your stomach still fluttered whenever he did as much as breathing. The only thing that had changed was his height and him having had the biggest glow up you had witnessed in your life, yours included – though this Jungkook would disagree vehemently. 

This Jungkook who got pulled out of his thoughts and memories almost violently, as you directed a first question at him only.

“I…” he started, gulping hardly, having forgotten the question already halfway.

“Sorry I can’t – how have you been?” you stopped shortly, stunned and a tad confused at first. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. Or clumsy, for that matter. Yet you couldn’t help but giggle, and all the unsaid words and ignored truths between the two of you disappeared into smoke, taking all tension with them. Just like that.

“I’ve been fine, Gukie. Busy. Long-time no see, hm. How about you?” somewhere behind the cameras someone dropped a pen and there were multiple gasps being heard. The rest of the bangtan boys didn’t look any better; Jimin had his mouth open, Taehyung was looking back and forth between the two of you, Yoongi just froze, Jin and Hoseok had clasped their hands in front of their mouths and Namjoon just looked like someone poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

But Jungkook? Jungkook was smiling widely, his bunny smile, smiled just for you. 

“Busy too. Yes, very long time no see.” He replied sheepishly, a small laugh escaping his lips as he looked around the dead silent studio. “Why…how do you know each other?” Yoongi finally asked, eyes snapping back and forth between the two of you.

“Well I guess we have to tell them now. We know each other from back in Highschool. We were pretty close friends back then.” You explained softly, giving him a small smile. Jungkook nodded quickly. “My apologies. I didn’t wanted to completely ruin the interview but…I haven’t seen you in three or so years. Sorry.” You waved it off. “It’s okay, Jungkook. We will catch up later, alright?” Jungkook nodded, making the mistake of looking over to Namjoon, who looked like he finally understood everything. “Is that why you were so…never mind.” He ended in a mumble and Jungkook was glad he did.

⋄

The second the interview was officially finished and all the cameras shut off, Jungkook was on his feet and approaching you. He didn’t even care about formalities anymore as he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t nestle his face in the crook of your neck as easy as he had been able to do in high-school. The second thing was that you had changed your perfume into something more flowery and fresh. The third thing he noticed was how much he liked having you in his arms again, especially because he could now rest his head on top of yours.

The first thing you noticed was how broad your Kookie had become. Broad and tall and firm everywhere. The second thing you noticed was how he smelled more expensive, faintly musky but still very much like Jungkook. A scent you could pick out from a thousand, unique and everything you loved. The third thing you noticed was how familiar and how looked after you felt in his arms, how protected from every harm. You had missed this feeling.

“Aigoo, Junkookie!” Jin yelled from behind, causing you to chuckle embarrassed and trying to break the hug. But Jungkook simply tightened his arms around you, having no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

“Just ignore them. They’ll leave, eventually.” His voice was muffled by the skin on your neck, since he had now buried his face there, taking deep breaths.

“And we?” you asked with a small laugh, not moving either. “We stay. We catch up. Got a lot of that to do.” Sounded good enough to you…just that you had expected them to make a bee-line for the exit after the cameras cut due to their busy schedule.

“Catch up now?” you asked after a few seconds of him still having his arms around you, unmoving. The young man shook his head.

“No…not right now.” He took a deep breath, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling against your skin and the fabric of your blouse. 

“In five minutes. Let me just hold you for a little while, you…you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

If he only knew.

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - Chapter Eight (sfw)

I hope those few of you who follow this blog even remember this story!! It's being posted on here as a WIP, so technically you're all my beta readers :). Sorry it's taking so long to work through, but I'm really busy with other writing work, plus actual work, and some life stuff, but it's not abandoned!

In this chapter, which is a bit of a filler chapter, Hermione gets a pleasant surprise visit at the Kneazel and Quill, and she learns what Draco is doing with himself all day at the Manor, and why he has the hands of a potion master. Meanwhile Draco is quietly freaking out about what Scorpius will think of his kindling relationship with one third of the legendary Golden Trio...

As always, looking forward to hearing your reactions and thoughts!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six (nsfw), Part Seven (nsfw)

___

The bell above the door of the Kneazel and Quill jangled, and Hermione looked up to see a very familiar figure wearing practical, Muggle clothes, and a tired but genuine smile.

“Harry!” she shrieked in delight, rising and scuttling around the desk. “When did you get back? I thought you were on assignment in Sweden til —”

He raised his eyebrows. “Wednesday? It’s Wednesday today, Hermione.”

“So it is,” she laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “Cup of tea? You look wiped out.”

“I’m only staying if you’ve got custard creams…”

She snorted. “I must have known I’d need them — I stopped at the Tesco Express on my way in this morning.”

“Maybe Professor Trelawney was wrong about you and ‘the sight’ after all?” Harry grinned and she shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere for want of a hair-tie.

Seated in the cramped back room of her second hand bookshop, Harry looked at her and cocked his head slightly to the side.

“What?” she asked, dunking a biscuit into her tea.

Quietly, Harry said, “There’s something different about you.”

“No there isn’t,” she retorted, scoffing her custard cream down and reaching for another. “I’m the same washed up old hag I’ve always been. Now, tell me about Gothenburg! I’ve wanted to go back ever since we went there for that conference — must be, ooh, what, twelve years ago now? Gods, how time flies.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re nothing like a ‘washed up old hag’, so don’t you dare talk about yourself like that, and secondly, Gothenburg was amazing.”

She smiled, and let him tell her what he could about his assignment.

“Bet Ginny’s glad to have you back,” she said.

Harry’s face shifted into what Hermione called her favourite ‘Harry being soppy for his wife’ expression, and he flushed. “Yeah, probably. Apparently Lily’s been flying around the garden at Grimmauld and it’s giving Ginny kneazles. Lily’s been pretending to be the next seeker for the Harpies or something…” Raking his hand through his messy hair, he sighed. “Who’d have ever thought I’d be sitting in your bookshop, talking about my daughter learning to fly, eh?”

She smiled, but Harry’s expression cracked a little.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Hermione scowled fondly and reached across to take his hand in hers. “Harry… we’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“I know. I just…” he drew in a long inhale and then said, “So are you going to tell me what’s changed in your life since I’ve been away? You’re practically glowing. Did you meet someone?”

Hermione bit her lip and drew back, cheeks heating damnably.

“You did? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “You do. But if I tell you who it is, I need you to…” she puffed out her cheeks and finished off in a rush, “I need you to promise not to freak out first of all, and then promise you won’t tell a soul. Not even Ginny just yet, ok? It’s really important.”

Harry looked wary and worried at that.

Taking one more breath for courage, she said quietly, “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

For a moment, Harry fell utterly still, his green eyes wide and disbelieving. He looked like he was expecting Fred and George to pop out of the bookshelves with party streamers and tell him he’d been pranked, but when he saw her anxious expression, his shoulders dropped a fraction and he whispered, “You’re bloody serious.”

“Yes.”

“How?” he blurted. “I mean… the man’s a hermit by all accounts. How did you even meet him, let alone… you know…” he grimaced and she bit back a snicker. It looked like he’d swallowed a toad whole.

A tiny smile crept onto her lips and she relaxed just a little. “It was back on the first of September,” she said. “I went with Ginny to wave James and Albus off, and —”

“— of course, Scorpius started this year too.”

“Exactly. Draco was there to see him off. Ginny was amazed that he’d left the Manor, but he’s… Gods, Harry, he loves that boy so much.” She paused, recalling Draco's stricken expression as the train had pulled away from the platform, and of his fears about losing Scorpius because of their relationship.

Harry watched her with a quiet intensity for a moment and then asked, “So… Uh… how’d it happen?”

She laughed. “I invited him for a drink at the Leaky, fully expecting him to refuse. I think he surprised himself when he accepted. We had lunch together and honestly…? It was really nice. He’s changed, Harry.”

“I know.”

That surprised her, and she sat up a bit and frowned.

Chuckling softly, Harry ran a hand around the two-day stubble on his jaw. “You remember the attack on the Manor?”

“Little Scorpius yowled in my arms for hours while you questioned his father, Harry. I couldn’t forget that.”

Harry acquiesced with a sideways nod of his head. “Well, he wasn’t the same Malfoy from school in that interview room, Hermione. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when I could get him to focus on something that wasn’t the whereabouts of his son, he was articulate and helpful… Still arrogant and snappy, but…” Harry shook his head. “He’s definitely different.”

Hermione bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying, which failed, and when Harry looked up, his face fell.

“Hermione? What’s wrong?” He set his mug down and rose from his battered old armchair, crossing in two strides to kneel beside hers.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, shaking and overwhelmed.

All the tension left Harry and he hugged her.

It was awkward because of the furniture, but Harry had always given the best hugs no matter the situation. “You deserve to be happy, Hermione. And you’ve always known your mind. If Malfoy can keep up with you, and keep you happy, then…” he shrugged without letting go, “I’ll support you. If he hurts you though, I will use every curse I’ve ever learned as an Auror on him.”

“Thanks, Harry. You promise you won’t tell anyone yet?”

He nodded.

And then someone cleared their throat from the doorway into the main shop, and Hermione jumped. Harry sprang back, hand going instinctively for his wand, but he stopped when he saw who was standing there.

“Theo!” Hermione exclaimed, smearing the last of her tears off her cheeks. “What are you doing here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Too busy sobbing onto dear Potter’s shoulder,” he said without barb. “Everything alright?”

She nodded. “Just getting emotional about something as usual. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you wanted to grab lunch, but I can see that England’s favourite Auror has returned. How was your trip, Potter?”

“Good,” he said, suddenly every bit the awkward boy he’d been at Hogwarts. “I just finished debriefing and thought I’d stop by for a custard cream and a chat with Hermione before I head home. I’m on leave for a week now.”

“Nice,” Theo smiled. “Any plans?”

Harry shrugged. “A few casual rounds of quidditch with Ron and the others,” he said. “Time with Ginny and Lily. Might pop up to Hogsmeade and see if I can visit James and Albus at the weekend.”

Conversation stalled, and Harry rocked back on his heels before putting his mug down and turning to Hermione.

“Look, I’d better get going,” he said. “But… Come over for dinner this week, alright?”

She nodded. “I’d love that. Tomorrow any good?”

“I’ll check with Ginny, but I can’t see why not. I’ll owl you.” He paused and then grinned. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled her into another enormous hug. With a hand briefly on the back of her head, he murmured, “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing him so hard he wheezed.

“See you, Nott,” Harry said with a polite nod as he left.

Once the bell had fallen silent again, Theo turned to her and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “Everything alright?” he asked again now that they were alone.

“Yeah,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I told him about Draco and bound him to secrecy. I was so relieved when he took it so well that I just burst into tears.”

Theo laughed at that and finally seemed to relax. “I’m honoured to have known before Potter, then,” he said. “And what, pray, are those?” he added when his eyes landed on the custard creams.

“Muggle biscuits,” she said, picking up the plate and holding it out to him. “They’re delicious.”

Theo looked as if she’d offered him a plate of slugs and held up his hand. “Thanks… I’ll, uh, pass.”

“You’re such a snob, Theodore Nott,” she laughed, bustling off to tidy the mugs and plate away. “What did you want, anyway?”

“Lunch,” he said.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she countered.

“Mmm. I had a deposition that went on forever. I’m starving.”

“Theo, I do actually have a business to run,” she said. “Isn’t today Dan’s day off? Can’t he go instead?”

“He’s already reserved us a table and is probably halfway through his steak and rioja by now,” Theo groused. “I’ll bring you a doggy bag if we have any leftovers,” he added affectionately.

“Thanks?”

Pausing on the threshold to the back room, Theo fixed her with one of his rare, intense and sincere looks. “I’m glad things worked out with you and Draco. Potter was right; you both deserve to be happy.”

She swallowed thickly, feeling tears prickle at her eyes again. “You won’t tell anyone? He wants to tell Scorpius himself. He doesn’t want it coming from someone else first.”

Theo dragged his thumb across his heart in a cross and nodded. “Drinks on Friday? Draco said he might come.”

“I’ll be there anyway,” she promised, and Theo left with a friendly wink that only he could get away with.

She and Draco continued to see each other, mostly using the seclusion of his London apartment, though they did sometimes go back to hers. There they watched the 1946 Great Expectations. To Hermione’s surprise, however, Draco informed her that it wasn’t his first time seeing a muggle film. That, naturally, led down a whole rabbit hole of questions, ending with the discovery that Draco had built Scorpius a warded playroom inside Malfoy Manor that was shielded from the effects of magic and thus allowed Muggle technology to function perfectly.

“But… you need electricity!” she’d blurted.

Laughing and looking far too smug with himself, Draco said, “Indeed.”

“But… wizarding households don’t have electricity!”

“Granger, you’re glorious when you’re baffled. I must make more efforts to confound that brilliant mind of yours more often.”

“Tell me!” she’d shrilled, pinching him in the ribs as they sat on the sofa together with the end credits rolling away in the background. When he’d just sat back with his mouth quirked into an infuriating smirk, she had straddled him and raked her fingers through the slightly shorter hair just above his hears on either side of his head, scrunching the silver-white waves until he’d groaned and bucked upwards slightly into her. “Tell me, Draco Malfoy, or no more kisses.”

“You drive a hard bargain, my beautiful, brilliant witch,” he purred, slightly breathless as she continued to hold him in her grasp, head tilted back a little, throat exposed. His hands landed reverently on her hips and he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the contact.

Naturally, Hermione kissed him on the lips and he smiled. “Perpetual shock charm,” he said when she drew back. “I made a generator.”

“That’s… That’s so simple it’s genius. But surely you had to look up —?”

“I’m fairly certain I could get a job as a muggle ‘electrician’ now,” he snickered, chasing after more kisses. “But I choose not to.”

“What do you do with yourself all day?” she asked. “Running Malfoy Manor and the estate can’t take up all your time, surely?”

He went a little tense beneath her at that and then chuckled, embarrassed. “I… I’m on the board of a number of charities,” he said, “And I’m currently conducting research into a number areas in the field of Potions. I did a postal course to get my NEWTs in Potions, and shortly after that, attained my masters.”

“Huh,” she said, sitting back a bit. She reached down and brought his hands up in front of her. Pressing a kiss to each of his scar-flecked knuckles, she murmured, “That explains a lot. You’ve got the hands of a potion-master, Draco.”

“Too many spills and accidents,” he snorted. “And not enough dragon hide gloves.”

“What are you researching?”

“A number of projects,” he said evasively.

“Come on,” she laughed, dropping his hands again and beginning to nuzzle at his jawline and neck. He was utterly weak to that, she’d discovered to her absolute delight, and she was not above using it to her advantage. Beneath her, he shivered and went limp, turning his head with a sigh of pleasure as she raked her teeth over his pulse and then kissed him.

“I’m working on… ah… on a recipe that… oh gods, Granger…”

“Go on,” she crooned.

“A recipe to make the wolfsbane potion commercially viable,” he panted.

At that, she did pause, but only for a moment. Next thing Draco knew, Hermione had flung her arms around his neck and was squeezing the life out of him like a boa constrictor.

“Granger?”

She just shook her head, thinking of what Remus Lupin would say if he knew what Draco was working on now on behalf of his kind. “Why?” she eventually croaked without removing her face from the crook of Draco’s neck.

His hands skated gently up and down her back, the heat simmering back down to something calmer; something fond and affectionate. “Because,” he fairly growled, “Fenrir Greyback tormented my mother when he lived with us at the Manor, and I had no idea that werewolves could be functioning members of society with the right help until I met Remus Lupin. It was just another area where if I’d only known more at the time, it would have made so much difference to my perception of things.”

He sighed and kissed the side of her head.

“I can make a difference now. I’ve got a state of the art potions lab in one of the dungeons at the Manor, and Severus left his entire collection of books and notes to me in his will. He must have known I always wanted to be a potions master, even when I didn’t think I’d live beyond the end of that awful year…”

That was probably the longest continuous speech from Draco she’d heard since they’d started seeing each other, and the emotion in his voice, lingering beneath the surface like a hidden current, moved her deeply.

“You’re a wonderful man, Draco,” she whispered as she kissed his temple. “I wish the world could see you for who you are now…”

“You see me,” he said very quietly. “That’s enough.”

___

To be continued! Don’t forget to let me know what you think, and help a relative newbie (at least to contributing anyway) to the fandom out by reblogging!

writing masterlist | Ao3