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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 years

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11. Barefoot

Harry'd never seen Draco with a single hair, a single button out of place.

It was fucking hot, if Harry was being honest, which why wouldn't he be? At least in the privacy of his own head.

Draco was always posh, always pristine; tailored robes and tailored suits, shoes always shined, platinum hair in a perfectly coiffed undercut. It drove Harry wild; desperate to muss him up a bit.

And nothing. Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently seeing.

Draco Malfoy was standing by the pool, a strand of (silky, soft) hair hanging over his eye, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his (ridiculously toned) chest, his linen trousers rolled up to expose his (unfairly delicate) ankles. And he was barefoot.

Godric. Harry didn't have a thing for feet but something about seeing Draco's made him want to fall to the ground at his feet and never move. They were very pretty, honestly; delicate, long, slender, with graceful high arches. And it made him look strangely vulnerable.

Harry ached with it.

"Potter," Draco said, long fingers snapping at him.

His eyes snapped up to Draco's face to find the other man smiling at him in that peculiar way he did sometimes. All exasperated fondness, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Mmm?" he managed inelegantly.

"How drunk are you? It's like you were staring through me into all of time and space," he chuckled as he planted himself beside Harry on the edge of the pool and dipped his feet into the water.

(read more below the cut)

"Very," Harry lied because he couldn't very well admit that he'd just been staring longingly at Draco's feet.

Draco tilted his head toward the drink in Harry's hand, "What do you spike sparkling water with?"

Harry blinked over at him, he always forgot how bloody observant the other man was. "Vodka," he lied quickly.

The corner of Draco's mouth curved up and he took a breath but then seemed to think better of it. "Everyone's around the fire pit," he commented.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Except you."

He hummed, not sure what response Draco was looking for from him.

"And me," he added.

Harry turned his head so he could look at him properly.

"Are you actually drunk, Harry?"

He swallowed, wondering what his answer should be, wondering what Draco wanted him to say. "Why?" is what came out of his mouth a few seconds later.

"Because you're even more forthcoming when you're drunk than usual."

It was his turn to smile at the other man, "What are you hoping I'll say?"

Draco stared at him for a long moment before wrapping his lips around the mouth of his beer bottle and finishing it in one long pull.

He couldn't help but watch the way his neck muscles worked as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. The urge to lean in, to lick, to suck, to nibble on the other man's long neck was almost overpowering.

Then, when he'd finished his beer he stood up and Harry shifted back on his hands so he could see what he was doing.

Draco's fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and Harry's mouth went dry, his own fingers tingling with desire. He made quick work of them before pulling his shirt off, and Harry was met with the sight of a lightly muscled chest, and two petal pink nipples. Harry's mouth had dropped open but he didn't really think there was anything he could possibly do to stop it.

When he finally managed to draw his eyes upward, Draco was smirking at him, one eyebrow raised. "I'm going to go for a swim," he said, and his hands moved to his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping before hooking his thumbs in the waistband and pulling them off. He stood there for one moment, in nothing but a pair of very tight boxers that left little to the imagination, before saying, "join me?" and jumping into the pool.

Harry sat there stunned, uncertain if he was hallucinating (it wouldn't be the first time he'd accidentally eaten a hallucinogen at Luna's), and feeling like he must be losing his entire mind.

But what a way to go, he couldn't help but think as Draco resurfaced and finger combed his hair back out of his eyes. He watched as a drop of water rolled down his high cheek bone, then down his neck, sluicing along his clavicle, before dripping into the pool. He tread water and stared at Harry, waiting.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

A look of hurt flashed in his eyes before he covered it, so quickly that if Harry hadn't spent decades of his life watching Draco, he would have missed it.

"I mean," he swallowed, might as well at this point, "you're not just fucking with me?"

"How would this be fucking with you?" Draco asked, spreading his arms wide.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and stood to yank down his shorts before jumping in after Draco. When he popped his head back above the water, Draco was only a few feet away, watching him with a little smile at the corner of his mouth. "You should know," he said conversationally, "that I am not a terribly good swimmer."

Draco was at his side a heartbeat later, hands bracketing Harry's ribs as he buoyed him to the surface a bit, treading and keeping himself afloat with only his legs. "I'm a very good swimmer," he murmured, his voice low and a bit rough.

"Tell me why we're swimming together," he blurted.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, head tilting to the side like he was really trying to understand the puzzle that Harry was.

"Not to me," he replied.

Draco re-angled his body a bit and pushed Harry backward, swimming until Harry's back hit the side of the pool and then pressing their bodies together. "Luna had a drink," he said.

Harry, whose head was very much elsewhere, attempting to catalogue the hard planes of Draco's body pressed against his own, made a vague "Oh?" sound.

He nodded, "Had a bit of felix in it, apparently."

"And-" Harry started, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Draco to continue.

"It led me to you," he murmured. "And honestly?"

He nodded, trying not to let his mind race to improbable conclusions.

"I've fancied you for ages."

"You have?" he blurted, looking between Draco's eyes, trying to discern any semblance of an untruth.

"I have," he murmured, bending forward so that his lips brushed over Harry's jaw. "The only question is whether you feel the same."

"How is that a question?" he asked, tipping his head back to allow Draco's mouth to brush tantalizingly over his skin. "Of course I do."

"Do you?" he asked, voice just a little afraid, "or is it the alcohol?"

"I'm not drunk," he said, cupping Draco's cheek and drawing him back far enough that they could look at each other. "I had one beer, two hours ago."

"So it wouldn't be taking advantage if I kissed you?"

Harry didn't think, didn't say another word, he just wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and pulled him in closer so their lips could touch.

The other man's body surged against his, kissing him deep and slow in a way that made Harry feel like he was floating through the universe, the only thing tethering him was the hard wall of the pool against his back.

Merlin only knew how long they might have gone on kissing if it weren't for the sound of merrymakers coming up from the fire pit. But as it was, Draco pulled back and said, "I really don't particularly want to see anyone else."

"Me either," he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

"Come back to mine?" he offered. "We don't have to-"

He leaned in and kissed him again, giddy with the possibility of more time together, of more kisses. "Yes," he murmured against Draco's lips. "Let's just figure out the rest once we get there."

"You're sure?"

Harry laughed, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

And it wasn't until the sun was peaking through the blinds in Draco's living room the next morning that either of them remembered they'd left their clothes lying on the deck by the pool.

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Read more of my gentle July ficlets

#listen. I know these were supposed to be done in July but (insert shrug emoji here)#is this one out of order? also yes.#my summer got a little bit blown up #and the author is practicing being kind to herself so she's not going to apologize. life is a lot sometimes and i am small.#drarry #love #soft #Harry is besotted #i don't make the rules #fluff #harry is thirsty and not for water #pool #confident draco #yes.

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jtl-fics · 11 months

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Fluent Freshman - Part 19

There’s a couple things about FF that might be good to know at this point.

1. There are few things in the world he hates doing more than asking for clarification or admitting he doesn’t understand / know something. The thought of going up to someone and admitting that he hasn’t perfectly comprehended the situation upon the first explanation is something makes his stomach twist like he’d just eaten Mango-Habanero ice cream.

He has figured out his own math theorems in the pursuit of not having to ask the math teacher to explain he doesn’t understand. He got lost in an Ikea once for over 6 grueling hours where he considered making a home there and living among the display rooms until his grandma grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to safety (the food court) and let him regain his strength (eat Swedish meatballs). He, to this day, is not sure about one of his foreign language friend’s names (how embarrassing he just keeps waiting for someone else to say it but they go by some insane nickname).

So he has become a master of piecing shit together on his own. He sometimes gets it wrong (Andrew, god how embarrassing) but for the most part 8 times out of 10 he can get to the right answer if he just has a couple pieces to work with. No one had ever actually explained to him how Exy works and he was too embarrassed to ask after the third week of practice in middle school so he just pieced together what he was and was not allowed to do through the art of trial and error. He’s even mostly pieced out the rules for the other positions.

So with the information he has gotten through people being bound and determined to talk in foreign languages in front of him he has an idea about the tenuous situation some of the older Foxes find themselves in.

He’s heard Kevin Day and Jean Moreau talk in French.

He’s heard that the anxiety in both of their voices as they talked about their futures and owing 80% of their salaries to the ‘Moriyamas’ and how nervous they were about getting on professional teams or else they’d be killed.

Captain Neil and Andrew are not always using Russian to talk dirty.

He’s heard Andrew soothe Captain Neil’s worries about playing for a professional team. He’s heard Captain Neil mention that at least ‘Ichirou’ would likely just kill him and not make a game out of it like his father did.

Organized Crime might have more to do with Exy than FF had originally thought.

(He had thought it. Plenty of times he had thought it but his Gran had warned him that he was overthinking things. That he wasn’t playing a sport invented by the Mafia. That he had caffeinated coffee instead of decaf. “It’s going to be okay sweetie. Just take a deep breath.”)

This leads into the second thing you should know at this point.

2. Before he had signed with Wymack he had known the broad strokes of Captain Neil’s life. There had been a lot of news articles about it and Gran (bless her) loved trashy gossip magazines.

After he had signed with the Foxes he had done a bit of a deep dive on as many of their controversies as he could find. There’d been things from brawls on the court (worrying), player overdoses (concerning), a straight up MURDER (Oh god), and the very public breaking of the King of Exy’s arm resulting in his suicide (Warranted, that wacko was going to take off Captain Neil’s HEAD.)

But the thing that had made him actually a little bit, dare he admit, excited to go to Palmetto was the fact that Captain Neil was there.

For someone who froze for almost a decade, who just took it and didn’t have the balls to even react? Neil Josten is an inspiration.

This is someone who got away, who lived a life completely unlike FF’s, someone who knew how to run and more impressively someone who learned how to FIGHT. Captain Neil was being hunted but he still ripped people to shreds in interviews. Captain Neil was probably more scared of the Butcher than FF had been of anything in his entire life but Captain Neil was way braver than FF could ever hope to be.

Captain Neil was taken and tortured but he still fought. FF had seen the scars and Captain Neil is right to wear them proudly (though based on some conversations he has unfortunately overheard he is sure Andrew may have a role in Neil’s positive feelings about them).

FF had thought that he was being lead to his death down in a basement of a club (Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe. Don’t-) and he just trailed right behind the two of them without even an illusion of a fight.

Neil Abram Josten was a bit of a personal hero.

He’s proud to call him Captain Neil. He wishes Andrew hadn’t been there when Greg had mentioned wanting autographs because FF wants an autograph from Captain Neil but now Andrew has probably mentioned it to Neil.

Long story short, FF had looked into a lot of details on Captain Neil’s case.

Including two of the Butcher’s top men who were still on the loose.

Romero Malcolm and Jackson Plank.

He keeps his presence low but no matter how many times he blinks the man grumbling in Italian next to him continues to be Romero Malcolm.

Moreover Romero Malcolm continues to grumble about the fact that he is having a hard time finding ‘Nathaniel’ and that he’ll have to grab one of ‘The Wesninski brat’s friends’ to draw him out.

FF is a recently confirmed friend of Captain Neil.

FF who is standing next to this man, with his dick out, and trying to remain as invisible as possible.

After two shakes (Yes he was watching but only because he had to! He wonders briefly if he goes to the FBI if they would accept a description of Romero Malcolm’s penis for the wanted poster? Probably not but it is BURNED into his retinas.)

He watches as Romero tucks, zips, and then bypasses the sink entirely.

FF shivers at how unhygienic that is. Who RAISED him?

The door shuts and FF needs to get out of here ASAP but his hands are shaking with the sudden adrenaline of ’One of the FBI’s Most Wanted just took a piss next to me and is looking for me friend’. He pulls his phone from his pocket and ducks into one of the stalls. Even if there’s no door it’ll at least FEEL a little safer, a little more private. He needs to warn Neil, Warn Andrew, and warn-

The door to the bathroom SLAMS open and music blares in (palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy-) and his phone slips out of his hands and into the toilet. There are footsteps coming towards him and FF digs deep.

He’s in ultra stealth mode. He is the wall behind the wallpaper. Mantis shrimp can only dream of the color he becomes, the United States military have the CIA on the look out for him because he’s fallen off all conventional forms of radar and tracking.

He is a bargain fruit platter on a dessert table at a kid’s birthday party.

He is ULTRA stealth.

Romero’s gaze glides over him.

Then the man leaves (STILL DID NOT WASH HIS HANDS).

His heart is hammering in his chest but he manages to reach down and grab his phone. Well, Coach Wymack had gotten the extended warranty at least. (“Do you know what these fuckers do to phones? Josten crushed his last year in a fight with the Baseball team captain.”)

His phone’s extended dip into the toilet water had not done it any favors in working properly.

Well fuck.

He wipes his phone down the best he can. He wipes his phone down with some toilet paper before cramming it into his pocket (Sorry Nicky, he’ll wash the toilet water pants if they survive).

He sees a flyer on the wall of the bathroom and starts to think of a plan.

He rushes out of the bathroom (he still washes his hands because he will not have something in common with a man on the FBI’s most wanted list and he just dipped his hand into a CLUB TOILET) and clocks Nicky’s wild arm movements and WORSE clocks Romero just 10 clubbers away.

He sees Romero’s eyes lock onto Nicky and a smile that terrifies him.

He’s out of Ultra Stealth Mode even if every atom in his body wants to run.

He is so stressed and panicked that he has gone beyond his body’s ability to process that so all that is left is determination. He’s got a head full of a half-baked plan, a hand going to his pocket, a second hand on the only ‘weapon’ he has on him, and a stomach full of acid.

He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket before he can really let himself think about it and walking up next to where Romero is standing. He holds his toilet water phone up to his ear and does the one weird social anxiety thing that he had never done before.

He pretends to be on a phone call.

“Hey Captain Neil,” he says and in the corner of his eye he can see Romero’s gaze shift from Nicky (surrounded by an adoring public, covered in sweat and therefore difficult to grab - a difficult target) to himself (alone, shorter, and probably looking like he’s about to pass out). “Yeah I think I’m going to take a break outside after I grab quick drink and then a water at the bar.” He says because he has to be the easier target and he has to go to the bar. “Yeah, yeah, okay I’ll mention it to that bartender guy.” He says and pretends to hang up.

He turns and he walks towards the bar and feels his pulse in his throat go to the beat of the music (success is my only motherfucking option, failure’s not).

He only knows about the alley because in the car ride to Sweetie’s Nicky had mentioned that he wouldn’t let FF’s first time be out there. He had been embarrassed but it was the only way he knew to get Romero out of the club and away from where he could hurt Captain Neil or anyone else in the pursuit of that.

He spots the bartender who had gotten the drinks for their table and his mind completely blanks on the name but the bartender sees him and smiles. “Oh you’re Neil and Andrew’s new friend! What can I help you with? I thought you were-“

“Hi, yes I am Captain Neil and Andrew’s friend.” He says a little loudly because he can feel Romero behind him and he does NOT want the man to know anything about where Captain Neil was.

“Captain Neil? Oh wow that’s adorable.” The man gushes. “What can I help you with? I won’t ask for ID for one of their friends.” He winks.

“I’d like to order the uh…” he tries to remember the exact drink name from the flyer, “…the deluxe chocolate martini?” He asks and knows he got it right when the bartender’s expression shifts ever so slightly.

“Oh yeah, how do Andrew and Neil feel about that?” He asks and oh great a coded conversation. It’s nice to actually be having a real one of these for once instead of just perceiving normal conversations to have hidden meanings.

“They don’t know. They probably prefer that I order it instead of Nicky or Aaron.” He lets his eyes dart to the wide where he believes Romero is watching him.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” The bartender says, “Nicky knows how to handle a drink and Aaron’s not a lightweight either.” He adds.

FF struggles to find a coded way to say ‘It’s not that someone’s hitting on me too hard like the flyer mentioned. It’s that there’s a mafia hitman in your club.’

Finally after a moment, “It’s not the usual kind of drink they get.” He tries and the bartender looks confused by the statement, dammit. He struggles to find a different way to say it before the bartender smiles.

“Y’know you’re really cute.” He reaches under the bar top and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. “How about you write down your number for me cutie? We can meet up sometime.” He says. “I’ll get started on that chocolate martini for you.” He says.

HE COULD KISS THIS MAN.

“I’d like that.” He says.

He writes out a quick message on the small note paper.

‘Armed. After Neil. Looked at Nicky. I’m going to the back alley. Phone is dead.’

The bartender comes back and looks at his note. “We’re out of chocolate martini mix, can I get you something-“ He hopes the club lighting obscures how pale the man got, “something else?” He asks and FF can SEE his pulse.

“Can I just get some water then?” He asks.

The bartender nods and pulls up his phone and hopefully is dialing the police and hands FF a water. His hand grabs hold of FF’s “You don’t need to go out into the alley. You could hang in the backroom with me?” He offers.

There really are some kind people in the world.

“I think it’s better if I’m not in here for a bit.” He says back and honestly he needs this kindness and he has a spare bit of courage, “What’s your name by the way? Sorry I missed it.” He says.

The bartender swallows, “It’s Roland.” He says.

“Thanks Roland.” He twists the cap off of the water bottle and takes a sip.

He turns and pretends not to notice how Romero is trying to be inconspicuous pretending to be on his phone.

He makes his way over to the alley door and notices that Romero is tracking his movements but is not following him like he did to the bar.

His heart is pounding and he can’t BELIEVE he’s doing this. He wants to run, wants to hide somewhere, wants to become imperceptible but…but…

He opens the door to the alley as the bass of the remixed song finishes.

(You can do anything you set your mind to, man)

He lets the door slam behind him and he is alone in the alley.

He was not expecting a van to come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance and for a different face to appear climbing out of the car.

Jackson Plank.

FF looks at the ugly smile on the man as he walks towards him with a knife in hand.

Okay now what genius?

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

5/26/23: EDITED. Can’t believe I forgot to put the Captain in front of Neil’s name on the meme. I’m blaming the accidental early awakening.

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice @legowerewolf @deadlydodos @but-we-respect-his-craft @cariniqe @zanypersonapricotbiscuit

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

Lillyndra it worked this time!!!