Hey there!
So It's taken me a while, and I fell behind, but I have NEW THINGS!!!
For slash_me_twice
Title: Mud and Malfoys Do Not Mix
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 42: Dirty
Word Count: 539
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Draco gets muddy, Harry cleans him up...sort of. (I suck at summaries)
Author's Notes: I had fun with this....most of what is written is Draco's perspective because, as a snotty, sarcastic, scheming person, I find it easy to relate to Draco. ^_^ All characters, etc that have to do with the Harry Potter fandom are property of Warner Bros and JK Rowling. If they belonged to me, Harry and Draco would dance around in Hawaiian skirts and have mad sex all the time.
There was mud. Stinking, sodding mud, and swamp to muck through and dirt in his hair--his hair!--and in his teeth, all gritty and gross, and even, Draco suspected, in his eyeballs.
They had been wandering the countryside for a good twenty minutes, and he watched Potter's head in front of him, bobbing around, glancing occasionaly at the map he held, muttering to himself, and finally, Draco snapped.
Mud on clothes was one thing, but his HAIR was an entirely different matter.
"Potter!" he snapped, moving forwards towards the other man, who stopped, startled, and turned those emerald eyes on him. "We," Draco gritted through teeth already full of grit, "Are. Sodding LOST. If you don't ask for directions to the nearest Apparation point, or do a Locator spell, I am going to hex you into oblivion and leave you here for some curious American tourist to find. And believe me," Draco said, eyes narrowing. "You won't have clothes."
To his chagrin, Potter GRINNED at him, through teeth as brilliantly white as they had been when they had left. Draco then realized that the stupid prat had NO dirt on him anywhere, and snarled. It wasn't FAIR.
"Why, Draco," Potter almost purred, taking a step towards him. "You're all dirty." He smirked, and Draco felt himself grow both aroused and irritated. He hated when Potter did stupid things to remind him he had a Slytherin side.
"Yes, Harry," Draco ground out, "I am all dirty. And you, you stupid prat, used a charm of some sort of keep the mud off you!" Harry only smirked and shrugged. Draco almost screamed in frustraion and nearly fisted his hands in his hair, but then realized that that was a HARRY thing to do, and so he stopped.
Malfoys did not tug their hair.
"Harry," he said again, patiently. "My hair has mud in it."
"Yes, I can see that, darling." The smirk was still there.
"Will you fix it, PLEASE?" Draco ground out, then found himself with an armful of Potter, a whooshing in his ears, and was suddenly standing on the floor of their flat, fire crackling cheerfully in the grate. Before he had time to think, Harry's mouth was on his and he found himself being divested of his clothes and directed towards the bathroom, where a still fully-clothed Harry fumbled with the knobs of the shower before shoving them both in.
Draco almost yelped at the sensation of hot water, but Harry's hand was between his legs, doing--Oh, Merlin--that thing with his fingers and pressing right there and before Daco knew it, he was shuddering in Harry's arms, and Harry held him, stroking his hair and kissing him lazily before pulling back and grinning.
"Make up for the mud?" he asked innocently. Draco nearly growled in response, but then stopped and smiled.
"Yes," he said, trailing his fingers lazily up Harry's arm. "However, I think you missed a spot..." And before Harry could react, Draco shoved his boyfriend in the shower--which was now, thanks to Draco's prowess with wandless spells--spitting out mud.
Harry sputtered and his eyes narrowed. "Malicious Slytherin," he accused.
"Trusting Gryffindor," Draco threw back over his shoulder as he left the room. "Now who's dirty?"
Title:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Miranda Potter-Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Prompt: 60: Freak
Word Count: i have no idea right now.
Rating: PG
Summary: Wherein Harry and Draco's daughter asks why people are staring at Harry, Ron intervenes, but Draco, as usual, gets the last word.
Author's Notes: Wrote kinda fast, not beta'd.
Harry glanced at the people around him on the platform, slightly amused. At the tug on his hand, he ran his free hand over the hair of the child in front of him, looking up and meeting Draco's eyes, seeing the same amusement on his face, in the form of the famous Malfoy smirk. The girl holding Harry's hand tugged again, and Harry leaned down, bracing himself, until he was face-to-face with his daughter.
"What's the matter, pet?" he asked, searching blue eyes that were full of worry and confusion.
"Why is everyone looking at you?" the eleven-year-old demanded, shifting from foot-to-foot as people on the platform passing by gave Harry either wide grins or averted their gazes. Neville called out a greeting as he bustled by, and Harry heard Ron's distince "hmph" behind him as he heard Miranda's question.
"Well, you see--" Harry began, quite unable to being to describe that people weren't looking anymore because of the war, or Voldemort, or even the fact that Harry used the cane to talk. How did he tell an eleven-year-old that it was because he and Dad had been mortal enemies at school until the day they began snogging in a broom closet and then were discovered shagging by Uncle Ron, who accidentally spread the news to the entire school, and then the entire wizarding world found out Harry Potter was gay?
Ron leaned over with a conspiritorial wink. "It's me," he said. "I'm incredibly famous."
"No, actually," Draco drawled from Ron's other side, also leaning down to his daughter. "It's because Daddy's a freak."
This made Ron snort with laughter and Miranda giggled, apparently satisfied with that answer. Harry hugged her goodbye, hugged his honorary neices and nephews goodbye, then watched as Miranda joined Hugo and they boarded the train together. He made to stand, and felt the familiar hand under his elbow, helping him up. He turned and smiled at Draco, who nodded at him.
"Was that entirely neccesary?" he asked, after the train had departed and he, Draco, and the Granger-Weasley clan were walking back to Harry's car.
Draco shrugged. "Of course. What were you going to tell her, that the entire Wizarding world is till slightly freaked that she has two daddies?"
"I liked Draco's explanation,' Ron offered, grinning at Harry.
"Freak," Harry muttered. "Did you have to use that word?"
"I'm sorry, darling," Draco murmured, pulling Harry to him and brushing his lips over Harry's scar. "Shall I make it up to you?"
alphabetasoup
Title:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini
Prompt: N is for Narcotic
Word Count: Not sure yet.
Rating: PG
Summary: Blaise Zabini makes smoking almost graceful
Author's Notes: No beta.
Draco thought it was incredibly erotic, the way that Blaise Zabini could take something as vulgar as a cigarette and fill it with sensuality.
He sat at the table in their flat, reading students' papers, and watching Blaise out on the terrace. He was painting again, Draco suspected the chapel across from their flat was the subject this time, and he weilded paintbrush and cigarette like equally astonishing weapons. Cigarette tip flared, brush attacked canvas with angry streaks of red, smoke exhaled through pursed lips, gray tinged with the red.
He put down the quill, watching the way Blaise moved, bending over to mix more paints, lithe form moving easily, muscles shifting as he turned, bending to get more paint. The vulgar object was between Blaise's lips, resting there, the tip flaring up briefly as Blase inhaled. He straightened, a tube of blue in one hand, and he took the cigarette with the other, slender fingers wrapping themselves around the base as he tipped his head back, exhaling up into the darkening sky.
Draco loved watching him smoke. It was something Blaise found amusing, but Draco thought it was fascinating. The self-assured way he held the object, the casual flick of the thumb to displace ashes, the casual raising of hand to lips, fingers curling slightly under the chin, thumb resting briefly on the cheek as he inhaled, the way he blew smoke out in this streams, almost gracefully.
Blaise Zabini was the only person Draco knew who could make narcotics graceful.
Blaise turned, seeing Draco watching him through the doors, and, smiling, lifted his hand to his lips. The flare of the tip lit up Blaise's eyes for one brief second, and Draco saw reflected in Blaise's eyes what he knew was in his.
Love. Amusement.
Content.
Blaise turned back to the painting, and Draco returned to his papers.
7_deadly_sins
Title:
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Willow, Oz, Buffy, Xander
Prompt: 7. Pride
Word Count:
Rating:
Summary:
Author's Notes: COMING SOON.
Will y'all let me know what you think of these? If you give me feedback on what you think should be changed or whatevers, I can fix it before i submit.
Thank you lovelies!
For slash_me_twice
Title: Mud and Malfoys Do Not Mix
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 42: Dirty
Word Count: 539
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Draco gets muddy, Harry cleans him up...sort of. (I suck at summaries)
Author's Notes: I had fun with this....most of what is written is Draco's perspective because, as a snotty, sarcastic, scheming person, I find it easy to relate to Draco. ^_^ All characters, etc that have to do with the Harry Potter fandom are property of Warner Bros and JK Rowling. If they belonged to me, Harry and Draco would dance around in Hawaiian skirts and have mad sex all the time.
There was mud. Stinking, sodding mud, and swamp to muck through and dirt in his hair--his hair!--and in his teeth, all gritty and gross, and even, Draco suspected, in his eyeballs.
They had been wandering the countryside for a good twenty minutes, and he watched Potter's head in front of him, bobbing around, glancing occasionaly at the map he held, muttering to himself, and finally, Draco snapped.
Mud on clothes was one thing, but his HAIR was an entirely different matter.
"Potter!" he snapped, moving forwards towards the other man, who stopped, startled, and turned those emerald eyes on him. "We," Draco gritted through teeth already full of grit, "Are. Sodding LOST. If you don't ask for directions to the nearest Apparation point, or do a Locator spell, I am going to hex you into oblivion and leave you here for some curious American tourist to find. And believe me," Draco said, eyes narrowing. "You won't have clothes."
To his chagrin, Potter GRINNED at him, through teeth as brilliantly white as they had been when they had left. Draco then realized that the stupid prat had NO dirt on him anywhere, and snarled. It wasn't FAIR.
"Why, Draco," Potter almost purred, taking a step towards him. "You're all dirty." He smirked, and Draco felt himself grow both aroused and irritated. He hated when Potter did stupid things to remind him he had a Slytherin side.
"Yes, Harry," Draco ground out, "I am all dirty. And you, you stupid prat, used a charm of some sort of keep the mud off you!" Harry only smirked and shrugged. Draco almost screamed in frustraion and nearly fisted his hands in his hair, but then realized that that was a HARRY thing to do, and so he stopped.
Malfoys did not tug their hair.
"Harry," he said again, patiently. "My hair has mud in it."
"Yes, I can see that, darling." The smirk was still there.
"Will you fix it, PLEASE?" Draco ground out, then found himself with an armful of Potter, a whooshing in his ears, and was suddenly standing on the floor of their flat, fire crackling cheerfully in the grate. Before he had time to think, Harry's mouth was on his and he found himself being divested of his clothes and directed towards the bathroom, where a still fully-clothed Harry fumbled with the knobs of the shower before shoving them both in.
Draco almost yelped at the sensation of hot water, but Harry's hand was between his legs, doing--Oh, Merlin--that thing with his fingers and pressing right there and before Daco knew it, he was shuddering in Harry's arms, and Harry held him, stroking his hair and kissing him lazily before pulling back and grinning.
"Make up for the mud?" he asked innocently. Draco nearly growled in response, but then stopped and smiled.
"Yes," he said, trailing his fingers lazily up Harry's arm. "However, I think you missed a spot..." And before Harry could react, Draco shoved his boyfriend in the shower--which was now, thanks to Draco's prowess with wandless spells--spitting out mud.
Harry sputtered and his eyes narrowed. "Malicious Slytherin," he accused.
"Trusting Gryffindor," Draco threw back over his shoulder as he left the room. "Now who's dirty?"
Title:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Miranda Potter-Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Prompt: 60: Freak
Word Count: i have no idea right now.
Rating: PG
Summary: Wherein Harry and Draco's daughter asks why people are staring at Harry, Ron intervenes, but Draco, as usual, gets the last word.
Author's Notes: Wrote kinda fast, not beta'd.
Harry glanced at the people around him on the platform, slightly amused. At the tug on his hand, he ran his free hand over the hair of the child in front of him, looking up and meeting Draco's eyes, seeing the same amusement on his face, in the form of the famous Malfoy smirk. The girl holding Harry's hand tugged again, and Harry leaned down, bracing himself, until he was face-to-face with his daughter.
"What's the matter, pet?" he asked, searching blue eyes that were full of worry and confusion.
"Why is everyone looking at you?" the eleven-year-old demanded, shifting from foot-to-foot as people on the platform passing by gave Harry either wide grins or averted their gazes. Neville called out a greeting as he bustled by, and Harry heard Ron's distince "hmph" behind him as he heard Miranda's question.
"Well, you see--" Harry began, quite unable to being to describe that people weren't looking anymore because of the war, or Voldemort, or even the fact that Harry used the cane to talk. How did he tell an eleven-year-old that it was because he and Dad had been mortal enemies at school until the day they began snogging in a broom closet and then were discovered shagging by Uncle Ron, who accidentally spread the news to the entire school, and then the entire wizarding world found out Harry Potter was gay?
Ron leaned over with a conspiritorial wink. "It's me," he said. "I'm incredibly famous."
"No, actually," Draco drawled from Ron's other side, also leaning down to his daughter. "It's because Daddy's a freak."
This made Ron snort with laughter and Miranda giggled, apparently satisfied with that answer. Harry hugged her goodbye, hugged his honorary neices and nephews goodbye, then watched as Miranda joined Hugo and they boarded the train together. He made to stand, and felt the familiar hand under his elbow, helping him up. He turned and smiled at Draco, who nodded at him.
"Was that entirely neccesary?" he asked, after the train had departed and he, Draco, and the Granger-Weasley clan were walking back to Harry's car.
Draco shrugged. "Of course. What were you going to tell her, that the entire Wizarding world is till slightly freaked that she has two daddies?"
"I liked Draco's explanation,' Ron offered, grinning at Harry.
"Freak," Harry muttered. "Did you have to use that word?"
"I'm sorry, darling," Draco murmured, pulling Harry to him and brushing his lips over Harry's scar. "Shall I make it up to you?"
alphabetasoup
Title:
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini
Prompt: N is for Narcotic
Word Count: Not sure yet.
Rating: PG
Summary: Blaise Zabini makes smoking almost graceful
Author's Notes: No beta.
Draco thought it was incredibly erotic, the way that Blaise Zabini could take something as vulgar as a cigarette and fill it with sensuality.
He sat at the table in their flat, reading students' papers, and watching Blaise out on the terrace. He was painting again, Draco suspected the chapel across from their flat was the subject this time, and he weilded paintbrush and cigarette like equally astonishing weapons. Cigarette tip flared, brush attacked canvas with angry streaks of red, smoke exhaled through pursed lips, gray tinged with the red.
He put down the quill, watching the way Blaise moved, bending over to mix more paints, lithe form moving easily, muscles shifting as he turned, bending to get more paint. The vulgar object was between Blaise's lips, resting there, the tip flaring up briefly as Blase inhaled. He straightened, a tube of blue in one hand, and he took the cigarette with the other, slender fingers wrapping themselves around the base as he tipped his head back, exhaling up into the darkening sky.
Draco loved watching him smoke. It was something Blaise found amusing, but Draco thought it was fascinating. The self-assured way he held the object, the casual flick of the thumb to displace ashes, the casual raising of hand to lips, fingers curling slightly under the chin, thumb resting briefly on the cheek as he inhaled, the way he blew smoke out in this streams, almost gracefully.
Blaise Zabini was the only person Draco knew who could make narcotics graceful.
Blaise turned, seeing Draco watching him through the doors, and, smiling, lifted his hand to his lips. The flare of the tip lit up Blaise's eyes for one brief second, and Draco saw reflected in Blaise's eyes what he knew was in his.
Love. Amusement.
Content.
Blaise turned back to the painting, and Draco returned to his papers.
7_deadly_sins
Title:
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Willow, Oz, Buffy, Xander
Prompt: 7. Pride
Word Count:
Rating:
Summary:
Author's Notes: COMING SOON.
Will y'all let me know what you think of these? If you give me feedback on what you think should be changed or whatevers, I can fix it before i submit.
Thank you lovelies!