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sassy-cissa · 1 month

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fabulous fic!! give it a read and leave some love

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

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sassy-cissa · 1 month

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writing patterns: first sentences

thank you @lettersbyelise for the tag!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I guess my pattern is…I have no pattern. Lol

I try to start a fic so it's captures the readers attention, but I doubt that happens as I'm still an "unknown" in most parts. I write what I enjoy and if others read…fabulous. If not, oh well.

So here we go:

thank you @lettersbyelise for the tag!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I guess my pattern is…I have no pattern. Lol

I try to start a fic so it's captures the readers attention, but I doubt that happens as I'm still an "unknown" in most parts. I write what I enjoy and if others read…fabulous. If not, oh well. Oh and they are all Drarry.

So here we go:

thank you @lettersbyelise for the tag!

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I guess my pattern is…I have no pattern. Lol

I try to start a fic so it's captures the readers attention, but I doubt that happens as I'm still an "unknown" in most parts. I write what I enjoy and if others read…fabulous. If not, oh well.

So here we go:

Harry looked at the assignment memo in his hand and then back at his best friend, and boss. An Impossible Assignment T, 1.8k words

Draco rushed into the bedroom, just as Harry pulled a jumper over his head. It's All in the Shimmey M, 630 words

First, whispers meant secrets to Draco. Hushed conversations between his father and his friends in the library after dinner. All you left me (are the whispers in the wind) G, 205 words **Warning – MCD**

Draco gently set the Billywig inside the cage before closing and locking the door. Chasing unicorns, finding love E, 27.7k words

Harry held the glass of Firewhisky between his thumb and his middle finger, swirling the amber liquid negligently as he glanced around the room. Just Give Me a Reason E, 24.7k words

“Seriously, Hermione,” Harry sighed, “just let it go.” Living for a dream...loving for a moment M, 10.5k words

Draco clutched the bench he sat on like a lifeline, the wood rough beneath his hands. Every Hour Has Led to This E, 105.6k words

Draco took his time gathering his gear at the end of today's training session. Take Down Manoeuvres M, 1k words

"Yes!!" Harry shouted into his empty living room. A Text in the Right Direction (co-written with @timothysboxers) M, 9.2k words

"Papa?" What a Wonderful World T, 10.2k words Not tagging anyone, because most I know already did it. But feel free to do it if you've want. Be sure to tag me so I can read!!

#writer tag game #first sentence #sassy-cissa fics

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sassy-cissa · 2 months

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Reminder!!!

Claiming is open the the 2024 H/D Mpreg fest. All the details are in the original post. Come join us, won't you??

Claiming is now open!

Yep, that's right: more spam It's time to claim!

In addition to creating written and visual art works for this fest, we are again promoting the creation of podfics of fest works from previous years. There are loads of fabulous prompts available for your selection, put forward by members of this grand fest community.

You can view the Full Prompt Gallery here, or the Podfic Specific Gallery here.

The prompt titles expand when clicked so you can see the full details, and you can even search or filter the list.

If you don't find anything that you like (really!?) the claiming form will allow you to specify your own prompt (self-prompt) as well.

Click here to make your claim!

Claiming Guidelines

♥ Each Fic/Art prompt may be claimed once for Fic and once for Art.

♥ Each Podfic prompt may be claimed once for Podfic only.

♥ You must select a minimum of two prompts.

♥ You may claim your own prompt.

♥ Self-prompts are still accepted. There is an area on the claiming form to enter it.

♥ Emails will be sent as soon as possible after your prompt is allocated. It may take up to 72 hours. Be sure to check your spam box!

♥ You must confirm receipt of your allocated prompt via return email.

♥ Claiming by proxy is allowed.

♥ Claiming will close on Sunday 7 April 2024, unless otherwise advised by the Mods.

♥ Submissions will be due Sunday 21 April 2024.

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If you have any questions, check the Fest FAQ and Information Post, send us an ask, a DM or an email to [email protected]

Let's get creative!

sassy_cissa and timothysboxers H/D MPREG MODS

#fest:mpreg 2024 #hdmpreg #fest:claiming

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sassy-cissa · 2 months

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I have a rec...

It's not H/D or anyone in HP but it is by an old HD writer. Some of you may remember Sansa/LibbyDrew. She's written several original novels and I've worked with her on some of them. And was lucky enough to work with her again on her latest story. She just finished it and it is sooo good AND it's posted and can be read for free on gayauthors.org. The story is called Keeper of the Rituals. Here's the teaser blurb: Murder or tragic accident? When his ex-lover is mauled by a supposedly tame wolf, Micco races to discover how such a thing happened at his animal refuge. Strength in the face of adversity is at the core of Micco’s Seminole upbringing. But is he strong enough to handle Special Agent Chase Becker, his best childhood friend and secret first love? Chase can still twist Micco’s emotions into a knot and draw out secrets he’s desperate to keep buried -- secrets that could get him arrested for murder.

It's 23 chapters of a brilliant murder mystery with twists and turns to keep you guessing. If you're looking for something to read - I suggest you give it a try. And if you remember Sansa/LibbyDrew from her HD days...be sure to say hi. ❤️❤️❤️

Keeper of the Rituals by LibbyDrew

#original fiction #libbydrew is writing again #brilliant murder mystery

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sassy-cissa · 2 months

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So...are you reading this amazing fic yet?? And if not, why not? It's completed and @lettersbyelise is posting a new chapter weekly on Wednesdays. I'm re-reading it every week a new chapter is posted. Go...read...love...

Passing Stranger (E, ~50K), a Drarry fic by lettersbyelise

Summary: Five years after the war, Harry, listless and depressed, stumbles upon Draco Malfoy playing the violin in an underground bar in Muggle London. The catch? Draco lost his memories five years ago. Ignoring his friends’ advice, Harry befriends an unwitting Draco, overlooking the fact that their mutual attraction might not survive if Draco’s memories return.

Tags/Content: Memory loss/recovery, Draco in the Muggle world, Depressed Harry, Musician Draco, Friends to lovers, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Texting, Therapy, Gay Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gender non-conforming Draco, Elise's signature ensemble cast of friends (check complete list of tags on AO3)

Posting now - Read on AO3!

I'm so pleased to finally share this fic! I started writing it well over a year ago, had no spoons to continue, shelved it, then picked it up again at the end of 2023. I'm glad I did - this story is very close to my heart. A million thanks to @sassy-cissa, alpha/beta/friend, without whom this fic would have stayed in my drafts. High-five to the wonderful peeps in the cheer squad, who are pre-reading this as I write/edit! I plan to post one chapter a week (if all goes well!). I hope you enjoy 💚

#drarry fic #lettersbyelise #harry x draco

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sassy-cissa · 2 months

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We'd love for you to join us!

Claiming is now open!

Yep, that's right: more spam It's time to claim!

You can view the Full Prompt Gallery here, or the Podfic Specific Gallery here.

The prompt titles expand when clicked so you can see the full details, and you can even search or filter the list.

If you don't find anything that you like (really!?) the claiming form will allow you to specify your own prompt (self-prompt) as well.

Click here to make your claim!

Claiming Guidelines

♥ Each Fic/Art prompt may be claimed once for Fic and once for Art.

♥ Each Podfic prompt may be claimed once for Podfic only.

♥ You must select a minimum of two prompts.

♥ You may claim your own prompt.

♥ Self-prompts are still accepted. There is an area on the claiming form to enter it.

♥ Emails will be sent as soon as possible after your prompt is allocated. It may take up to 72 hours. Be sure to check your spam box!

♥ You must confirm receipt of your allocated prompt via return email.

♥ Claiming by proxy is allowed.

♥ Claiming will close on Sunday 7 April 2024, unless otherwise advised by the Mods.

♥ Submissions will be due Sunday 21 April 2024.

♥ Once you have submitted your entry, you may claim an additional prompt.

If you have any questions, check the Fest FAQ and Information Post, send us an ask, a DM or an email to [email protected]

Let's get creative!

sassy_cissa and timothysboxers H/D MPREG MODS

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sassy-cissa · 2 months

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See you in a couple days for claiming!

Prompting is now closed!

Thank you all so much for the 120 prompts we've received for the 2024 H/D MPREG Fest.

Check out the Prompt Gallery and see if anything gets your creativity going.

We'll be adding in some options for Podfic creation prior to claiming opening, and you can check out the Podfic Gallery here.

Claiming will open on 12 February 2024, at approximately 5am US Central.

But what time is that for me!? Central, USA (UTC-6) — 5am, 12 February 2024 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (UTC-3) — 8am London, United Kingdom (UTC-0) — 11am Manila, Philippines (UTC+8) — 7pm Sydney, Australia (UTC+11) — 10pm

Don't see something you like from the gallery? Self-prompting is still available during the claiming period!

Any questions - send us a DM, ask, or email us at [email protected]

Until then, sassy_cissa and timothysboxers H/D MPREG MODS

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sassy-cissa · 3 months

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okay - as if the art by @trashcanprince wasn't amazing enough...go read the ficlet that @lettersbyelise wrote (inspired by the art).

seeds of beauty.

Inspired by @trashcanprince's 'Draco has moles' art, which completely rewired my brain. If I only write Draco with freckles and moles from now on, it's entirely that art's fault.

About 800 words of Harry kissing Draco's moles. That's it, that's the ficlet.

AO3 link

Harry blames it on the detention.

Potions was never his favourite class, but brewing potions in Snape’s dungeon as part of a two-hour detention has got to be a particularly cruel kind of torture.

Harry’s so bored his eyes keep wandering over to Malfoy, who’s sitting at the same desk as Harry, his long, pale neck outstretched to peer inside the bubbling cauldron in front of him. He waves his wand every so often above the gently simmering liquid, a muttered incantation on his lips.

The swotty bastard is so focused on his task, he’s not paying any attention to Harry.

Harry swallows a twinge of annoyance. He’s raking his brain for something to needle Malfoy about—this indifferent, concentrated silence won’t do—when his gaze snags on a spot just above the top of Malfoy’s shirt collar.

There’s a mole there.

Not even a mole. A freckle.

A tiny, golden spot on Malfoy’s otherwise unblemished skin.

Harry holds his breath. Counts one, two… five such moles, dotting the back of Malfoy’s neck. There’s another one hiding behind Malfoy’s ear, half-concealed by the hair Malfoy tucks absentmindedly.

Harry holds his breath. He only notices he’s inched closer to Malfoy when he’s practically leaning over Malfoy’s back.

“Do you mind?” hisses Malfoy with a pointy elbow in Harry’s ribs. Harry sucks in a breath.

Holding his side, he meets Malfoy’s eyes over his shoulder.

“I,” he starts. He places a hand on Malfoy’s arm—gentle, the touch light but firm enough to feel the warmth of Malfoy’s skin through his shirt, the hard muscle.

Malfoy swallows.

“Can I—?” says Harry, leaning into him.

“Potter…” Malfoy’s voice is thin and strangled.

“Let me,” says Harry. He nuzzles into Malfoy’s neck and mouths at the freckle.

Malfoy holds very still under Harry’s parted lips. He lets out the tiniest of whimpers as Harry’s tongue darts out to lick. Harry hears the sound through the mad thundering of his pulse in his ears.

Malfoy leans his head to the right, exposing the long column of his throat.

Dimly, as though he’s dreaming, Harry marvels at Malfoy’s unexpected compliance. Malfoy should be hexing him in the balls, not exposing his neck to Harry’s ministrations. Yet somehow it all makes sense, and Malfoy is as pliant, as soft, as a kitten held by the scruff of its neck.

Harry breathes against Malfoy’s skin. His exhale ruffles the downy hair on Malfoy’s nape. Malfoy shivers, gooseflesh breaking across his skin. Harry searches for the next mole—finds it in the soft dip of Malfoy’s neck. He closes his lips around it. Malfoy’s skin is so soft… It smells like something warm, clean, something that makes Harry’s insides feel swirling and tender.

Harry’s never let himself consciously consider how soft Malfoy’s skin could be. But now that he’s touching him, he knows. He knows just how much he’s considered it. He has considered it a lot, every time he caught Malfoy showering after a Quidditch match, every time he helplessly looked as Malfoy rolled his shirt sleeves to perform a spell in Charms, every time Harry watched Pansy stroke Malfoy’s hair out of his face.

Malfoy reaches up with a sigh, pulls on the knot of his tie to loosen it. When he undoes the top buttons of his shirt, letting the collar fall open over his collarbones, Harry wraps his hand around Malfoy’s throat with a low whine. Slides his hand underneath Malfoy’s shirt. Touches a raised nipple. Malfoy is leaning back into him now, panting, and Harry pushes Malfoy’s hair aside, kisses the last mole, the one hiding behind Malfoy’s ear.

With a growl, Malfoy turns his head around and captures Harry’s lips in a kiss.

Harry’s hands grip the back of Malfoy’s neck, his shoulders; Malfoy’s fingers thread in Harry’s hair and pull, pressing his whole body into Harry’s, all the long, hard lines of him, and Harry reaches for the remaining buttons on Malfoy’s shirt—

“Potter.”

Harry jolts back with a sharp inhale. Reality rushes back in—the damp, dark dungeon, the acrid, chemical smell of potions, the slow ticking of the clock on Snape’s desk.

Malfoy is glaring at him, sitting ramrod straight two feet away. His tie is done in a perfect Windsor knot, tight against his throat. His hair is unruffled.

His freckles unkissed.

Harry blinks.

“Merlin, what’s with the heavy breathing all of the sudden? It’s not enough that I’m stuck in detention with you, I can’t even brew my Dizziness Draught in peace.” Malfoy gives his head an irritated shake and turns back to his potion. “Bloody Gryffindors.”

Harry stares back at his cauldron, which now emits an ominous yellow smoke. Most definitely not a successful Dizziness Draught.

Merlin, what was that? Harry’s still catching his breath from the intensity of his daydream.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Malfoy run a hand over his nape. A slow flush is spreading over his pale skin.

His long fingers linger on the freckle behind his ear.

Thank you @sassy-cissa for pre-reading this even when you were tired and sick, and @nv-md for the beta and comments! <3

#drarry ficlet #fic inspired by art #drarry #not mine i wish i were so talented

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sassy-cissa · 3 months

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I love this so much!!

i realised that film draco has moles on his neck, so uh..

here’s harry realising it too

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #not my art

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sassy-cissa · 3 months

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WIP Snip

Thanks to @maesterchill for tagging me. I love being tagged and reading people's snippets. ❤️

This was supposed to be for a few different things, but now it's just because I'm having fun with it. It's post war and (like Em's) Pansy is missing. But trust me that's where the similarities end.

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Draco huffed and walked over to the next door, prepared to barge in. He came up short when the name on the door read James Prince and under that was Private Investigations. He paused, his hand hovering over the door knob, and stared at the name. "James Prince? What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. His heart sank, feeling as if his only hope had vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind. He stood, frozen to the spot, contemplating his next move when he heard what sounded like a herd of Hippogriffs thundering up the stairs. Draco turned as the sound drew closer to the top of the stairs. His hand dropped to his side as none other than Harry Potter himself froze at the top. A large black dog, however, bounded over to Draco and began to sniff at his leg. Harry seemed to regain his composure and he walked past Draco and unlocked the office door of James Prince. "Do you work for Prince?" Draco asked. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Draco paused, realising he was going to have to talk to Potter if he wanted to see this detective person. "I'm in need of a detective," Draco replied. He was trying to remain calm, but the reality of never seeing Pansy again was pushing its way into his head again. He tapped down the shiver that wanted to race through him. Harry and the mangy looking dog walked through the office door, Draco right on his heels. He blinked at Draco when he went to pull the door closed and found he wasn't alone in his office. The dog trotted over to a bed under the single window and flopped down onto it. Draco looked around the sparsely furnished room. A desk sat facing the door on the opposite wall, although Draco wondered how anyone could function with all the pads and scraps of paper, folders and biros scattered across the top of it. The wall to the right of the desk had a row of filing cabinets with more papers and books scattered on the top. And on the wall to the left of the desk there was a small seating area consisting of a black leather couch and two chairs that faced it, with a small table in between. Draco looked around the room in confusion. "Small place. Where does Mr Prince sit when you're both here?" Harry tilted his head. "Where does Mr…, oh." He smirked and walked to the desk and sat. "Here. And there is no both. Just me." "But the door says James Prince," Draco replied, not understanding. Harry sighed. "Seriously, Malfoy? It's a pseudonym. You expect me to put my own name on the door? You've surely heard of the term." Draco glared. "Of course I'm familiar with the term. Although I'm surprised you are. But that aside, I get James. Obviously from your father. But Prince?" "I was counting on that one being confusing. Good to see I was right." Draco waited for Harry to continue. When he didn't, Draco walked over and sat down on the opposite side of the desk from Harry. "Fine, I don't have time for your little games. I need a detective," he said firmly.

The dog raised his head and looked at Draco with more interest than Draco felt was necessary. A moment later, the dog had moved to his side and was sniffing at Draco as if he had a bone in his pocket. Suddenly his cold nose hit the skin just above Draco's sock. "What the fuck!" Draco blurted out. "Keep your mangy beast away from me. He was about to bite into my leg." Harry laughed. "He's just checking you out. Making sure you're not going to hurt me." Harry snapped his fingers. "Over here Sherlock," he said, calling to the dog. "Sherlock?" Draco said incredulously. "You named your dog Sherlock? Looks more like a Nosy Parker to me." Sherlock sat down, resting his head on Harry's leg. "I don't care what you think my dog's name should be, Malfoy. You've overstayed your little visit. Time for you to move along." Draco threw his hands up in the air. "Have you not been listening to me? I've said I need to hire a detective. It might as well be you." "Sorry, I don't do wizards," Harry immediately replied. Blinking several times, Draco raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realise that offer was on the table, but it will have to wait. I simply want to hire you to find someone." Harry's cheeks had flushed a bright pink and Draco was surprised to find he found the look attractive. "I meant," Harry stammered, "I only take on Muggle clientele." "Right," Draco deadpanned. "As I said, I need to hire you." Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Was there a part of the sentence I only take on Muggle clientele you didn't understand? Do I need to use smaller words?"

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I never know who to tag, so if you're reading consider yourself tagged

#wip snip #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter

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