#quite frankly working my arse off to feel better

[pumpking64]

okay brain, taking anti-anxiety medication, going on a mental health walk and doing evening yoga today apparently has just not been enough to calm myself down, so what the fuck do you want me to do??

[userlando]

cherry wine — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [6.8k] summary: this is what you got for humouring him. lando was bored during the break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax. warnings: 18+ best friends to lovers, explicit smut, experimental masturbation, sex toys, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader a/n: okay so HEAVILY requested and it was a lot of fun to write this so i hope you find this equally enjoyable to read it!! thank you for all your love lately, it makes my heart sososo happy. as always, don't be a ghost reader, i'd love to hear your thoughts :) ily enjoy

You walked quickly, one foot in front of the other to put some space between you and the restaurant you’d just been spending the past godforsaken hour in. The shoes you were wearing pinched your toes uncomfortably and you willed yourself to hold out for just a few more moments as your phone vibrated in your hand.

I see you, the text read and you looked around the dark street before landing on the McLaren parked by the curb on the other side of the street. It wasn’t hard to miss, given how incredibly flashy and shiny it looked under the street lamp.

You hurried over, like the guy was going to come out of the restaurant and chase you, opening the door and taking a seat with an exaggerated sigh, happy that the night was over and you were in a safe space again. You reached over and slipped your shoes off with a grumble, sitting upright and finally looking over at your best friend behind the wheel.

Lando was giving you a half-amused look, eyebrows raised with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone. His jaw was working incessantly on the piece of gum, and it was annoying you how it seemed to add to the smugness he was radiating. You gritted your teeth and gestured with your hand to the wheel.

“Couldn’t you have picked another car?” You asked, referring to the over the top McLaren you were currently sitting in.

“You say that as if I have more cars to choose from.” Lando turned the key in the ignition. “Besides, you’re the one who hates the Jolly.”

You grimaced because he was right, it was a humours looking thing and though your friend drove for a living, it was the most unsafe you’d felt while sitting in it. The car didn’t even have seatbelts or doors.

“Can we get smoothies on the way home?” You asked, changing the subject and it didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who threw you a sideways glance as he pulled out of the parking spot. “I’m dying for something cold.”

“Sure.” He nodded slowly and you knew what he was waiting for but you weren’t in the mood to indulge him just yet.

The date had been a disaster, as had all the other four previous dates. You’d let him choose the place, not expecting the extravagant restaurant with the overpriced menu but you’d brushed it off because you - quite frankly - refused to have another failed date. The night hadn’t gone better though.

“So, are you gonna make me beg?” Lando broke the drawn out silence, shooting you a half smile. “What was wrong with him this time?”

“He claimed to have forgotten his wallet.” You sucked your teeth in mild irritation. “We only had drinks before he was shamelessly staring at the waitresses arses and making them feel uncomfortable.”

Lando made a sound in his throat that sounded a lot like sympathy and you were grateful for it. He had a habit of poking fun at your disastrous dates and sometimes you allowed it because they were comically bad. But he could also recognise when the time wasn’t right and it definitely wasn’t, this time.

“He sounds like a twat.” He took a turn into your favourite convenience store and shot you a searching glance. “Don’t tell me you paid for him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not, I paid for my part and then hid in the restrooms to call you.”

Not to mention the fact that the man had become so pissed that he wasn’t even there when you’d gotten out of the restrooms, not even bothering to stay around to hear your well rehearsed excuse. They had started to flow so naturally, with how many times you’ve had to use them.

Something about that made you very bitter and also hopeless.

“Good girl.” Lando reached over to pat your thigh. “Don’t let fuckheads like him walk all over you.”

You huffed out a humourless laugh, swatting his hand away and watching him unbuckle his seatbelt before reaching for his wallet between you. Lando paused and glanced up at you.

“The usual?” He asked, rather uselessly because you never picked anything else than mango flavoured smoothies.

But you still humoured him with a nod and watched him climb out and head for the store. You watched him in silence, tearing your eyes away when they started drifting down and scolding yourself for checking your best friend out. What the hell was wrong with you?

You told yourself it was because of the long line of failed dates. Monaco was full of twats and rich snobs who couldn’t see past their noses. It was hard to not take it personally though and you were starting to enter the dangerous territory of self doubt. Maybe you were the one who was too picky, or boring or even too inexperienced to know what to do with men who showed an ounce of interest in you.

Adulthood was truly a rude awakening.

The scuffle of shoes against pavement drew you out of your thoughts and you looked to your side just in time for Lando to open the door and climb inside. He was juggling two cups and a inconspicuous plastic bag so you hurried to grab the cups from him before he ruined the beautiful and expensive interior.

“What’s that?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you, nodding at the plastic bag as you took a sip of your drink.

There was something in Lando’s face that unnerved you a bit, making you frown when he plucked his cup from your hands and thrust the bag into it instead. Whatever was in the bag was a little heavy, but your interest was piqued enough to set the cup in the holder and peer inside.

It took a second for you to realise what you were looking at, feeling your body go up in flames when your eyes finally registered what was sitting in front of you.

“Lando!” You yelped, letting go of the bag like it had burnt you. “Why — What —“ You scrunched your nose as your friend cackled, rather amused by your reaction. “Did you get that from the store?”

He nodded with the straw between his lips, looking all kinds of cheeky and you reached over to slap at his arm.

“I didn’t even know they sold things like these in there.” You looked down at your lap where the bag was resting, frowning a little dubiously at it like it was gonna come alive and bite you.

“They do.” He said, rather unhelpfully. “I won’t be able to look Mr. Lorenzi in the eyes after that but it was worth it.”

You let out a small laugh at the thought before you went quiet, separating the flaps of the bag and reaching inside.

Bullet vibrator, discover a happy you.

The slogan made you snort unattractively, waving the packaging in your hand and hearing it rattle as you gave the curly haired man a bemused stare.

“Why would you buy this?” You asked, letting him grab the offending thing from your hand when he reached for it.

He turned it in his hand, looking all too happy about it that it made something weird swirl in your stomach. You busied yourself with taking a sip of your smoothie, but it tasted like ashes in your mouth all of a sudden.

“It’s for you.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s a neat looking thing. It’s in coral and it’s got… Twenty functions! Fuck me.”

His voice went up in slight wonder and the whole situation felt so bizarre that you couldn’t even find the right words to use.

“Why would you buy that for me?” You asked, a little irked and Lando must’ve sensed the shift of tone in your voice because he glanced up from where he’d been reading from the packaging, eyes a little wide in the darkness.

“You’ve told me about your problem.” He said, slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. “This might help you along a bit.”

“You promised not to throw that in my face!” You squeaked, feeling your face warm up and Lando jumped when you shot your hand out to slap him.

“I’m not!” He loudly protested. “I’m not making fun of you, I’m just saying. This will make you come.”

You slapped your hands to your face, not even caring about the makeup you’d spent hours putting on, and groaned loudly in hopes to make him shut up. It wasn’t like this was the first time you talked openly about sex, but you didn’t really like it when your masturbation habits were the topic. It was odd.

“I’ll never drink again.” You promised but you both knew it was a lie.

It had been a small moment of vulnerability, one that you barely remembered but you could recount the embarrassing parts and that’s what made you feel a little sick to your stomach. You’d come home after a late night of drinking and the both of you had sat face to face on his couch and talked about anything between the heavens and earth. You didn’t even know how it came up in conversation, but Lando wasn’t gonna stop you as you confided in him about your issues.

Okay, so maybe you had a hard time making yourself finish. Maybe you were more inexperienced than the average twenty something year old, but you weren’t ashamed of it. You were well and truly aware that everyone were in different stages of their lives but it still made you a little sad sometimes.

Especially when your dates turned out to be pits.

“Just take it, bug.” Lando slipped the package into the plastic bag and placed it in your lap. He started the engine and you took some comfort in the rumble of it. “Let me know how it goes.”

* * * *

it’s a 2/10

You fired off the text before you could overthink it, letting your phone fall to your stomach as you glanced at the offending phallic shape on your bed. Maybe you weren’t in the right headspace, or maybe it was just wrong for you. But it definitely didn’t feel right and you’d given up after twenty minutes of nothing but frustration.

The vibration of your phone made you jump slightly and you picked it up.

nooooo

did you give it a real try though?

of course I did, you melt

it’s just not working

The next time you saw Lando, was when Max had invited your group of friends for a pub crawl. Max had already ordered a round when you came stumbling in, a little late and warm from having hurried all the way over from your apartment. You went around to greet everyone with kisses and pats to the shoulders before taking a seat in the booth beside Lando.

He draped an arm over the backrest and poked you in the shoulder, prompting you to look up at him.

“I have something for you.” He said and you frowned at the smile on his face, shaking your head when recognition struck you.

You glanced around the table to make sure no one was listening in before leaning into him. Lando’s eyes flitted to your mouth when you got close and you did your best to ignore it and the flicker of heat in your belly.

Christ, you really needed to get laid. There was no way that you were finding your best friend hot. The very same best friend who’d burp in your face after having fizzy drinks and pee with the bathroom door open because he knew the sound of the stream made your skin crawl.

“Not again.” You whispered, a little sternly because you weren’t going to be put through that again.

But you figured that this is what you got for humouring him. Lando was bored during the race break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax.

“This one’s supposed to be better.” He said, like that’d help you change your mind. “It’s a… stimulator.”

“Do I even wanna know what it’s supposed to stimulate?” You asked quietly, like your cheeks weren’t already fifteen degrees hotter.

It was clear that Lando was enjoying this way more than you were, smile too cheeky and happy and his cheeks were flushed. It could’ve been from the alcohol he’d consumed, judging by his breath but you knew that he wasn’t a lightweight.

Lando glanced down at you and your eyes widened at the smirk playing on his lips, placing both your hands over your crotch.

“I think you know.” He whispered, giggling a little when you pushed at him.

That’s how you found yourself staring at the new packaging on your bed, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. You didn’t really know how something called a clit sucker was supposed to get you there and you really didn’t want to know where Lando had gotten it from.

You knew that if he kept this up, you’d end up with a nightstand drawer full of sex toys that did absolute fuckall to do their job. Maybe the few drinks you’d had earlier would help you relax a bit.

So with that in mind, you yanked your pants off and laid back on your bed, legs a little spread and eyes fastened on the ceiling. You tried to ignore the dread filling your stomach as you brought the toy between your legs, holding the button with the pad of your finger until it buzzed to life.

“Shit.” You swore quietly as you directed it between your legs, kind of enjoying the buzzing as you moved it around.

The moment it touched your clit, you jumped and moved your hand away. That hadn’t felt as good as you’d hoped, and you sighed in slight irritation.

It was like the universe was in on some kind of sick joke to make your life a living hell, because your phone vibrated on your nightstand and you glanced over to see Lando’s name on your screen. You ignored it, turning yourself around and laying down on your stomach to give it a second try.

The toy was still buzzing, making a sound that was a little bit distracting but also easy enough to ignore as you went under your panties this time. You knew that you should’ve probably worked yourself up or even invested in lube because you were everything but turned on at the moment. And not to mention how the dry silicone only made it all the more unpleasant.

Your phone vibrated again, another incoming text and you buried your head into your pillow to groan out loud before tossing the toy away. You watched it roll over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a clatter that made you grimace.

you tried it yet? ;)

I’m guessing by the silence that you have

It took a great amount of control to not roll your eyes at the winky face. You also refused to smile at how you could’ve easily imagined his face right now.

you’re taking an awful lot of interest in my sex life, it’s creeping me out

I’m guessing you didn’t….

???

get yourself all the way over there

Jesus. The amount of embarrassment you felt could probably be seen all over your face and you were suddenly grateful that this wasn’t a face to face talk. You sat up and leaned against the headboard with an exhale.

How were you supposed to say no, I didn’t fucking come, without actually typing the words? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

1/10

The reply was immediate, like he’d been sitting with the text conversation open and waiting for your reply.

oh what?! disappointing! we’ll do better next time

You pulled a pillow into your lap and hid a smile in it.

The next time, turned out to be five days later when he’d managed to pull you out of another horrendous date. The date itself had been fine, but the guy was everything but aware of his personal hygiene and it made you grit your teeth every time he smiled and flashed those murky chompers at you from across the table.

Lando laughed until he cried on the way home when you recalled the date, and you had to calm him down before he veered you both off the road. He’d only just gotten his car and you weren’t too keen to see it in a ditch.

“I’m swearing off of men.” You said when he turned into your street, making Lando snort. “What? I am. I’m convinced all the good guys are taken.”

Lando reached a hand out without taking his eyes off the road, pinching you in the side and making you squeak in indignation.

“Thanks for that.” He said sarcastically, referring to himself and his very available relationship status. “And you’re not swearing off of guys, are you mad? You just need to have patience.”

“I’ve already had plenty of patience, thank you. I don’t have any more in me to spare.” You rooted around in your bag for a hair tie, huffing when you found one to tie your hair up and out of the way. “I already put up with your stupid arse.”

“Hey!” He pouted and you smiled in apology. “You love me. And you’ll love me even more when you see what I got—“

He paused to reach into the backseat, and you watched with a slight bemused smile as he dug around until he made a sound of delight, sitting back in his seat. Your eyes zeroed in on the package in his hand, shaking your head before he even said anything.

“Not again.” You said in a whine, pushing the cardboard package away when he went to hand it to you. “We’re not doing this.”

Lando blew out a breath, pushing it more insistently until you relented and grabbed it from his hold. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small box.

“I’ve read that this is a game changer.” He said, looking a little too proud and it made you grin despite yourself. “Look, it’s even shaped like a rose, how cool is that?”

“Mate, you’ve got way too much spare time on your hands.” You giggled when he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine. But you have to promise to let it go if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando opened his mouth to protest, shutting it quickly at your stern look and nodding once. It didn’t look believable in the slightest.

“Okay. Yeah, promise.” He said and you nodded, reaching over the console to press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for saving you yet again.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door, waiting until he’d rolled the window down all way. There was mischief written all over his face and somehow you knew he was gonna say something obnoxious as parting words.

“I expect updates tonight.” He said, wagging his eyebrows and you smiled, turning around before he could see how absolutely flustered you became.

“Don’t hold your breath.” You shouted over your shoulder, walking up to your apartment complex.

Once you were inside, you grabbed a quick shower to wash the night away and poured yourself a sad looking bowl of cereal before getting into bed with your laptop in your hands. It was still early, too early to sleep so you figured a few episodes of a show wouldn’t ruin your sleep too much.

It proved to be too boring for your overactive mind. You’d devoured the cereal and was now laying, sunken down in bed with your mind wandering and attention not at all on what was happening on the screen. You hit the space bar button to pause, eyes drifting to your nightstand where the newest toy sat, innocently but so mocking.

You narrowed your eyes at it, staring for a minute before you reached for it and pushed the laptop off to the side.

“Fucking Lando.” You cursed him quietly, ripping the package open and fishing the innocent looking rose out.

It was pink, on the verge of red and it looked very pretty to be a vibrator. You located the button, holding it down until it came to life and your eyes climbed to your forehead as you pressed on the button again; cycling through the different powers and rhythms.

It felt like clockwork, sinking down into bed and closing your eyes with a deep breath. A frown etched itself on your face when you reached into your sweats and underwear with it, feeling it buzz away until you located your clit and the strength of the vibrations made you gasp.

It wasn’t too much too soon, but kind of perfect and a spark of hope flared in your chest as you thought that, maybe this was it. Maybe you’d found the toy that would bring you high enough and tip you over the edge.

A little moan left your lips as you closed your eyes, letting the toy do its work and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the pleasant feeling. You’d never really gotten the joys of female masturbation when your friends talked about it, but you were starting to.

Your newfound hope didn’t blossom into anything bigger though, because it took about ten minutes before you realised that you wouldn’t be taken much further than you already were. It felt good, but it wasn’t mind blowing. And frustration started to seep into your pores before you angrily yanked your hand out and tossed the toy away after switching it off.

You reached for your phone, teeth gritted because you wouldn’t cry out of frustration. You wouldn’t.

maybe a life of celibacy is healthier for me

The response came in a minute later.

don’t be stupid

was it that bad?

it was… fine. but it wasn’t enough

There was no reply after that, and you chewed your lip. Maybe you’d gone too far with discussing your masturbation and lack of orgasms with Lando. You’d been best friends for so long that the lines were starting to blur. You’d never known any boundaries between the two of you, and that’s how you both liked it. But there was something different about this whole thing. It felt different.

Your phone vibrated once again and you glanced down.

I’ll do more research

The text made you smile despite yourself.

we won’t give up

A week later, you found yourself up in the mountains overlooking Monaco. Lando was sitting beside you, dressed nicely in a suit that he’d definitely ruined by sitting on the grass and you were in a dress that looked pretty but was a little stifling to wear. There had been a gala earlier tonight and Lando had begged you to come with him, even though the both of you despised anything that had to do with overpriced champagne and snooty people.

You’d had a good time despite yourselves, bumping into a few friends from the grid and dancing the night away before it was time to call it a night. Lando hadn’t been ready to go home just yet though, so you’d driven out to your favourite spot in the city.

The lights from the houses and the marina was glittering, the water so mesmerising that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was a beautiful night, not too hot but pleasantly nice.

“I have another date on Wednesday.” You told Lando, breaking the comfortable silence.

The man in question turned his head to look at you, and you saw his eyebrows furrow in mild intrigue.

“Another loser?” He joked, but his tone felt a little too flat and it made something weird turn in your stomach.

Usually he was way more interested and would fire off multiple questions before asking to see pictures. You chalked it up to him being tired from a long evening and hummed, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.

He immediately turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of your skull, like he was on autopilot. It was something he often did, but it still managed to make your heart jump a little.

“He seems nice.” You told him truthfully. “Probably not a relationship type, but he seems like a good time.”

Your hair ruffled when Lando huffed out a humourless laugh and there was something so off about it that it made you pick your head up from his shoulder and look at him in confusion.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little defensive all of a sudden. “I’m trying to think positive.”

“Why don’t you hold off a bit on the dating? Let the guys come to you instead.” He suggested, glancing away from your probing eyes.

You could read him too well and it unnerved Lando beyond belief.

“I’ve tried that, it doesn’t work. I either get someone who doesn’t know what basic hygiene is, or someone who flirts with other people in front of me, a guy who snaps at waiters and not to mention the men who find out I’m friends with the Lando Norris and will go above and beyond to have a chance to meet you.”

“Don’t say that.” He grimaced and you pulled back a bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t say what?”

“My name like it’s something inconvenient for you.” He took in your pinched facial expression and softened his tone a bit. “I’m just saying you deserve way better than what these tossers can offer you.”

You stayed quiet, opting to lay down on your back with a sigh instead. He was right, but you weren’t about to say it out loud.

Lando wouldn’t have that though, laying down on his side and propping his elbow on the grass to stare at you. You tried to hold back the smile threatening to spill, because he was hovering over you and looking adorable that it was impossible to stay annoyed.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, smiling like he knew the answer was in the negative because he was well aware that you could never stay angry with him. “You can’t stay mad at me, I’m too cute.”

You placed your palm against his face and pushed at it, hearing and feeling him laugh against your hand until he reached to grab and yank it away from his face.

He turned your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, the gesture all too intimate for it to be between two best friends and it took everything in your power to not read into his small gesture. You held your breath when he turned your hand over and gazed at it, face contemplative; Lips downturned in thought and brows knitted together.

“Have you used your hands before?” He asked and you smiled in slight confusion, not expecting the odd question.

“No, I use my feet.”

Lando pinched the thin skin of your wrist in retaliation and you squeaked out a laugh.

“I meant for… Your experiments.” He grimaced at the words and you knew he used that to lessen the embarrassment from your part. It didn’t do much though, not with the way he was staring at you like he was looking into your soul.

You held your breath, staring at his face and you knew that yours was heating up faster than you could blink. But it was hard to look away from the way his pupils were starting to expand, trapping his bottom lip with his teeth in what you knew was a nervous tick.

“I wouldn’t know how.” You told him truthfully after a long stretch of silence. There was no way for you to correctly use your fingers on yourself when a toy couldn't give you an orgasm.

"Do you want me to show you how?" He asked, voice quiet and you could feel your eyes widen before you could stop them.

There was a moment where you thought you'd heard wrong, that your sanity had finally gone out the window but Lando was looking at you like he was waiting for a response and there was some conflict in his eyes that you were sure that your eyes were reflecting.

What did this mean for your friendship? Would this ruin everything? What if he just wanted to satisfy his own fucked up needs and then pretend like nothing happened? Those were questions that you wanted to ask, but it wasn't what came out of your mouth when you opened it.

"Yes."

Lando looked as surprised as you felt, like he hadn't expected you to agree to his insane proposition but it didn’t mean that he felt immense relief. He hadn’t really thought of how he’d react or what to even say if you had turned him down. All he really knew was that this had been playing in his mind ever since that damned night when you’d confessed to him. He couldn’t get the image of him between your legs since then.

He hadn’t expected to feel a surge of jealousy when you started going on your dates, but he’d hated every minute of it. It had only lessened the sting a bit when he realised that they were all essentially going nowhere and that Lando was the one who got to pick you up at the end of the night. Minus the fact that he hated how down you were after the dates. But he had the opportunity to be there and cheer you up whenever you needed it, so he counted that as a win. Anything that involved your smile that he was the reason for, was a win.

They were new feelings, but Lando suspected that they’d been laying dormant since your teenage years. They’d only ever surfaced when you talked to potential boyfriends, but he always managed to squash those feelings before they grew into something ugly and act like nothing was bothering him.

That’s probably why Lando’s hand was shaking a bit when it found a home on your thigh, slowly pushing up the silk of your dress and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face; caught in your stare. He could see how nervous you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth and chest moving with every quick breath you took.

Lando stopped momentarily because maybe you didn’t really want this. You looked almost scared, and that was enough for him to withdraw. What he didn’t expect was for your hand to find a place on the back of his head, messing up his perfectly styled curls and bringing him closer to your face.

It didn’t take much to get him where you wanted, and he found himself so close to your face that he could feel your breath against his lips. Lando was convinced that nothing was as intoxicating as that.

“This is mad.” You whispered, lip touching his as you spoke and Lando struggled to not groan out loud at that one brush.

“Definitely.” He nodded in agreement, watching your lips curl up into an enticing smile that calmed his nerves down. “Do you still want this?”

Your eyes flickered between his, like you were trying to gauge his reaction when you nodded.

“Do you?” You asked and Lando couldn’t dig deep enough to find the words, so he did the next best thing.

The small whimper you let out against his lips rattled something in Lando’s chest, pressing his mouth against yours in a kiss that had your toes curling and your hands grabbing desperately at his hair. The slight sting in his scalp made him open up under your lips, and he swore he must’ve died and gone to heaven when your tongue brushed his. It was like his skin was cracking open and you were touching his exposed nerves, feelings so on edge when you hadn’t even done anything but kiss him.

You were so into the kiss that you almost forgot where you were, thighs tensing a bit when your dress was pushed up and cool air hit your naked thighs. Lando pulled back enough to look at you, giving you an encouraging smile as his hand travelled up your inner thigh.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes open and on him when his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy, but it was worth it to see his mouth hang open when he felt the lace. You were warm against his skin, and he had half a mind to say fuck it and bury himself deep inside your warmth.

But he had to remind himself to slow down, take a breath and focus on you because you may have relaxed a bit; But Lando had known you for so long that he could read your body.

“This feels nice.” He commented, running his fingers over the material and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What colour are they?”

You knew it was his way of breaking the tension and hopefully relieve the anxiety blooming in your chest, and it surprisingly worked when you tilted your head up to give him a kiss that he was eager to respond to.

“Why don’t you find out?” You murmured and Lando’s eyebrow jumped, cheeky and excited as he placed his other arm on the other side of your body to straddle you.

He probably should’ve cared that his fancy dress pants were rubbing against the grass when he knee-walked down your body, but he was too preoccupied with staring at you. Your chest was heaving, and he could almost see the pebbles of your nipples against the satin material of your dress. He wondered if you wore a matching, lacy bra or if you’d opted to go without, eager to find out later.

Lando was a man on a mission, pushing your dress up to your abdomen and kneeling between your legs. He glanced down, heat flaring up in his body when he got a peek at the cherry red lace, hiding so much but so little.

He stroked a finger down between where he presumed your lips were, hearing you take a shuddering breath above at the sensation. You were looking at him, feeling turned on beyond belief and the feeling was so new that you didn’t know what to do with it.

The feeling only intensified when his finger located your clit, caressing the sensitive nub in small circles until your legs were shaking, thighs tensing.

Lando was like hypnotised, taking in every hitch in your breath and every jerk of your body until he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get his mouth on you. He probably should’ve warned you beforehand, but he took a little pride in the surprised squeal you let out when he opened his mouth and slotted it over your pussy, sucking until he tasted your slick through the lace.

“Lando!” Your voice was breathy, scandalised and you put a hand over your eyes when you looked down and saw him staring at you.

He looked… depraved. And it did something funny to your stomach. You'd never seen him like that and you didn't really think you'd ever get to experience it.

You'd thought about it, even allowed yourself a night to fantasise about the way he'd look and what he'd say if you were ever in this position, but those were thoughts you didn't let yourself drift into too often. It was a dangerous thing to imagine having sex with your best friend, yet here you were - experiencing it. Outside, nonetheless.

"Oh, fuck." You stuttered out when he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, the cool air hitting the very slick center.

The unexpected feeling had you squirming, bucking your hips up and huffing out a laugh when Lando glanced up at you, feeling a little embarrassed to be so needy.

"You're so sensitive." He pondered, sounding a little amazed before he stuck his tongue out in a crude fashion and licked up your pussy. "You're gorgeous, bug. Those guys are missing out on something great."

That got an eye roll from you, but it didn't stop the zip of heat from racing up your back at his words. You could feel him flattening his tongue to lick every part of you, like he couldn't get enough of your taste before he got your clit into his mouth and sucked.

He tried not to feel too smug when you moaned, head tilted back and facing the sky, like you were praying to whatever was up there. The stretch of your neck was gorgeous, so spotless that he had the sudden urge to sit up and mark the sensitive skin of it with his mouth and teeth. But he sat put, focusing on eating you out with an eagerness he'd never really felt before.

It didn't take you long to really become vocal, and it honestly surprised Lando because he'd always pegged you for a quiet one. Not that he complained; the sounds you were making had his pants feeling tight.

"It feels—" You trailed off into a stuttered moan that made Lando reach down and squeeze himself through his trousers, moaning into your pussy at the slight relief he felt. "Lando, fuck, I'm gonna..."

You didn't finish your sentence, too lost in the multiple sensations you'd never felt before but Lando could guess what you were trying to communicate. He kept at it, watching your face as it scrunched up and your mouth dropped open, groaning out your climax as it washed over you.

It felt better than you'd imagined, stomach clenching up and toes curling as you shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars behind your eyelids. You weren't sure how long you were out of it, or how your hands had managed to find their way to your best friend's hair. Lando laved his tongue over your center, steering clear of your sensitive clit but he couldn't help but bump against it a few times just to hear your breath hitch.

The third time he did it, you pushed him away with an exhausted grumble, hearing him laugh as he stretched up to kiss below your navel. The pecks were so tender and sweet, a stark contrast to how he'd ate you out like a depraved man just minutes ago, and it filled your belly with so much warmth you didn't know what to do with it.

You made a confused sound in your throat when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your legs, bunching them up in his hands.

"These are mine now." He said casually, cheek deepening into a dimple and you raised your eyebrows.

"No..." You dragged out the word, reaching out your hands to grab the flimsy material from his grip but he was quick to turn away, batting your hands away with small, teasing tuts. "Those are my fancy pair, you twit."

Lando shoved the underwear into the pocket of his trousers, ignoring your protests and silencing them rather quickly by leaning over to kiss you. And shut you up it did, because that was the last thing you expected but it wasn't necessarily unwelcomed.

He opened up his mouth under yours, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself and something about that made your legs tighten up around his body where they'd been previously splayed out.

"I'll buy you more underwear." He promised after pulling away slightly, giving you a smirk that made your head spin. "Only if I'm the only one allowed to see them from now on."

You huffed out a laugh, pushing his face away with your hand. He rolled over and laid down beside you, and you sat up with the help of your shaky arms.

"You're a walking cliché." You said, shaking your head slightly. "But I won't say no to free stuff.”

He reached a hand out to pluck a leaf off your hair, flicking it away before turning his attention to you.

You suddenly became aware of what you’d done, nerves humming just under your skin and your conflicting emotions must’ve shown on your face because Lando scooted closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“We’re okay?” You asked quietly, staring down at your intertwined hands and how his thumb brushed across the back of your hand. The way he always did when your anxiety was acting up.

“Of course we are.” He assured you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your naked shoulder.

You knew that you’d have to have a longer talk about what this meant for the both of you in the future. But you pushed it to the back of your mind for tonight, snuggling up to your best friend’s side and laying your head on his chest.

You did believe him though. No matter what, the both of you would be okay.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

It happens while he’s having a long-overdue visit with Ginny. After a night of good food and alcohol and catching up, she digs her fingers right into the bruise that is his loneliness.

“So, seeing anyone?”

The short answer is no. The long answer is, frankly, depressing. 

It’s a no, but not for lack of recent effort. He retired from professional football nearly five years ago, and he hasn’t had any luck finding a partner despite going on several dates. He’s tried to meet people; his friends keep subtly (and then not-at-all subtly) pushing him in the direction of single acquaintances or friends-of-friends, but he’s been out of the game long enough that it all feels foreign to him. He hasn’t felt a spark or connection with anyone. And if one more person mentions Tinder or Grindr to him, he might stuff his phone down their throat.

Hell, his last real relationship was… Ginny. Christ, that was almost twenty years ago. No wonder his friends think he needs to be set up. But after he and Gin broke up, he was so focused on playing better, keeping his team in the Premier League, or playing in Euro Cups or World Cups. The long hours spent training and playing and travelling didn’t exactly allow for much time to meet people or date, and a lot of the people he’d meet through club events or at the bars and parties his teammates frequented weren’t exactly looking for a committed relationship. From a couple disastrous attempts, he's well aware he doesn’t do well with one-night stands.

By the time his retirement loomed, he was more excited to spend time with his friends and family – to watch his honorary nieces and nephews grow up. He’d done his best to maintain those relationships when he could, and now he’s going to enjoy the results of that effort. 

But he’s always wanted a partner – a love like he’d heard his parents had. He’s sure there’s someone out there for him; he just wishes they’d stop hiding.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Ginny says after an embarrassingly long pause. “Oh no, don’t get all mopey on me–”

“I’m not mopey,” Harry grumbles into his beer. Ginny gives him a look. “I’m not! I just. Maybe I’m a bit frustrated. Trying to find someone is exhausting. And demoralising.”

“If you can’t find someone, what chance do mere mortals have?” she teases.

“Oh, ha ha,” he snarks. “I know you’re taking the piss, but… I think that might actually be part of the problem? Most of them want Harry Potter, but I’m just Harry. Once you take away the sports stuff, I’m really quite boring.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“You are not, and could never be, boring. You, my friend, are a chaos magnet. Even now that you’re not one of the highest paid football players, or on the cover of Sports Illustrated, or modelling underwear, or whatever ridiculous thing, you are plenty interesting on your own.”

“Gin,” he says, feeling a bit choked up.

“There, there.” She pats his hand before leaning back in her chair, lost in thought. “So, dating isn’t working…”

“To put it lightly.”

Ginny gives him a considering look. “Have you ever thought of finding a sugar baby?”

“A wh–” He chokes on his spit and coughs. “Sugar baby?! I’m not some creepy old letch, Gin!”

She waves off his pearl-clutching. “No, but you are rich and desperate.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, hush. Why not give it a shot? One of my rugby mates used this matchmaking service and had great luck.”

“I’m not paying someone to have sex with me,” he says flatly.

“Then don’t. Pay someone to keep your lonely arse company.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair and wincing when it snags on a knot. “That just seems so pathetic…”

“Harry,” Ginny says, looking him in the eye. “You have money you don’t need, and want someone to care about. There are many people out there who would love to have that money and someone to care about them.”

And that’s a little more enticing.

“But, since I know you, I will add: Do not try to be a hero. It should be mutually beneficial,” she stresses sternly.

“You say that like I’m going to do this, but I haven’t agreed–”

“We’re going to create a profile right now.”

“Ginnyyyyyyy,” he groans. “Noooooo–”

“None of that,” she says, grabbing his laptop. “You need to build up some relationship confidence, and since the old-fashioned way isn’t working, you’re going to give this a shot.”

He finishes his drink and goes to flop on the sofa in protest.

After a fair bit of typing, Ginny calls from across the room, “Ay, Harry – birds or blokes?”

He lifts his face from where it’s wedged into a pillow enough to shout back a bleary “Both!”

Foggy memories flicker in and out of them shouting questions and answers back and forth, with Ginny eventually migrating to the sofa and asking him to look at photos.

The next morning, Harry wakes up with a nasty hangover and a message on the sugar baby matchmaking app saying he has a date that weekend.

What.

(wake-up call)

[enigmatist17]

Rewind (Pt 5)

Current chapters

---

He can hear the snickers as he packs, his fellow Watchers having seen his summons for the now-infamous Sunnydale. Everyone knew the assignment had been given to one the Council already didn't care for, so to have it be given to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce of all people fresh from the Academy, the subtext was clear.

It was a death sentence.

Or, it had been the first time. He'd been so bright-eyed and eager to prove what a fantastic Watcher he could be for two Slayers, hoping Father would be proud of him. He was excited for a different reason this time; those he loved were now so close within reach it was almost painful, the ticket waiting for him almost mocking from its spot on his desk. The biggest change he makes is to withdraw all the money his mother had set aside since he was a child, making sure it was set up in an international bank account with a strange sense of calm. He's out and gone the morning of his flight with nary a goodbye, leg bouncing as he waits patiently in the airline's lounge for his journey, not registering a single word on the page he stared at for hours.

There was too much to think about, too much to change and turn for the better; he almost couldn't decide where to start. The Circle was the first he thinks of, hand going over the spot he'd been stabbed as he remembered Illyria holding him when he passed, but they were not a pressing matter. Jasmine slithered into his thoughts next, bringing with her Connor and the horrors of the child he'd allowed to be stolen, and wondered if Connor would exist in this timeline. That particular memory follows him into his plane, dancing around in his mind for a time as the plane ascends, heading for a town that has changed everything. When he lands at Sunnydale International Airport just after sundown, Wesley grabs his bags and goes for his rental car, suppressing the urge to run like the building is on fire.

---

No one knocks on her door.

Looking up from a magazine she'd picked up a while ago, Faith stared at the door of her room with narrowed eyes, before the curiosity won over and she shuffled off her bed. Stake at the ready just in case, Faith opened the door to reveal...well, a guy. He's looking at her through a set of glasses with an almost fond expression, a suit jacket folded over his arms, collar undone and tie loose as he waits for Faith to have the first word.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Wesley Wyndam-Price, your newly assigned Watcher." He offered a hand with a soft smile, Faith staring at it before slowly reaching out and giving a small shake. "This might be too forward, but I've been given a flat to rent while I'm stationed here, and it has a second room I've no use for."

"Uh...what?" Faith pulled her hand away, staring at the man in a mixture of shock and surprise. Wesley doesn't seem put off by her response in the slightest, merely adjusting his stance as she struggled with what to say. "I have a place already?"

"This is not a place, dear; quite frankly, I'm surprised the Council didn't supply you with adequate housing." Wesley looked disgusted as he spoke, and a disgustingly warm feeling crossed over Faith's chest. "I aim to fix that."

"That's it? No offense buddy, but you don't even know me." Faith crossed her arms with a scowl. "How do I know it's not so you can tattle back to the Council of Assholes about how I live my life? That's the only reason they're finally sending someone."

She's not expecting the loud bark of laughter Wesley lets out, the man quite amused.

"I shall be doing nothing of the sort, they can quite frankly kiss my arse." Faith blinked as he chuckled, pulling out a folded piece of paper and holding it out, the Slayer grabbing it with an uncertain nod. "The spare key is inside, along with the address; feel free to check the space out whenever you'd like. It is truly a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to working together."

"Uh...thanks, Wes." Faith winced at the nickname, but the other didn't seem to mind, a look she couldn't place flashing through his eyes before he smiled.

"I'll bid you goodnight then." With a short nod, Wesley took a step back and headed for his car, hope swirling in his chest as he headed for his flat.

---

Sunnydale High School was so much smaller than Wesley had remembered. He traveled familiar halls to the library, which started the true beginning of his journey. He'd elected to arrive in a more casual getup: tweed slacks and a button-up shirt with the arms rolled up, earning him a doubletake from Giles when he stepped into the room.

"Hello, do you need help with anything?" Every the helpful Watcher, or former by this time, Giles set aside the book he'd been holding to give his undivided attention.

"I'm Wesley Wyndam-Price, newly assigned Watcher for both Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane." He held out his hand, Giles giving a resigned sigh as he shook it.

"I see they were quick to send someone." Wesley can hear the faint disdain in his voice, but ignores it. "Rupert Giles."

"Oh, I'm well aware of who you are, and quite frankly, am not surprised they fired you." Wesley moves past Giles to take a seat, earning a raised eyebrow. "The Council has never been very smart when it comes to those who are much wiser than the ones who hold the reigns."

"...indeed." Giles narrowed his eyes at Wesley, trying to suss out some sort of ulterior motive as Wesley just watched him with his hands folded on top of the table. "I admit, I was expecting you to be-"

"A good tin soldier? A dutiful suck-up who is supposed to take charge in a battleground he's never seen?" Wesley laughed, Giles realizing with a slight start just how weary the younger man seemed to be. "I would be a fool to try and overstep, and I am not a bloody fool." Giles once again stared at the new Watcher for a solid minute before slowly pulling his glasses off to clean them, his initial irritation fading when he placed them back on.

"I'll call for the both of them to meet you in here, along with Buffy's allies." Wesley nodded with a wave of his hand, glancing to his left toward the stacks with a shrug.

"I've all the time in the world, it's no hurry." It was true, as far as the Council was concerned. There was a phantom tingle on the back of his neck about an hour later that was achingly familiar, the book he'd been reading through dropped on the table when Angel emerged from the stacks behind him. Giles is saying something when he caught sight of the vampire, but neither he nor Wesley seemed to hear him as hazel eyes stare into aquamarine.

The last time they'd done that, Wesley had walked away and to his death.

"Angel..." Cool hands are on either side of his face before the name fully leaves his lips, hazel eyes now golden as a familiar demonic visage drank in the sight of his face. "You're...small."

"Could say the same about you." He's not afraid when Angel's smile reveals his mouthful of fangs, Giles' faint gasp of surprise ignored as Angel brushes his thumbs under Wesley's eyes. "You look tired."

"I am." As much as he doesn't want to part, Angel shifts his face back to its human form, stepping back to look over at the stunned Giles behind Wesley. The older man's mouth opens and closes as he struggles to come up with the right words at the display before him, aware that something was going on that he was out of the loop on.

"I wasn't aware you both knew each other."

'It's a long story."

"One that's totally going to have to wait." A third voice made all three men jump in surprise as the library doors swung open, revealing its owner in all of her glory. Cordelia Chase commanded the room like she always had, the gaggle of Scoobies behind her clearly a bit confused as she zeroed in on the newly arrived Watcher, her face lighting up with a blazing smile. "Wes..."

"Cordelia..." His voice trembled despite the calming breath he'd taken at the sight of her, the current student dumping her books on the check-out table before she sprinted across the room and into his waiting arms. It's Angel's arm that shoots out to steady him, the only reason Wesley doesn't fall, hugging Cordelia as tight as he can as she does the same. They can hear the Scoobies making a bit of noise as they filter into the library and watch the spectacle, Angel's calm voice fielding their questions for now as he rests a hand on the small of Wesley's back, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth. He and Cordelia had spoken about how to bring everything up with Giles and the others before Wesley's arrival, but it turns out that seeing him as flesh and blood threw all of those plans out the window.

"I'm glad you're finally home, Wes. Giles just isn't as stuck up about research as you are." Cordelia finally pulled back with a watery smile, reaching up to kiss the Brit's forehead.

"Then fear no more." Wesley can't stop smiling when she finally moves to take up a free seat, Giles and the others all confused and curious about the scene they'd just watched.

"Since when did you know Watchers other than Oh Stuffy One?" Xander finally asked, eyes constantly darting between Cordelia and Wesley as his leg bounced.

"You'll find out soon enough." Cordelia smiles, checking her nails without a care in the world. "We still have someone else we're waiting on."

"That would be me, sup." Faith knocked open the library doors with a grin, twirling a keyring around an index finger. "Sorry I'm late, was checking out Wes's sweet crib. Moving in tonight, by the way."

"The pleasure is all mine." Wesley tipped his head as the second Slayer took a seat on the edge of the large meeting table, smiling at the pleased rumble he caught from Angel.

"Faith is moving in with you?" Buffy blinked, figuring Faith would have dismissed the new Watcher like she had Giles.

"I'll not have one of my charges living like that." His reply was simple, and Wesley cleaned his glasses before slipping them back on with a look towards Cordelia.

"So...who wants to start?"

[blowthemoonout]

We should not create a public narrative about someone based on motivations that we've ascribed to them.

-

its not a public narrative though, is it? a guy currently playing at his boyhood club who should be grateful he’s able to be where he is right now which is quite literally at the top with every trophy he won with said team is being sketchy about his contract renewal and is obviously giving real madrid slight signals otherwise this saga wouldn’t have been dragged on for this long.

no one’s asking him to tell everyone that he’s renewing straight up but he should at least clarify that he’s comfortable with staying. salah confirmed he wanted to stay and so did virgil but trent still hasn’t. of course he shouldn’t have to but he can clearly see that he’s being linked to another club and he is a person with a working brain who knows how fans will feel about this and if he actually cared he would’ve said something. if there’s so much silence around it (especially for THIS long) then people will assume what’s happening behind the scenes and there’s nothing wrong with that.

i’ll gladly criticize him based on his actions both on and off the pitch. yes, as a professional he needs to find a way to focus but i don’t think its that. he’s focused but you can tell he just can’t be bothered to put in that effort while playing. virgil yelled at him for letting himself get dribbled past which he *obviously* heard lol and he let it happen again. its stuff that could maybe be a mistake but if it gets repeated often in a game then you just have to assume that it’s just trent being lazy. if you have time go back and rewatch the game and focus on the moments where he makes those mistakes and ask yourself if its an error he made unintentionally or if its just him wanting to jog back and let konate cover for him instead of defending properly because he can’t be arsed

my point is everything people assume or want to say right now is completely valid especially if he’s being silent on his part and isn’t saying anything. people can criticize his actions on and off the pitch and there’s nothing wrong with that and as our vice he should at least say something. 🤷

It is exactly a public narrative.

I think we might be approaching this whole contract saga from different places. It seems pretty obvious to me that he has indicated to Madrid that he's interested. I honestly didn't think there was any question about whether or not that was the case. I don't think that means he isn't grateful to be playing at Liverpool.

"If he actually cared he would've said something" why though? Why is that the case? I just don't agree that him trying to keep his thoughts private equates to him not caring. And for the record, I think he and his team have done a terrible job in terms of publicity throughout this whole thing. The PR is awful, the optics are bad. And yes, they HAVE left a lot of room for assumptions. I am just failing to see how that means he actually doesn't care about the fans. And I really don't like that this feeling has been translated by a lot of fans into "Trent definitely doesn't care about us, so fuck him."

I don't personally believe he's just being lazy, though I can see why people do think that. But we (royal we, not you and I specifically) need to stop going from "Trent seems like he's not putting in enough effort" to "he's definitely lazy" to "he's lazy because he doesn't care about Liverpool" to yelling at him at matches to fuck off to Madrid. Which is exactly the narrative I'm talking about.

I hope this explains my perspective better. I don't think Trent is faultless and I understand your points anon. Frankly, I have no idea if he's a good person IRL or not. I have just found a lot of the discourse lately to be very toxic and unjustified.

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡ My thoughts on Yennskier + headcanons ♡

(Edited post)

- What makes this whole thing so funny and exciting to me is that Yennefer used to think that Jaskier was just some annoying sing songy twit before. While Jaskier's dramatic arse used to consider Yennefer an enemy until she saved him from Rience XD XD XD

- I adored the everliving FUCK out of their scenes together in season 2! Their dynamic is so fucking good! AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

- Yennskier, the ship we didn't know we needed, but definitely deserved! Their chemistry is so fucking perfect and their dynamic works so well!

- Personally I think that this ship is actually, currently, THE healthiest and most wholesome one of all my Jaskier ships! At least as of season 2! (Even if Geraskier remains as my OTP)

- In Oxenfurt, when Jaskier and Yennefer got to know eachother better without Geralt's presence to distract them both, ever since they saw the real, raw and vulnerable sides of eachother and became friends, I couldn't help but notice how absolutely toothrottingly perfect they are together!

- Legit, and I kid you not! I can't picture Yennefer and Jaskier having anything other than that deep kind of connection where you know that you are loved, appreciated and adored, despite all your flaws. The kind of love where you know you're not alone, that this person is your family and will always have your back no matter what.

- Yennefer, despite being one of the most powerful sorceresses on the entire continent, treats Jaskier as an equal by the time Ciri gets possessed. (Bro, like even Geralt doesn't do that! Jaskier is his friend, sure, but I've never seen Geralt treating him as an equal.)

- Yennefer and Jaskier have a mutual respect for eachother, they trust eachother, they enjoy eachother's company. All of those things are A CRUCIAL part of having a solid foundation to build a honest, sturdy, long-lasting and happy relationship upon.

- From compatibility POV, they work together a lot better than Geralt and Yennefer did. With Jaskier, there are no djinn related consent issues, there wouldn't be any communication issues and he would probably be a positive influence on Yennefer's mental health.

- Whereas her relationship with Geralt was quite frankly chaotic, explosive, sometimes even toxic. It was built upon a shaky foundation of lust, djinn magic and exchanged favors. Like c'mon, their time together as an on-and-off couple mostly consisted of having kinky unicorn sex, trauma dumping, dealing with magical, gorey and insanely dangerous situations, then talking about said situations until they have a fight! Leaving eachother every time in the end because they can't seem to make it work long-term. They're incompatible because in canon, the only thing that finally made them stick together for good, was an orphaned girl in need of protection. It's not right, kind of like parents who are postponing their divorce until their daughter grows up :/

- Jaskier on the other hand, despite his magic-less ordinary humanity has a hilariously witty, optimistic, stupidly brave, highly empathetic, loyal and supportive personality. Yennefer would have an understanding partner who loves her, cherishes her, acceptc her for who she is without judgement nor pity. A partner who would make it his life's mission to help her see the good things this world has to offer, to make her happy because she deserves it!

- Damn it all, they both have been through enough, they both deserve a break. They actually GET eachother. I can already feel a drabble forming in my brain, set a week or so after the whole Voleth Mier shebang, Jaskier is struggling with PTSD and nightmares about Rience, Yennefer is struggling with guilt and shame because she put Ciri in danger. So while Geralt is too busy with Ciri's training to be there for Jaskier and he feels too betrayed to be in Yennefer's company, neither Yen nor Jask have anyone to turn to in Kaer Morhen, except eachother. Three months confined to a witcher keep together? Now that is a LOT of time to spend with someone you can be openly vulnerable around, bond with, heal and share joy with, unexpectedly falling in love....

- Yennefer too is an extremely good match for Jaskier, it's almost uncanny how much she completes him! Jaskier would finally have an understanding and loving partner who truly saw him when others didn't bother. And Yennefer liked what she saw, the familiar face of a simple human bard who offered kindness and compassion to strangers even if it could kill him. She saw courage, honesty, forgiveness and so much good, a collection of rare qualities she had never thought could exist within one single person all at once. After Voleth Mier, all that goodness was given to her so freely, it is still being given to her everyday, so she knows a treasure when it looks her right in the eyes with such easy warmth. She would make it her life's mission to cling onto him with everything she's got, to love and cherish him the way he deserves, to protect the only person she deems worthy of holding her heart!

- They have a lot in common too. From both having a knack for fashion, both being mischievous little shits at heart and both having high standards when it comes to personal hygiene. To also having similar tastes in both alcohol, humor, luxury and entertainment.....if Yennefer's kinky orgy party and Jaskier's reputation as the biggest slut on the continent is anything to go by.

- Speaking of sex, both of them having a high libido and exceptional skills in bed aside, they're fucking GORGEOUS people! Why wouldn't they find eachother attractive?

- Yennefer is basically a Goddess, beauty personified! She is elegant and breathtaking, everyone knows it.

- However, since a majority of the Witcher fandom usually dismisses Jaskier in favor of simping for Geralt, I can, I must and I WILL gush about how pretty Jaskier is! Cuz clearly some of them bitches be blind, Yennefer is one lucky witch!

- Jaskier is like only 1,5 inches shorter than his grouchy snowman friend. Meaning he is tall as all hell and he definitely isn't lacking in the muscle department either, that bard is jacked yo. His voice is soothing and his vocabulary is extensive enough to make the most experienced of whores blush from pillow talk. He has VERY soft looking hair and he has one of the most angelic fucking faces I've ever seen. His eyes are the clearest shade of blue and his expressions + mannerisms are absolutely adorable! Ok, I'm done gushing, onto the next point....

- Unlike Jaskier, I don't think I have a dummy thick enough of a vocabulary to express how much dopamine Yennskier fanfics give me, more specifically when their husband and wife act from Oxenfurt becomes an inside joke for them, leaving the rest of Kaer Morhen's inhabitants confused as fuck.

- Geralt getting a bit jealous? His brothers wondering when that could have happened? Ciri feeling bamboozled as well?

- It's all shits and giggles until somebody giggles and shits. It won't take long until their inside joke is no longer a joke. They already bicker like a married couple anyway XD

- I can not help but also headcanon Jaskier as not fully human. It would be sad if he up and died on his dear immortal wife. I don't necessarily picture him having chaos or other powers in this scenario, but when I do, I think that they would discover them together on accident.

[quindolyn]

Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)

 You in Here? || James Potter

Word Count: 2268

A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.

Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism 

Masterlist

“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers. 

You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 

You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.

His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into. 

And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.

“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.

“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.

“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates. 

What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.

Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect. 

“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.

“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.

You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.

Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.

His legs. Those fucking legs.

And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.

You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”

“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”

“No one was gonna just-”

You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.

“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”

Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat. 

A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.

“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine. 

Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.

“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”

After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.

“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening. 

The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.

“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”

“My whore,” He corrected.

“Your whore.”

At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.

“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.

A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.

“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?” 

He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours. 

You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight. 

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”

“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”

It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.

Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.

A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.

“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.

James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.

“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain. 

You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie. 

“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.

“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust. 

“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”

His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.

“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.

Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck. 

As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided. 

The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.

It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy. 

“D-Daddy may I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.

“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”

Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.

James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders

[lilylovessev]

fated || snily au

If there was anything that the Lady Lily Potter currently both desired and detested in equal measure, it was the buzz of the household. It was not being alone, whilst also not particularly enjoying having to entertain. She loved their visitors, on occasion, even if she had to put on a rather too pleasant facade to greet them. 

Her marriage was restrictive. She hadn’t quite expected to feel as if she were dragging round an invisible ball and chain when she’d exchanged her vows with James Potter. Yet, that was exactly how it felt. She had to bow to his every want and whim. 

She had not long since been allowed to have her own handmaid. She had insisted on having something more than one of his childhood servants waiting on her, when they had other things to be doing. James had been reluctant to let anyone into his home. However she had compromised with Sev. A childhood friend. He still wasn’t best pleased with her having a confidante of sorts, but it was exactly what she had needed in the midst of this marriage. She had so desperately needed a friend within this household, that had not yet become her home. 

“Why would I not be pleased for you, Doe?” 

Although, it was becoming quite tiring, quite sickening even. She feigned a smile, even if she was wondering if Doe truly had nothing better to do with her time than carry children...

“You are yet to fall pregnant. I feel as if I am stealing your thunder.”

Lily scoffed, unable to help herself, “You stole my thunder a long time ago, Doe. You married my father, remember? I was once the apple of his eye. And anyway, I would rather not fall pregnant, quite frankly. You have met my husband, have you not?”

“Would it not get him off of your back if he is quite as tiresome as you claim? Would it not give you a little peace?”

She smirked, shaking her head, “Child or no child, James would still act as he does. Childish, impetulant, as if the world owes him everything.” She stood from the bench, smoothing out imaginary creases in her dress before then looking back down at her friend. “... Rue. I con it a little potion and take it in my tea whenever we’ve laid together. It has worked thus far.” She shrugged, “Not that I should be admitting any of that to you.”

“And what on earth would I do with this information?”

“Tell my father that I am refusing to give my husband an heir.”

Doe rolled her eyes, before reaching out her hand, Lily helped her up. “It will happen when you are ready for it to happen, no herb would stop a pregnancy that is meant to be. Now, if you may, please escort me out to my carriage. I need to get home and put my feet up. You, however, need to ready yourself for the banquet.”

She sighed, “Oh the joys of running a household. I have not stopped in days. It is as if he expects me to pluck these elaborate events out of my arse whilst he’s out whoring somewhere or gambling, or hunting.” She muttered, squeezing Doe’s arm as they walked down the path. It was safe to say that relations between them had been strained over the last couple of years. They were on far better terms now than they had been since she’d married into her family. “Anyway, I shall stop using such vulgar langauge so as not to harm those delicate ears of yours.” They both giggled and walked back through the courtyard together. 

“Will Marlene be attending tonight?”

“Of course. Both her and Sir Black.” She then shook her head, “I cannot lie, I will admit to being somewhat jealous of their match. They actually get along with one another. He doesn’t treat her...”

“Lily, stop this, right now. Lord James does not mistreat you. Do you not remember his pursual of you? It was nothing short of romantic. You need to stop speaking out against your husband. He is a very powerful man, you married into a family that doesn’t abide for accustations such as the one that you keep making rather too loudly. If he hears you talking like this...”

Lily then tensed up, and should have known better really. “Of course, I am being dramatic. I am merely imagining the way that my husband treats me behind closed doors. Go home, Doe. Go home to my father and your happy little family.” She pulled her arm away from the brunette, glaring at her before storming away. She knew that it was particularly childish of her to do so, but she couldn’t help herself.

//

“I feel as if this corset is rather too tight.”

Lily groaned loudly, exhaling a deep breath, trying to avoid panicking. She always found herself in this state prior to an event. She had married into a very well known, prestigious family. She had known the expectations of her future having done so. She hadn’t expected to find it all quite so overwhelming, it hadn’t felt this way as a child whilst attending events. She had rather thought that she’d enjoy holding parties and living this entirely lavish lifestyle. Yet, it was constricting, and exhausted her. Her husband was a little older, and more experienced, and knew a lot of people. She wanted to impress, but it was difficult.

“Do I look alright? Are you certain?”

She turned, meeting the gaze of Sev. It was such an intense comfort. To have her there was almost incomparable. She had needed someone. Her marriage was suffocating, to say the very least. It felt as if she was nothing but his property. Yet, even in this prison, she had someone. She had a friend. 

They had met as little girls; obviously they were from very different worlds, within a small distance of one another. They had played together and their childhoods were very much intertwined. And then, she had grown a little older, and playing out with her friends had been nothing but frowned upon. That hadn’t stopped their friendship though, not at all. Even when she’d had needlework to learn, etiquette lessons to attend. She’d even started to learn to play the lute, but that had been disastrous and had ended in her purposefully breaking said lute as not to continue. However, she could sing. She could sing beautifully. 

She had been singing quietly one day whilst wandering out in the grounds of the neighbouring estate when she’d seen Sev, alongside the Narcissa Black; a girl that she had never quite been friends with. Or rather... She hadn’t been seen by them, or at least, she didn’t think so. To this day, she hadn’t ever really had any reason to dwell upon it. It wasn’t something that she’d ever have brought up with Sev. They’d then spent many a late summer afternoon laying in the grass, gossiping, discussing her impending marriage. And then everything had… stopped. It had been around the time of her mother’s death. She had become very closed off for a while, everything had become somewhat of a blur. Before, in a rather strange turn of events, she had found herself looking for a handmaid at the same time as Narcissa. She had been quite surprised when Sev had chosen her.

“Help me loosen it a little, please.” 

She turned away from Sev, pulling her hair out of the way to expose the lace of the corset. “He insists on the gold. I am not entirely sure that it suits me.” She remarked with a small smirk, “I do believe that it would suit you though. Please, attend. Don’t hide away. You know that I have no problem with you joining us all.” She turned to face Sev, eyeing her expectantly, before taking hold of her hands. “Please. For me.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 124: Joke

"Draco?" Harry asked as he twisted his fingers in Draco's hair.

He hummed, feeling too content and comfortable to use any actual words or even lift his head from where it was resting over Harry's heart. Lightly he trailed his fingers over Harry's rib cage in response.

"Do you think-" he broke off and Draco felt him swallow, "I want to tell my friends about us."

He froze for a moment, unable to quite believe his ears.

"Or not," he said hurriedly, "If you're not-"

Draco sat up and pressed his lips to Harry's because he knew it was the fastest way to get him to stop talking. And because he couldn't quite believe that he would ever be someone that the other man would want to tell the world about, he'd never imagined Harry would be proud to be with him.

Harry sighed into the kiss, wrapping Draco tighter in his arms.

When Draco pulled back he said, "Do you mean it?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tipped up and he nodded, "If it's okay with you." He brushed his fingers over Draco's cheek, "I really like you," he confessed, "and it just keeps getting harder and harder not to tell my friends how happy you make me."

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat, "Really?" he whispered.

Harry nodded, tucking a strand of Draco's hair behind his ear. "Would you come with me? Maybe we could go out to dinner with them?"

"Yeah," he said, "Yes, if you want me to."

"I'd like that," Harry replied.

"Can we tell my friends, too?"

The smile that Harry gave him made him a little breathless, "If you want to."

"I'll owl them tomorrow."

Harry kissed him again and if they didn't get much more talking and planning done for a while after that who could blame them? They had far better things to do.

(Read more below the cut)

As fate would have it, they went out to brunch with Pansy, Blaise, and Greg first. They met at a muggle restaurant that wasn't far from Harry's apartment and when they arrived, Draco's friends were quite taken off guard by Harry's presence.

Harry held the door for them and Draco stepped through, Pansy following close behind and hissing, "What the bloody hell is Potter doing here?"

"Relax," he said, hooking her arm through his and following the hostess to a table.

After they ordered drinks Draco cleared his throat, "There's something I wanted to tell all of you," he started and Harry draped his arm over the back of the chair behind him, brushing his thumb over Draco's tricep in a silent show of support. "Harry and I are dating," he said, glancing over at Harry and giving him a little smile.

"I'm sorry?" Pansy asked and Draco glanced over at his friends' shocked faces.

"We've been seeing each other for a few months," he said.

"And we're serious about each other," Harry added.

Draco nodded, "So we thought it was time to start telling our friends."

Pansy blinked at him and Blaise was still staring with his jaw dropped but Greg just nodded, "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile at Greg.

Greg looked between the two of them, gave a nod, then opened his menu, "So what's good here?" he asked and Harry started to list off some of the dishes they'd enjoyed when they'd come on lazy Saturday mornings.

He glanced across the table to find Pansy still staring with an inscrutable look and Draco felt a tingle of apprehension at the base of his spine.

Everything was fine while they ordered and ate their breakfasts, it wasn't until Harry got up to use the loo that Pansy started to speak frankly.

"Draco, you're not serious," she hissed.

"About?"

"You dating Harry Potter! This is an elaborate joke, even for you, how on earth did you manage to convince him to go along with it?"

He shook his head, "I'm completely serious. We ran into each other at work, started talking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that. Then we started fucking and realized how much we enjoyed doing that too. And it just makes sense," he said with a little shrug. "We spend all of our free time together and I can't even remember the last time I slept in my own flat-"

"Draco, be reasonable," Blaise said. "He can't possibly," he broke off as though he didn't want to finish that sentence.

"He can't possibly what?" Draco asked, putting years of practice making his voice sound cold as ice to good use.

"Darling, it's just that you're you," she said, "And he's Harry bloody Potter."

"The press is going to destroy you," Blaise added. "Imagine those headlines."

Pansy shook her head, "And not only that but don't you think that Potter is going to end up with someone that the wizarding world will approve of? A wife who'll give him three kids, a home, the whole nine yards."

"I think it's nice," Greg said. "He looks happy, you look happy. What more is there?"

"Thanks, Greg," he replied with a nod.

"Oh sure, trust the person who's been single all his life to give you dating advice," Pansy said, rolling her eyes. "By all standards, he's too good for you and everyone knows it."

Blaise cleared his throat then, "What do you all think of ordering a few of those delicious looking cinnamon buns to share?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," Harry replied as he slid back into his seat and bumped his knee against Draco's. "The only real question is if you want the iced ones or the honey ones," he said, turning to look at Draco, "What do you think, love?" he asked.

Draco looked at him and something cracked in his heart, Pansy and Blaise were right. Harry Potter was a dream and it couldn't last. He swallowed, "Let's do the iced one."

He supposed a little while longer before he talked some sense into Harry wouldn't hurt too much.

----------

Harry was in a great mood when they got back to his flat. "Well," he said as he toed his shoes off at the door, "That went well, didn't it?" he asked.

He didn't reply, he just stared at the other man and wondered how to tell him that they were never going to be able to work.

"Tea?" Harry asked, oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil as he headed into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

"You should break up with me," he blurted.

Whatever Harry had been holding shattered as it hit the floor. "Shite," he murmured. "Reparo." Then he returned to where Draco was still standing, a few feet away from the door. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

Draco couldn't quite meet his eye, "You should break up with me now," he said, "Before either of us can get more invested."

"Draco, what-?"

He shook his head and a tear slipped out, "You're too good for me, Harry, and when the press catches wind of this-"

"Stop it," Harry said, clasped Draco's shoulders, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Even my friends, the people who have loved me through some pretty dark places, say it's true!" he exclaimed, "Even my friends think you're too good for me, that I'm being delusional."

Harry took his hands in his and it was only then that Draco realized he was trembling. "Hey," he murmured, leaning in so their foreheads were touching. "Your friends are arseholes. I am not too good for you. Draco, I can't even match my socks properly."

And it was such a ridiculous thing to say that a startled laugh burst from his mouth.

Harry tilted his head up to kiss his nose. "Look, they won't be the last people who spout of complete nonsense about us. I'm sure that comes with the territory," he added. "But it doesn't change who you are."

"An ex-death eater," he said. "A school bully, a complete-"

"That's not who you are," Harry said, leaning back so he could see Draco more clearly. "It might have been a part of who you were but it's not who you are." He pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, "You are brilliant," he said, "and you are gorgeous, and you're kind. And you've got a wicked sense of humor. You're passionate and you work hard."

"I've had to."

Harry nodded, "You're not the boy you were when we were in school just as I'm not the boy that I was when we were in school."

"But people will always remember-"

"What they think or remember doesn't matter," he said. "Because I know who you are and I don't give a rat's arse about what they think."

"I don't know, Harry," he said softly. "My past-"

"Do you think I'm the person they paint me to be?" he asked.

Draco shook his head, "Of course not but the wizarding world isn't going to accept this."

"I love you," he said simply. "And you, as you are, are more than enough."

"It's not going to be easy," Draco said softly.

The other man kissed him softly, "You're probably right," he said. "But I'm all in, if you are."

He pulled Harry into a tight hug and Harry hugged him back, "I'm in," he whispered.

"Then that's all we need," Harry said with a nod.

And Harry was right their friends came around but they found that they could weather the storms. There wasn't any trial or challenge they couldn't overcome when they were both willing to fight for the other.

-------------

Day 123: Feather | Day 125: Accidental Bonding (Part 1)

[jaskierswolf]

Hello dearest Overlord!! May we please have a continuation of that brilliant Chicago fic you gifted us? It was SO GOOD I can't stop thinking about it lol

Maya! I meant to have this done for your birthday but life... sorry! Either way! Happy belated birthday! I shall upload to AO3 tomorrow!

Previous

Rated: E

Ship: Geraskier

Summary: After a night of sweat and sex and sin, Geralt knows it's time to apologise for the harsh words. If only he could find the words to say (Yes i'm abusing TAD lyrics... oops)

CW: weapons kink, shaving kink, minor injury, talks of rimming, and general hoeyness.

______

Geralt stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the wall. The room stank of sweat and sex, and a warm spicy scent that wafted from the bard that was curled up on his chest. The night before had been possibly some of the best sex in his long life, but it had been tainted with the worry that it was the only chance he would get. Jaskier was still angry, and rightfully so, but it meant that Geralt wasn’t sure if this was the last time he would ever see his most loyal friend and companion. His fingers were softly trailing down Jaskier’s spine, painting flowers into the bard’s bare skin. Geralt couldn’t bear to watch Jaskier sleep. He was too beautiful, even covered in sweat, drooling over Geralt’s chest. Geralt just knew that if he looked then he would never be able to let Jaskier go.

And he couldn’t keep the bard if he didn’t want to stay.

“I can hear you thinking,” Jaskier mumbled, shifting on Geralt’s chest to press a kiss to the exposed skin. “It’s very distracting.”

Geralt huffed a laugh despite his growing anxiety. “Distracting you from sleep?”

“Mhmm.”

They laid like that for a few more moments, neither quite ready to face the day yet. Jaskier seemed to be trying to fall back asleep but after a couple of minutes he groaned and rolled onto his back. He pouted as he looked up at the ceiling, his hair a ruffled mess from where Geralt’s hands had run through it the night before, and there were dark bruises littered all over his neck, creeping down his chest where thick hair covered the pale skin. A stark reminder of Jaskier’s masculinity despite the way he preferred to present to the world.

Geralt swallowed as his cock began to make itself known. It could easily be excused as morning wood if Jaskier had decided that Geralt’s crimes were too dire to forgive, but he couldn’t help but hope.

“It appears that despite my best attempts, I am awake,” Jaskier grumbled, pushing his hands through his hair.

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, waiting for Jaskier to pass judgement before he really spoke.

“So… witcher,” Jaskier breathed, his voice guarded and cool, making Geralt stiffen as he prepared for the worst. “I think we can both agree, that was a rather fantastic evening of carnal delights.”

“Hmm.”

“But not even sex with dear Melitele herself would make up for, well, you know,” Jaskier rolled onto his side and peered down at Geralt with icy fire in those pretty blue eyes, “the whole ‘if life could give me one blessing’ thing.” Jaskier’s voice deepened in his impersonation of Geralt and his words were accentuated with a flourish.

“Jaskier-”

“I meant it, Geralt. I want an apology, a real one, or forget it. I can find inspiration elsewhere, and well.. I- you probably weren’t my friend at all if you can’t see that what you did was wrong. I may be a bit of a prick sometimes, but I deserve better, Geralt.”

“I know,” Geralt whispered, wondering when the lost puppy that had followed him for so many years had grown up.

How had he never noticed?

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” he breathed, struggling to find the words to explain just how sorry he was, but hoping that the bard would understand. “I- I was… I,” Geralt growled and covered his face with both hands, his beard scratching at his calloused skin.

The world felt like it was against him as he tried to gather his thoughts, but before he could, Jaskier’s hands were covering his, gently pulling them off his face. “Breathe, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t have the words to put this right.”

“Then show me, dear heart.”

Geralt’s brow furrowed as he gazed up at the bard, shining cornflower blue eyes shimmering in the morning light, his fringe falling down to cover them. He looked beautiful. Geralt reached up to brushed the hair from Jaskier’s eyes but it didn’t work and they both chuckled as Jaskier huffed a breath to try and blow it out of the way. “How?”

“You can start by getting rid of that beard. You look very handsome but my arse itches like a bitch this morning,” Jaskier grumbled.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Geralt teased.

“Well, I was hardly going to whine about it when you had your tongue up my arse!”

Just like that the ice seemed to have broken and Geralt smirked as he pulled Jaskier into a kiss; the taste was stale and unpleasant on Geralt’s tongue but he didn’t care, he was kissing Jaskier., The bard moaned softly into the kiss, shifting on the bed so that he was straddling Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s fingers were splayed on Geralt's chest as he rolled his hips against Geralt’s erection, making them both gasp into the kiss. The heat from the night before was back, not blistering and blinding but a slow build of embers as they were once again lost in the taste of each other.

And Geralt felt… happy?

He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be happy. Perhaps at Kaer Morhen before he set out onto the path for the first time. Before he learned that witchers were no better than the monsters they hunted in the eyes of humanity. There had been some brief moments of happiness when he’d been beside Jaskier on the path, the quiet moments before they went to sleep but Geralt had always been plagued with guilt, worried that he would destroy the fragile being that trusted him.

Of course, his fears had become reality, but in spite of everything Jaskier was still here with him, his lips pressed against Geralt’s neck, hands carding through his hair. So, because of the unfamiliar lightness in his heart, Geralt decided to tease his friend, his love, his bard. He grinned as he captured Jaskier’s lips once more in a bruising kiss, fingers digging into the bard’s hips to hold him close, and then he rubbed his cheek against Jaskier’s.

“Oi!” Jaskier grumbled, sitting back on his heels and glaring down at Geralt.

“What?”

“That beard has got to go,” Jaskier muttered, rubbing at his cheek. “If you really want to do the whole ruggedly handsome thing, which by the way, I don’t hate, then I am showing you how to look after a beard. It’ll be as soft as a baby’s bottom.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll shave.” Jaskier just grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What?”

“Or…”

“Jaskier…”

The bard winked, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips in a way that really should be illegal. “If you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll let me shave it off. I don’t have a razor but my daggers are plenty sharp enough?”

Geralt blinked, staring up at Jaskier as every single thought he’d ever had left his head. He was suddenly thrown back to the bard’s performance the night before. The way he’d moved, the touches to his skin, the frankly sinful way his body had looked in the corset and tights, an outfit better suited to a whore than a Viscount.

And his voice.

Dark, dangerous, calculating.

The same voice that usually held the warmth of the sun, turned to bitter poison as cold steel flashed in the candle light.

Geralt groaned, pressing his head into Jaskier’s shoulder, as the memory of the bard flipping the daggers in his hands with deadly precision, the edge of the blade glinting as he brushed it against his own neck. It was almost too much to handle, especially now that he’d had a taste of Jaskier, knew the filth the bard’s lips sang in the throes of passion.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier giggled, his fingers stroking through Geralt’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine. “You like that, don’t you witcher?”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

“Oh no. No, no, no, I am loving this. I mean, I knew you enjoyed the show but I thought it was just the whole-” Jaskier cut himself off with a wave of his hands. “But it was more than that, wasn’t it, Geralt?”

Geralt was in no place to argue. His cock was impossibly hard and aching, trapped underneath his bard as he continued to roll his hips at a torturously slow pace. Jaskier’s cock was also hard as it moved against Geralt’s stomach, leaving a mess of precum on his skin. The sight made Geralt’s mouth water, and he was tempted to forget the whole beard thing, if it just meant that he could get his lips around Jaskier’s cock. Make his bard sing just like he had the night before, but before Geralt could think about manhandling Jaskier into the right position, the bard had leapt to his feet, leaving Geralt weak and wanting alone on the bed.

“Jask,” he breathed, watching the curve of Jaskier’s bare arse as he danced across the room.

“Be with you in a moment, darling,” the bard sang, sweeter than a nightingale.

And Geralt could do nothing but watch helplessly as Jaskier unsheathed the daggers from their holsters. The steel looked sharp and deadly. They were clearly very real weapons, not props, and Geralt felt his head begin to spin with lust. He had to remind himself to breathe, lest he pass out. Jaskier was too busy inspecting the blades to notice Geralt’s predicament, and he ran a long lutist's finger along the sharp edge of the dagger, hissing slightly as it cut into the skin.

“Sharp enough?” he turned to face Geralt, winking as he licked his lips.

Geralt nodded, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. It was a miracle that Jaskier managed to still speak so eloquently even in the height of arousal, when Geralt could barely remember his own name.

“Brilliant!” Jaskier beamed, hopping back across the room without a care for the weapon in his hand.

He was a disaster.

Geralt honestly wasn’t sure how Jaskier hadn’t cut his own dick off. He clearly had no sense of self preservation, and yet Geralt was going to let him press that dagger to his throat.

Perhaps he was the idiot after all.

“Come now, Geralt, off the bed, I don’t want to get hair on the sheets,” Jaskier waved him over, flipping the dagger absentmindedly in one hand.

Geralt just scoffed. “I think there’s worse things on those sheets, Jaskier.”

“Sit!” Jaskier insisted indignantly pointing at the stool by the basin in the corner of the room.

There was no arguing with that, although Geralt did wonder if Jaskier would turn the blade against him, even in jest, and that thought had his cock throbbing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so desperate, probably watching Jaskier perform, the searing jealousy as the fake Geralt and Yennefer lay their hands on Jaskier’s body.

Jaskier took no notice of his inner turmoil, of the raging fire burning inside him. Instead, he hummed an unfamiliar tune under his breath as he readied the dagger for its job. After the passion of the night before, the quiet intimacy was almost too much. Geralt just hummed as he settled into an almost meditative state, letting Jaskier move his head around as he needed to without resistance. The bard pressed his leg between Geralt's, staying still but keeping a gentle pressure on Geralt's cock whilst the blade moved methodically across Geralt's skin.

Every stroke of Jaskier's blade against Geralt's skin sent a wave of arousal through his body. He'd never seen Jaskier as anything more than an annoyance on the battlefield, and the calm stillness of the moment made him see his bard in a new light. He wondered whether Jaskier had been holding back on him this whole time or whether this skill with a blade was something he’d learned in their time apart. Without a witcher to protect him, Jasker had no doubt encountered no end of trouble. He’d ended up in the brothel after all… although it was like no brothel that Geralt had ever been to.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Jaskier breathed almost silently, his lilting voice cutting through the cloud of meditation. Even in his meditation, his senses were locked onto Jaskier, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. It was an instinct he’d never realised he’d trained into being, it happened so slowly. One day he was wishing that Jaskier would finally get bored and leave, and the next, Geralt knew he would defend the idiot with his life.

But now it seemed Jaskier could hold his own, and that was just fucking hot.

Geralt didn’t know what was happening to himself. Everything he thought he knew was turning on his head, and he was somewhat irrevocably in love with the bard, he’d barely admitted was his friend.

By the time Jaskier was done, the blade smoothly gliding across Geralt’s skin, a finer shave than any barber he’d been to in all his years.

“Geralt, dear heart?”

“Hmm…”

“There you are,” Jaskier cooed, cupping Geralt’s cheek in his hands until Geralt let his eyes flutter open.

Jaskier was gazing back at him, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks flushed. The scent of arousal in the air made Geralt’s head hazy with lust. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Geralt knocked the dagger from Jaskier’s hand, the steel clattering as it flew across the room and bounced on the floor. The bard opened his mouth to protest but Geralt had been aching and hard for too long, and he was desperate to get his mouth back on Jaskier’s skin.

With a yelp, Jaskier was pushed back onto the bed, whining as Geralt teased the tight rim of muscle. Despite their long night of sex, Geralt would need to stretch him again, and he couldn’t wait. He’d found great pleasure in taking apart his cocky arrogant bard with both his tongue and fingers the night before, and he knew he would quite happily spend a whole lifetime doing it again and again. There was no better music than the noises Jaskier made when Geralt had his tongue lapping at the bard’s hole.

Without warning, Jaskier lunged to the edge of the bed, distracting Geralt with the curve of his arse so he didn’t notice what Jaskier was grabbing at until it was too late. The dagger was at his throat forcing him back onto the mattress, the tip of the blade hooking underneath that wolf medallion.

“Gotcha,” Jaskier winked, knocking all the air from Geralt’s lungs in less than a heartbeat.

“Jask,” he breathed, his words slurred as he struggled to see through the fog of lust.

“If I forgive you, witcher, do you promise not to throw me away like that again?” the bard’s eyes burned, but Jaskier saw through the mask to the scared little boy, one so frightened of being abandoned.

“Never again,” he vowed. “I swear.”

Jaskier let out a soft sigh and the tension visibly melted away from his body. “Good enough for me.”

And then he pressed their bodies together once more in a burning kiss that would stay with Geralt for the rest of his life.

[marmosa]

you’re no fun.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none, i barely proof read this so maybe shitty writing?

A/N: i wrote this for my friend after she pitched me the idea, so this one goes out to her <3 i’m not too confident with this piece but i really do like the second half. hope you guys enjoy :)

***

“We are not talking about this again.”

“Oh come on [y/n], don’t be like that!”

“Fred, I’ve already told you a million times, I’m not telling you who I want to ask me to the ball and I’m most certainly not telling you who I fancy,” [y/n] scoffed, tightening her grip on the books cradled to her chest.

“You’re no fun,” Fred huffed, slouching his shoulders and finally falling back into step with her, “you know if you just told me I could get him to ask you-,”

“I’m quite literally seconds away from hexing you and getting myself banned from the ball all together, don’t try your luck Weasley,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes, the threat ever present in her words.  

“That is the most Slytherin thing you’ve ever said,” Fred paused, a shit-eating grin pulling onto his lips, “Don’t tell me you want some stuck up bad mouther to ask you to the ball?”

[y/n] stopped in her tracks and looked at him an expression so surprised she might as well have been staring at one of the silly little creatures Lovegood was always going on about, “And so what if I did? What’s it to you?”

Her answer seemed to have taken Fred aback as pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to think of a reply. It was [y/n]’s turn to smirk as she chuckled to herself, proud she’d been able to stun him into silence, “Finally gave up, huh?”

As soon as the words left her mouth she was quick to regret it, Fred snapping back to reality, “You honestly think that was going to stop me? I am going to watch you like a Hyppogriff watches its lunch, I’ll get my answer whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep on dreaming Weasley,” she hummed, trying not to let on that she was just as amused as he was hoping she’d be, “I’ll see you later, Fred.”

“Adieu!” He called from down the hall as he sprinted to make it to his next class on time after insisting on walking her to class.

“Adieu,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes in a feeble attempt to sooth the rising pace of her heart.

***

“I think I’ve figured it out.”

[y/n] groaned loudly and banged her head forward onto the table as Fred slid into the seat next to her. She lolled her head to the side and glared up at him, which he ignored and returned the sentiment with a grin.

“He’s a Gryffindor,” Fred claimed triumphantly, his grin only growing wider when [y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, “So Tessa didn’t lie to me!”

“Of course she told you, oh my god,” [y/n] turned her face back towards the table to hide her panicked expression.

“Well not everything, that was the only hint she gave me if it makes you feel better,” Fred shrugged, noticing her pinched brows and clenched hands in her lap.

“Oh thank the heavens,” she exhaled deeply, sitting back up and digging her palms into her eyes, “you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Why’s that? Scared I’m gonna tell him?” Fred teased, poking her in the side.

She swat his hand away and passed him a deadpan stare, “As if, you wouldn’t do it if I asked you not to.”

Fred’s cheeks tinged red which he quickly tried to hide as he tipped his chin up, crossing his arms over his chest, “that’s entirely not true.”

“Whatever you say Freddie,” [y/n] hummed, chuckling to herself and turning back to her papers.

“Say, have you gotten your dress yet? Tessa told me you were gonna go regardless of a partner,” Fred questioned, leaning his cheek onto his balled up fist, a small smile pulling onto his lips when she looked over at him with an excited glint in her eyes.

“It did! Wanna see it? I can show you now, potions work can wait,” She squealed, shutting her books and shoving her papers into her bag, “let’s go!”

[y/n] grabbed Fred’s hand and dragged him out of the Great Hall, pulling him along for most of the way until they reached the staircases. Fred looked down at her with a soft smile as she rambled on about the detailing and the pretty colors of the gown, an endearing look plastered on his face.

“Wait-!” [y/n] exclaimed as they stopped outside the dormitory entrance, the painting watching them both with nosy interest, “I can’t show you yet, it has to be a surprise for the actual ball!”

“Well then why the bloody hell did you drag me all the way out here?” Fred whined, pouting and reaching forward to poke her side again.

She swat at his hands again, “would you cut that out! Bloody hell, you’re dance partner is going to hate you if this is how you’re gonna treat her.”

“Well the jokes on you, I don’t have a dance partner,” Fred huffed, crossing his arms and marching off in the opposite direction.

“Wait, you don’t?” [y/n] asked incredulously, jogging to catch up with him, “why haven’t you asked her yet?

Fred pursed his lips and avoided her curious gaze, “because I’m worried she’s not going to say yes,” he admit quietly.

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask but who did you even have in mind, I might know if she’ll say yes! I frankly know far more than I’d like to about other people’s romantic endeavors, so I might have an answer,” [y/n] explained, looking up at him with eyes full of hope, her nerves hidden beneath still biting at her insides.

Fred swallowed his heartbeat and shrugged, trying his absolute best to calm the red starting to flush his face, “Since I’m not a stubborn git like you,” he paused as she scoffed jokingly, “I was thinking of asking,” his eyes scanned the hallway as he struggled to find an answer that wasn’t the girl standing by his side, his brain finally digging up a person, “Angelina. Yeah, I was thinking of asking Johnson.”

[y/n]’s heart sank to the bottom of her chest, a gaping hole starting to form where her heart had previously been, “Oh. Well, I know Angelina hasn’t take a particular fancy to anyone, so you should be all set. I can always ask her what she thinks of you too, if you want a more solid answer,” [y/n] muttered, trying her best to maintain whatever resolve she was clinging to that kept her tears at bay.

Fred noted the way she sunk into herself and tightened her grip around her books, the light bulb in his head flickering to life- was she upset?

“Thank you for the, uh, offer. I might just take you up on it,” Fred chuckled softly, trying to ease his own emotions while searching for a possible answer as to why she could be upset over this. He’d have to ask Tessa later.

“Of course, well, I have to head off to my next class, see you around Fred,” She pulled a tight-lipped smile, turning on her heel and hopping onto the nearest staircase, leaving Fred alone as she was lifted to the upper floor.

“Well shit,” He cursed.

***

Three days had passed since the Fred’s crappy revelation and as far as [y/n] was concerned she felt no will to attend the next day. Fred had gone ahead and asked Angelina the way he said he would and she watched it happen during their study period to which she quickly made up an excuse to leave the scene.

Tessa had tried her absolute best to console her best friend but it was no use, she had gone through hell and back getting [y/n] to even agree to still attend the ball. Another boy had come to [y/n], but she politely declined, knowing that leading him on would have gotten her nowhere but in trouble.

“Excited to dance the night away tomorrow? I promise I’m a better partner than you’d think,” Tessa giggled, nudging [y/n] in the side.

[y/n] looked up from her hand that she was glaring at intently as she carefully painted her nails a pretty shade that one of their roommates had let her borrow, “excited as always. But you do know, I’m going to avoid you like the plague, right? I’m not ruining your night with Diana.”

“Oh please, she won’t die if I dance with you once!” Tessa rolled her eyes, falling back so she was splayed out over her bed,  “We’ve been dating for a year now, she won’t take it poorly.”

“Still, this is like a once in a moon opportunity. I don’t intend on ruining it,” [y/n] insisted, concrete in her conclusion.

“Goodness, fine! You’re such a hard-head. Just promise me you’ll at least try to have fun?” Tessa pleaded, sitting up to give [y/n] an serious look.

“Whatever soothes your soul,” [y/n] hummed, biting back a smile when Tessa rolled her eyes, falling back once more.

“You’re no fun,” Tessa groaned.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” [y/n] giggled.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, Fred says that to me a lot, he thinks I have a stick up my arse,”  [y/n] chuckled sadly, avoiding Tessa’s sympathetic gaze, “don’t look at me like that, I don’t want to think about it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tessa held her hands up defensively.

“Mhm, sure.”

“Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

***

“Tessa!”

Tessa came to a halt in the nearly empty hall, glancing over her shoulder with a confused look as she saw Fred racing towards her. She turned around completely to face him as he skid to a halt in front of her, her brows knit together as she wondered what he could possibly be tracking her down for the morning of the yule ball.

“Hey Fred, what seems to be the problem?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you a question,” Fred explained through labored breathes as he leaned over, balancing his hands on his knees.

“Shoot.”

“When I told [y/n] that I was asking Angelina to the ball a couple days ago, she looked really upset. And I wasn’t quite sure what to make of so I wanted to ask if she’d told you what had happened?” Fred explained, his heart hammering against his chest.

Tessa’s face fell, a grimace pulling onto her features, “Fred...,” her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t-,” Tessa sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side of hall to avoid the traffic of other students, “take a wild guess.”

“Well, the only answer I can think of is-,” his eyes widened as a feeling of panic set in, “-oh shit,” Fred felt sick.

“Who did you think that Gryffindor was? Why did you think she left the Great Hall when you asked Angelina? Why did you think she was fine all the way up until she’d found out you asked Angelina? Fred, you’re by no means stupid, but this has got to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Tessa frowned, not knowing whether to sympathize with his situation or be mad at him.

“I-,” Fred searched for an excuse, but came up blank, “I had no idea. What am I suppose to do now?”

“Well you certainly can’t drop Angelina, not on the morning of the ball. And I don’t think [y/n] is going to want to feel like a last minute option either,” Tessa sighed and shook her head, “I truly can’t offer you much advice here, I think you’re just gonna have to muscle this one out.”

“Yeah,” Fred muttered, dragging his hands down his face, “Thanks Tessa.”

“Mhm,” Tessa offered him a half-hearted smile, “Good luck.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.”

***

“You look lovely,” [y/n] smiled softly at her best friend in the mirror, zipping up the back of her dress, “Diana is gonna love it.”

“She better, we picked it out together,” Tessa laughed, smoothing out the creases on the bodice.

“Well in that case, she most certainly will love it,” [y/n] beamed.

“Aside from me, look at yourself, you’re just as beautiful as I knew you would be when we took it out of the parcel last week,” Tessa grinned, turning around to face [y/n] who was practically glowing with joy.

“You flatter me,” [y/n] scoffed playfully, dusting off invisible particles off her shoulder, “but thank you.”

“Of course,” Tessa nodded, “you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” [y/n] exhaled, rolling her shoulders to sooth the nerves prickling at her skin.

“Then off we go!” Tessa cheered, hooking elbows with [y/n].

The two girls made their way down the stairs towards the Great Hall, eventually splitting off near the entrance when Tessa had to go find Diana among the gaggle of Hufflepuff’s nearby. [y/n] waved bye to her friend, turning on her heel and heading down towards the two main staircases, her hands clutching her dress so tightly she was sure it was going to tear in her fingers.

At the bottom of the staircase stood Fred, George, Seamus, and Oliver all chatting up a storm as they waited for their dates to arrive and join them before heading into the venue. The group of boys suddenly fell quiet when a hushed whisper fell over some of the groups surrounding them, turning around to the source of the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Holy shit,” Fred gasped quietly.

[y/n] descended the stairs, her gown billowing behind her. She looked positively radiant in the soft lighting of the candle lit corridors, her hair done in a way that framed her face perfectly. She carried herself like a queen down the steps, the bodice holding her up like an ancient Greek statue.

“Dude,” George muttered, elbowing Fred lightly, “do you know who she came with?”

“No one, I think, I heard she rejected one of Slytherin heartthrob’s,” Seamus whistled under his breath, answering George in Fred’s place.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off her, his mind reeling. They way she described the dress didn’t half encompass the way she looked wearing it. Maybe it was good thing she didn’t show him that day, he would have become a complete blubbering mess had she worn it then.

“Are you gonna go talk to her?” George urged, nudging Fred slightly.

Fred finally snapped out of his trance and turned back around, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shaking his head, “I asked Angelina to the ball. It wouldn’t be fair to her for me to start the night off with another girl.”

“That’s for certain, it’s a sure sad thing she came alone though,” Oliver noted, shaking his head.

“I heard it’s because the person she likes asked someone else.”

The boys turned their heads to see Angelina and Clover, Seamus’s date, walking over. Fred felt his heart only sink further when he saw just how lovely Angelina had done herself up for the night, knowing full well he wasn’t at all going to give what she’d come for.

“Is that so?” George hummed, glancing at his brother who looked downright ill, “Well let’s not jump to assumptions, maybe she’s just independent like that.”

“Good point, it’s just something I caught in the girls restroom,” Angelina shrugged, “You boys ready to head in?”

“Seamus and Fred can go on ahead, We’ll stay and wait for our dates,” Oliver nodded towards the doors leading to the Great Hall.

“You’re sure?” Seamus asked, hooking arms with Clover.

“Certain,” George concluded, “See you boys in a bit,” he reached over patting his brother’s back reassuringly.

“See you,” Fred smiled, hooking arms with Angelina, leading her inside.

***

[y/n] sat at a table alone, smiling to herself as she watched Tessa and Diana dance across the ballroom floor, trying to pick out her roommates and their dates while she sipped her punch. She fiddled idly with the folded fabric in her lap, rubbing the material between her fingers to occupy her mind.

“Are you certain you don’t want to dance with me?” Tessa exhaled, both her and Diana stumbling over to the table as the most recent song came to an end.

“I need a break anyway and you look bored to death over here, go have some fun!” Diana teased, plopping down in a seat and slipping off her heels.

“I promise I will not step on your toes,” Tessa reassured [y/n], extending her hand.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” [y/n] rolled her eyes, taking her hand and rushing off to the dance floor.

The two girls swayed around the dance floor, giggling as they dipped and spun each other unexpectedly, thankfully avoiding each other toes as promised. The surrounding couples all seemed to be enjoying themselves as well, platonic, romantic, or otherwise. [y/n] was overwhelmed with thankfulness at having such kind and caring friends, especially at times like this.

“You know, I hate to be a party pooper,” Tessa started, dipping [y/n] and pulling her back up, “but Fred has been staring at you since the ball started.”

[y/n] felt her eyes go wide as she processed the admittance, looking around the seating area frantically, her mouth running dry when she locked eyes with Fred who was being less than conspicuous staring directly at her.

She snapped her gaze back to Tessa as the song came to an end, “I think I need a breath of fresh air, I won’t be gone long!”

Before Tessa could offer a reply, [y/n] was rushing off, dashing out of the crowd and out to a nearby balcony to get some cold winter air in her lungs and against her sticky skin.

Fred watched [y/n] run out of the Great hall, his brows pinching together as he wondered what could possibly be wrong. Before he could get too sucked into his thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulders.

“Go to her,” Angelina demanded.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you this entire night and the only other thing you’ve been doing aside from dancing has been staring at her. You’re a fool if you say otherwise,” Angelina deadpanned a-matter-a-factly.

“But I don’t want to leave-,”

“Oh please, you think you’re my only option? Don’t flatter yourself Weasley. Now go, before she talks herself into getting over you,” Angelina huffed, nodding her head in the direction [y/n] left.

“I’m sorry, and thank you,” Fred smiled, hopping out of his seat and running after [y/n].

***

[y/n] sat on one of the benches outside a little ways away from the Great Hall, far enough for some seclusion but still near enough to hear the music. She blinked back tears threatening to fall and ruin her makeup, frustrated with herself for getting worked up after having a great time with her best friend only moments ago.

“You’re a fool,” [y/n] muttered to herself, resting her forehead on her wrist, elbows balanced on her knees.

The cold ended up being just what she had need, the cool air blanketing her in the relief she’d wanted from the suffocatingly hot Hall. Her head snapped up as she heard footsteps approach, a panic setting in despite the relative safeness of campus.

“[y/n]?” A familiar voice called.

“Fred?” [y/n] replied confusedly, turning her head the opposite direction to fan at her eyes to hide the tears the were previously glistening there.

“Oh thank goodness it’s you,” He exhaled, skidding to a stop in front of her, “I was worried I had just bothered some couple getting it on.”

[y/n] scrunched her nose in disgust and felt a laugh bubble out from between her lips, “Hello to you too, Fred.”

Fred’s cheeks hued red, the color spreading to the tips of his ears, “Hey.”

“What’re you doing here? Didn’t you come with Angelina?” [y/n] questioned, cocking her head to the side.

“I did, but uhm, but plans changed,” Fred explained, struggling to piece together the smooth talker persona he usually sported.

“Changed? Well that’s not abnormal coming from you, Mr. spontaneous,” [y/n] teased.

“Yup, you’ve caught me,” Fred chuckled, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I guess I have,” [y/n] hummed, “but, truly, what brought you out here?”

“Well, it’s a long story, okay, it’s actually a short story,” Fred started to ramble, unsure exactly how he was suppose to lead up to “hey I’m in love with you” in this particular situation, “I was stupid and I made a lot of mistakes and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to notice but it did and I desperately want to fix my mistakes and I don’t know how to without being direct at this point because explaining everything would take us forever but I like you [y/n]. More than I’d care to admit.”

[y/n] sat there stunned, her mind reeling as she processed his confession, the heat she’d come outside to cool quickly rushing back, “I-,”

“I would say that it’s okay if you don’t like me back but I did all the emotional maths and I put the pieces together after Tessa practically knocked the sense into me and I know I’m the Gryffindor you we’re talking about so you can’t say no unless Angelina was right and you did talk yourself out of liking me any-,” Fred continued on, his eyes anywhere but [y/n]’s face, before he felt her hands placed gently on his cheeks turning him to face her.

“Shut up and kiss me Weasley.”

A smitten smile pulled itself onto his lips which was quickly swallowed with [y/n]’s own lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her impossibly closer, relishing in the feeling of her lips against his and the soft patterns her thumbs traced across his freckled skin.

When they pulled away Fred couldn’t help himself but to break into laughter, swaying her side to side with him in excitement. She laughed giddily along with him, squealing delightfully when he picked her up and spun her around before quickly settling her back down on the snow dusted floor.

“I think now would be a good time to tell you that you look absolutely radiant tonight,” Fred sighed in a hushed tone, cupping her cheek in his palm

[y/n] looked down and pressed her lips together to hide her smile, suddenly shy of his admiration filled gaze. He chuckled and tipped her head back up to face him, “don’t get embarrassed on me now!”

“I’m not embarrassed! Just happy,” [y/n] shrugged, placing her hand over his wrist tenderly, squeezing gently.

“Well that’s good news, I’d be proper worried if it was anything else,” Fred laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

[y/n] rolled her eyes playfully at his comment, “I guess I should tell you that you also look quite lovely tonight too. Molly truly outdid herself.”

“Oooo someone thinks I’m handsome,” Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

“Hmph, you’ve gone and ruined it, leave me be,” [y/n] wrestled herself out of his grip, teasingly walking off.

“You’re no fun! Come back here,” Fred groaned, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back into his arms, “you hear that? I think they’re starting a new waltz.”

“Should we head back inside then?” [y/n] suggested, “it is kind of cold out here.”

“Nah, it’s cramped in there anyways,” Fred shook his head, shrugging off his robes and wrapping them around her shoulders, “that ‘ought to do it. So, [y/l/n], would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?”

“I most certainly would,” [y/n] smiled, taking his hand in hers and placing the other on his shoulder, “don’t step on my toes now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, but no promises,” Fred grinned, placing his hand on her waist.

“Me neither,” [y/n] giggled, leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss as the music started.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna give you the best dance of your night,” Fred declared, standing tall.

“Don’t let Tessa hear you she might kick your arse,” [y/n] warned him, giggling at the faux fear that washed over his face.

“Pish posh, she’ll survive the blow to her ego, now shut up and dance with me  [y/n].”

“Gladly, Freddie.”

[thusspoketrish]

Words Are Very Unnecessary

TW: Dark fic; Angst; mental illness; mention of past suicide attempt; implied self-harm; scarring; psychiatric ward; unethical medical practices/harm; inappropriate patient/doctor/staff interactions; shifting tenses

Created for the prompt Pretend for @drarrymicrofic

Title taken from Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence

3.3K words. This is something that I may consider coming back to expand on in the future. READ ON AO3.

A heartwarming thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the thorough beta!

When Healer Robins announces that Harry will not be carrying out his final rotation at St Mungo’s, he’s shocked. He’s done everything he can within the last few months to prove himself capable: he’s completed his clinical rotations with commendations, he’s saved lives, he’s brought coffee and donuts in from his favourite bakery in Diagon every Friday, and he’s even played nice with the first-year Trainee Healers. But as Healer Robins announces his fate, Harry not only feels the bottom of his stomach fall—he can practically feel the smug smile burning a hole into the back of his head from his colleague, competitor, and overall pain in his arse, Blaise Zabini.

“I’m sorry Harry, but Blaise has already proven quite successful with some of the patients in Janus Thickey. I’m afraid that if we remove him, many of the patients will respond negatively to the change,” Healer Robins says, aiming a warm smile at Zabini.

“And you have a muggle vehicle, that James Bond-looking thing, am I right, Harry?” Zabini asks.

Harry turns to face him. He hates to admit it, but Zabini looks attractive in the lime green robes—but everything about him is stylish, with his broad shoulders, his fancy clothing under his robes, his stylish haircut. Too stylish for a Healer, Harry thinks glumly, staring down at his beat-up trainers he’s had for three years now. Harry grimaces as the other man smiles widely at him. He’d wager his entire Gringotts vault that Zabini has charmed a tooth to twinkle when he smiles like that.

“Yeah, why?” Harry grunts. He doesn’t want to show just how disappointed he is over missing out on the Thickey Ward, but he’s never been that great at compartmentalising his feelings.

“You’ll need one where you’re going,” Healer Robins says.

--------

As soon as Harry pulled his sleek black ’52 Jaguar XK-120 (a result of his quarter-life crisis earlier in the year) into the driveway of St Peter’s Asylum, the 16th century estate sends a chill up his spine. He exits his car and ambles around the property for a while, wanting to gain a better sense of his new work environment. There’s a 25-mile-long anti-Apparition ward surrounding the property and no Floo Network connection. Everything about the property felt duplicitous. The beautiful large bay windows were covered excessively with sharp, pointy metal bars, stained-glass depicting religious iconography were covered in grime and spiderwebs. The columned archway framing the front entrance has cracks in them and are covered in rotting foliage. Behind the estate is a crematorium where ominous black smoke currently poured from the vents, spilling upward into the grey sky. He should have known then that something was amiss.

After a confusing meeting with Head Healer Madison, a quick introduction to the nurses and orderlies, Harry is shown to his small, gloomy office. Settled in, when he finally glanced through the files of his new patients, he nearly spilled his coffee on the pile.

He did not expect to see Draco Malfoy on his rota.

He can recall the last time he saw Malfoy, right after the trials, when Harry’s testimony wasn’t enough to save him completely from time in Azkaban, but anything after? He can’t. He does not recall exactly how much time Malfoy served—had it been three years or four? Did he receive early release or was that his father? How had Harry simply put Malfoy out of his mind after everything they had both been through? How had Zabini not warned him Malfoy would be in a psychiatric ward? Did he even know?

All these questions left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. He had asked Healer Madison to give Malfoy’s file to a different Healer due to the conflict of interest, but there were no other Healers that would take Malfoy, and so Harry was left with a quandary: either help Malfoy or they’ll send him back to Azkaban, untreated, to serve out the rest of his sentence.

Malfoy’s file was as depressing as Harry imagined it to be.

Malfoy was considered a permanent resident on the ward, but the history is muddled as to why he’s been labelled permanent if his psychiatric care was part of his early release requirements from Azkaban. The threadbare treatment plan had no end goals or date to reintegrate Malfoy into Magical society. The file simply read of an attempted suicide in Azkaban, manic depression, and tendencies towards excessive violence to not just himself but those around him when angered—this was one of the reasons Healers refused him care. He had apparently injured the last three, one almost fatally. He’s been kept heavily medicated, but lately has been refusing treatment. The nurses have been providing the necessary potions intravenously.

Malfoy also hasn’t uttered a single word to anyone—not staff or other patients—for over two years.

From the gossip that the nurses regularly indulged in, Harry was able to learn that Malfoy befriended a young Scottish man named Ziggy and an elderly woman named Lottie that was also considered mute and antisocial. Ziggy had died exactly over two years ago under mysterious conditions and his body was sent to the crematorium instead of autopsied by the local Medical Examiner. When Harry had brought this oversight to Healer Madison, he had been scolded and suspended for three days for viewing files not assigned to him. She threatened to send him back to St. Mungos if he continued to work on the files that have been sealed by the Chief Healer, which would result in him failing his final rotation.

This, of course, further fuelled Harry’s interests.

-------

Harry began to watch Draco’s condition much more closely.

The other man still wouldn’t utter a word to Harry, and sometimes he wondered if Draco even recognised who he was sitting in front of, his eyes unfocused, body slumped in his chair with his bandaged arms wrapped around his body, his long blond hair falling to his shoulders in messy clumps.

Harry began to discover bruises around Draco’s wrists when they’d meet for sessions. When they began to appear around Draco’s neck, and finally, his left eye, Harry calmly enquired about it, and this sent Draco into a silent, violent frenzy. Draco had shoved most of the contents on Harry’s desk to the floor, thrown books at the walls, and ripped one of his bandages free to viciously dig his nails up and down his arm. Harry had to call a CODE RED as he scrambled to unlock his wand from the warded drawer of his desk to Stupefy Draco before he reopened all his wounds. It was the first time Harry had seen any kind of real reaction from the other man and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him. He had watched helplessly as the orderlies rushed in to gather Draco’s limp body from the floor.

Later that day, he approached Healer Madison.

“I’d like the evaluation forms for any other medical treatments Mr Malfoy is having here,” Harry had demanded. She had popped her gum in Harry’s face before rolling her eyes at his request.

“Those records are private, Potter. For the Chief Healer’s eyes only,” she had said.

“Well, I need the evaluation forms as well. I should be aware of any changes in treatment methods, considering Malfoy is one of my patients.”

Healer Madison patted Harry on the shoulder. “Relax, Potter. No need to be such a bloody worry-wort. Code reds happen all the time here. You’ll soon come to realise how we do things at St Peter’s.”

-------

Harry left the hospital at 5pm every day. Like clockwork, when he’s just about to get into his car, he’ll look up to the third-floor window of the recreation room where he’ll catch Draco staring down at him through the slats of the bars. Each time, the monster in Harry’s chest that’s begun to grow with Harry’s concern and affection for Draco, roared to life. He knew it would be just a matter of time before Draco ended up dead if Harry did not figure out what’s going on in this hospital.

--------

On a particularly cold, grey day in October, one month into Harry’s rotation at St Peter’s, Harry enters the third-floor recreation room. All of Harry’s patients have been improving greatly, Draco in particular. Intravenous treatment ended a week ago as he’s now more cooperative in taking his medication by mouth. His self-harming had eased somewhat, but there were still bad days that Harry monitored closely. Draco interacts with staff and his friend Lottie again, sitting next to her to watch the Muggle telly or just holding her wrinkled hand as they both stare out the window. His grey gaze seemed stronger, more focused, determined, even. It made Harry happy to see a sliver of the person he once knew shining through, and he hoped it would just be a matter of time before Draco speaks, so Harry can help him.

Harry glances around the room. Soft music is playing from off the telly. There's plenty of places to sit, but he opts to walk over to the window where Draco is sitting and playing chess by himself. The man’s wrists are bandaged again, no doubt from picking at his scars. Harry can see a patch of blood through the gauze and wonders why none of the nurses have been around to replace them. He wishes he had his wand (which is locked in his office for safety reasons) so he can replace the bandage himself.

“Draco,” Harry starts warmly. “How are you doing today?”

Draco looks up from the board and Harry gasps. There’s another brutal black eye around his left eye, and the top of his lip is split. Harry reaches out, his fingers lightly touching Draco’s lips before grazing along his jaw. Draco remains very, very still under Harry’s touch, his lips parting slightly as his chest heaves. When Harry remembers himself, he snatches his hand back as if he’s been burned.

“Who did this to you?” Harry hisses.

For a moment, Draco’s eyes turn incredibly bright as he exhales a phlegmy breath before his gaze shutters. Harry sits on the opposite side of the board, staring down at it as Draco takes one trembling hand to move his black bishop to E5. Harry sighs.

“You can tell me, Draco. I…I want to help you. I know there’s something terrible happening in this hospital, and I know someone is hurting you. Please, Draco—”

Draco abruptly stands from his seat, startling Harry. Draco doesn’t pay him any notice as he stretches his long, rail-thin body before strolling up to the nurse’s station. He taps on the glass divider several times before Nurse Mathilde slides the panel open.

“What is it, Mr Malfoy?”

Draco mimes smoking a cigarette.

Nurse Mathilde purses her lips. “The Chief Healer has given you permission to smoke again, but not until 5pm and especially not without an orderly present. You’ll have to wait until then. No exceptions!” she snaps before slamming the panel shut.

Draco doesn’t come back to his board game, nor does he glance over at Harry.

Harry watches as he instead sits next to his friend Lottie who is staring at the only plant in the recreational room. He lifts her wrinkled hand and entwines it with his own before settling in to watch the plant with her.

---------

At approximately 5pm Harry exits the asylum, briefcase in one hand and car keys in the other. When he passes by one of the gnarled oak trees, he notices Draco leaning against it, blowing tendrils of smoke from his cigarette. Harry slows down to watch him.

Draco’s hip is cocked out, his hospital shirt bunched up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and a titillating v-line that disappears in his thin cotton hospital pyjamas. He’s properly beautiful—all long lines and sharp edges carved in delicate, alabaster marble. Harry has noticed just how clearer Draco’s eyes are now, how the grey is piercing, brimming with cleverness and an intelligence that reminds Harry of the boy he knew in Hogwarts.

Harry’s suddenly startled out of his reverence when he glances around and notices that Draco is currently unattended.

Harry decides to approach him.

“Draco. Are you out here by yourself? Where is your attending orderly?”

“He was recovering from the blowjob I gave him before I did this—” Draco says, his voice thick and raspy. Harry is so shocked to hear the familiar drawl that he stumbles forward, his eyes widening, realises too late that Draco has lunged towards him, left hand raised high to strike Harry on the side of his head with a large, jagged rock.

When Harry comes to, it’s with a sharp groan and with the sound of a string of complex Latin filling his ears. He grits his teeth as a burning sensation wraps around his wrist. He realises that he’s frozen on the ground by a particularly thorough Petrificus Totalus. Despite his throbbing head, he focuses enough to catch Draco at his side, hissing as a thin, red bracelet appears on his left wrist, the bandages now gone. Harry hasn’t seen his left arm exposed before, and he cries out as he takes in the horrific scarring over the Dark Mark, as if someone had tried to peel the Mark off with a scalpel and failed to dig deep enough. There were healed and freshly scabbed cuts from his wrist to his elbow on both arms.

Draco appears above Harry then. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

There are streaks of dirt across Draco’s face, his hands, and under his nails.

“Please, Draco, whatever it is…don’t…don’t…”

Draco snorts. “What, don’t hurt you? Don’t kill you? Why would I harm the person I’m currently Bonded to?” Draco asks, lifting Harry’s wrist to his face. The red bracelet there matches Draco’s.

Panic seizes Harry immediately. Had he not been completely immobile, he sure he’d be shuddering. “What the hell is going on?” Harry asks, his voice shaking.

Draco drops his wrist and instead lifts a thick, taped together manila folder covered in dirt. “You’re helping me get the fuck out of here, Potter.” A smile breaks across Draco’s face then, making him look both incredibly beautiful and deranged. “It was as if you breathed life back into me, the day you walked through the doors of St Peter’s. I knew then that I had to hold on just a bit longer because surely it was a sign that my initial hard work wasn’t done in vain. You see this file here? I used to sneak out documents I’d gather from Madison, the Chief Healer, and the nurses proving the abuse. Some of the orderlies will let you do whatever you want if you can…provide the right services…and they would often leave me alone long enough for a smoke. I would hide the files here, Potter. But after Z-Z-iggy—” Draco’s excitable tone falters, a veil of sadness falling so quickly over his face Harry experiences a sense of whiplash. “They killed my friend, Potter. They treated Ziggy well before, even let him play Bowie when things weren’t so bad. They killed him during the experiments…”

“What experiments?” Harry asks, shocked.

Draco’s expression shifts once again to happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t be involved in something so gruesome.” He holds up his scarred arm. “On the Dark Mark and Purebloods who have come from Dark families. They’re trying to figure out how Dark Magic is entwined in a person’s DNA and…I don’t know…undo it.”

Harry’s eyes widens, mind beginning to race. “What?”

If the Healers here were literally using human flesh and blood to somehow recreate or understand the links between DNA and inherent Dark Magic, who knows what kind of torture and body modification they’re causing their subjects.

Draco eyes become manic. “You have to help me. You have to get me out of here in the next five minutes. My outdoor time is only half an hour and the orderly is currently passed out—”

“—Draco,” Harry whispers, interrupting Draco’s spiral. “How many others are there…how many other victims?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just knew Ziggy personally but there would always be screams, so much screaming, so many voices…” Draco says, closing his eyes and swaying on the spot. He mutters softly, incoherently, to himself for a few moments before he opens his eyes, so grey, intense and bright. Harry is overwhelmed with shock, horror, and above all, disgust. Disgusted that the people he’s been working alongside for a month now, the people who have vowed first to do no harm, have been torturing their patients, vulnerable patients.

“Draco, I want to help you, okay? I will help you. You just have to undo the Petrificus Totalus. We’ll get in the car and just drive. I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Draco holds up Harry’s wand, points it at Harry’s face. “If you betray me, Potter, you’ll regret it. We’ll get in that fancy car of yours and you’ll drive until I say stop. If you do anything to prevent me from getting these files to the right people…if you try to get help from the Aurors or let your friends know what’s going on, I’ll off myself. And this bond here, this bond will take you with me. I’m the only one that knows the counter, and once we get to my final destination, I’ll release you. So, don’t you dare fucking try me.”

Harry bites back a gasp.

Despite his very real fear, Harry’s desire to help Draco outweighs it. He nods.

“Okay, whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

Draco’s face, dark with suspicion, slowly starts to slide towards something lighter. He bares his teeth. “I hold onto the wand. You’re not allowed to touch me, period, or else I might get the wrong idea that you’re trying to get your wand back, and I don’t want to have to hurt you, or worse, hurt myself.”

“Yes, okay.”

With a wave of Harry’s wand, Draco undoes the spell. Harry sits up slowly, so as not to alarm Draco, who has quickly scrambled to his feet, the dirty file hugged to his chest, wand still trained on Harry. Harry follows after him, head throbbing and legs unsteady.

Draco casts a healing charm his way before strengthening a Disillusionment Charm around them.

Feeling much steadier, Harry exhales. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you in the first place. I had no other means to incapacitate you.”

“You could have just told me what was going on.”

Draco shrugs. “I had to make sure you were trustworthy. And honestly, I’ve wanted to knock you out for years, so this very much fulfilled a boyhood dream of mine,” Draco says, his lips tugging upward. Harry pauses to look at him. The monster in his chest is awake, thrashing about as affection and desire feeds it.

Harry knows he’s fucked.

They make their way towards Harry’s car after checking on the unconscious orderly. Once settled in, Harry starts the car and drives, past the gates of the asylum and onto the stretch of empty country road. He glances at Draco, not at all shocked to see the tears that are streaming down his battered face.

“Where to?” Harry asks softly.

Draco continues to stare out ahead of him as he answers, “the only safehouse I know. A house on Spinner’s End, Cokeworth.”

Harry draws in a sharp breath.

[nik-the-bik]

"Exchanging Body Heat" - Jekyll & Utterson Fic

Here I go combining the "snuggle for warmth" and "only one bed" cliches like the hack that I am.

Jekyll/Utterson is superior y'all

CW: Some hints of internalized homophobia from one of the characters. A character feels kinda guilty for having sexual thoughts and I definitely scaled it back from what it was in the first draft but if I need to go further please please please let me know.

Read more of my "Oh My God They Were Roommates" fics?

*****

It was late, bitterly cold, and the winter winds rattled against the ice-covered window as Henry Jekyll finally came back into the tiny room he shared with Gabriel Utterson.

“Any spare blankets left?” Gabriel asked, teeth chattering as he sat on his bed wrapped in nearly every sweater, jacket, and blanket that the two of them possessed.

“None,” Henry sighed, wrapping his own collection of sweaters and coats tighter against himself. He brushed a hand through his hair, which was getting far longer than he was used to and starting to grow out into a thick collection of curls. “I don’t know how we’re expected to sleep tonight.”

“I cannot believe that the school hasn’t found us any alternate housing,” Gabriel said. “How can we be expected to live through the winter with a hole in the building’s roof? It’s negligence, and quite frankly I’m willing to start a nasty petition to--”

“The hallways are freezing,” Jekyll murmured, coming to Gabriel seated on the bed.

“Are you alright?” Gabriel asked, lifting the blankets to let his best friend sit next to him and wrap himself in their warmth.

“I will be,” Henry smiled at him, his cheeks pink from the bitter air that dominated their dormitory.

Henry’s smile warmed Gabriel only slightly. “What are the others doing?”

“Well,” Henry began, “the folks who were able to reach the extra store of blankets first seem to have hoarded them all for themselves—”

“That’s kind of them—”

“--and there’s a collection of people camping out around the fireplace in the common room.”

“How many?”

“There’s barely any space to walk around them on the floor.”

“Dear Lord.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the shrieking of the wind outside.

“This never would have happened in that brand new building near the river that you would have been in if I hadn’t—” Henry began.

“Henry, don’t.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“None of this is your fault,” Gabriel said, staring hard at Jekyll. “I wouldn’t change my mind about living here with you for a moment.”

“I still wish that I could afford better.”

“And I wish your father wasn’t such an arse.”

Gabriel was pleased to see that Henry’s glum expression cracked into a small smile after that comment.

“Besides,” Gabriel said, “it’s really not unbearable when we’re both under these blankets together.”

Henry’s smile widened and cheeks grew a touch rosier. “That’s thermodynamics for you.”

“What now?”

“Thermodynamics,” Henry said, that small twinkle in his eye appearing as the topic turned to his favorite subjects. “Well, more like entropy, really. It’s when energy transfers from one thing to another as heat.”

“Oh.” “Entropy is neat because everything is always trying to reach thermal equilibrium. So, because you were warmer than I was under these blankets, your body is trying to warm up my body.”

Gabriel blushed. “That’s, uh—”

“Before, your body was just losing heat to the outside air, which was much cooler than your own temperature. Now that I’m here, and my temperature is maybe slightly warmer than the outside air, I’m helping you preserve more of that heat energy for yourself. Make sense?”

“Mmhmm,” Gabriel affirmed, suddenly unable to look at Henry without feeling flustered.

“And then a little friction should help too,” Henry said, teasing now as he started rubbing his hands rapidly over Gabriel’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth.

“Alright, alright, I get it, Chemist.”

“Well, thermodynamics is really more in the realm of physics—”

“A technicality. It’s all science stuff.”

“I thought little technicalities were important to Lawyers.”

Gabriel finally brought his gaze back to Henry’s and was filled with that comfortable fuzziness of seeing his friend looking so affectionately back at him.

“I guess what I’m trying to get at,” Henry said, glancing downward, “is that if we want to stay warm tonight, maybe it’s best if we stay close.”

Gabriel’s stomach flipped. “What? But—but how?”

“Well, I know it’s not ideal, but—” Henry started, his whole face blushing now.

“But?”

“But if we shared the same bed and used all of the blankets together, we’d probably avoid frostbite tonight.”

Gabriel gulped. Share a bed? Share an itty bitty single-person bed? With Henry? The two of them would have to be practically on top of each other!

“Do you really think—”

“I know it won’t be very comfortable at all, but—”

Gabriel’s mind began to wander to the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, Henry’s body beneath his--- his eyes flickered back up to Henry’s. “If it means surviving the night and being able to keep all of my fingers in the morning, I think we can manage.”

Henry gave him a shy smile in return. “I think we can manage. Just for a night.”

“There are plenty of worse people I could be doing this with, anyway,” Gabriel teased.

Henry laughed. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather explore entropy with.”

“God, Henry, when you say it like that—"

Both erupted into nervous giggles.

“Well—should we try to get some sleep then?” Henry offered. Gabriel felt his heart do a little skip as he nodded.

Neither of them bothered trying to clean up before going to sleep. They didn’t want to risk losing any of the warmth they had built up in their little blanket pile together. The two of them worked themselves into a position on Gabriel’s bed, which sat further from the very poorly insulated window than Henry’s. With Henry being the taller and broader of the two, and both a bit bulkier from all the sweaters, it was tricky finding a position where they could fit comfortably without Gabriel being cradled right up against his chest.

“Are you alright?” “Mmhmm.”

“Maybe if your arm goes—”

“Yeah.”

The two of them lay chest-to-chest, Gabriel just slightly on top of Henry, hands against his chest while his face rested in the crook of his friend’s neck. He felt the thrill of his heart fluttering in his chest, something he was all too cognizant of with Henry being oh-so close. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to be laying against him, the weight of a thick pile of blankets laying heavily over them both. Henry squirmed slightly underneath him.

“Do you mind if I--?” he asked, as he pulled his left arm, slightly trapped under Gabriel, out and instead draped it over his friend, resting it comfortably around his waist.

Gabriel blushed deeply, grateful that they had turned out the lights before laying down.

“Is this okay? If not, I can move,” Henry whispered.

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. If I’m practically crushing you, you deserve to be as comfortable as possible,” he answered.

Henry sighed, and the two lay still for a moment.

“I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you. I know it’s weird, but—” Henry began.

“Henry, I’m alright,” Gabriel muttered, heart sinking. “Besides, there are plenty of worse people I could be with, remember?”

Henry chuckled. “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

They grew quiet. The bit of Gabriel’s face that was exposed to the open air felt the chill of the room while the rest of him basked in the warmth of the little nest they had created together. Soon he became used to the gentle rhythm of Henry’s breathing as his friend quickly drifted off to sleep. Gabriel, however, wasn’t very tired at all.

It had been a little over a year now since Gabriel had realized his romantic feelings for Henry. He loved him, deeply, and was content to spend the rest of his days loving him as the best of friends if that was all Henry ever wanted. But there had been plenty of nights where the two laid separate in their own beds, Gabriel fantasizing about scenarios a bit too much like this one. He’d lay there, thoughts wandering to embarrassing places as Henry lay innocently on the other side of the room. He would never dare confess to these private desires and risk destroying his friendship with Henry, even though Gabriel had no idea how Henry would react if he ever did find out about his feelings. It’s not as though the topic of homosexuality had ever come up naturally…

A tiny part of him wanted to harbor hope. To hope that Henry cared for him too, that Henry could also—

Fear squandered that part of him though. Gabriel wasn’t one to let himself daydream like that for very long.

Still, here they were. And it had been Henry who had suggested cuddling to stay warm, hadn’t it? Did this even count as cuddling if it was utilitarian, the way he had tried to assure Henry that it was?

Cuddling or not, Gabriel couldn’t help but relish in this moment. It was almost perfect. He cherished the sound of Henry’s gentle breathing, his smell, the feel of Henry’s strong arms around him, the feeling of his chest beneath his hands…

It was around then that he felt Henry move beneath him. Henry sighed, pulled him closer, and –

Dear god. Had he felt Henry’s lips brushing against his forehead, or was he only imagining it? He could have sworn that it had felt like the softest, most delicate kiss.

Gabriel felt himself tense up and his breath catch. Surely that was an accident? A trick of the mind? Nothing but wishful thinking? It took all willpower he had inside of him to deny his instinct to snuggle closer to Henry, wrap his arms around him, kiss his neck, tangle their legs together—He felt his face grow hot and his breathing get shallower—mind exploring places that his hands would never dare. His heart was racing and surely, surely with how close they were, Henry must be able to feel it too?

A wicked thought sprung into his head, and before he had time to rationalize it away, Gabriel felt the devil seize his tongue.

“Henry, H-henry!” he whimpered.

Henry stirred and lifted his head just a little. “What is it?”

“I-I-I’m fr-freezing, please—”

“Come here, come here!” Henry pulled him still tighter to his chest and didn’t pause for a second when Gabriel threw his arms around him. Soon Gabriel could feel the firm pressure of Henry’s hand rubbing along his back, each movement sending his poor heart into a frenzy. A tiny part of him felt guilty deceiving him like this, tricking his friend into letting him delight in their bodies entangled together, indulging in his deepest fantasies.

Yet he had never, ever, felt so deliciously warm.

[mercurysnitch]

1976 Guitar (200 follower celebration)

Summary: An Australian runaway walks into a London pub... and finds herself having a drink with the one and only Roger Taylor.

A/N: As promised, my little celebration piece. I actually started this after I hit 150 followers, but I put it aside because I wanted to work on other things, and then decided to keep it for my next follower milestone. Which ended up taking a lot longer than I was anticipating, but hey, we got here in the end. 

Just fyi for clarity, the reader here is Australian, but living in London after finishing journalism training. Yes, even in the 70s London was full of runaway Aussies. But it must have seemed a lot further away in the days before instant messaging and video chat and free phone calls over the internet.

Title is from a Skyhooks song, recorded well after the 70s, incidentally. The bits in italics are lyrics from the song. This isn’t a song fic, and I honestly can’t remember why this is set in 1976 (I think it just sort of popped into my head like that) but those particular lyrics seemed quite fitting.

Warnings: Drinking, light swearing

*********************************************************

...one night I met a girl at the Sebel bar

And she taught me how to play that 1976 guitar

London, 1976

You decided you liked English pubs soon after you moved to London. They were cosier than the airy places you were used to back home, and the clientele were a lot less rough. Most of the time.

Your favourite pub was your local, just around the corner from your poky little second-floor flat. Decent food, good drinks, and interesting people. The bands playing on Saturday nights were always worth a listen too. Tonight, though, was a weeknight, which meant you were there for a stiff drink and maybe a nice greasy pub meal.

You hardly looked at the bartender as you flopped onto a stool. He floated over almost instantly anyway. "What can I get yer?" "Whiskey please" you ordered, attempting to be polite but mostly sounding tired. The barman smiled. "Coming up." It was fairly empty in the pub, so he returned with your drink almost immediately. You smiled gratefully and wasted no time taking your first sip. But you'd barely swallowed it, still dealing with the afterburn, when you heard a huff of surprise from a neighbouring stool.

You turned in the direction of the noise to discover the source: a youngish bloke with shaggy, pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. He looked strangely familiar, but you couldn't think where you recognised him from. If you weren't so annoyed you would've been taken aback by how attractive he was. Instead you glared at him. "What's your problem, mate?" He flashed you an annoyingly pretty smile. "Nothing. Just don't see many girls drinking whiskey like that." "Like what?" you shot back. "Like they do it all the time. Suits you, though." He flashed the smile again, and you felt your anger ebbing away.

Seeing the smile again seemed to jolt your memory. "Fucking hell," you gasped, "you're Roger-" "Don't say it" Roger hissed, cutting off your exclamation. "You'll tell the whole pub and then I won't get a moment's peace all night." You immediately looked downcast. "Sorry." Roger smiled reassuringly. "It's alright."

You eyed Roger curiously. "So tell me, what's the drummer from Queen doing in a place like this?" He broke into a cheeky grin. "I could ask you the same question" he said flirtatiously. "I've had a very long day and I live around the corner" you told him. "What about you?" "We used to play here, in the early days" he explained. "I always liked the atmosphere, and the people are always… interesting."

Suddenly you noticed him eyeing you up with curiosity. "I like your accent but I don't recognise it. Where're you from?" he asked casually. "Australia" you told him cheerfully. You noticed his expression fall slightly. "Not from Sunbury, I hope" he joked. You grinned cheekily. "Melbourne, actually. But I don’t blame you for not liking Sunbury." Roger was shocked. "You know about that?" You nodded. "I was there. It was a great day, actually, for me at least." Suddenly you smiled. "Anyway, whoever thought booking Queen to play at Sunbury was a good idea clearly knew nothing about bloody Sunbury. Or Australians, frankly." Roger smiled grimly at the memory. "God that was a shit gig. Might be the worst reception we've ever had." "If it makes you feel any better I enjoyed your set" you told him softly. "Queen's just a bit too sophisticated for most Aussies, I think." "But not you?" he asked, smiling. "But not me" you agreed.

"So what brought you to London anyway?" Roger asked. "I got sick of Australia" you told him. "It's so… behind, culturally. Anyone who's a serious artist or writer or whatever buggers off to London or somewhere first chance they get. So when you're still there you feel so far away from everything, it really feels like you're at the arse-end of the world sometimes." Roger grinned. "Arse-end of the world. I like that" he mused. "But I don't think you've come to the other side of the world just because you thought Australia was boring." You stared at him crossly. "Oh yeah? Why d'you reckon I'm here then?" you asked, challenging him with a look. "I think you ran away from something" Roger declared softly. "As far away as it was possible to get, just about."

You stared at him in shock. Now you thought about it, he wasn't exactly wrong. Suddenly your expression darkened. "Well, I suppose I'm running away from my mother and her bloody expectations of how I should live my own bloody life" you grumbled. He quirked an eyebrow. "Expectations?" "She wants me to be like her" you explained. "Find a nice bloke with a ‘suitable’ job, get married, buy a house, pop out a few kids, be a bloody housewife for the rest of my days." 

"And you don't want that" Roger said quietly. He understood how it felt to choose a life different from the one your parents wanted for you. "No, I bloody well don't" you agreed. "I want to achieve things with my life, have a proper career." Your mother had told you several times that there was no point trying to advance in your job since you were just going to quit when you got married anyway. The recent feminist revolutions seemed to have entirely passed her by, but then Australian society in general did have a tendency to run a bit behind on things like that.

Roger's gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "And what might that career be?" You smiled. "I'm a music journalist. Well, I'm a researcher right now, but I'm trying to freelance a bit on the side." Roger nearly laughed. "Y'know, most music writers seem not to like us for some reason" he observed wryly. "But I get the impression you might be an exception." You grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” "Maybe I would" Roger quipped.

You both drank quietly for a while, Roger gazing at you curiously. "Y'know, you never did tell me what's driven you to drink on a Wednesday night" he commented, casually as could be. "You really want to know?" you asked incredulously. Roger nodded. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't, love." You sighed. "Well, I was supposed to have a date last night, but he stood me up, which was just a delightful way to spend an evening" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then this morning my boss was even more of an arsehole than usual, and I found out my article that was supposed to be published next week got pulled from the issue, so god knows if it'll ever see the light of day now. And then when I got home the disappearing date had the nerve to ring with a pathetic excuse that I'm almost certain he made up, and apparently he was blind to the possibility I wouldn’t want to reschedule the date he missed until I spelled it out to him."

Roger winced in sympathy. "Christ, that is a shitty day." “Well, it seems to have improved since I got here” you observed, flashing a sly smile. Suddenly he grinned, not bothering to be subtle about eyeing you up again, almost appraisingly this time. “You know, I could make it even better, if you’re interested” he said smoothly. You cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Oh, really? And how exactly would you do that?” “Have dinner with you” he replied, not missing a beat.

You blinked, shocked. “You want to-to what, take me out to dinner? Why?” “You seem interesting” Roger said, shrugging. “Besides, I like having company when I’m out, being alone’s not as fun.” You had to agree with him there. “So is it a date, then?” you asked, still a little uncertain about the turn your evening was taking. Roger smiled cheekily. “If you want it to be” he said. He seemed nonchalant, but you thought you detected a flicker of uncertainty under the rock-star swagger. You grinned. “You know what, bugger it. Take me on a dinner date, Roger.”

******

There were some decisions in your life you would live to regret, but going on that first impulsive date with Roger wasn’t one of them. One date very quickly became many, and before you knew it Roger was a fixture in your life. Well, as much as a touring rock star could be, anyway. You found it oddly satisfying writing a postcard telling your mother you were going out with a shaggy-haired rock’n’roll drummer, knowing he was almost the complete opposite of the sort of person she wanted you to pair up with. You’d also finally managed to get an article published in the paper, but, predictably, your mother’s response to your postcard entirely neglected that achievement in favour of detailing every reason she thought you should leave Roger and return home immediately. None of them really held much weight, and the suggestion your actions would damage your reputation back home was in your view rather forcefully disproven by the enormous quantity of messages you received from both friends and relatives congratulating you on both the article and your choice of boyfriend.

You did eventually find the things your mother wanted for you with Roger, in a way. Technically you never actually got legally married, but you were deeply committed to each other. And you did end up with the big house and the family of your own, alongside a flourishing career in rock journalism. It wasn’t always easy, juggling everything and getting people to take you seriously as a journalist, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes, just sometimes, you were just a tiny bit grateful for that shitty day in 1976.

In '74 we got tight, in '75 we starred

Then we learned to play that 1976 guitar

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A/N: I don’t think there’s too many Australianisms in here, but feel free to ask if you’re confused!

Taglist: (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed/think you should be on here but aren’t - it’s been so long some tags have changed since I added them) @wandering-at-midnight @royal-avengers @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @wineandwanderings @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr @mercurycrowley

[shelbystories]

Ollie - Querencia

Querencia: adjective; [Kwi-ren-cha] a feeling of home or a place that makes you feel safe.

Alfred Solomons wasn't what one would perhaps describe as a lenient boss. Working for Alfie meant there was no room for error, nor was there room for uncertainty or panic. He wasn't always like that, but in certain times when the occasion called for it, he was unrelenting.

You knew this through Ollie himself, only having ever met Alfie once yourself; from what you gathered, or rather what was presented, he seemed like a nice man. Violent and unpredictable were not adjectives you would describe him with, but given he was a respected gangster, you figured it may be true. Still, you had an automatic distaste for the Jewish gentleman for the way he treated Ollie. Several times he had come to you, either crying, angry or both, and most of the time it was because of Alfie.

Such a day as that, again, it seemed.

Tommy Shelby had arrived at Camden Town Bakery with a proposition for Alfie, and every worker knew that Tommy brought the absolute worst out of Alfie in terms of his mood. Ollie was no stranger to this. Every time he was mentioned, every time Tommy showed his face, Ollie got the brunt of it. Being Alfie's assistant, he was the one that was present during meetings, and when it was with a Blinder, tensions rose very high.

Tommy was busy antagonising Alfie, nothing unusual, when he turned his attentions to Ollie.

"Isn't that a fact, Ollie, I stopped to tie my shoelace?"

Tommy's voice shocked Ollie, quite clearly not expecting to be drawn into the conversation between the two men. Alfie made no effort to turn to Ollie, though he was curious now as to the game afoot; he could see Tommy's plan concerning Ollie. His eyes on Tommy instead of his boss, knowing no doubt he'd be furious, Ollie nodded and looked away. Tommy continued his point, telling Alfie that he had planted a grenade behind one of the barrels downstairs.

"He tied his lace, Alfie, and there is a kid at the door."

Tommy glanced at Ollie as he spoke, his tone playing on Ollie's obvious nerves.

"From a good family, too, Ollie it's shocking what they become."

"What were you doing while he was doing this?" Alfie asked, irritation evident now, but whether it was at Ollie or just the situation wasn't very clear. Ollie shrugged and shook his head.

"He just tied his lace, nothing else-"

"Yeah, but what were you doing?" Alfie had cut him off, wanting to get down to the facts rather than draw out a conversation he, quite frankly, wasn't willing to have. Ollie hung his head slightly, posture dropping with a some tire.

"I was marking the runners in the paper."

Alfie sighed, handing Ollie a gun. He asked him to shoot the kid outside that Tommy had arrived with, but the Shelby was quick to stop him, informing Alfie that the grenade would blow if anyone but himself walked out of the door. Ollie sighed in relief, inaudibly. While he was no stranger to killing, it came with the job, he was always uneasy about those kinds of scenarios. The meeting dragged on, and Alfie and Tommy came to heads.

"He did tie his fuckin' lace, Alfie."

Alfie challenged Tommy's story, Ollie however had bought in fully. He didn't trust the Blinders as it was, and knew Alfie was hot-headed and easily overlooked situations. He stared at Tommy as he recounted blowing up his own pub. Ollie caught Tommy's gaze and his panic became outwardly clear.

"65? No deal," Tommy spoke. "Ollie, what do you say?"

"Jesus Christ, Alfie, he tied his fuckin' lace, I saw him!" Ollie shouted, not as calm and collected as his boss, who was staring the Shelby down without so much as a breath out of line. "He planted a grenade I know he did, Alfie it's Tommy fuckin' Shelby-"

Alfie stood, hands banging on the desk as he did so, and grabbed Ollie by the scruff of his collar.

"You are behaving like a fuckin' child; this yeah, is a mans world. Now, take your apron off and go sit in the corner like a little boy, right. Go on, fuck off."

Ollie was let go with a less than gentle drop, and he shuffled out of the room without another word, the last thing he heard was Alfie's invitation to Tommy to continue talking about hand grenades.

Ollie wandered down the stairs of the bakery and out of the front door, his apron bundled into the side of his pants as he walked. At a quick pace, he managed to make it to your front door in record time, knocking with urgency and hoping you were home. The door swung open, and before you had managed to greet him, Ollie had brought you into his arms. You were stood in the doorway with him, his head buried in your hair and arms wrapped around you. You hugged him back, albeit a little confused.

"Hello," you chuckled, pulling away just a little so you could see his face. His breathing was fast but he seemed to be trying to calm himself down. "Hey, woah, it's alright. Come in here."

You took Ollie's hand and led him into your sitting room, a little messier than it usually would have been. Clearing a pile of newspapers and some cleaning equipment off the couch, you let him sit and parked yourself next to him.

"Alfie?" you asked, a rhetorical question just to break the tension. He simply nodded, head in his hands as he breathed out heavy breaths. Rubbing a comforting hand over his back, you let him calm himself. "If it helps, I can kill him?"

Ollie laughed, making you smile, and lifted his head back up.

"You wouldn't stand a chance, love."

"Perhaps not, but there's no harm in trying, right?"

Ollie had laughed again, and you joined in; his laugh was one of your favourite things about him. Certain days it was rare, but for the most part he smiled and laughed a lot. You knew he loved your humour, too, so when he was feeling low you knew your job.

"Sorry for barging in here, it seems like you were busy," Ollie said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to him. You leant your head against his shoulder.

"No task is more of a priority than you."

The two of you spent a while longer on the couch, mostly in silence, but a comfortable one nonetheless. Enjoying each others company, neither one wanted to move, though Ollie knew he should be going.

"Alfie'll be looking for me, I'll have to head back." His voice was lazy, suggesting he didn't really want to go anywhere. You shared the sentiment.

"Don't go, I'll handle him," you spoke in a mock tough tone, and Ollie chuckled. Sitting up, he brought you with him. You placed a kiss on his cheek and smiled. "You know I could."

"Oh, definitely. It's not as though he's a foot taller than you or anything like that." Ollie mocked, and you nodded victoriously.

"Exactly, finally you're seeing some sense, Ol."

Ollie smiled at you, standing and making his way to the door. Once there, he turned and caught your lips briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you, Y/N. I love you, and I'll see you later."

"I love you, too, I'd get your arse back to that bakery before you lose your head."

Winking at you, he slipped round the door and walked off in a much better mood than when he'd left Alfie. The list of why Ollie had fallen for you was a long, long one, but at the top was always how homely it felt being around you. You just seemed to make everything right, no matter what. Anything bad Ollie could bring to you, somehow managed to lose it's hold. You were like a safe space, and he knew that as long as you were around, everything could be okay.

[lilylovessev]

the nanny || snamione

“I don’t know why it is that you find it so funny,” Hermione Jean Granger responded to the laughter of her friends as she looked between them. “I happen to enjoy making the most of my academic talents.” She had just announced that she was taking on a research project starting soon, which had somehow conjured up this reaction from her closest friends. For some reason, the fact that she hadn’t yet gotten herself a ‘real’ job, was astonishing to them all.

“You’re going to end up with far more letters after your name than is necessary. Get a bloody job, ‘Mione.”

“I don’t need to rush into a job. Has what’s happened to us not taught you anything about the value of doing what you want with your life, Ronald?” 

There were times when she wondered how it was that she managed to put up with him, and then she remembered everything that they had been through together. Their relationship had been somewhat strained as of late. She wasn’t as desperate to settle down as he was. She certainly didn’t need to marry him or immediately start a family in order to feel fulfilled in her life. She wanted to take things slow and focus on building her career, and to do what she wanted, there was every expectation that she stood out. In order to stand out, she was doing as much as possible to build her academic resume. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t doing anything other than studying and research. It was fairly safe to say that her life was really rather hectic outside of time spent in the library. 

As much as you’d very much think that the life of a hero would be relatively easy to navigate, that had been far from the case for her. The trauma of it all had been bad enough, the attention in the afermath had been overwhelming. There had been some money, a little, but she hadn’t wanted it. Quite frankly, all that she’d wanted was just to be able to carry on with her life, or rather to build a life for herself; whatever that currently looked like. 

She’d had to work multiple relatively low income jobs over the last couple of years to sustain herself whilst studying. She was starting to become established in her academic life, and was doing everything that she had to do to make that possible. If that meant bar-staffing or working in a shop, or whatever it was that she had to do then so be it. She was currently looking for another source of income to bide her time whilst she completed her upcoming project. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do just yet, but was keeping an eye on advertisements in the Daily Prophet and at the Ministry. It had opened her eyes, really, having to work some of the jobs that she’d done. It wasn’t really like her at all; it had certainly raised a few eyebrows to see her behind the bar.

She’d just received a little money from her parents, whom she had just visited in Australia. It had taken her far too long to make things right. Despite the fact that she had immediately returned their memories, the whole experience had knocked them for six, and it had taken them quite a while to fully trust her again. Perhaps, that wouldn’t make sense to some, and they had known that she was protecting them. However, she had taken an awful lot from them in one fell swoop. She could understand why they had felt a little put out. They were happy and safe now though, and that was all that had mattered to begin with. 

“Anyway, all of you, laugh as you may... I’ll be Minister one day, just you wait and see.” 

She picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, shrugging her shoulders, “You never know.” She wasn’t planning on getting there in a hurry, but it was indeed a future ambition, no matter what anyone else thought of that being the case. She didn’t really see a limit on what she could achieve. She was working her arse off to better herself, whilst also having rather successfully coped with the trauma that they’d all experienced. She had put herself through therapy, had worked on herself and felt as if she was truly coming in to the next season of her life. She was still very young, yes, which was why she was going to make the most of bettering herself whilst she could. She knew that her friends would be there, undoubtedly so, whatever their current thoughts about what she chose to do with her life were.