cocoavanille

[cocoavanille]

@drarrymicrofic | steal

The Ministry is in the trenches of an international scandal that wouldn't exist if Harry – of course he's the reason – Potter would know how to shut up at the press conference.

When Hermione starts a third circle of lecturing, Draco enters the room with a knock.

– Miss Granger, I have good news and bad news, but before that can I steal the chosen one for a minute?

– ... sure. I could use a break.

Hermione sighs, waving her hand. She's had enough of this circus for the next five to eight years.

Harry, eyes full of desire to curse someone, gladly escapes with him to another floor. Draco locks them up in his cabinet, soundproof charms everywhere. Pours him a cup of tea and places a piece of his favourite chocolate cake on the table.

– What's this about?

Harry asks, looking a little alarmed, but eats anyway.

– You haven't touched food in twenty hours, there's no need for you to appear in Mungo's. About the case on hand – I've managed to contact a few mother's friends in the french ministry and they will be able to help. Both with voting you to keep place in the international magical safety committee and dispelling slander on monday meeting.

– There's a price, isn't there?

– Always. But you and minister have nothing to worry about except giving me a two week vacation once this is all over. I'll be back shortly.

Harry doesn't like it. Doesn't like it at all. But this whole mess needs to be resolved or the ministry is going to drown in battling for public image and they can't afford to spend resources on it, not with black market being on the rise and a serial killer in Wales waltzing around.

– Dare I ask?

– Better not, sweetheart. Finish your cake and lets present Grainger with a little relief. Seriously, you two will send her to the grave with stress one day.

Harry smiles faintly for the first time in hours.

– You're so cute when you care.

– Ew. Drop that.

Draco makes a face like he's eaten a full lemon. Harry laughs and pulls him in by the tie for a long, chocolate and gratitude tasting kiss.

– Now I feel better.

Draco sighs, fixing his appearance and sips some tea from another cup, the one with lavender and white roses on it. Hermione's present for latest equinox.

– You're lucky to have me, Potter.

– Uh huh. I am, as they say, the chosen one after all.

Draco rolls his eyes to the core of the Earth and back and they finally go back to the conference room to ease miss Granger's mind.

[cocoavanille]

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: “brief”; wc 50

It’ll only be brief, Harry reassured himself through gritted teeth.

We’ll keep it brief, he and Draco agreed after they had fallen into bed with each other on the job.

“I’ll see you soon,” Harry promised when he kissed Draco next in parting.

“Forever,” Draco spoke on their wedding day.

[cocoavanille]

So I've been thinking – down the line MC for sure becomes a well-known producer and there are other groups and artists who want to work with her. If she chooses to do so, there are going to be different experiences. She's ultra kind and professional so mostly good ones but... Let's say meeting an artist who's a dick behind closed doors isn't uncommon.

So picture this. While Alltius are on a well-deserved half-rest after their comeback, gathering strength to go on tour, MC works with another group. For a while it's ok and then one evening she comes home and crashes on the couch in the living room with dead eyes, staring at the ceiling.

Finn and Shuu find her first.

– You look like your soul has left your body, want some hot chocolate?

– At this point it's a need.

– On it, miss producer, hold on there.

When it's just her and Shuu, MC asks quietly:

– Hey, you told me you know ___ leader. Is he always... You know.

– I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. Is he bothering you?

– How should I put it... I'm used to sexism in a male dominated field, really, but the degrading nitpicking packed with objectifying comments with a cherry on top in a form of inappropriate flirting was impressive today.

Rian who's been standing in the doorway for a minute scoffs.

– Right, so what I'm hearing is Hiragi getting a punch in the face.

– Rian, you're Not punching anyone.

– Yeah, don't waste your energy, I'll gladly do it myself.

Finn brought a glass of sweetened water so the wait for chocolate wouldn't be exhausting and listened in.

MC laughs, slowly sitting up straight and shakes her head.

– It's fine, If he speaks like that again he's gonna need to find another producer. I should've called it a day immediately but honestly was too shocked. Whenever his elder members aren't around he's like a complete different person.

– Good to know who to avoid.

– And don't be afraid to report him to the management.

Shuu adds, patting MC's back. Hikaru comes back from the store just in time.

– Report what?

– Our producer has been harassed for like half a day from what I understood.

– ... It's Hiragi, isn't it? So the rumours were correct for once. Sad. MC, wanna get out of that arrangement? I'll settle things, trust me – it was your first meeting to discuss the concept of the song, nothing has been signed yet, thankfully.

– If it's not too much trouble on your part.

Shuu sighs, leaning in.

– MC, listen. Even if it would be all trouble in the world, I'm quite sure all of us would feel more content with you being safe and comfortable than our reputation or whatever at the cost of your wellbeing.

The notification comes in. Hikaru reads the message and laughs somewhat nervously.

– There an opportunity to do a competitive game variety with ___ in two weeks. Dance battles and sports included. I guess it's a no?

– Hold on, – Finn smirks, looking at everyone with a glint of mischief, – how about crashing them instead of smacking the face of their leader?

– I'll outdance all of them, bring it on!

Everybody laughs at how serious Rian is, but MC finds it endearing.

Alltius smash the competition and gain themselves a lot of new fans after the show.

They come home to a special winners curry and their favourite drinks on the table.

– You didn't have to do all of this, – Noah points out, digging in, – but thanks.

– It's no trouble. But I also wanted to show my gratitude for throwing their leader in the water in line with the rules of the game. Didn't expect it at all, you guys can be mean!

– It was cold, I checked.

Ren states with a blank expression.

[cocoavanille]

Three, two, one... One two. Idols of Starlight fandom how's the mic working? Alright! Let's start our little radio programme.

Let's discuss something fun, throw in your questions or head canons under the tag.

I'll start: in the group (+ our beloved manager and MC) who do you think is most likely to try something bold and unexpected with their style on a whim or for the concept? Which vibe would they go for in your opinion?

My options:

• Finn trying out some heavy smokey eye just because he felt 🌟 intense 🌟 that day. Guys caught him in the living room and went "nah with that makeup you're not wearing that boring of an outfit" so he ends up in a full on visual kei. Fans love it, but he doesn't stick to it.

• Rian being proposed by their stylist to try long hair for the next album concept, hesitant at first ends up IN LOVE with having almost mid-back length. Bonus points for blonde+red color mix. When Alltius see him with extensions for the first time half goes loud with questions and half just stares in awe. MC is the first in line to braid his hair. Fanbase is in shambles.

• Ren jokes for weeks about slowly falling into his second angsty teenager phase and then starts wearing the most wild gothic accessories to events and total black looks at home (a hoodie to hide yourself and your sorrows in for the win). Shuu stops the madness with eclairs and a talk. Everybody kinda misses the broody Ren who made death-related jokes but it's probably for the best. MC thinks of a new solo song tho – that part of him needs space to show itself.

• Noah going for a more traditionally masculine, cool type of look overall: undercut and some change in clothes. It suits him but members still perceive him as their lovely youngest so he isn't getting any more leeway to play games till 5am.

And a bonus question: who would accidentally cleanse the fandom of homophobes?

I unironically think it would be either Finn or Ren commenting on some big "scandal" in the industry with the "not cool, some people need to get an education" type of line.

As a more fun option – Rian making his own choreo for Alltius stage with a lot of fluid movements and being openly disgusted with people calling it "gay choreo".

– Yall have no idea what kind of choreo you'd get if I wanted to make it real juicy, humble yourselves.

|the video gets deleted by the company to avoid drama|

But Rian is in for the big game, he IS the drama. Out of pure spite he covers like 5 girl group dances/challenges with maximum diva energy.

[cocoavanille]

I need more otome games with at least the ability to choose a male mc, a genderqueer option is a dream.

[cocoavanille]

Beliefs | bittersweet post-canon minific

Yura sighs, locking the screen, silently observes his puppy play with the cat. They're in Saint Petersburg, end of spring filled with storms and glimpses of sun. It's pouring outside and Yura just warmed up after a run to the bakery.

– Will he ever feel better? In that sense.

Victor pauses before answering. Yuuri is back in Japan for two years, he rarely picks up the phone and most of their interactions happen during asian shows nowadays. What's it been since their first visit to Hasetsu? Eight years?

– Depends on what he chooses to believe moving forward. Remember Miyazaki's version of Howls moving castle and Sofie's curse?

– You mean that she was adding to the effect with her own insecurities and lack of self worth?

– Exactly. It doesn't matter how much we, the fans or his family believe in him, unless Yuuri himself challenges how he treats and sees himself.

– I mean it got a little better when he went to therapy, but honestly the month he stopped going it all came back tenfold. It's not that he hates himself even, it's like... Loosing trust in yourself? And frankly I think that's s way worse. What?

Victor ruffles his hair in a reassuring gesture, smiling at the pets playing. Was a good idea to bring the puppy for a visit, little ones have some entertainment at least.

– There comes a point when you can't help someone. Focus on what is feasible. It was his choice to leave this chapter behind and there is nothing we can do to assist him in his growth anymore.

Yura has an almost magical ability to look someone in the eyes and understand exactly what they're feeling, no matter how hard you hide it.

– He hurt you. You never talk about the breakup and it's been years.

– And dumped you as a friend. I would argue this type of breakup hurts more.

– It's weird, isn't it? He's there somewhere, playing coach and doing shows, unhappy and we're here trying to figure out what went wrong. I am two times Olympic champion who lost a friend, you are practically The King of figure skating world who lost a lover. And I can't even be mad at him – it felt like he was punishing himself the year he flew back home for good.

Victor takes a deep breath and voices something he's been saying to himself for a few months.

– There's no point anymore. Drop it. We lost the battle for Yuuri Katsuki recognising the best parts of himself, it's up to him now. I know you hate advices from people you don't share a lot of views with, but take this one from me – don't get caught up in other people's drama to the point it eats you alive. I almost didn't survive – literally – my first ever long-term relationship and loosing half of my friends after the ugly breakup. People who are struggling deserve compassion, but not to the point where you let them walk all over you. Glad you told him to fuck off, by the way.

– He didn't even apologize to you. That was it for me.

Victor lowers to the floor next to Yura, shoulder to shoulder. The rain finally stops, glimpses of sunlight piercing the clouds.

– For what it's worth, I'm glad you're my friend.

– I love you too.

Yura smiles faintly and hugs his two year old siberian princess, kissing the fluffy ear.

Nobody gives you a medal for caring. If they did, they'd have a separate room each, filled to the ceiling.

– Otabek and Mila are going to Tuscany in June, asked if we'd like to join.

Italy, the eternal inspiration. Not the opportunity you want to pass. That's it then, they need new perspectives and some well deserved rest.

– Hope you're going because I'm booking us the place in Florence!

– And I may have called David and pulled a favour to lend us his family villa for three days – olive trees all around, some peace and calm.

Right, Yura's friends with like half of younger Italian top skaters by chance and humour.

– Sounds like we're in for some good fun!

– Yeah let's hope to get back in shape somewhat before starting to work on choreography for your ice play in the end of August if we want to present it in December. Ouch!

Victor pinches his nose with a smile.

– No work talk during rest period, mister best co-choreographer. Where did you put the cinnamon rolls?

– On the counter, I'll brew the tea.

Nobody says it, but Victor knows they both hope Yuuri wins the battle someday. Doesn't matter if they're there to witness it.

He does eventually – his energy lights up in the photos, stories and interviews after the biggest show yet. Something finally clicked. Yura is relieved and he feels a slight hint of sadness – sometimes even the oceans of love we're ready to give aren't enough to help someone if the timing is off.

Love and life are both a mystery, yet they bring sense and color into existence.

– I think I have an idea for the water spirit costume.

Yura says with a frown and Victor pulls out a piece of paper.

Yuuri doesn't write or call, but they're finally content. You can be happy for someone in the distance, nothing wrong with that – stories align then grow apart.

– What are you thinking about?

– Leaving behind something precious.

– Makes room for something sweeter.

That's a good perspective to have, especially after so much hardship. Recalling last five years he truly doesn't understand how Yura is in his right mind.

– Now I get how you haven't gone crazy yet with all the shit you've been through.

– Hope is foolish, – Yura shrugs, – but I don't care. Following your logic, it's better to believe in possibility of a better life for yourself than the opposite. I'm choosing to at least try before despairing.

Maybe that's what it was all along for Yuuri – trying without internally admitting defeat.

Judging by his new programme presented during stars on ice, new strength is finally found. The interview puts a smile on both their faces.

"There came a point where I got tired of always belittling myself and thought – what's the worst that's going to happen if I finally give myself a chance? A real one this time, to be what I am".

What you choose to believe can break you or make you. Yuuri's story is a good example of why you need to choose wisely.

[cocoavanille]

For @drarrymicrofic | brief

A brief interaction is capable of unheard things. Changing someone's internal state entirely, for example.

Harry haven't seen Draco since the year after the war – when he came to call in a favour from Narcissa on Kingsley's orders.

Draco Malfoy Black is placing the enchanted jewellery on the other side of the shopwindow. Harry thinks he's dreaming for a second, blinks but reality slaps him in the face when the man shows his side profile for a second.

A fun trip to Paris, Fleur and Hermione said, to relax and escape the "british doom".

– What's wrong?

Nothing. Everything is finally getting right, if his feelings are any indicator.

– I'll catch up with you at the cafe, ok?

Hermione frowns, but doesn't question him further, takes a look at the sign and turns around to chase Fleur and Ron.

Harry takes a few breaths and pushes the stylish black door with silver handle open.

– Good afternoon.

Draco freezes at the sound of his voice for a few seconds, then lifts his head.

The eyes, Harry thinks, belong to a very different person he saw back then. Makes sense, they're thirty now.

– Good afternoon. Are you looking for something specific?

For some reason Harry is sure it took up half of Draco's strength to answer him in that calm tone. He shakes his head with a tired yet genuine, faint smile.

– Just found it. Can we talk? Promise I'm not here on ministry business.

– And I am not a criminal by the french wizarding laws.

With a flick of a wand the sign on the door reads "closed" and two cups levitate themselves on the table.

– Tea or coffee?

– Anything.

– Air then, fine.

Draco smirks and easily dodges a flashy spark of green.

– You're such a bitch.

Harry sighs, sudden relief taking over his body.

– You're an impulsive asshole. Some things never change, I see. You're having black coffee with some pain au chocolat.

Harry totally forgets he's supposed to be at the café until Hermione texts him.

"I'm fine. Sorry, having coffee somewhere else. See you tomorrow".

– Your wife?

Draco asks softly, ready to let him go, but Harry isn't walking away anytime soon.

– Hermione. See you don't keep updates on the British scene? Been divorced for eight years now. You?

– Close friends, mother and cousins are the only people I allow to bother me.

As if this day could get any better.

[cocoavanille]

Isn't meant to be.

Drarry no Voldy omegaverse AU where omega Draco is constantly bombarded with marriage proposals since he was fifteen, but he's still single at 23, happily married to cruses and enchantments reserch. Because his standards are, quite literally:

• Harry James Potter – the most wanted alpha in the wizarding world and his childhood best friend. Also his eternal crush and a man he would marry in a heartbeat, but Harry is playing the lying to himself game and he's not going to sit and wait, he's got plans for this lifetime. And seeing Harry with his girlfriends? Well, he got used to it during highschool.

He's happy to be his friend and partner in dangerous endeavours. If there's nothing more – fine, he has a life of his own.

• Theodore Nott, who's a ride or die friend and an alpha that has zero (more like negative) interest in him because of them being incompatible scent wise.

• Lucius Malfoy, who is a great father in this AU. Did they argue, especially about Draco pursuing a hard, risky job without any need to work? Sure. Did Lucius almost kill the idiot, who thought he could get to their inheritance by putting Draco under the imperious curse while they were at a party? Also yes. Draco was allowed to get All of Abraxas' things, research notes and access to the secret laboratory after Lucius understood there's no way Draco's backing down on a decision to continue his grandfather's projects. He isn't a fan, but will offer support – in a form of letting him be.

• Sirius Black, the scandalous uncle who always told him and Harry to never accept something your soul is against.

So Draco didn't.

He doesn't care, how many times more he will be called difficult, a disgrace of an omega, a tragedy for such a traditional family and all that.

As long as he's true to his heart and can stay by Harry's side, he's content. All is well.

Or so he thinks untill Harry fucking Potter decides to show up at his door in the cold rainy night, with a lost and awkward:

"I think I've been in love with you since the fifth year."

It takes Draco a couple of seconds to bite back a pained laugh.

– What do you expect me to say? You know. You knew then too. Everybody did – our friends, your mom, my dad. You have some nerve saying this to my face, Harry.

– Because I wasn't pitying you?

– Because I told you years ago and all you said was "cool". So, there you go, youngest head auror Potter: cool. Now I would love to wake up to a world where we can be friends and move on with our lives.

– I can't be your friend, Draco. Not like this.

Draco looks him dead in the eyes and asks himself why is he even considering giving that idiot a chance after dying inside each time he kissed a girlfriend in front of him, each time he flirted with the handsome coworker sitting by his side. Or showed up to his birthday party with hickeys on display, getting a murderous side eye from Hermione.

– Well too bad, because I can. And will, if you'd still like it. Now get home, it's late and we both have work tomorrow.

Draco closes the door, puts up the charm lock and goes to take a bath with a strange calmness in his chest.

Turns out his main standard is his own self-respect, diligently taught by mother and Regulus.

Wow, Draco thinks to himself, seeing Harry trying to win him over with letters, gifts and everything but what he's meant to do – apologise and back off.

Maybe it's Not meant to be.

The change in behaviour is almost appalling to him without a particular reason. He feels bad, but can't get over it. Decides to talk it out with mother when guilt of not wanting to accept Harry's feelings gets too heavy.

Mother looks at him with a sincere surprise and asks with brows, but not tone raised:

– Why on earth would you want to be with someone who chose to be a dick about your feelings for years?

– We were young and I was no sunshine either.

– You can argue, sure, but he still did it. And continued to pretend your confession was a joke years after school. So tell me, does it seem unnatural to be repulsed by the attention of someone who's took you for granted for years?

– ... I suppose not.

– Wonderful. By the way, I've asked some friends about your request and they have a place at the French Institute of High Magic, but you'll have to teach from time to time. If it's to your liking–

Draco feels his whole spirit light up. That's the opportunity he was hoping to get for years!

– I'm going! Set me up an interview. I'm getting into their research programme if it takes to fight a bloody vivern.

Draco Malfoy is an example of everything a proper omega shouldn't be – ambitious, stubborn, with a number of strong opinions. Not bound by poverty or fear of dying alone, uncomfortable for the surrounding alphas and hierarchy.

Draco Malfoy was never happier than after he's finally decided to let go of the only alpha he's been ready to change himself for.

Paris greets him with the warmth of grandfather's flat, welcome cookies from dear cousin on the table and a handsome coworker his age who doesn't waste years giving mixed signals – invites him to dinner after two months of getting to know eachother and is patient enough to give them time to build some trust.

Harry's letter finds him on a bright summer's day.

"... It doesn't feel right, I'm coming to see you."

Draco scoffs, throwing the paper in the chimney. Writes back a short, for once completely honest:

No need. It will get easier and pass, just wait it out. Speaking from experience.

Harry's friends will probably call him a bitch and whatnot, depending on what Harry tells them. Draco couldn't care less – Theo and Astoria are visiting next weekend, he's doing his dream research, cousin Amelie is baking her fabulous balckberry lavender cake.

And for once, all is truly well.

There's a difference between loving someone and holding on to an idea of what could be. If only he knew this sooner.

Harry Potter indeed does get over it on a romance level. However he despises France and anything to do with it for the rest of his life for taking his childhood best friend away from him.

Because doing so is easier than to admit defeat. Draco – the omega that he thought will always be by his side, no matter what, after all they've been through, the one he thought of as naturally his – moved on without a shadow of a doubt. And he underestimated that effort, honesty and intentions were, in fact, important to a relationship, as his mother said many times.

Now he wishes he'd listened. Now he knows what his feelings were.

But it's to late and the fire slowly dies out. So much for the "perfect scent compatibility" and "balancing eachother".

Lesson learned, Harry thinks to himself, when the burning feeling is finally replaced with readiness to write a new chapter, no amount of chemistry can make it work if both parties aren't there for it.

It would've been easier to hate, to blame – Draco or himself, but he chooses to crate a new standard:

Respect himself and the person he's in love with next enough to do what's best for both parties.

Their best is living on different sides of the La Manche.

[cocoavanille]

Something sweeter for @drarrymicrofic | welcome

Draco holds Harry's hand and swings his wrist to open the tall door before them, warmth and slight floral scent inviting them in.

– Welcome home.

He's proud of how it all turned out – tidying up and creating a couple of necessary changes to grandfather Abraxas' house was a week-long process. They're in France now, first almond flowers enveloping the branches in the yard, territory quiet and filled with clean, healing energy. Grandfather wasn't an alchemist by degree and a curse expert at heart for nothing. Politics were more of a side gig.

– Can definitely see why you asked for access here to be permitted when Kingsley owed you and Narcissa for that time you've got french aurors off our backs.

Harry looks around in awe, completely speechless when they reach the first floor living room. Light colors, big windows to the garden, lovely deep green and redwood furniture, a small hint of the library on the open shelves. Harry, of course, is immediately drawn to vinyl.

– Impressive collection. Where's the kitchen?

Harry haven't smiled like that for almost a year, something in Draco's heart finally rests at ease,

– Brace yourself for this one.

Harry blinks, then again at the sight of a comfortable huge space with everything you might need for cooking and baking, then walks to the alchemical devices near the left wall, curiously inspects them.

– I suspect these were used for homemade alcoholic drinks and whatnot?

– When they weren't for potions ingredients and alchemical substances that is.

– Cool.

Harry seems unusually energetic here, the enchantments under the house and inside the pool seem to not have lost an ounce of their strength – magical filter, slowly taking away any evil eye, exhaustion or tracing charms. Layed more than forty years ago, still going strong. Draco often wondered if he'll ever be able to equal Abraxas in strength and precision.

Draco pours him some tea and leans into a warm hug when they're back in the living room.

– I like it here, unexpectedly cozy despite the huge space and the previous owner.

– He'd love you, – Draco says quietly, closing his eyes, – you would become his favourite grandson in minutes.

Harry stays still for a couple seconds. Rubs his back gently, presses a soft kiss on his forhead.

– You were close, weren't you? Before he died.

– I guess?... He never spent time with father but always took me to hang out during summer and visited on random just to see me and mother. Sometimes I think he was the only person in this family who saw me as a wizard with some level of intelligence and had some faith in my abilities. Whenever he had time we were always somewhere in nature, he taught me to connect with elemental magic. Or in the library at the manor, he had a cabinet in there – lots of puzzles and dangerous artifacts I was allowed to play with. Best moments of my childhood. If I solved one he helped me play pranks on dad. Never on mom tho, old man adored her.

Harry laughs, sincere and lightheaded. Coming here for his recovery after the latest events was the right choice.

– You said he'd like me, why?

Draco sits on the sofa and points to the tea and cookies with his chin. A loud crunch pierces the air.

– You're bold, unapologetic, creative, smart and ambitious. Everything he liked in others. And you're not annoying as many other "heroes". Grandfather often used the saying "a fool convinced of his own righteousness is more dangerous than an earthquake".

– A sentiment I share after years of auror work.

– He was against father joining Voldemort, actually.

– ... Surprising, not gonna lie. So much for pureblood superiority.

Draco smirks, pouring himself some tea and sinks into the couch.

– Exactly. Riddle wasn't a pureblood. There's also a whole point of "why follow someone if you can use them to reach your own goals". According to mother, their relationship with father completely went downhill during the first war. If father listened to mom and him, maybe we wouldn't end up in so much shit eventually. But the past is gone and I got the best thing ever out of that mess, so.

Draco shrugs, belittling the horrors – a staple in their relationship.

– The best thing?

Harry repeats clueless, looking at him with a frown.

– What good could possibly come out of this–

– You, silly. It's always been you.

Draco levitates the cup away and kisses Harry on the lips, eyes closing. If the only way he could get to this point in life with Harry by his side was to go through hell and back, he'd do it again. But only if Harry could be spared from suffering this time.

Harry's cup sloppily slides on the table, they fall on the sofa. Draco presses kisses to his neck, hands under the thick hoodie on hot skin and Harry shivers with a sweet moan.

– How would your grandfather feel about us having sex in his living room?

– I'll show you photos of his one and only young love sometime later, quite the charmer.

– Oh.

The realisation finally hits Harry who's a little slow today.

– This villa is basically a queer space. Once again – welcome home, sweetheart. We can stay here however long you wish.

After two weeks Harry isn't sure if he wants to return to England. He'll think about it after the cherries and magnolias stop blooming.

[cocoavanille]

Drarry AU where the first gen ended Voldy and Harry is raised by his parents and wolfstar, while Draco is a Black because Narcissa dumped Luscious when he was three and Regulus is the father figure. Also, they're a little slow and dramatic, as teenagers are sometimes.

Harry is a tiny bit too confident but has magical abilities, smarts and skills to show for it. Kind, brave, loving and less guarded, but will punch you in the face if that's what solves the issue. Lightning and fire as favourite types of elemental magic, top-3 duelist in school alongside Draco and Ginny.

Draco is a lot more to himself, but social and a great actor. Easily switches from being the life of a party to silently observing or doing his own thing in the corner. Isn't striving for approval at all, in fact has a weird avoidance to it. Already terrifying by year six – striving to become a cruse breaker, thorough understanding of enchantments.

Harry and Draco befriended each other before Hogwarts – used to fight a lot as kids, but then something clicked and the connection was formed. By year one they were friends, year four the only people that they can be completely open up to and be honest with, year six stirred everything up.

Harry has a hard time accepting he's in love with Draco. Not because of any kind of shame or prejudice – he's scared to ruin the trust they've built, loose their little rituals. Loose him as a friend in a case of rejection.

Draco fell first, around the beginning of year four during august, but he's made up his mind to keep it to himself – Harry isn't interested like that and is always surrounded by pretty girls.

Harry almost caught a whiff of something, but he dodged.

– You didn't need to protect me yesterday.

– Sure, you could've handled them on your own. But I wanted to.

– To curse them?

– To take care of you.

Harry turns it into a joke and he isn't even mad – that's the golden boy on brand and he loves his crazy ass. Harry will never like him back and that's ok. He'll live (somehow). Harry is going to marry some beautiful kind-hearted woman and have two or three annoying kids that he will spoil to no end as an uncle.

He's sure until he's not.

July before year seven, Black's summer house. They were discussing this new book on potions alchemy, argued and laughed and then Harry leaned in.

Why the fuck did he kiss him? Why couldn't they just pretend Draco isn't falling apart each time Harry goes to Hogsmeade with a new girl? Why–

– I'm sorry, you're just– I– It's a mistake.

– Kissing me or kissing me?

Draco asks, looking him in the eyes, trying to understand what's going on. Harry seems ridiculously anxious.

– ... Both?

– First of all, calm down, you're not fighting a dragon.

– Am I?

– You'd know, believe me.

Draco smirks and sits him down on the sofa, gently pushing his shoulders. Harry looks up with something so vulnerable and raw he chokes on air. Cold fingers grab his, lips press to the back of his hand.

Draco pretended to feel nothing romantic, to hide every excess smile, gaze, to block both hopeful, sweet and dirty thoughts about Harry, but that single gesture torn down the walls in a second.

– Harry, please stop. I won't be able to keep the act together any longer if you proceed.

His voice trembles and fades. Harry looks up at him with a frown, dead serious, caring.

– What act?

Player Potter at his best – drawing circles on his palm with a thumb, pulling him closer by an elbow. Draco follows like a moth to a light source, like he can't disobey something deep within him and the emerald magic of Harry's eyes.

He lost. He lost a long time ago. Harry's going to reject him, hate him and their friend circle will split in two. It's unavoidable and he feels so stupid. There's no way Harry wouldn't notice, they've known eachother for most of their lives.

– Am I a mistake to you, Harry?

Silence falls. They look into eachothers eyes. Harry's hands hold his, gentle and firm, Draco's breath slows down. So he's to make the first move? Fine. He regains some bits of courage and composure before jumping off the cliff.

– I love you. I love you so, so much, but it doesn't matter if you don't–

It seems Harry only remembers how to speak with actions today. Draco knows deep down in his heart that you don't kiss someone you don't love like that. He isn't experienced, but it's definitely not a casual trick to shut him up.

– Harry James Potter, answer the fucking question.

He breathes out when they part. Grin eyes are full of mirth and warmth, a teasing smile on those tasty lips.

– Say you love me again, Draco.

– I love you.

He obliges, maintaining eye contact. There's nothing to hide anymore, he already confessed. Harry finally feels exposed. Good – he's been for the past five minutes.

– Deflection isn't going to work forever. Why did you kiss me? Twice, mind you.

He can see in great detail how hard it is for Harry to cross the line, but the golden boy manages after a few breaths.

– Because you're the most gorgeous man in the world and I happen to be in love with you.

The knot in his chest finally unties itself, releasing the two years worth of tension. He doesn't expect the wave to almost crush him. Unable to keep a straight face he turns away, but Harry stands up and hugs him, laying his head on the warm shoulder.

– I love you too. Easy, breathe.

Being overwhelmed by feelings isn't new, but he never felt so relieved in his life – safe in the knowledge of reciprocation, held by the only person who has seen the true him.

– Sorry, being a sappy hysterical child wasn't the plan.

– You're just overwhelmed, it's okay. I missed the cue, didn't I? You had feelings for me for some time now?

Draco nods and closes his eyes, grateful he doesn't have to explain himself. Not to Harry – never to him.

– Tea? I've seen white chocolate and lavender lemon cake on the counter.

– There's only two pieces and we're leaving them for Regulus, he's going to eat us instead if we don't.

– Yea-ah not willing to die today. I can bake some chocolate chip cookies?

– Don't bother–

– Draco, look at me.

He slowly pulls away to be met with honeyed warmth in those green eyes.

– I want to take care of you.

And Draco lets him. It's the only way everything makes sense – them kissing and taking care of eachother for the rest of their lives.

[cocoavanille]

Drarry no magic AU where Harry is an investigator and Draco is a profiler.

They were classmates in the rich kids school where a case happened and after that a lot of their peers chose professions in the medical field and law enforcement.

They were friends, if it wasn't for Hermione, Harry would say best friends. Then the academy and uni happened and they haven't seen eachother much, naturally drifting apart. Harry always regretted not inviting Draco for a dance at their prom. Even if he would've pushed him away, Harry would know for sure. They liked eachother, he thinks, more than friends. But it doesn't matter years later – he's 28 and works in the central beaurou, leading the hardest cases.

Fate has strange ways of connecting the strings. First thing in the morning Harry recieves the news they got a serial killer, next week they're recieving help in a form of a profiler. He almost drops a mug in hand when he reads his name:

Agent Draco Black.

He thought it would be awkward, that they would butt heads and all, but Draco made working together so easy it baffled him. Draco now is a reasonable, patient professional with sound logic and ever present attention to details. Still highly anxious and a bitch if someone's asking to be hit with a few kind words, but a lot less feisty than during highschool. He kind of misses that spark.

– I say this with outmost respect that I'm capable off, Harry – you need to see a professional, it's not funny.

– I'm completely fine!

– Do you really want me to go there? Let's see. You're eating once a day with a facial expression of a martyr, have signs of insomnia and overly caffeinated. Your desk is a mess and not the highschool, a "can't focus on anything but the case" type. Your coworkers describe you as a "workaholic with no sign of personal life", you haven't touched your guitar in years and have no other hobbies as of now. Granger called me about three months ago to share a ticket she had to the play and afterwards told me you're distancing yourself from them. You're not fine, you're mentally exhausted and need help. Once we catch that killer you're seeing a psychiatrist and start therapy.

– Or what? You'll make our superiors fire me?

Harry snorts, waving a hand in deflection. Draco lets out a quiet sigh.

– I'm not saying you can't do your job, not at all. You can be both highly capable and in need of support.

– Says a person who would never go to therapy.

– I've been on anti-anxiety meds for two years a while ago.

Harry stops in his tracks, head swinging to face the not-quite-lover-more-than-a-friend-coworker.

– What?

Drago shrugs, tracing details of the picture on the table with his finger.

– One of my cases led me to have some serious PTSD, the anxiety was manageable before but that time really got out of hand. But as you can see I'm completely functional unmedicated now. You need to either open up to your friends or a professional, ideally both. We're not... close now, I know, but it pains me to see you like this. Saving everyone at the expense of yourself will never solve whatever it is that you're trying to solve with self-sacrifice. Now excuse me, captain, I need to call my office. We could use some help.

Harry breakes the pencil in his hand in half. Takes a sip of cold, bitter coffee. Curses at the whiteboard with the latest victim's photos.

It was fine. He managed to make his new normal seem almost natural to his friends, escaped the loud parties and family gatherings where he needed to maintain a sociable persona. On the job nobody expects him to be proper if he can close the case. Everything was perfect until Draco fucking Black, damn hiss nice ass, showed up. A profiler for a reason, he has to admit.

The "help" they're getting is Theodore Nott, a man he haven't met before. His first thought is "handsome", second is "what a talented asshole", third?...

Get away from Draco.

He doesn't like how Draco jokes and laughs with him after they've spent the night working. Harry hates how almost sweet Draco is with Theo. He calls him Theo, ridiculous. Years before that side of Draco was his and his only.

– Aren't you two close?

He says faster than thinks, immediately regretting it after being met with a gaze that could turn one into stone. Draco can be truly intimidating when it came to his friends and family. So they are close.

– Aren't you busy, mr Potter? Wouldn't be kind to hold you back, no need for pleasantries.

Ouch. Pushed back by the wave. Theo frowns, observing their interaction and then chuckles for some reason. Asshole.

Home he catches himself, mentally slapping his own cheek. What right does he have to be mad about Draco getting along with a coworker? They haven't interacted normally for almost ten years, of course he made new friends and maybe even been in a couple relationships... The thought physically aches.

Harry makes himself some camomile tea and sinks into the bed. Turns on the series he can't focus on for a week and slips into his own little world again.

Prom, Draco in a gorgeous dark emerald attire, his suit fitting like a glove, hair slicked back, earrings sparkling under the changing lights. Hermione laughing while Draco fixes her hair, them discussing something, probably Ron being late. Harry holding the hand of a girl who he doesn't even like.

Pansy walked by with a quiet, venomous "pathetic" to his ear. True. He was.

He is still.

Would it feel better if he tells him? Would it change anything? Will Draco give him a chance after he rejected him when they were sixteen?

Draco moved on, he can see it. He thought he has. Maybe that was a lie – as million other small ones he tells himself to believe he's fine.

After the case is closed he steps into the doctor's cabinet.

Three months later he realises he haven't felt truly alive for years.

Six months later he appears on Draco's doorstep, nervous but with a clear decision. He won't be a coward again, even if the answer is no.

Draco is surprised, but lets him in immediately.

– For fucks sake, it's freezing and you don't wear a hat. Your mother has a patience of a saint, I would've killed you years ago.

– I see you're still the "mom friend", some things don't change.

– If some of you were more responsible, I wouldn't have to be.

Draco scoffs then puts a plaid over his shoulders and pours him a cup. Sits on the other side of the couch, staring.

– Are you here for work or?...

– No. I– Actually, I wanted to ask if you want to hang out sometime? I missed you, Draco. Never realised how much before you came to aid us. And also–

– Don't bring up the last years of school, I beg you. It was a humiliation I intend to forget.

Draco cuts him off, takes a sip and states after some time.

– We can do a short roadtrip next month. Two days in the countryside style, lake and forests. I absolutely can't make time till then – we're stacked with work. No details, you know why.

– Of course, I get it. Yes, that works! I'll call you then?

– Sure. Since you're here and cold, we can hang out now. Have you ever seen ... the movie?

– Nope, surprise me.

– Okay, make yourself at home.

Draco turns off the lights and presses play, moving closer to him. Harry clings onto the lingering warmth, hoping Draco will let him at least try to win him over with time. But he also wants to be his friend again, from the bottom of his heart.

– By the way. You and Theodore?...

– Colleagues, friends, drinking budies.

– Huh...

Draco takes one look at him and rolls his eyes with a deep sigh.

– No, Potter, we're not fucking or dating. You're so obvious, hope you don't do undercover work!

Harry bites his lip to not spill out the darkest secret – he's rarely that transparent, it's the "Draco effect", as Ron calls it.

– Are you dating anyone?

– No. But I have a crush.

Harry smirks back at curious Draco – he isn't letting him know yet.

– A secret I'll expose later, if you don't mind.

– They're lucky, – Draco says suddenly, – if they give you any trouble you know who to call.

– Thanks.

Harry laughs and with great effort returns his gaze to the screen. He would gladly explore his face instead, remembering every single curve and line.

Draco doesn't know how lucky he is yet.

[cocoavanille]

A little something for @drarrymicrofic : wound cw: blood

Not everyday a criminal kidnaps one of the top-3 curse breakers in the country, specifically the one who deals with dissonating magical zones and artifacts. Not every day Harry comes back from Wales to find out his husband is missing.

Tracing spells don't work, the bracelet in form of a snake Draco always has on his wrist is either made into dust, or the enchantments are broken. After assesing the situation there's no doubt in Harry's mind – the criminal who escaped last time – torn down the magical border between an old cursed temple and surroundings, is at it again and needs Draco to get access to some other place or artifact.

Emily almost whispers by the end of the sentence, Harry shakes his head.

– No offence, Harry, but you're way to calm about this, it's been three days, it's unlikely he is... you know.

– If we only find the body then he hasn't earned his place in the bloody raiting. Listen, he's the most arrogant, annoying person ever, he's anxious and has a built-in flight response. But he's also magically smart and no stranger to playing the role he needs to survive. And I am barely keeping myself sane, so stop trying to console me and fucking focus.

Ron narrows the search and they stop at two places worthy of a risk from the criminals' point of view.

– Ron and Emily go east, me and Astoria go west. Be careful, that history lover is quite dangerous.

When they apparate at the line of the border, Harry's heart rate spikes – the wards are down, someone's definitely here! And this old temple has a dragon buried inside, if someone is able to reach the depths to get hold of the death commanding lyre, they're all fucked.

Draco knew what he was dragged into. Knew he shouldn't give this creep access to ancient magic, capable of throwing the balance of things off. He was taken hostage to deal with the seal on the entrance and later be used as a sacrifice – Malfoy-Black is almost strong enough to feed the lyre and make it submit. But the madman is undereducated on many accounts and he used it to his advantage.

When Draco was bleeding on the cold stones at the center of the rune-driven spell, the only thing he could see was the sun peaking through the crack in the roof and sparks of dark red magic flying around.

– Why the fuck don't you reply to me?!

The fool swears in panic as the lyre starts playing a song he isn't commanding. Draco doesn't hold his tears back – his hands split open probably hurt like hell, he doesn't feel anything above chest, he's nauseous, but through the streams of thick blood the song he hums on an energetic level pulses, light and melancholic, concentrating the deep charms and whiffs of powers in this place to suddenly envelop the criminal and lock him in a cage of sorts, in a shape of a sphere a little above the ground. This takes almost all of his strength – once the runes loose their shine Draco closes his eyes and concentrates on healing spells. The blood, clean and untainted by lyre's magic, returns to his body. He manages to close the wounds and send a signal outiside, after that everything falls black. The last thing he hears is someone's steps. If he dies here it's truly hilarious: a step away from using the lyre to command death.

Draco wakes up in the hospitali bed, cozy and warm under the blanket. Someone's brushing his cheek with cold fingers and his conscience snaps back into the body immediately: Harry's nervous, he needs to wake up.

– Hi.

Harry smiles at him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Draco slowly checks in with his body and raises a hand to grab his, make it warm again.

– The beauty of your eyes is definitely something that makes me scared I'm already dead.

His voice hoarse and uneven, but Harry laughs, finally loosing this desperate touch to his facial expression.

– You're very much alive. In fact, the healers said to give you a pat on the back for using the reversal spell, smart move. Get well first, the details of what happened can wait.

Draco moves to sit up and is very grateful Harry lands a hand, because everything spins immediately. Being in contact with such powerful foreign magic set the system into overload at last. And he's more or less used to it, thanks to the job!

Harry holds the glass while he takes little sips and then finally exhales the fear that got stuck in his chest. That was no pleasant three days trip – first twenty hours he was tortured to unlock the entrance. Then came up with a plan. But Harry doesn't need to know those details.

– Did you manage to take him from the sphere?

– Thanks to you. He's in Azkaban, don't worry, I personally lead the trial.

Draco sighs, slapping his hand.

– Don't remind people of our marriage to often and to bright, it's a bad look on you.

– Say that again and I'm going to exhaust you when you're healed and home.

Draco raises his brows and shifts forward, tracking the shape of Harry's face with the tip of his nose.

– Is that a promise, mr head auror? I'm all yours.

Harry rolls his eyes and kisses him, anxiety melting away by the second. Wounds heal, hard times pass. While you're alive, you're winning. Especially him – being married to his ex rival, pain in the ass, arch-nemesis and a reason to keep going is a dream come true and Harry doesn't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks.

They've lost enough happy days to other people's bullshit. No more.

– If you're going to space out like this I don't want the punishment.

Draco yawns, shooing him away with the gesture.

– What does your capricious ass want?

– Hmm... Probably some sweet-talking, long passionate kisses, hair pulling and a good pounding. After I reagain some ability to sit without feeling dizzy that is.

Harry immediately softens at the sight of Draco falling to the right and lays him down, kissing his forehead.

– Take a rest, sweetheart. And... Sorry I was late. You've practically had to save yourself.

– It's not your fault, Harry.

Draco looks at him with such intense mixture of emotions he can't fake a smile. He will eat himself alive for what happened and they both know it.

– Harry. You can't control everything, it's alright. We're alive. That will do for good news. Snap out of it and write to mother, will you? I want to see her.

– Sure. Astoria will check in with you the day after tomorrow on the lyre and chain of events, until then get everything out of your pretty head.

Draco chuckles, closing his eyes.

– As long as you think I'm pretty, honey, I'll survive anything.

[cocoavanille]

Ok so (unexpected) Sterek AU | supernatural is there, but is built into the world a little differently (kind of) from canon material. Stiles is 23 and Derek is 27.

Derek (a werewolf) works with Noah at the police station, they are on good terms, share doughnuts and lunches (that's what happens when the rest of your colleagues are... dense at best, mostly just lazy and irresponsible). Derek is aware Noah has a kid that studies in a neighboring bigger city, but has never met him, as far as he's convinced.

Then, on a monday morning, Noah looks especially anxious and when Derek asks him what's up he says "they sent us a new investigator as we asked".

– More hands and heads – less workload, why are you so tense?

– It's my son. And you haven't met my son, he's a... Character.

– If he inherited your brainpower, I'd say we're good. Honestly would rather take a talented douchebag than a kind idiot at our current circumstances.

– He's decent at the job, but speaks too much and seems half-obsessed most of the time, be prepared for unending sarcasm and stubbornness.

Derek feels somewhat intrigued, intuition calm. Nothing actually bad is going to happen.

And then he's introduced to Stiles Stilinsky the next day. A mage – or a witch, matter of terminology – in a familiar style of clothing. And the face he's definitely seen before, two years ago during Christmas holiday.

He was tracking down a killer on the run – so much for the victim's family dinner – and almost freaked out when traces led him to the charmed border near the northern forest. Stepping over would be like inviting the fairies and others to have their eyes on his pack, not nearly the best decision, bit he needed to make sure the guy doesn't escape. While he was thinking of a way to be smart about the situation, steps appeared behind him. Under his gaze a young man froze in place, meeting his eyes and slowly lifting his hands.

– Hi. You can't go there for some reason, officer?

Something told Derek the guy already figured out his nature.

– Kind of. What are you doing here?

– Walking off some frustration. I'm going in anyway, if you need something maybe I can cover it for you?

Derek smirked, hands crossed.

– Do you even know what type of forest this is?

– The Nightmare Fairy's and Luckstrong coven one.

The guy passed him an took a deep breath, slowly touching the border. Bowed, whispered something and the magic let him in. He got an invitation! So a local, for sure, how come he hasn't seen him before?

– Officer, can I help you somehow?

Derek usually isn't like this, but something pushed him to describe the criminal to the guy and give his phone number. He took mental notes, nodded and quickly rushed forward, probably sensing the urgency in his tone. Derek didn't expect to hear from him, but twelve minutes later a message came: "black SUV plate... driving towards the west road". He caught the criminal in the end, two hours later. Colleagues on the shift were appalled by him actually working three hours before Christmas.

He met the mysterious helper in a 24/7 caffe the next morning, almost dancing, rubbing hands while he waited for the drink. What an idiot, Derek thought, but thanked him. Now he could clearly feel a gentle whiff of magic stirring around and inside the person. Pleasant, untainted by blood sacrifices or necromancy, but powerful no less. The bracelets and the pendant hid the potential well from anyone, it's just Derek has experience and can notice those things.

– Did you just stumble upon a car? Hard to believe.

– Oh, no way, that would be a real Christmas miracle. Asked for help, don't worry, officer, I haven't mentioned you to the local fairies. Don't know what's the deal, but if you're on their blacklist better safe than sorry... thank you! I need to go, my dad is waiting. Take care!

– Wait, what's your name?

– Unimportant and irrelevant to the case!

The guy ran out through the door and Derek's only thought was: gorgeous upclose. Not the face, the energy.

When he told Peter about the encounter he seemed puzzled, then asked "would be weird if it was the same mage, wouldn't it"? Refering to a teenager who saved Peter's life once years ago. He also remained nameless.

Now Derek knew why. Stiles Stilinsky, a son of their Sheriff, was not only an investigator, but a mage. You would think in a society where werewolfs, vampires, half-bloods and whatnot legally had the same rights as humans, witches would be protected and even loved by the logic of a friendly neighbour who can make you a lucky charm. But the reality was vastly different – somehow druids, witches, mages and psycics were a subject of constant discrimination. Peter thinks it's because "they look like them, but have something they don't". Most people are prejudiced and wouldn't like working with a mage, because somehow they're dangerous. Like a fucking vampire clan being at the top of their government isn't! Ridiculous, if someone would ask Derek.

– Stiles, this is Derek Hale, the best help I have here.

– Oh, so that's your local hero? Heard only good things. Nice to meet you.

Derek meets Stiles's eyes that tell him to play into the first meeting scenario. He obliges.

– Don't know about nice yet, but judging from your file you'll do.

A firm handshake fills his chest with sudden unexplained warmth – like gentle wind taking half of his burdens off. Only when Stiles retrieves his hand does it hit him – magic, a harmonizing spell.

– Derek, you mind briefing him of the latest mess? I have to deal with the press.

– Sure.

It's late evening when Derek stops the car near takeout place, still a little overwhelmed by the talk with the victim's family. He always feels stiff in those type of situations, yet Stiles handled everything well – with kindness and compassion, but lured out the information they needed. The ex-boyfriend is sure as hell a suspect.

Stiles looks up from his phone, a little surprised. Derek nods towards the restaurant.

– Chicken, meat, what would you like? You haven't even drank anything aside from water for eight hours.

Stiles frowns and he suddenly gets why he's been a little anxious around him for the whole day.

– I'm not going to tell your dad you've helped me that time, if that's what you're worried about. But he definitely read your expression and knows that wasn't our first meeting.

– It's not the help itself– Nevermind. Thanks. I'll buy us dinner for that, what do you want?

The forest, right. No parent would like their child to hang around fairies, even in a case of a smart witch. And as of right now – truly a powerful one, no amulets in sight and he can only sense his raw power if he concentrates. Stiles is no amateur and no idiot, just intense, but that's not off-putting. Neither does he find him annoying as Noah supposed.

– We're doing chicken noodles and something warm, you're freezing.

Stiles stiffens, ready to switch into verbal defence, but Derek adds:

– There's no way you're paying, little witch.

His low, almost soft tone makes Stiles instantly relax and scoff.

– I'm not little!

– Compared to me? You're tiny. Wait here.

He turns on the heater and leaves Stiles with his aux cord in the car, irritated but safe from the cooling wind.

When he comes back one of his favourite songs plays. Derek checkes who's phone the wire is connected too, but it's Stiles's. Deftones are not so popular, a pleasant surprise.

– Here, thought a lot of caffeine is not recommended, so you're getting cocoa.

– Thanks. I do drink coffee, by the way, but this is nice... Damn! These noodles are to die for.

– Wait till you try pastries down the road sometime, I'd go to jail for them.

Stiles smiles at him for the first time and Derek realises in that moment that he's completely, desperately, fatally fucked.

•

– I'm so fucked.

He almost growls when Perter pushes him to open up two months later.

– Looks like you wish you were, but what do I know. On a serious note, does it has something to do with Stiles?

Everything, Derek thinks to himself, unable to contain a nervous smirk, has to do with Stiles nowadays. Especially how that bastard confidently let him sniff his bare skin near neck without even flinching. Derek thought he wouldn't get it, but Stiles waited until the end of their shift and dropped a:

– You're not the first furry problem I had in my life, you know. If my perfume bothers you, just say so, I know some scents can be overstimulating.

And Derek didn't have the nerve to say the truth – that it's Stiles's scent that bothers him; a slight reminder of the sandalwood he definitely uses for cleansing, and his skin – like cold milk, musk and floral, subtly sweet honey. Irresistible.

– Your eyes say it all. If the pull is this strong, there's a big chance he's your potential mate. Mages usually feel the compatibility on an energetic level, if you were repulsive to him in that way he wouldn't be around you more than the job demands. I say you have a chance. Use it, don't just lay on the couch like a lost puppy.

– Fuck off.

– No problem, you keep dreaming of being fucked tho, so effective.

Derek throws a pillow at him and pauses before reaching for the next one. The message reads:

Free for dinner on your day off? My treat.

The phone beeps again.

It's a date.

Derek bites his lip to hide the smile. Little witch is for sure getting bolder by the day.

Right under you father's nose? Naughty.

Stiles doesn't reply, but he can clearly picture him cursing at the screen and thinking of a smart response.

Insted, an hour later, he receives a photo. Nothing too vulgar, just collarbones and the long, fully exposed neck with a collar on it. Oh this scroundel is getting spanked for sure.

[cocoavanille]

The gentleness in Venti is omnipresent, but so is the strength.

Zhongli never met another person able to combine the two so balanced, still showing a bright contrast each time the circumstances unexpectedly changed. It's beautiful, he thinks, how the bard – master of stories and hearts – can become a force to be reckoned with.

He looses all sense of urgency whenever those fingers trace the lines of his face and body, gently stroke his hair and nape, when Venti leans into the kiss and crosses arms behind his neck, allowing Zhongli to pick him up or push onto the bed. It makes sense he melts under the strength of beautiful thighs squeezing his sides, then almost lets his impulses run the show when a soft kiss lands on hot skin, Venti's hands grabbing his shoulders to steady himself. A silent "you lead, I'll follow", but it's a dance, a lie even – Venti only submits willingly. There's nothing that can make him yield by force – he'd rather die defending his stance. They're awfully alike at times.

Venti finds Zhongli's balance of restraint and might the most attractive mixture in the world.

There's a thick layer of defence with the warm depth underneath. Once you get to see his philosophical, caring, hard and just side, you're feeling the essence. Zhongli is an enigma in his own right, yet Venti somehow knows every note. Many think Zhongli doesn't have a heart, but it's ab illusion – there's as much kindness and acceptance, forgiveness in him as ruthlessness, wrath and punishment. Fertile ground, earthquake, volcano eruption – Venti loves all of his states, finding each and every one to be magnificent, even when terrifying.

Venti feels his mind immediately go blank whenever Zhongli touches him patiently, with desire and confidence. When pleasure slowly builds and he can relax under his loving command, giving in. When this crushing force is safe and keeps him grounded.

[cocoavanille]

Draco would be an incredible profiler. This profession probably doesn't exist in the wizarding world but especially in post-canon or with little altering of canon upbringing? Oh he would be the criminals worst nightmare. In the no-magic AU tho? Terrific.

And paired with head auror/detective/criminalist Harry? The Duo.

[cocoavanille]

One of my favourite flavours of humor is 20+ years old Tsuna getting tired of his guardians' bullshit and taking a trip to Varia to relax. Being in someone else's circus with different monkeys is oddly calming, especially when he can observe Xanxus being both annoyed and soft with his officers – truly a sight to behold.

– You're actually such a sweetheart when it comes to your people.

– How about you shut the fuck up?

– Oh, you're asking! I became one of the people then?

– Trash, see yourself out of my line of sight or I'll shoot you.

Tsuna laughs and decides to go bother Squalo – they have business to discuss anyway. And Takeshi's birthday party.

Considering Xanxus hadn't tried shooting him right away, he's definitely in the close circle! Good to know, he wanted to take someone on a trip to Sardinia soon. This coud be fun.

Xanxus thinks Decimo is annoying and ridiculous. Tsunayoshi, however? He's fine.

[cocoavanille]

Old wounds heal with time they say, yet Harry wishes it wasn't true sometimes. Because if Draco forgets the harm done, keeps up this co-workers and friends act, he might fall deeper.

Hermione and Draco organised his birthday party this time, two days in a cottage outside London. No press, no fuss, Ron running things in the auror headquarters.

Harry hates dry wine but takes another sip, hoping the taste will disperse a dangerous warmth he feels seeing Draco laughing at Luna's joke. He's twenty seven now, why does it feels like sixteen again?

– You're not really subtle with the staring.

Theo says borderline inaudible, opening some nice firewhiskey he switches to immediately. That tastes better, but the desire to run his fingers through Draco's hair refuses to disappear.

Some wounds stay, it seems.

for @drarrymicrofic, prompt "wound"