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snaileer · 7 months

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Everyone Loves a 2-for-1 Sale Part 3

Part 1 & 2 (And original Prompt)

The dining room was suspiciously quiet for a Wayne breakfast when Danny walked in.

He glanced up from his phone, pulling one earbud out, “Oh feel free to continue arguing my morality like I’m an object, my music’s on full volume.”

Dick looked uncomfortable, “We weren’t-Look, Ti- Danny, we are just a bit curious as to why you’re…. here,” Dick finished, glancing at the others like asking if they’d share the plate of batguilt-fries with him.

“Surely the world could have done without a second Drake,” Damian cut in before Danny could even start.

“And we could have done without even one of you, yet here you are,” Danny glared, “Factory defects and all.”

Damian jerked upwards with a raised knife, narrowly pushed back down by Dick.

Danny rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his phone-Tim’s phone-their phone. He held a folded paper out to Bruce with two fingers, still typing, “I have a list, if you want it.”

He continued typing as they opening the note and read it, he knew what it said.

To Do in Gotham:

1. Get to Gotham

2. Find original - don’t freak family out

3. -Find- Talk to Bruce

4. Convince Vicki Vale that Tim is/ actually engaged to Tam Fox

5. Get safe house

6. New identity? (what do clones do? - ask Connor)

9. Leave?

“What’s number seven and eight?” Dick asked, and Danny actively made sure his typing pattern didn’t change.

“Don’t know yet,” He answered with a shrug, the picture of nonchalance. Bruce probably didn’t believe him.

Didn’t matter. Dick did. Because Dick felt guilty.

Bat guilty.

About time he believed him about something.

And Danny didn’t care about Damian’s opinions one way or another.

He stepped away from the table, plopping another grape in his mouth as he walked past, “Welp that’s it for me, busy day, fake engagement, gotta find some crutches because I don’t think Vicki will accept my ‘you got new legs Lieutenant Dan-ny’ joke, all that,”

Danny slipped out the door past a sleep-deprived Tim with a jaunty salute, “All’s well in Clone Town!”

Danny kept walking, his brain running miles ahead of him, Ted Tobin steering the wheel with his fingers on the keypad of his phone as he moved forward and mentally filled in the list.

Number 7: Find Ra’s Al Ghul and the Lazarus pits.

Number 8: Stabilize yourself.

Danny continued up the stairs. He had people to see and rings to buy. Busy is the life of a saboteur.

—

Red Robin watched his clone linger in the jeweler’s store, trying to keep the frown from taking over his whole face.

He was making Tim’s life difficult. Tim suspected it was on purpose.

Largely because people would ask way too many questions if two Tim Drakes showed up in Gotham at the same time.

Hence, Red Robin being relegated to rooftop surveillance.

He turned his attention back to the clone, watching as he left the shop and turned down the street. Red Robin swept after him, following from above.

The clone remained focused on his phone- which was also Tim’s by the way, and stolen- as he walked down the street, turning into an alley without even looking up.

Tim tilted his head and swung to the rooftop, peering into the darkness.

“You could always just come down and actually talk to me, you know?”

Tim dropped into the alley, unsurprised to come face to face with the clone. It was weird to see his own face look so annoyed by him.

“Thought it was best to stay out of sight. We’re not exactly a daylight hero.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “Already annoyed with Vicki Vale?”

Tim nearly growled, “That is your fault,”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me it’s not hilarious.”

“You’ve spent all morning in ring shops! I have meetings!”

“Lucius can handle them. It’s not like we actually did anything this last year anyways.”

Tim stared at him for a second, confusion in the squint of his eyes and laced with suspicion.

Danny groaned with a roll of his eyes, “Fine, you want me to stay put somewhere so you can do your civilian thing?”

“Yes.”

“I am not staying in the manor. You can’t make me.”

Dread filled him as Tim smiled, “Not a problem.”

Danny glared at Tim standing arms wide in the center of the room of his emptiest safe house, “This is so not what I meant and you know it.”

Tim’s face betrayed nothing, “Look, none of us are happy with this situation-“

Danny scoffed. Understatement of the century.

“But..” Tim continued with a pointed look, “It’s my fault, and I get that. So…compromise? You stay here, work on cold cases while I sort out my current job, and when I’m done, we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

Danny sighed, feeling Ted Tobin stir to life with plans already forming.

“Fine.”

Tim nodded succinctly, reaching for a laptop and multiple cords, “Ok, here’s my old computer, -huh, I could have sworn that had a different charger- anyways- I’ll take this,” he plucks the phone from Danny’s hands in one smooth motion, giving a mocking smile in return to Danny’s glare, “Thank you very much, now I just have to-and find the guy who…”

Tim’s voice tapers off into mumbles as he heads into the bedroom to peel off his suit, fingers focused on the keypad of his newly reacquired phone.

Danny slumps himself down on the secondhand couch, dust echoing around him. This was fine, he could do stuff in the meanwhile, maybe help Tim with his case -or solve it himself, he bets he could- and then finish the new specs for the suit wings that Danny’s suit still didn’t have.

Tim fumbled through the doorway, now in civilian clothes, already on a call with Lucius probably, or Tam. Tam helped him a lot.

Danny slouched further into the silence.

It felt like being left behind by his parents.

They had bigger priorities.

Archaeology.

Ghosts.

Danny shook his head, opening the computer and letting Ted Tobin fish through the passwords for case files.

He’s nearly 3 hours deep when he really pauses for the first time, finally stopping the continuous notes sitting next him, each a different clue. Most for different cases.

The current case pulled up on his screen scratches at him, facts slotting into place with rapid fire precision.

The officer assigned to the case is a vet.

The case is perpetrated by a senatorial candidate.

The officer assigned served on three active fronts and 2 undisclosed.

The guilty candidate is running support for a bill cutting veteran supports.

Best of all?

It’s not in Gotham.

Danny smiles as Ted Tobin’s plan fills in, piece by piece.

—

Ra’s Al Ghul should really make it harder to hack into his confidential back market mercenary dealings.

Then again, maybe it was for the better. How else would he make sure Red Robin was able to intercept the assassin in time to save that poor officer’s life the night before his case-closing arrest?

—

“Detective, I assumed holding my business outside of Gotham would keep it from being the concern of you and yours,” Ra’s’ voice is muffled through the bag over his head, “It seems I was wrong.”

“Oh well, you know me…,” The bag is ripped roughly off his head, leaving him blinking rapidly against the light even as he smirks, “Always butting into things when I shouldn’t. It’s kind of what we do.”

“Tell me, Timothy,” Ra’s says, turning his back to him once more, as he waves his ninjas away, “What does this officer matter to you, more than a state away from your usual stomping grounds? What-“ Ra’s pauses as a different ninja approaches him to whisper in his ear. His body stills.

“Well, we’ll start there. First of all, as I’m sure you just found out, I’m not Timothy,” Danny says, standing up smoothly. He relishes the look Ra’s gives him as he turns around. “And secondly, the officer wasn’t what mattered. Getting you here on the other hand. Now that.. that takes a little more planning.” Danny brushes himself off, removing the cowl to leave just his own domino behind.

Ra’s al Ghul hums, his eyebrow twitching up even as his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What? No sudden desire to stab? No impromptu attempt to put a sword through my chest?”

“You are curious. So much like the detective, and yet… my people tell me he is currently patrolling in Gotham with the Grayson boy.”

Danny scoffs, “Oh great, another fruit loop interested in me, like I need a new one of those.”

Ra’s’ stare doesn’t change. Albeit a bit more annoyed, but still flat and calm.

“You wanna know what makes me different from Timothy, Ra’s?” Danny pauses, taking a deep breath and letting the ectoplasm ripple inside him for the first time in months. “The difference between me and him,” When he looks up he knows his eyes glow fluorescent green, “Is that I’m stronger.”

—

Bonus Scene:

Dick stared at Tim’s clone as he left, sweeping past the original’s bleary form stumbling to the coffee machine.

“Are we sure he’s Drake’s clone? He seems… less of a fool,” Damian sneered, watching Tim stand listlessly in front of the cabinet, coffeemaker off, and tablet in hand.

He looked out of the Dining room doors, spotting Danny standing not far away in front of one of the closets by the stairs rather than the actual steps, fingers tapping away.

Damian turned back to his breakfast, “I retract my statement. Clearly his stupidity was simply blinding.”

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ladyinwriting18 · 4 months

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A Loyal Death Eater (Severus Snape x Reader)

Summary: Severus comes home to find he's been left a gift from The Dark Lord--you.

Words: 4901 Warnings: PIV, Human Given As A Gift, Master/Servant, Pet Names, Fingering, Oral Male Receiving, Dirty Talk. Author's Note: Hiiii if you know me then welcome back--WILL I EVER STICK TO ONE FANDOM TO WRITE FOR? The answer is no lol If this is your first time reading my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy my first ever Snape one-shot!

Severus Snape is tired. So very tired. Tired of living this double life. Death Eater. The Order. Following Dumblerdor’s orders. Secretly protecting Harry. Funneling particular information to Voldemort for the sake of keeping up appearances. All while teaching potions. The vein in his temple throbs at the mere thought of his students. He doesn’t want to think about them now. He doesn't want to think about anything. All Severus Snape wants is to bury his face into a pillow. And that’s exactly his plan as he walks into his home and heads up the stairs towards his room... That is until he notices the piece of parchment stuck to the bedroom door. He’s immediately on high alert. Tension has his spine straight and his shoulders up by his ears. With his wand drawn, he creeps closer, ready to hex whatever intruder has managed to sneak into his home. But the signature at the bottom gives him pause. Why the hell was The Dark Lord leaving him handwritten notes? Dark eyes scan the entire letter. “To my most loyal Death Eater. I’ve left you a gift. A reward for all of your hard work. Use it however you wish and dispose of it when you’re done with it.” Severus raises a brow. It? What exactly was waiting for him on the other side of the door?

There was only one way to find out. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door, but what he finds stops him dead in his tracks. A woman sits kneeling on the floor beside his bed. Your head is bowed with your hands placed palms up atop your thighs. But the most shocking thing is that you’re completely naked except for a black and green garter belt on your right thigh. “What is the meaning of this?” he commands, still in a mild state of shock at the scene before him. You, however, do not stir, keeping your body still. “Hello, Master. It is a pleasure to meet you. How may I serve you tonight?” Your voice is warm…feminine…inviting. It draws Severus in and has him stepping into the room. But the closer he gets to you, the more your words sink in. “Forgive me…serve me?” You nod. “Yes, Master. I belong to you now. For as long as you want me.” The realization hits him like a bludger to the face. “You’re…my gift.” You nod again. “From the Dark Lord.” “And why would the Dark Lord send me a human as a gift?” The disgust in his voice isn’t directed at you, but you respond nonetheless. “To use as you see fit. I am yours and any desire my Master has is mine to fulfill.” He doesn’t know a single soul alive or dead who wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer. And though his heart had been lowered into the ground on the same day that Lily’s body was, he is still a man. A man with needs that he hasn’t even dreamt of allowing himself to feel. He’s standing directly in front of you now. “Look at me,” he commands You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him with your gaze filled with willingness. He searches your eyes, attempting to find even an ounce of fear or disgust but finds nothing but devotion. As if you truly want nothing more than to serve.

His mouth goes dry and all of his body’s blood supply seems to be traveling south to his cock. This is wrong. Who knows what the Dark Lord had threatened you with…or where he had stolen you from. But everything about you screams submission. It awakens a darker side of himself. One that he hasn’t felt stirring since he was a young, newly appointed Death Eater. Back then Lucius Malfoy would hire girls and throw secret parties down in the dungeons below his estate. It was at these “parties” that Severus found his proclivity for knots…and magically binding girls to the ceiling so he could fuck them until they were begging to cum. It’s a time that he wishes he could scrub clean. Not only from his mind but from the history books of his life. Shame had accompanied him at those parties because he knew this was a part of him that he couldn’t share with Lilly. Even if James Potter had never been in the picture and Lilly had somehow been his. She was too lovely and sweet for that sort of depravity. She would have never enjoyed such things. And he would never— “Master?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you just as you reach out to take his hand. Your grip is so light, almost as if you’re worried your touch will offend him. “I want to please you. Want to give you whatever it is you need. Please? All I want is to be a good girl for you.” A good girl. His cock throbs. How you knew exactly what to say, baffles him. Perhaps you were a skilled Legilimens—allowing you a peek into his thoughts. Either way, you said the phrase that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He grips your hand more firmly and lets his other move to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, bloody hell, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his thumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his. “You said you’ll fulfill any request?” His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, opening it to reveal the tiniest bit of the inside of your mouth. “Anything,” you concur. His mind races with endless possibilities. He hasn’t tapped into this part of himself in years. It makes him antsy to claim you. But Severus Snape is not a rash man. He does not allow his emotions to make him sloppy. He is cunning and calculating. And more importantly, he knows exactly how he’ll have you prove yourself. He slides his foot forward, placing his black leather dress shoe in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, positioning yourself on all fours before leaning down to press your lips to the tip. But you don’t stop there. In fact, you cover the entire top of his shoe with kisses. With each kiss, you let out a soft, sweet noise–as if this act of obedience is actually bringing you pleasure.

Severus lets out a rough command, “Don’t stop.” You don’t, lowering your upper body further onto the floor, but purposely keeping your hips in the air to showcase the curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the top of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight of both almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pulsing within the constraints of his pants. You pull your torso off the floor, moving closer to him so you can start kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. Not once do you break eye contact. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment.

It's an unusual occurrence for him. He’s used to his students being intimidated by the mere mention of his name. Even in his school days, he had never been known as a looker. But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust while you continue your path up his leg. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels. You return to your earlier position, with your feet tucked under you and your hands resting palms up atop your knees. You’re so submissive. It’s perfection. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to hover over the bulge in his pants.

Your eyes dart at the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“Yes, Master. I’m your property. My sole purpose is to please you.”

“My property?” he breathes, freeing his aching cock from his trousers.

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it.

You only nod, too busy watching as he starts to slowly stroke the shaft of his cock. He does this more to tease you than for his own pleasure. It clearly works because you fidget ever so slightly. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “My beautiful…little good girl.” Severus pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I’m your good girl.”

“Then prove it by sucking your Master’s cock.”

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Gently, you nudge his hand away before wrapping your own around the base of his cock. You hold eye contact with him while tracing your tongue over the veins in his shaft. “You taste so good,” you moan out and drag your tongue along the underside until you reach the tip. You clearly know what you’re doing. Severus swears his heart beats in time with the flicking of your tongue. Your hand and mouth work simultaneously—tugging firmly while playfully licking. That is until your hand falls away so you can swallow his cock whole. “Bloody hell,” he swears, involuntarily bucking his hips forward.

Pleased by his reaction, you hum and tighten your lips around him as you pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. His dark brown eyes burn almost black as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “The good girl is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he hotly whispers, cock stiffening in your mouth. You nod with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with such passion sends Severus into a frenzy. His fingers twitch with the need to touch you. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants…no—needs more. No longer able to keep his hands to himself, Severus’ hand grips the back of your head. Long, nimble fingers tangle within the locks of your hair and start to move you up and down at just the right pace. Obeying his physical commands, you allow him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. So much so that he can feel saliva dripping onto his balls. Fuck you were messy. He loves it. Almost too much. But you’re looking at him with an affectionate gaze and it only makes him want more. Both of his hands grip onto your head, thrusting his hips forward so he could slam his cock into your throat. Your hands grab his thighs to try to hold yourself steady and not gag. “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You groan with brows knitting together while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Severus would have thought he was being too rough if it wasn’t for your crumpled, pleasure-stricken face. He allows himself a moment to take you all in, wanting to commit you to his memory. So that when you’re gone, he’ll still have this image of you prettily sucking his cock. That’s when he notices you pressing your thighs together. Fire pools within his rib cage. You’re actually getting off on this. On pleasing him. On gagging on him. On obeying him. Suddenly, having you down on your knees isn’t enough. “Stand up,” he commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath and wipe the spit from your chin. Wanting to give you time to compose yourself, he keeps himself busy by stripping fully out of his clothing and casting a quick protection and contraceptive spell with a few flicks of his wand. By the time you’re on your feet, he’s standing before you naked. Your eyes run over his form and take a step forward with hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backward until your knees hit the side of his bed and you fall back onto the mattress with a surprised yelp. Your gaze shifts, looking at him towering over you with large eyes. He steps forward, nudging your knees apart with his leg. “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” Your knees fall apart, giving him a full view of your cunt.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, in awe that you’re already dripping when he hasn’t so much as touched you. Calloused fingertips run up your inner thighs. The skin there is tender so you shiver until they make contact with your cunt and a chorus of sweet melodies leave your parted lips. You greedily grind into his touch, already wanting more. With a grin, he enjoys himself as he plays with you. He prods your opening and watches your eyelids flutter close. “What a needy cunt you have.” He means it as a compliment, but it’s laced with a snark that’s meant to embarrass you. It works, color flushing over your cheeks. “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” It’s clear that being owned is a massive turn-on for you. And if he’s honest, he’s more than happy to play this game. “That’s right,” he breathes, fingers tracing up towards your clit. “Every inch of you is mine. Including your clit.” He applies pressure to the sensitive bud, causing you to whine and twitch. You nearly come undone from how skillfully he draws circles on your clit. But every time you buck your hips forward, his fingers move away. “More Master. Please, give me more.” You whine and twitch, pleading sweetly. So sweetly that it’s impossible for him to continue teasing you. His fingers move to your entrance, and he plunges them inside your tightness. You cry out in surprise, both hands grabbing ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs. His fingers are long and thick, moving in and out in slick quick thrusts. He finger fucks you mercilessly and you love it.

You toss your head back, mouth falling open wide as you moan towards the ceiling.

Severus leans in, caging you beneath his body, and nuzzles his nose along the side of your face. His body is pressed against yours now and you gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh. “Master…” you whimper, and he chuckles before whispering hotly into your ear. “This belongs to me as well. This tight dripping cunt is mine. Is that understood?” he asks while picking up the pace of his fingers. You struggle to respond, tripping over your words but he doesn’t relent—wanting you to work through the pleasure. “Y-Yes. Yes, Master! I-I understand.” He hums his praise, calling you a good girl before falling silent. For the next few minutes, the only sounds heard are the sounds of your desperate cries and the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. Your orgasm is drawing closer, threatening to take you over. “I…I’m going to–” But your words aren’t needed because Severus knows what a woman looks like before she’s about to cum. “I know, sweet thing,” he cuts you off, looking at you and holding eye contact. “But cumming for me is a privilege. One you must ask for.” You nod your head, gripping his arm tighter, “May I cum? Please let me cum for my Master?” With a proud grin, he says the three most glorious words. “Cum for me.” The permission is all you need, the cord inside you snapping.

Your body goes rigid and your ability to speak is replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you hard, but it’s only when you limply slump back onto the mattress that he carefully removes his fingers from you. They’re soaked in your juices. Severus suddenly finds himself very parched. You’re looking up at him with a flushed face and glossed-over eyes but are clearly too focused on catching your breath. So, he lets you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. You make a noise of surprise, mesmerized by his mouth. Satisfied with this small taste of you, he releases his fingers with a soft ‘pop’. “Mmmh, delicious.” “I’m glad Master thinks so. Thank you for letting me cum,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Sitting beside you on the bed, he grabs your upper arms and hauls you towards him. He crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion as your hands begin to roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue. Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock. He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Is there something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “I want to help my Master to cum.” He can already guess what you’re about to say, but still, Severus tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and whispers, “And how do you plan to do that?” “However you’d like me to.” Your answer is immediate but something tells him it isn’t the entire truth. His fingers grip your jaw, tilting it so you’re forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Tell me how you want to make your Master cum.” With wide eyes, the truth pours from your mouth like uncorked wine. “My cunt. Please use my cunt.” Your plea is so desperate that he doesn’t waste any more time leaning in closer until you have to shift your position to lay back on the bed. With a nudge to your thighs, your legs part to accommodate him as he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. He’s settled between your thighs now with his cock pressed against your core. You moan in unison at the contact. As if it’s painful for both of you to not have him buried inside.

Your hands run from his forearms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. “Take me, please. Let me feel my Master’s cock inside.”

He straightens his back and guides your legs to wrap around his waist fully. You continue to plead, but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. Severus had always refused to inflict pain on his partners that they hadn’t consented to and begged for. And he isn’t about to start now. So he waits until he feels you relax.

Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full, but also whole.

You coo, arching into him. Severus knew he couldn’t keep his movements slow for much longer.

“Is this what you want? To be fucked until I own this cunt?” “Yes!” you whine, starting to grind your hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper. “I want my Master to ruin me for anyone else.” It’s the word ruin that does him in. Unable to wait any longer he slams into you. You yelp, grabbing ahold of his forearms and sinking your nails into his flesh. The slight bite of pain only spurs him on, his pace anything but slow. The rough and steady rhythm of his thrusts has you already clenching around him.

He isn’t sure where to look. At your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure, or at your cunt that’s currently swallowing him whole. You toss your head back, slightly obscuring you from his view. So he settles his gaze downward–watching how his cock glistens from your juices every time he pulls out. It’s an intoxicating sight.

One that threatens to force him to spill himself inside of you. But he won’t. Not yet. Not until he’s done enjoying you for a bit longer. Not until he can make you cum again. He grabs some of your hair and tugs so you’re forced to look back at him. “You love this, don’t you? Using your cunt to please me?” Your legs wrap even tighter around his waist, drawing closer…deeper. “Yes, Master! Feels so good pleasing you!” Pressure builds in your lower belly from the orgasm that’s steadily approaching. It feels like he’s everywhere. In you. On you. All over you. “M-Master I—so close. P-Please.”

You’re struggling to form words but he already knows what you’re trying to say. He reaches between your bodies to your clit and rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breaths, teasing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while, your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way. He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm around him. It’s too much, and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. You both tremble through your aftershocks, unable to detangle from one another while coming down from your highs. He feels like a new man after cumming for the first time in God knows how long. But one look at you and your sleep-heavy eyes has him focusing on steadying his breathing faster. Memories from his past return to him, and words like aftercare play through his mind. It displeases him that he doesn’t know what you require right now—space or intimacy? Deciding it’s best to take the middle ground, he slowly slips out of you but sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He takes the utmost care not to jostle you but you don’t seem to notice because you’ve already turned onto your side facing him. You make yourself comfortable, curling up with your eyes closed and a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Relieved, he lets out a breath and runs his hand through his dark locks to move it off his face. “That felt amazing. Thank you, Master,” you mumble happily into his pillow. “Call me Severus.” “As you wish, Master Severus.” A spark of warmth emanates from his chest. He likes the way you say his name. It makes him feel things. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. At first, you whine, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. He holds you close and whispers, “Will you tell me your name?” You peek up at him with a smile and say it. He repeats it, liking the way your name rolls off his tongue. You nod, your smile widening across your face. He can’t stop himself from stroking your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He stands, making his way over to his wardrobe. “Get yourself ready for bed, Little One.” He calls from over his shoulder as he uses his wand for a simple cleansing spell. Since you’ve managed to coat even his balls in your slick.

Afterward, he slips on a pair of black silk pajama pants. He’s about to put a shirt on when he turns back to you, expecting to find you dressed, but instead, he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your night robes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Severus should have known this wouldn’t last. He tries to disguise his disappointment but fails. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The ice in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His frown deepens, “The Dark Lord didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. This only confuses him further. To have you waiting for him nude was clearly meant to entice him, but to leave you with nothing to wear after doesn’t make sense. “No personal belongings at all? I don’t understand how he expected you to get home after this.” You flinch, once again looking away. “He said…” you trail off. “Never mind, Master.” He didn’t need spells or potions to see the discomfort radiating off of you. With the long-sleeved shirt he had intended for himself in hand, he makes his way over to you. Of course, he could have simply conjured you some clothing, but if he’s being honest with himself— He wants you wrapped up in him for a while longer. “Arms up.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey, and he slips the shirt over your head to help you dress. “It’s a tad big on you, but it will do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Severus is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. When you do, he continues, “Tell your Master what’s bothering you.” Perhaps it isn’t right for him to pull the ‘dom’ card when you aren’t technically his submissive, but he needs the truth. You stall for a little longer, gnawing on your bottom lip until you finally respond, “The Dark Lord told me that I didn’t need to pack any of my things because he didn’t believe you’d want me after you were through with me.” “I see…What else did the Dark Lord tell you?”

“That I belong to whoever comes into the room, and that I was to serve them until they no longer had use for me. Which he predicted would be just for tonight…Then he–” You falter, bravery abandoning you. He lets out a breath, resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes. Of course, he had threatened you. Placing a finger underneath your chin, he gently raises it. Your eyes flutter, struggling to meet his gaze. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” You only nod. “You have my word that you’re under my protection now. Do you understand?” You nod again and summon your bravery so you can continue. “Then he said that maybe he would pass me around to the other Death Eaters or maybe he’d use me himself.” Severus can’t explain the jealousy that boils within him. But it’s there. Hot and nauseating. Suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of another having you. Not Voldemort. Not anyone. “No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air, but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud. Honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that the only hands he wanted on you were his. “Is that…something you’d want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Listen to me, there are still many things we’ll need to discuss—”But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck.

“Thank you, Severus,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable.

No one has ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it.

The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone.

He can’t deny how good it feels to have you close.

Things can’t be this simple can they?

Nothing in his life had ever been simple.

You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. It tears him from his thoughts and instead has him worried about your comfort. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked into his chest.

He had no way of knowing if this would work, but bloody hell did you fit perfectly against him.

Years of tension seemingly start to melt away as sleep threatens to take him over.

Voldemort had given you to him for being his most loyal Death Eater.

And while nothing could be further from the truth, Severus Snape can’t help but think.

This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

#lady in writing #Severus Snape #severus x reader #severus snape smut #snape fandom #professor snape #alan rickman

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atypicalamortentia · 9 months

Text

The Proposition || Lucius Malfoy

Synopsis - You're staying at Malfoy Manor one night when an unexpected guests enters your room with a proposition.

Warnings - NSFW.

Note - All characters are 18+!

Word Count - 2.1k.

[Caffeinate Me]

You had been Draco’s best friend since second year at Hogwarts. He was unbearable to some, but not to you. In fact, Draco was in love with you, had been for some time, but you were interested in someone else. Someone much older than you:

Lucius Malfoy.

There was something about the platinum blonde man that had your heart racing and thighs clenching at the same time. You found yourself daydreaming about Lucius often, especially when you were over at Malfoy Manor. You would catch glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to find he would be watching you intensely as he sipped on his wine. You would blush intensely and look at Draco immediately, engaging in a conversation about something that you didn’t even care about. Lucius would grin at your reaction behind his glass and continue watching as you shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. He knew what you felt, and he felt it too.

Tonight you were staying over at Malfoy Manor in one of their many spare rooms. This wasn’t the first time you had stayed the night, but it was the first night that anything of this nature had happened. It was one in the morning and you found your eyes fluttering open to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and peered into the darkness. “Draco?” You asked sleepily, squinting your eyes in an attempt to make out the figure standing by the door.

“Were you expecting Draco?” Lucius smirked cockily, closing the door quietly behind him as he stepped into the large room. Your eyes widened slightly upon hearing the man's voice.

“Mr Malfoy,” you gasped as your heart began to hammer against your chest.

“Oh please, call me Lucius,” he tutted, stalking over to you slowly. Lucius could just about make out the outline of your small form in the large bed, swimming in the covers. What was he thinking? His wife and son were down the hall!

“Okay… Lucius,” you breathed out, raising an eyebrow as the man sat on the end of the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you with a proposition,” he purred, dragging the tips of his fingers along the deep green silk covers on the bed.

“A proposition?” You asked. Curiosity ran through your blood as you watched him move closer to you on the bed.

“Yes, a proposition,” he whispered lowly, fingers trailing up the sheets to your feet.

“What’s the proposition, Lucius?” You asked quietly. You didn’t know whether to be flustered, embarrassed or irritated.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking,” Lucius started. You felt your face getting hot at his words and you were thankful that the darkness covered your face so he couldn’t see your blush. “I propose that we both stop dancing around the matter and get down to it.”

“Am I dreaming?” You muttered to yourself only for Lucius to chuckle and shake his head.

“No sweetheart,” he cooed, hand trailing up your covered legs slowly. “You’re not dreaming.” You shivered as Lucius’ hand smoothed over the duvet that was covering your legs. Your mind was racing with many thoughts as his hand continued to trail up your legs, resting on your thigh. He squeezed lightly and a soft moan threatened to spill from your lips. “So… What do you say?” Lucius asked.

“T-To what?” You replied.

“Do you want me to fuck you, little one?” He asked, eyes boring into your own throughout the darkness. His eyes shone with mischief as he spoke. You didn’t use your words to reply, you were too scared too, instead you just nodded slowly making sure this wasn’t some sort of cruel prank. As soon as Lucius saw your nod, he pounced. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His cock twitched in his pants as he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the soft flesh that covered your jugular vein, excited for what was to come. You let out a soft whimper as Lucius continued to suck at your throat, leaving love bites that would be highly noticeable come morning. His hands trailed your body over the covers desperately, squeezing every inch of you under his long, heavily ringed fingers. “Ah you’re so beautiful,” he growled against your neck.

“Mhm,” you whimpered, unsure of what to say.

Lucius was continuing to suck on your throat as his hand pushed down the covers, exposing your pyjama covered body to the cool air of the room. You squirmed lightly as his hand made its way down your pants, ripping them off with a desperation you had never seen before. “So perfect,” Lucius mumbled as he looked down to see your panties beautifully on display for him. He licked his lips as he moved away from your neck, sitting up on his knees and taking in the full extent of your beauty. “You sure you want this, baby?”

“Oh Gods yes,” you moaned, spreading your legs for the man in front of you.

Lucius’ eyes widened as you opened your legs and they focused on the slight damp spot on your underwear. “My my, someone’s excited,” Lucius muttered as his hand dipped into the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down slowly, sucking in a deep breath as your cunt became exposed to him. You were glistening, folds positively soaking for the older man.

“Don’t tease me,” you whimpered.

Lucius slicked a finger up your folds teasingly causing you to shiver lightly. It had been a while since anyone had touched you like this. “I’ll tease you all I want, little one,” he murmured. “Been waiting so long for this.”

“Huh?” You asked through half-lidded eyes. You couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“You heard me,” Lucius grinned as he plunged a finger into your core. You let out a moan which you muffled with your hand, biting at the skin. “I’ve been waiting months for you to come to me, little one.” Lucius curled his finger inside of you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you before inserting an extra finger. You bit at your hand again and allowed your head to drop back into the fluffy pillows behind you, eyes rolling back into your head as Lucius began to finger fuck you slowly. His fingers were long and thick, slipping in and out of you easily. “Gods you’re so tight,” he growled. “I can’t wait to put my cock in your tight little hole.”

You blushed furiously at Lucius’s words but your eyes scrunched shut as he continued to work his fingers in and out of you. Moans and whimpers were slipping from your lips as you grasped the sheets below. You bucked your hips up in a futile attempt to force Lucius’s fingers deeper into you, but he just retracted them with a cocky grin. “No!” You cried out, opening your eyes widely.

“What's wrong, pet?” Lucius smirked. His eyes were full of mischief as he brought his fingers up to your lips. “Suck.” You nodded slowly and opened your mouth, taking his fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his digits, savouring the taste of your pussy on his fingers. Your face was flushed from embarrassment as he continued to force his fingers further down into your throat causing you to gag slightly. “Good girl,” he purred.

“Mr Malfoy I-” You started

“Please, darling, call me Lucius,” he smiled, pulling his fingers out of your mouth with a slight pop.

“Lucius,” you breathed heavily, panting slightly as he quickly unbuckled his trousers. You could barely make him out in the dark room.

You attempted to turn the bedside lamp on, shuffling slightly to the side and reaching a hand out to reach the string. “Don’t,” came his gruff voice.

“But I want to see you,” you whimpered lightly.

The platinum blonde haired male simply just shook his head and climbed on top of you, immediately pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to your neck. He grasped the base of his cock and slipped it between your wet folds, lubricating himself with your juices. Without warning, he slammed himself inside of you and immediately began to thrust his hips into yours. Lucius didn’t even give you a moment to adjust to his length. You let out a cry, which was muffled by his hand over your mouth. “Shh pretty,” Lucius whispered into your ear. “We don’t want Narcissa or Draco to hear you now, would we?” He grinned. Your stomach turned slightly at the mention of his wife and your best friend but you were too overwhelmed by both pain and pleasure to really think about what would happen if they were to catch you. Lucius was rough, his hips were thrusting at a relentless pace and you had tears pooling in the corner of your eyes. You were desperate to make some noise, to cry out in pleasure as he continued to fuck into you but with his hand over your mouth all you could do was make muffled whimpers.

“Please,” you muffled. “Harder.”

“Harder?” Lucius replied with a smirk, his eyebrow raised. Alas, he obliged to your request and removed his hand from your mouth, pushing himself into you at a harsher pace. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, mouth hung open into an ‘o’ shape as pathetic whimpers left your lips. Lucius’ hands were stationed on either side of your head as he fucked you, his head resting on your shoulder and nipping at your throat lightly to muffle his own moans and groans. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” he whispered against your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know?”

“I-I do?” You managed to squeak out. You opened your eyes as he began shifting over you, long blonde hair falling in front of your face as he continued rutting into you.

“Fuck, yes you do,” he growled. His movements were rapid now and had you on the edge of your orgasm. Your fingers flew down to circle your clit, desperate to push yourself over the edge as Lucius stuffed you full of his cock. You wanted to cry out as your orgasm washed over you but bit your lip and let out a muffled moan instead, your legs began to shake from the sheer intensity and your eyes began to see white spots.

“Oh Gods,” you whimpered softly as your eyes rolled back into your head yet again. Then your body went limp.

“Gonna fill you up pretty baby,” Lucius whispered into your ear as he continued to thrust into you. His words sent shivers down your body as he continued to talk to you in a seductive voice. “Gonna fill you up with my cum so good.”

“Yes, please,” you cried out. Your hands made their way back around his neck to steady yourself as he continued to fuck you harder, chasing his own orgasm.

With a few more staggered thrusts, Lucius was spilling hot thick ropes of cum into you. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as his hips continued to smash against yours for the final time. Lucius stayed on top of you for a few minutes panting down your ear and whispering sweet words. “You felt so good Y/N. So fucking good.” You were rendered speechless and were only able to nod your head. You couldn’t believe that this had happened. Without warning, Lucius slipped out of you and rolled next to you onto the bed, his cum trickling down your wet thigh slightly.

“Oh my Gods,” you whispered, more so to yourself than to Lucius but he heard it nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” He asked, standing up and tugging his trousers back around his waist.

“I’m fine,” you replied, nodding your head yet again. “Certainly didn’t expect this tonight.” You found yourself chuckling.

“Neither did I but here we are,” Lucius mumbled. He bent down to give you a kiss on the forehead. “Until next time, little one.” And with that, he left the room leaving you alone once more.

You lay staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours as you tried to process what happened. You had just had sex with Lucius Malfoy. Your best friend's father. You sighed as you tugged on your pyjama pants and laid back down in the large bed, your chest rising and falling with each breath. You had no idea what the future would hold, if anything, but what you did know is that this would be a night you definitely wouldn’t forget.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy x you #lucius malfoy imagine #lucius malfoy imagines #lucius malfoy one shot #lucius malfoy one shots #lucius malfoy oneshot #lucius malfoy oneshots #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 6 months

Text

Poisoned out of Love

A giggle followed by shushing sounds had Sirius mentally preparing himself for whatever mess the troublesome duo had made this time. It was a shame that Remus was still out cold from yesterday’s full moon.

“Are you sure this is the right recipe?” Harry asked, no doubt with his hands on his hips—something he picked up from Remus. “It smells funny.”

“That’s the whole point, Harry,” Draco said with so much sass that it had Sirius snickering behind his hand the closer he got to the kitchen. “Poison is supposed to stink.”

Poison?

“What’s going on here?” Sirius demanded as he rounded the corner and came to a standstill at the sheer disaster that replaced what used to be a clean kitchen.

“Nothing,” they said in unison, innocent eyes blinking up at him. Yeah, that quit working on him years ago.

“That might have been believable if you didn’t have dirt on your chin, Draco. And Harry you have something slimy on an ear.”

Instead of cleaning off themselves, they cleaned each other. Sirius tried to remain strong and firm, but his heart melted when Harry gently wiped Draco’s chin.

When Draco grinned—a front tooth missing—and giggled as he wiped whatever the hell Harry managed to get on his ear, Sirius was pretty sure his heart exploded.

They were too cute.

“What is this I hear about poison?”

As expected, Harry rubbed his shoe into the floor, contrite and already apologetic. Also expected was the way Draco stomped his foot and crossed his arms.

“I’m not sorry!”

“I know you aren’t, Draco. You never are,” Sirius sighed, coming closer to the table. He blinked rapidly when he realized the ‘cauldron’ they used was actually the dog bowl.

“What’s in this?” Sirius wrinkled his nose at the smell. He probably should have asked better questions or scolded them properly like Remus would have, but where was the fun in that?

“Poop.”

“Milk.”

Sirius closed his eyes before placing his head in his hands. “I’m not even going to ask. What possessed you to want to create this monstrosity?”

When Harry opened his mouth, Draco turned to him angrily.

“No, don’t tell him! If you tell him then he won’t let us poison McMillan.”

McMillan? He couldn’t remember what their kid looked like, but as far as he knew McMillan was their classmate in Magical Care for the Youth.

“I’m not going to let you poison McMillan at all.”

Another foot stamp had him huffing a laugh as he debated on whether it would be rude to vanish their ‘potion’.

He knew better, he really did, but he still asked, “And what did McMillan do that deserves a good poisoning?”

“He made Harry cry!” Draco said, hand slamming on the table. “That’s not okay. No one gets to make him cry.”

That little snot nosed brat made Harry cry? How dare he.

“Carry on then.”

Harry and Draco barely began to cheer when a disappointed, “Sirius, really?”

Sirius turned around; hands raised as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Save it,” Remus waved a hand as he made his way to a chair and collapsed down. “I knew something was wrong when those two went quiet. It’s never a good sign.”

Two outraged, “Hey!”

“But Moony, he made Harry cry! My little baby cried!”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Sometimes parents say that,” Draco said solemnly. “My father says that every time I dress up for galas.”

“You are adorable in your dress robes,” Sirius agreed, cringing at the fact that he agreed with Lucius on anything.

“What about me?” Harry pouted. “Am I cute?”

Before they could respond, Draco nodded rapidly, hair falling into his face. “The cutest!”

Harry blushed, twirling a little at the praise. How come he never did that when Sirius praised him?

“Yes, you are both cute,” Remus said, eyes closed and head resting on the table. Sirius ran a hand down his back, rubbing out any knots that he could find. “But not cute enough to get away with poison.”

“Aww, not fair!” Harry pouted.

“If I could cite my sources on why we should be allowed to, can I then poison him?”

Remus lifted his head, brows raised and reluctantly intrigued. “What kind of sources?”

“No,” Sirius laughed, for once feeling like the adult that he pretended to be. “No poisoning him. How about we settle for a strongly worded letter to his parents?”

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t approve.”

Sirius took a deep breath. Why couldn’t Harry have come home best friends with another child?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he deadpanned. “Now, let’s clean this up and get ready for our monthly fun day.”

Draco and Harry gasped, rushing around the kitchen to put everything away.

“Ice cream!”

“Pizza!”

“Movie!”

They continued to shout until everything was clean and they dragged Remus to the couch. Every month on the day after the full moon, they all squeezed onto one couch and indulged on all of Remus’ favorite things in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Sirius, you’re my favorite cousin.”

“What do you want, brat?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, hating that his chest puffed out at being Draco’s favorite.

“Can we watch a scary movie?”

“No,” Remus shook his head. “The last time we did that you refused to go home for a solid week. As much as I love you, you don’t live here.”

Draco blushed, face heating up as he admitted, “That’s because Harry is my comfort pillow.”

Sirius saw the way Remus melted at that, and he was right there with him.

“Do we have anything pressing this week?” Remus asked, already giving in much to the enjoyment of Draco and Harry who were jumping up and down.

“No, and I don’t think Narcissa will mind as Lucius has business in France.”

“He doesn’t have business,” Draco argued, nose wrinkling. “Father has no job.”

Sirius snorted, ignoring the elbow in his side from Remus.

“Alright, we can watch a scary movie.”

“And I can stay for two weeks?” Draco asked, innocent eyes that were never innocent blinked up at him.

“One week.” Sirius couldn’t believe that he was negotiating with a child.

“Three weeks.”

Remus laughed, waving away Sirius’ glare as he continued to laugh.

“One and a half,” Sirius countered.

Draco made a considering noise, one finger on his chin as he thought about it. “Deal, but I get to bunk with Harry.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to separate you two.”

“Come on Draco,” Harry pulled on his friend’s hand. “Let’s go get the drinks.”

The sound of excited talking, little giggles and laughter echoed back to them, and it filled Sirius with warmth.

“We’ve got good kids.”

There was a time when he would have argued that they only had one kid, but now there was nothing to it.

They had two kids, and they were pretty perfect if he did say so himself.

Poisoning and all.

#drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Wolfstar #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Wolfstar raises harry #kid Harry #kid Draco #poor McMillan

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pizzapottah · 4 months

Text

young love

summary: the youngest malfoy meets the famous harry potter, not knowing that he'll be a big, big part of her life one day.

pairing: harry j. potter x malfoy!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: some depiction of health problems, mention of premature birth, mention of being underweight, overbearing parents (?) let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: hii! this is the first ever fanfic i post on this site, so, please be kind. english is not my first language (tell me if i missed any mistakes!) so constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated! i thought of this as the first part of a series that i have in mind, so, enjoy <3

ps: yes, i changed draco's birthday for the plot. no regrets.

when you met harry potter for the first time, it obviously was on platform 9¾.

you had always been quite a weak child. born on the 1st of august 1980 after a gruesome labor and almost a month before the due date, always the smallest amongst your friends and family, often used to miss occasions and such because of your poor health. constantly coddled by your parents - more likely, your mother - who for your whole childhood dreaded the day they would have had to send you to hogwarts.

when the day came, they both had already made peace with it. as a witch and as a malfoy, you had to go to hogwarts - or else, what might other people think? said lucius, when narcissa tried convincing him of hiring a tutor at the manor to teach at home for at least the first years.

against all the odds, you were happy about going to hogwarts. it would have meant not having the prying gazes of your parents on you all the time, being free from all the house-elves constantly watching to ensure you didn’t faint or hurt yourself while trying to do things other children did without a struggle - and, last but not least, hopefully not being a victim of your brothers protectiveness anymore.

draco malfoy - your older brother, born not even a year before you on the 5th of september - was a precocious child, but not the kind you were. while you were born early and always ended up being the last, he seemed to be ages ahead of you and all of his peers. he had a malice that you hadn’t quite matured yet - obviously inherited by your dear father - and was able to have a pretty mean way with words. sometimes, you feared that one day, all the sly remarks and insults that he reserved for the people that he despised would be directed to you. more often than not, he was straight up cruel rather than mean.

but still, he was your brother, and you loved him. hogwarts probably would become the place where he could finally forget about his poor, sick sister that always slowed him down.

so, when not even ten minutes after your parents left your kitten disappeared, you wanted to bury yourself from embarrassment. nibbles had never been the easiest cat, hating the carrier almost as much as she hated everyone but you, and it was certainly not the first time she managed to escape her cage.

you wanted to sit down and cry. you hadn't even arrived at hogwarts yet and everything was already going downhill. you were running up and down the platform, searching for your cat, probably looking crazy while you screamed her name. draco was surely already on the train, and you didn’t want to bother him as he was probably with all his friends.

as you ran, you slammed against a boy whom you didn’t even see - he just came out from nowhere, you swore, but still…

‘i am so, so sorry…’ the boy was on the ground, just like you, but had a slower reaction and you managed to get up first. seeing a pair of glasses - now broken glasses - on the floor, you immediately gave them back to him, babbling a string of apologies while helping him to get back up. you kept a hold on his hand while rambling, ‘i am really sorry for your glasses, i didn’t mean to break them, i shouldn’t have been running around-’ the screech of the hogwarts express made you yelp, making you enter an even worse panic - where the hell are you, nibbles? - “i am so sorry, but have you seen my cat? her name is nibbles, she’s about this big, with grey and white fur - she’s a birman, her snout is all brown - she probably hisses at anyone who tries to approach - please, please, tell me that you’ve seen her!’

the boy was all skin and bones, wearing clothes that were clearly too big for him, with untamed locks of black hair on his head - he probably hadn’t brushed them since forever - and two big green eyes that just stared back at you. he looked at you speechless, like he never fell on the ground in his whole life and he was happy that you knocked him out. you still held his hand, waiting for an answer. ‘...so?’

‘excuse me, dear,’ a kind voice echoed. ‘is this the cat you’re searching for?’

removing your attention from the boy, you looked at the woman who spoke - a red-haired, chubby and oh-so-kindly looking woman - who was pointing to a red-haired man. he held nibbles at arm’s length, with his face covered in scratches, while behind him three boys that were clearly their sons were laughing, holding back their tears when the birman tried to scratch him again and then hissed.

‘nibbles!’ you screeched, immediately running up to the man to grab your cat, apologizing profusely, not even knowing what to say. ‘i am so, so, so sor-’

the woman and her husband waved you off with a gentle smile. ‘don’t worry, dear, you better go now, or you won’t find a place to sit! first year, am i right? still not enough friends to keep a cabin occupied.’

you just nodded, thanking them again, and ran to the hogwarts express. thankfully, all your belongings had already been placed there by the house-elves that accompanied you and your family to the platform, and you could count on daphne and theodore to save you a seat. when you finally managed to sit down, you were out of breath and probably your hair looked like a mess, but at least nibbles didn’t become a stray. when they looked at you, your friends bursted out laughing, only stopping when nibbles launched at theo and tried to bite off his nose.

the rest of the day was pretty normal - well, as normal as the first day at a school like hoghwarts can be - but when you met that skinny boy - the one with green eyes and too-big clothes - you didn’t realize that you missed a big (vital, almost) detail about him.

the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

harry potter was sure he was dreaming.

while he watched you run away with your cat in your arms to get on the train, his mouth fell open. he was certain he had never seen a girl as pretty as you, and he was also sure that yours was probably the first sincere apology he had ever heard since… well, since he could remember. it had nothing to do with dudley’s mockery sorrys, and it surely wasn’t a forced apology like the ones he had heard when he was at school. she was really sorry. probably he should’ve been mad that you broke his glasses, but at least, he had proof that you actually existed and he wasn't hallucinating.

‘are you alright, dear? i know that all of this probably looks unbelievable for you.’ mrs weasley placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a kind of worry that he imagined only a mother could show.

harry looked at his hand - the one you held. ‘i think it’s the first time in my whole life that a girl has held my hand and has talked to me willingly.’ near them, the twins and ron bursted out laughing again.

and that same evening, when the sorting of the houses begins and harry sees you go up to the seat when another malfoy is called and ron is sprouting poison in his ear about your family and your whole lineage, he silently hopes that you get put in gryffindor - where he’s just been sorted.

obviously, as destiny has its strange ways, it doesn’t happen. and after a minute or two of uncertainty, the talking hat places you where draco has just been sorted to. and between the claps and the cheering of the students, you go and sit next to your brother - on the slytherin table.

the second time you met harry potter - and the time you actually consider as the first time meeting him, despite him always arguing that in fact, it was not - it was already january and five months had passed since your first encounter. you stood by the window of the library, watching your friends play in the snow, without you.

when you and draco came back home for christmas, you first caught a cold, followed almost immediately by a high fever. the mediwizard said it probably was because of the weather, and your weak build just reacted badly to it. he recommended you to not get too exposed to the cold for the foreseeable future, and to always stay covered up. it was clear that your parents had taken that seriously.

so, now, no matter how much you beg professor snape, he won’t let you go out. your parents have been strict about this matter, miss malfoy, he said. and i can’t let an all-O student get sick, now, can i? who will answer my questions in class?

hermione granger, you had wanted to say, but didn’t. snape’s distaste for her, or any other gryffindor for that matter, was clear and plain. you were sick of always being kept behind a glass like some fragile object - people get sick, so what? during your time at hogwarts, your health got better. for the first time ever in your life, you felt like you were really healthy, as you finally gained some pounds and were no longer underweight. also, your skin took on a lively color, leaving behind your usually pale and sick incarnate. you were starting to suspect that malfoy manor was the problem. maybe it was cursed.

though, draco never had any health problem. he could go out and play - but instead, as any other saturday, he probably was in his room, sleeping, or in the slytherin common room, talking with his friends about all the presents their parents got him for christmas.

and as you were commiserating yourself by the window, you didn’t notice a certain green-eyed boy looking at you.

harry thought that he was wasting a saturday by spending it at the library, trying to understand snape’s assignments, but that was until he saw you. when he first noticed, he tried to not give it much thought. he just hoped that your brother wasn’t there with you.

but as time went on, draco was nowhere to be seen. and you just stood there, propped up by the window, looking like the saddest person he’d ever seen. harry was conflicted - he knew you weren’t like your brother, or even like most of the slytherins. you always helped neville during potions, trying to alleviate snape’s hate against him, even when the professor said to him to stop slowing you down. you often offered to hermione to confront your assignments before turning them in, creating a strange friendship based on the purpose of getting the highest score possible together. you never took part in your brother’s bullying, and hermione described you as the sweetest person she ever met. ‘she always wants to apologize,’ she said once. ‘for her brother and his friends, i mean, but i don’t let her. it’s not her fault that her brother is such an imbecile.’

‘oh, yes,’ replied ron, skeptical. ‘kindness, a typical malfoy trait, am i right? hermione, she’s brainwashing you.’

they argued back and forth, until harry intervened. ‘i met her, once,’ he mumbled. ‘she’s nice.’

‘oh, you mean when she knocked you out on platform 9¾?’ snorted the weasley. ‘don’t be so stupid, harry, she was just searching for her ugly cat. she probably didn’t even care that you fell. besides, the scratches it gave to my dad’s face tormented him for days. he said that some of them even left a scar.’

harry frowned. ‘she apologized a hundred times - and you were laughing while her cat scratched your dad’s face!’

‘yeah, because i didn’t know it was malfoy’s cat and it would have left scars!’

‘right now, you’re being just like malfoy,’ seethed hermione, getting up from her seat. ‘judgy and full of prejudice. did you know what she said about you, and your family? she said that your parents were really nice to her and that she hopes to meet them again to thank them properly. she says that the twins’ pranks are hilarious, and that she wants to be prefect like percy one day. and she proposed to me many times to let you study with us, so that your grades could get better with our help. and do you know why i said no, ron?’ she glared at him, making him shiver. ‘because i knew you hated her, even if she never did anything to you.’ after that, she took her leave, leaving behind a red-faced ron and a really embarassed harry.

remembering the conversations they had, harry looked at you, and thought that in the small time he had known her, hermione was almost always right - even if sometimes he didn’t want to admit it. and gathering all the courage that he had, he got up from his seat and approached you.

‘hi,’ he said. you turned around to look at him, and gave him a smile. ‘oh, harry,’ you said. in the last few months, he visibly gained a few pounds too - that was a nice thing, you thought, because you knew from hermione that his aunt and uncle barely fed him, and you remembered how skinny he was at the platform. it seemed like hogwarts was treating the both of you well. ‘hi.’ you darted your eyes from him to the table where he was sitting, seeing the homework sprawled out on the surface. ‘were you doing snape’s assignments?’

harry scratched his neck nervously. ‘well, yes, but it’s not like i was really succeeding.’

you laughed lightly - a sound that made his cheeks red. ‘yeah, snape’s homework is not made for actually succeeding, really. you just have to pass.’

harry looked out of the window, frowning at the sight of your friends playing in the snow. ‘why don’t you go with them? it’s surely more fun than staying here alone. i’m here because i have to, i mean, but hermione told me you and her finished the assignment yesterday.’

you grimaced. ‘i was sick during the holidays, thus my parents don’t want me going out, now, and they even told snape, who makes sure that i actually stay in the castle. so, i’m stuck here. i like the library, so it doesn’t really matter.’ it actually does matter, you wanted to say, but you were sure that harry couldn’t care less about your problems. instead, he made a face. ‘what? can he actually do that?’ he wouldn't know, he doesn’t have parents that care about him - in the rare times where he fell ill, the dursleys barely even gave him any medicine, and always sent him to school, despite the weather.

‘well, i mean, yeah. he’s friends with my dad, and i know he can be really pressuring sometimes.’ you tried to smile at him. ‘do you need help with potions? i’m kinda sick of watching my friends having fun and doing nothing.’

harry didn’t want to bother you - or worse, give another reason to draco to make fun of him. ‘don’t worry, i’ll mana-’ seeing your pout made him stop and relent. after a brief pause, he said: ‘of course you can help me, if you want,’

that was how it started. in the weekends - mostly it was on saturdays - when the library was empty, you would help him with his homework (mainly potions, and you were quite proud of the fact that harry started to get higher scores, even if snape continuously suggested that he was cheating on his tests) and he would keep your mind off of your friends. you didn’t want to hold them back from having fun, so it was okay.

until one day, harry came to the library late. it was already february, and probably the snow would have melted soon. it wasn’t really snowing anymore, and all the students spent their free time out in the gardens, trying to enjoy the last bits of winter. he was out of breath and had the biggest smile on his face. he said your name, ‘do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

you smiled sadly at him. ‘harry, you know i can’t. but if you want to, you can go. i won’t be mad at you for going without me.’

he shook his head vehemently. ‘no, no,’ he said. ‘i asked, do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

‘well, i mean, i would like to, but-’

‘no “buts”,’ he interrupted you, ‘go and change - wear your coat, put on a hat and other things like that to stay warm. today professor mcgonagall is keeping an eye on the students, so, we just have to bypass snape. let’s see each other in 30 on the second-floor girls’ bathroom.’

you raised an eyebrow at him. ‘why would you want to see me in a girls’ bathroom?’

he blushed. ‘do you trust me, or not?’

so you went and changed into something warmer, putting your ear warmer, a scarf and a pair of gloves in your bag. as you exited the girls’ dormitory and entered the slytherin's common room, you found yourself in front of professor snape, who eyed you suspiciously.

‘miss malfoy,’ he said. ‘great afternoon, is it? i’ve seen all your friends out in the snow.’

‘oh, yes, professor,’ you squeaked. ‘i’m just going to the library, though. wouldn't want to catch a cold and make my parents worry about my health.’

he raised an eyebrow, not really convinced, but let you go easily. ‘don’t forget that professor mcgonagall also knows that you can’t go out in the garden, miss malfoy,’ he said at last.

you barely even heard him, sprinting to the second floor and making sure you weren’t being followed, immediately entering the bathroom. thankfully, moaning myrtle was nowhere to be seen, but you found harry already there, with a bag of his own and looking pretty nervous. ‘you promise not to tell anyone about this?’

‘now, harry, why would i?’

he opened his bag and took out what was inside. your mouth fell open. ‘is that-?’

‘an invisibility cloak? yes, it is.’

you only ever saw one once, in your grandfathers house, behind a glass in one of his cabinets. he never let you or draco touch it, insisting that it was a "collection object" and it wasn’t made for "children who want to play". you knew they were very expensive and rare, and seeing that harry’s one looked really beautiful, you asked yourself where the hell he got it from.

‘you ready to finally get a bit cold, malfoy?’

professor mcgonagall was watching the students by the window, enjoying some tea and reading a book, when severus snape slammed the door of her office open, stomping inside. ‘minerva,’ he greeted, all but happy. ‘can you tell me how miss malfoy managed to sneak under our noses and get outside?’

unbothered, she looked out of the window and saw that yes, actually, you were out in the snow, covered well, making a snowman with hermione granger, harry potter, daphne greengrass and theodore nott. ‘i don’t see the problem, severus. she’s enjoying herself and is happy with her friends. it’s the first time i see her smile this wide.’

snape raised an eyebrow. ‘yes, and i suppose, it’s also the first time you see her in the snow. out. in the gardens. where her parents specifically asked to not let her go.’

then minerva suddenly remembered - merlin, she can’t go out in the cold. the five-page letter your parents sent dumbledore where they said that their daughter couldn’t be allowed out there for ‘poor health reasons’ immediately came to her mind, and she paled.

she got up, leaving her book and tea behind, sprinting down the stairs to get to the gardens, snape close behind her. ‘miss malfoy!’ she yelled once she got there, without even having her coat on. ‘miss malfoy, come here at once!’

she saw your friends pale, and your face fall. the snowman, by then, was almost completed. the professor felt guilty instantly. how many years has it been, since i’ve seen gryffindors and slytherins get along?

you got up from the snow and sniffled, sad. ‘thanks, guys,’ you said. ‘that was really fun.’

with your head low, you went to your teachers, preparing yourself for the scolding you were surely about to get. at least, they waited until you were inside the castle to start. ‘i never thought you capable of this, miss malfoy,’ started snape. ‘putting yourself in danger, going against your parents’ wishes and the mediwizard precautions - do you want to get sick? don’t you think that if you can’t go out, it’s just for your own good-’

‘now, now, severus,’ a voice interrupted. dumbledore, who was going down the stairs and heard the commotion, looked kindly at you. ‘she just wanted to have some fun. it’s been two months from her illness, am i right? she’s taking her medicines and taking care of herself. don’t get mad at her if she wants to play with her friends; she’s a child, and that’s what children do!’

he approached him and looked at you, smiling widely. ‘why don’t you go back to your friends, miss malfoy? i’m sure they’ll be delighted to hear that from now on, you won’t need to sneak in the garden anymore to play with them - you have my permission to go out during free time.’

your eyes sparkled. ‘really, professor?’ he chuckled. ‘really, missy.’

‘albus-’ professor mcgonagall tried to intercede, ‘her parents, they are gonna be furious if they find out about this-’

‘well, they don’t have to know, now, do they?’ he sent a look at snape. ‘and even if they find out, don’t worry, i’ll take full responsibility.’

professor snape huffed indignantly, turning in his heel and stomping away. 'unbelievable,’ he grumbled. dumbledore looked at you expectantly. ‘now, what are you waiting for, child? you can go. that beautiful snowman needs to be finished, and it looks clear to me that your friends won't complete it without you.’

you stood up straighter. ‘i, i, thank you, professor!’ you stammered, then ran away, going back to your friends, who were all discussing with each other, asking if they should go and try to help you out or just let it be. when they saw you, they all cheered loudly, asking immediately how it went and how many points the teachers took from slytherin.

‘albus,’ murmured minerva, watching you from the window. ‘don’t you think that it’s a reckless decision? you know that severus is going to tell the malfoys. and, poor her, she’s a weak child, do you remember how lucius malfoy described her illness in that letter?’

dumbledore hummed, deep in thought. ‘that child is in perfect health, minerva.’

she raised an eyebrow. ‘are you suggesting that the malfoys are lying? and for what? to ruin their daughter’s first year? you know how much the malfoys care about their children - they’d never do that to her.’

he shook his head. ‘no, i think the malfoys worry is legitimate. they don’t understand the cause of the problem, though, i fear.’ he looked at the snowman, almost completed, and then at you, who was searching for rocks to make him buttons. ‘children are fragile creatures. you never know how what you say, or what you do, will affect them. i am afraid that the malfoys have always been too overprotective of her, not wanting her to get hurt or sick - but sometimes, the more you fear and try to avoid a thing, the more it happens. children need to play with their friends - need friends -, need to play in the sun, and even fall and get hurt, once in a while. that’s what makes children children, am i right? she’s getting more healthy day by day, and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her smile like that - though i know i’m not around that much, i’m sure you can agree with me. we both know that growing in malfoy manor certainly won’t make anyone a happier child than they already are. draco surely loves that ambient - somewhere where everyone is at his beck and call, where he is revered by the servants and can feel all the wealth of his family - but what happens when one does not see all that, but just sees a too-big gloomy house?’

he quietly chuckled, looking at you and harry. ‘and - would you look at that, minerva! look at harry’s smile.’

she looked and immediately melted, knowing the look on the boys face - the flushed cheeks, the wide pupils, the biggest smile she’d ever seen (that’s not true, she remembered, that's the same smile james potter had when he looked at lily evans) while he talked to you. ‘yes, albus,’ she mumbled, deep in thought. ‘merlin. harry really is the copy of his father, isn’t he?’

dumbledore laughed. ‘ah, first love,’ he said, amused. ‘i just know he’ll remember her for his whole life, even if she ends up not liking him.’

‘a potter and a malfoy,’ mumbled mcgonagall. ‘never thought i’d ever see it in my life. is there anything more surprising than young love?’

the divider is from @saradika-graphics! <3

#harry potter x reader #harry potter x malfoy!reader #harry potter imagine #malfoy!reader #harry potter saga #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #hp fandom #pizzapottah's writing #fanfic #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter/you #harry potter/reader #harry potter fic #harry potter

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bookshelfdreams · 7 months

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the thing is though, as much as we all scream Ed did nothing wrong! at each other (and we're right, he didn't), the show itself, I think, does something much more interesting.

It asks us to forgive him.

Yes, he did terrible things. But we are asked to forgive him anyway. Not because he's very sad (although he is), not because he's pretty (he's so pretty), not because he had good reasons for everything he did (he had), not because the lasting damage is honestly neglectable (it is).

Not even because we are getting a very good look into his inner life, his issue, his trauma, his self-image (we do, and if that couldn't make you have empathy for him, why are you even here).

He deserves forgiveness, and healing and love. Just because. Because someone wants to give it to him, because he's worth it. Because sometimes we do fucked up, horrible things, and we are still people, we are allowed to come back from it, we are allowed to have a life after.

In-story, not everyone has to forgive him. Lucius is pissed at him, and that's okay. He's allowed to feel that way. But amid the worst of the pain and violence, Ed is never unsympathetic, because we are meant to forgive him, immediately, unconditionally. In-story, he's worthy of love, and I am so looking forward to him realizing that.

#like! idk im not going into the main tags lmao so idk what takes have popped up already but #ed did nothing wrong #and its actually okay hes allowed to do that. hope this helps.#like of course anyones allowed to read that differently & think eds irredeemable or whatever #but thats simply not the story djenks & gang are telling. hope this helps too #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #edward teach #thoughts

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k-looking-glass-house · 2 months

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What if Crowley uses "bird" vocabulary like Floyd with his marine nicknames....

Yes he's a crow ... Just imagine if he sees us as biiiiird~

Of course it's just my point of view, I am not a professional in ornithology, you might have your own idea about this one and I would definitely want to hear about it!

Mostly they are birds we could see in my country...

Let's go:

Ombrorio

Grim(m) -> Grey catbird (grey like Grimm, striped wings and can make cat noise....yes)

Yuu(sona) -> Sparrow (Crowley would definitely call Yuu a little sparrow....)

Night Raven College staff

Sam -> Painted bunting (small, vibrant, colorful, a rare sight to view)

Mozus Trein -> Eurasian skylark (classy, well known literally a french song about this bird "he sung it to Lucius as a kitten")

Ashton Vargas -> Pheasant (....the irony as his Disney counterpart is an hunter, but vibrant color)

Divus Crewel -> Great spotted woodpecker (literally screaming I am Cruella, fashion red, black and white bird)

Heartslabyul

Ace Trappola -> Nothern cardinal (red... funky feather style, fights their own mirror reflection...)

Deuce Spade -> Blue slaty bunting

Riddle Roseheart -> Robin (Hi Ciel Phantomhive...I mean Kuroshitsuji ref but look that little red face)

Trey Clover -> Nightingale (sorry Trey...Crowley is implying you can either sing...or can't...but you do have a perfect voice!)

Cater Diamond -> Pyrrhula (I love this little bird too....they became very rare by now, look this tiny orange one)

(Heartslabyul are literally the birds of Aurora in 2d "Sleeping beauty")

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl -> Owl (....this one is pretty obvious)

Leona Kingscholar -> "Savanna" eagle (yes... definitely a strong bird)

Ruggie Bucchi -> Speckled mousebird (listen to that bird you'll understand, also....that feather hairstyle!)

Octavinelle

Jade Leech -> Emperor penguin (tall...classy ...can't fly pfff)

Azul Ashengrotto -> Nothern gannet (verrryyy big, analystic-smart one, can't walk on land...)

Floyd Leech -> Snare penguin (unique appareance, multiple various vocalized sounds)

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim -> White falcon (precious, royal bird in a "maybe similar related country in our world")

Jamil Viper -> Red Parrot (or macaw) (obviously because of Iago)

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier -> Snow bunting (a "petite robuste" bird living in snow)

Vil Schoenheit -> Peacock (beautiful, handsome literally The Evil Queen's bird)

Rook Hunt -> Mallard (another irony for an hunter...but this bird is beautiful I mean it, and is found everywheerrre (like a stalker bird ha ha))

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud -> Blue jay (blue, black and blue stripes, funny enough the bird is stated to be noisy ha ha, Idia can be supah noisy sometimes too when setting his boundaries, GG Idia!)

Ortho Shroud -> Eurasian blue tit (a little fluffy bird, blue and yellow doing a very cute melodious sound, I love watching them...)

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt -> Egyptian plover (yes....the bird on the crocodile's back...yes)

Malleus Draconia -> Great eared nightjar (it's a dragon bird....look at him)/I could have chosen Casoar too... but nope...

Lilia Vanrouge -> Anna's hummingbird (it's small, pink and changes color with light...like his hairs)

Silver -> Nine-primaried oscines (a cute lovely bird in our woods, pink and blue)

Thanks National Geographic....

It's just pure fanon brainstorming... I'm sorry...

bird photos were mostly took from "Wikipedia"

#twisted wonderland #dire crowley #twst crowley #k is thinking #...the crow...#see you in march

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amuseoffyre · 7 months

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Well, mythical creature. Anything to say for yourself? Fuuuuuuuuuck yooooooou.

Bear with me because this may get rambly, but I find it fascinating that Izzy chooses to pick a fight with the figurehead on the ship. Given the history of figureheads as both identifying markers on a vessel and talismans to keep their crews' safe, I got thinking about the fact that for Izzy, Blackbeard is a figurehead.

Literally and figuratively, Blackbeard's identity looms large. Ed said it himself: he doesn't even need to be on the ship. People recognise the flag and the vessel and that's enough.

When the crew 'kill' Ed, Izzy is the one to keep his body on the ship. Which means that Izzy is the one to cover his head, leaving only his body visible. Only then, after Ed turns out to be alive again, Izzy goes and hides with the figurehead and - significantly - picks a fight with it.

Did Ed ever tell Izzy "I'm the kraken" (ie. a mythical creature)? Who knows. But even if he didn't tell him, Izzy said way back in 1x04, "I was honoured to work for the legendary Blackbeard". Blackbeard who is a legend and a ghost and a mad demon pyrate. A mythical creature, if you will.

For Izzy, he really seems to be redirecting all the rage he didn't/couldn't direct at Ed towards the unicorn. The subtext in the first scene between him and Stede at the bow is... uh. Quite telling.

Stede: He's seen better days, hasn't he? Izzy: At least he's still got both legs. Stede: Yes! Oh, he can't hear you. He's got no head. You've got a head, though, which you should look after.

Given that "losing your head" was another euphemism for insanity and Ed said himself "they think I'm a bit crazy" and Izzy described him as "going mad", Izzy really does seem to be projecting everything on to the figurehead who lost its head.

And then, in a drunken rage, he hacks the legs off the unicorn, dragging them along and throwing them down in front of the crew, declaring "There! It's done! Maybe next time he'll think twice about doing his fucking job".

We know that this is a triggering sentence for him. We saw it in episode 1 when he tries to bring the crew to order, and the memory of hearing it from Blackbeard - knowing he's expendable and not as valued or trusted or safe as he believed himself to be - led to him having his breakdown in front of the crew.

For him to bring this back up again, this open wound that led to the meeting with Blackbeard that then led to the confrontation and the shooting that cost him his leg, all ties in together with the unicorn.

Initially, I didn't twig why he was doing it beyond grief and misery and being drunk off his tits, but then in episode 5, it clicked. Specifically because of this exchange:

Izzy: Flipping the tables on Blackbeard didn't quite numb the pain? Lucius: Maybe we try what he did to you next. Izzy: What who did to me? Lucius: Blackbeard. Because he... chopped off your leg.

Which is what Izzy was doing in episode 4: trying what Blackbeard did to him by hacking the legs of the unicorn. Only it didn't help... until it did when the crew took a piece of the damage he had done and made something new from it to support him. (Hello, I am rolling around in the symbolism 🥰)

What I also find especially compelling is that he recognises that Lucius is trying to process his trauma the same way as he did: by doing unto others what was done unto him. Only Lucius does it by pushing actual Blackbeard overboard while Izzy takes his frustrations out on a myffic wooden pony.

#ofmd s2 #ofmd #ofmd meta #izzy hands

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casmick-consequences · 6 months

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i rewatched the finale just now, and I have some thoughts.

mainly, i want to thank taika and david for this wonderful show that's brought me immense joy this last month, and i'll always take it with me no matter if we manage to get a third season or not.

did i like the finale? yes, i really did. did i think it was very rushed, had weird scene placements and could've gone with another episode to even things out? also yes.

as far as izzy goes (and this is where it gets extremely controversial knowing how much this fandom loves him); i am actually glad his storyline ended here.

this entire season, we got to enjoy him and we got to see his redemption arc. from someone who is obsessed with this monster of a being, to someone who learns to come into his own, away from all the toxicity and poison. he gets to find out more about himself, and with that grow closer to the people around him and allow himself to have friends. a family, even. would i have loved to see him live a full life like this? definitely. but story-wise, this is a perfect ending for him. "you born alone, you die alone" he said, and then he passed peacefully surrounded by his family and in the arms of not blackbeard, but edward.

i need the people of this fandom to understand that just because your favorite character died, doesn't mean that it instantly turns into a bad show/season/whatever. you have to look outside of your bias, and instead of going "no fuck this show because i did not want him to die" you could go "i am incredibly sad that he died but i'm so happy to have known him and to have him in my life". it's a show, the character isn't going away simply because he died.

but then again, izzy didn't mean as much as he did to the majority of you and i don't wanna go around telling people how to feel, because feelings and emotions are real and if he meant a lot to you then yes, of course you're hurt. and that's 100% completely valid. just don't take it out on the rest of the show and the show writers (saw some ppl say that nasty things were being tweeted at djenkins and that's not ok. at all.)

idk, even after watching it twice i feel kinda... weird.... like too much happened in little time. but i am OVERJOYED that lucius and pete got to have their little wedding <3333 they're mateys!!!! i just wish it wasn't over in 30 seconds, as well as completely overshadowed by izzy's death 2 minutes before.

but i do think the finale had some GREAT bits in it. even if most of it felt rushed, there was comedy, emotion, romance, GREAT kisses (the way gentlebeard was handled in this episode made me very giddy!!)..... it just always delivers.... and watching this with everything else that happened in s2 I can safely say that this might be my favorite season of any show out there.

once again; THANK you taika and david <3 love youuu

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands #taika waititi #david jenkins #ofmd 2x08 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd 2x08 spoilers

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avelera · 7 months

Text

Huh, just had a random thought about Stede's reactions to people asking him about Ed this season and sort of had a revelation:

Stede isn't used to people asking for his opinion.

There was this interesting observation in this post that when Izzy asks Stede to "give him his worst" after he learns of Ed's death, it's Izzy trying to deal with Stede the way he'd deal with Ed. He senses there's a blow-up coming so he prods it to make it detonate and then directs the vitriol towards himself. It's what he did on board when Ed was threatening to shoot himself during the "toxic atmosphere" confrontation. Give the captain a target for his anger so we can all move on.

But, as the post notes, Stede isn't Ed. There's a lot of delicious, wonderful character-driven reasons that Stede's reaction to Izzy goading him like that is just pained silence, a topic for another day, but suddenly I started thinking about Zheng and her whole, "Girl how are you?" moment where Stede is similarly silent.

Then it sort of hit me: unlike Ed, Stede really is at a loss when people open the floor for him to talk, when they solicit his opinion. And when you think about his background, it makes a horrible kind of sense.

Ed's the fearsome pirate captain Blackbeard, he's used to people asking about his opinion (or fearfully about his intentions).

But remember when Stede and Ed first met? Ed asks if Stede knows what it's like to be waiting to drown, Stede cautiously answers yes, and Ed just bowls right over him. But Stede doesn't seem offended. If anything, he seems wearily accustomed to giving his mumbled answer and having it ignored. When he answers his father about marrying for love, Stede is also ignored.

When Stede does offer his opinion, it's in a very sort of grand, challenging sort of way, usually to his subordinates. But there's a feeling of interruption to his declarations. He knows no one is really asking, so he makes his statements to the air. Part of his pirate captain power fantasy is to have Lucius take notes about what he's saying. But there's very little... hmm, conversation? As someone with ADHD who has to consciously remember to let other people speak, which leads to a sort of stop/start conversation style, it feels a bit familiar. Stede is either making statements about his hyperfixations and getting mocked or ignored for them, or he's silent and his mumbled answers to questions are ignored.

He doesn't really expect to be asked a question and then listened to. He's used to questions as rhetorical devices for other people to talk about their wants and opinions and ignore his. (And I'm sure there's exceptions to this, I don't have perfect memory of ever line of dialogue, but I'll wager there's a status differentiator to who he declares to vs who he shyly defers to, his crew vs. people of higher status like Ed.)

Ok so to bring this back to Zheng and Izzy, who are sincerely trying to weigh in with Stede about what's going through his head with all these revelations about Ed... he's really kind of baffled. He doesn't think Izzy is sincere or benevolent (reasonable, after the end of S1) but I'd wager Zheng isn't being obtuse there. She's set up to be hyper competent. She is asking the important questions. Stede is just so unaccustomed to anyone of status listening to him, or asking questions of him that are important, that he looks actually a bit stunned and unsure how to respond.

Anyway. To fully back this up might require a full re-watch, I'm sure it's a bit more nuanced than this. But I really am mulling this now, about how rarely Stede is listened to. How he says "Talk it through as a crew," as an aspiration, perhaps based in a life where no one ever listened to what he was really saying or what mattered to him, but even with the permission to do so, he never, ever in S1 or S2 really opens up and answers the question himself except under extreme duress. Monologuing while alone to a picture of Ed (and getting VERY flustered and offended that Ricky is eavesdropping on this baring of his heart) is about as much honesty as we ever get from Stede.

Stede really really struggles to speak or answer questions about what's really going on with him. Maybe because before, no one ever really cared.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers

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believinghurts · 6 months

Text

Their Daughter Part 6

Tenison was high in the dining room of Grimmuald Place as the Black brothers stared one another down. Regulus knew that part of Sirius's anger was because he thought he had lost his child to his brother, much like when they were young, and their parents favored Regulus over him. But this was Sirius's own fault; Ali had tried even after she had been hurt that Sirius went to Harry first. Sirius could not get over the fact that Ali was close with the Malfoys and had taken to projecting his anger to the only person who would love him more than anything if he tried.

Sirius wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was jealous of Regulus. He always had been, but coming back from the hell he had been trapped in to find that his own daughter had chosen his brother over him hurt more than any torture he had ever faced. Regulus had always been the perfect child who everyone adored. He had gotten fewer beatings as a child than Sirius, had gotten better grades in school, and now was considered a dad to Ali. It was only natural for Sirius to go back to what he did during his school years and focus his attention on the people who showed him attention. Harry was his godchild, but Harry also had no one else, meaning Sirius didn't have to worry about being replaced. Sirius also felt awful for the events that transpired the night of James and Lily's deaths and was trying to make up for it.

"If you just gave her a chance, you may find she is much more like you than you think." Regulus sat at the table again, watching his older brother run his hands through his hair. "She is so headstrong and stubborn that I know it revivals yours. And I cannot express enough how she just wants to be good enough for you to love, much like how you tried for years with Mother."

Sirius sighed in defeat, regrettting the painful things he had put his daughter through. "I do love her. I just…."

"Are shit at showing it. I saw the look in your eyes when Ali called me dad; I know that hurt you. But instead of talking about it, you just lash out at her or me or Remus, making it seem like you really don't care at all. I never tried to fill that role in her life. I was and will always be Uncle Reg, and that is fine. Do I see her as my child and love her like my own? Yes, absolutely. I will do anything for her, and if that fills that role as a father, I will. But I don't want to take that from you. You had so much stolen from you in your life, Sirius: your childhood, your parents, your best friend, 12 years of your life. The last thing I want to do is take more away, but I cannot and will not put you above her. She deserves so much in this world, and you should help her get it. We both should. But the question remains: will you put aside your 'every Slytherin is a Death Eater' mindset to do so? Because people have changed and we are close to the Malfoys, Notts, Parkinson's, and the Zabini's. They are not the same people anymore. Things have changed in the war; sides have changed. But you haven't. Ali is loyal to a fault and is a great judge of character; she won't betray the Order, nor will the others. Just give people a chance, Sirius."

"I did give people a chance, and it…..it got my best friend and his wife killed. We trusted Peter. I trusted Peter enough to have James make him the secret Keeper. It got them killed, and he was our friend. How am I supposed to trust that Lucius Malfoy has the Order's best interest at heart when my own friend of 9 years didn't?" Sirius started pacing before his brother. His head is cloudy in memories, tears blurring his eyes as his best friend's dead body flashed in front of him. "I know that I'm shit at showing Ali I love her, and part of it is because I'm scared to get close only to lose her again to someone like Lucius Malfoy. I owe it to James to look after Harry, but that doesn't mean I don't love him like my own because I do. But I love Ali just as much, and I know she has you, Remus, and even Snivillious to love her. And I want to try to improve things with her; I just don't know how. How do I fix what I've done, Regulus?"

Regulus caught the double meaning to his brother's question, "You can't. Sirius, you can't fix what happened to James and Lily. You can't fix how you've treated Ali so far."

Sirius felt his heart crack at his brother's words. He had hoped to get Ali back, but it seemed he had gone too far. He started for the stairs when Regulus continued.

"But that doesn't mean you can't fix it from now on. You can't change the past and bring James back, but you can make them proud by loving and protecting Ali and Harry. I mean, yeah, they don't get along now, but I think part of that is because he has seen and heard how you and James treated outsiders. I know they used to play together as babies, not that they would remember it, but Remus told me. Tell how close they were till everything happened, and bring them back together. Stop being afraid of losing Ali to someone when all everyone wants to do is love her and keep her safe. And maybe you don't trust Lucius or the others right now, but I trust them more than Dumbledore most of the time. And you should talk to Moody about the help Lucius has given the Order even if he refuses to say he has aligned himself with us." Regulus held his brother's shoulder, "Give them a chance. Don't let the other kids make remarks about Ali and her friends. Talk to her. I wouldn't start trying to act like her father, but maybe a friend? Or a really distant uncle. You'll figure it out, Sirius; you're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Sirius followed his brother up the stairs, going to bed with hope, lighting a flame in his heart for the first time in years.

Days following the talk between Regulus and Sirius, Ali noticed that the golden trio had become slightly nicer to her. She does not make as many comments about her or her friends. She had no idea what was happening but wasn't going to complain. Regulus had come to her that morning telling her that he thought it a better idea if Blaise came to their house instead of her going over there. He believed it would show that the Slytherins were not as bad as all the others thought.

At first, Ali was hesitant about the idea. Still, after being reassured that Remus would be home as well as Regulus, Ali agreed. The thought of Blaise being at her house surrounded by her tormentors made her sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to run away for a few days, but that ship had sailed, and it was only hours before Blaise arrived when Regulus called for 'those who live in this house meeting.' By the time Ali had gotten dressed and cleaned her room, everyone was already in the kitchen since it seemed to be the usual gathering place for the group. She straightened her sweater and did a quick glance down to make sure her outfit was still okay. It was slightly chilly in the house, so she had gone with a Bulgarian Quidditch sweater that was mainly red with black details and a pair of cropped black leggings with matching fuzzy socks. She and Blaise had already decided to stay for most of the day and then go and get dinner somewhere in Diagon Ally so she could change later. Remus and Regulus walked at the same time as Sirius and Harry.

"I'm assuming everyone is confused about why this meeting was called," Remus started. "There seems to be an assumption that Slyertians and those associated with them are all Death Eaters or traitors."

Scowls had overtaken most of the younger one's faces in the room, as well as Sirius's. Ali looked at her uncle, trying to figure out where this was going. She knew the reason was to inform everyone that Blaise would be here for a few days, but there was something else going on; she could feel it.

"After speaking with Dumbledore and getting his permission, not that I technically need the permission as it is my house, but nevertheless. A few individuals will be coming to stay here for the upcoming days, and there will be a couple of visitors as well." Regulus's eye caught Ali's, and gave her a wink just as the sound of footsteps entered the foyer. Ali was too short to see over everyone's heads to see who was there, but from the looks on a couple faces, including the elder Weasley, it was someone they were not fond of.

A flash of white hair caught Ali's eye as the group entered the kitchen. Her mouth dropped in shock as she took in her uncle Severus, leading the Malfoys, Blaise, and Theo towards Regulus and Remus. Cissa shot her a wink while Draco eyed Harry and Sirius up and down; Blaise kept his eyes locked on Ali, and Theo thoroughly enjoyed the shocked looks from the Weasleys.

"Sorry, we're late. Draco took too long in the mirror this morning," Severus said. Draco glared at his Godfather before continuing on with his glare at Potter.

"Well, allow me to introduce everyone. This is Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, which I'm sure almost all of you know. This is Blaise, Theodore, and Draco. Narcissa and Lucius will be in and out for the next bit trying to get caught up on Order business while the latter three will be staying here for a bit." Remus shook Lucius's hand before joining Dora beside Ali, who was bouncing on her toes, overly excited at the fact that it was going to be back to normal in the next couple of days.

"You can't be serious. They are staying here?" Sirius exclaimed, running his hand down his face before glaring at Lucius. "I still remember what you did, Malfoy."

"I don't often agree with Sirius, but Dumbledore said this was alright?" Arthur asked. Ali knew that the Malfoys hadn't been the kindest to the Weasleys in the past, and she felt sorry for them in that aspect, but Lucius was not the same man as he was during her first year. And Narcissa wouldn't hurt a flea.

Remus stepped forward again, "He did. Narcissa and Lucius will be helping with some scooting missions that are coming up since they know that area of town better and are considering joining the Order. The three brats are mainly for Ali, though."

"Did you miss us short stack?" Theo opened his arms for Ali, who jumped straight into them. Theo gave her a twirl before pulling on her braid. She barely had time to catch her breath before Draco had her spinning again and tickling her sides, making her squeal.

"Of course I missed you! What kind of question is that?!" Ali giggled before hugging Blaise despite her uncle Remus glaring at them. Blaise took her hand and gave it a squeeze when they parted before facing the other children in the room. Theo and Draco took the opposite sides of Ali, showing a united front against the ones who had been horrible towards her.

Ali was ecstatic that they were going to be in the house more. Maybe her summer wouldn't end so badly. Sirius was shocked that Dumbledore had cleared this and even more shocked that Lucius would help the Order. He did not trust him and would go on those missions even if he had to go as Padfoot. This was outrageous and downright stupid, allowing death eaters to snoop freely in the Order business. Looking at his daughter, he could see how happy she was to be surrounded by her friends, but he also knew that he would have to keep a closer eye on her than he already was. He had asked the trio to play nice so he had more people watching her. He did trust that she was a Death Eater, and now he was surrounded by them.

"Al, Kreatcher sat up extra beds in your room for the boys. Pansy should be joining later, but she had something come up with her grandfather. Her mother said she would owl when she was on her way." Regulus leveled each of the boys with a look. "You lot know the rules. I don't care if you have fun but clean up after yourselves, and don't be too loud when it gets late. Curfew is at 10pm and no later. If you are leaving the house, go in pairs at least and let one of the adults you know be aware of where you're going. You lot know the food is fair game, and Kretcher has already been instructed to grocery shop more often. The house is also fair game, but be respectful, please."

"Don't worry, Uncle Reg. I'll keep them in line," Draco smirked at the other three before Severus whacked him upside the head.

Ali turned and looked at the younger swarm of redheads and others in the room. She cleared her throat to get the attention on her, which made her take an unconscious step back toward Blaise and Draco. "Everyone, this is Theo, Blaise and Draco. I'm sure most of you know this, but just in case. You are welcome to join our fun, but we get if you don't want to." Ali pulled the boys out of the room after greeting her aunt and uncle. They sat on the living room floor with wizards, chess, and a few other games while a movie played in the background. Kreacher brought out snack trays for them, and the laughter was music to Regulus's ears after all the quiet he'd heard from Ali this summer.

Ali could feel the stares from those around them, most directed at Draco and her. She could see the disbelief every time Draco laughed or made a joke. This was the side of Draco that was rarely seen by others. An hour had passed before a chess match went on between Draco and Ali. Blaise sat to one side of Ali, and Theo was in the middle of her and Draco, watching the death match continue.

"What dare shall I have you do this time, Als" Draco taunted her while he moved his piece. It was an ongoing rule that when she and Draco played wizarding chess, the loser had to do a dare of the winner's choice. It was always a toss-up in who won, as both were incredibly good at the game.

"Don't think too hard; I wouldn't want to overwork that one brain cell of yours." Ali stuck her tongue out at Draco when she stole his knight.

Draco was about to reply when a shadow came over the top of the board. Looking up, there was the eldest two Weasley children and Fleur. Ali could see the hearts in Theo's eyes before she kicked him in the shin. "She's engaged, you idiot."

Bill and Charlie chuckled, "We saw you guys playing games and were curious if we could join you? I have my board and thought we could do a little tournament."

Charlie held up his chess board. The teens all nodded, and with a snap of his fingers, Charlie's board was all set up. Bill took one side of the board before looking at Theo. "You up for a challenge?"

Theo crawled to the opposite side of the small table. Bill made the first move, and the game commenced. Charlie and Fleur took seats around the rest of them and started trash-talking with them, too. Charlie was on Ali's side, whereas Fleur took Dracos. Regulus, Molly, and Narcissa looked around the corner and had smiles spread across their faces at the sight they saw. It wasn't the younger kids trying to get along with the others, but the eldest and Molly knew that her children all looked up to their brothers, so maybe there was hope in this crazy plan after all.

#harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter fanfiction #blaise zabini x reader #remus lupin x daughter #regulus black x niece!reader #regulus black #severus snape x niece!reader #severus snape #sirius black x daughter!reader #sirius blacks daughter #narcissa malfoy #draco malfoy x platonic!reader #theodore nott #harry potter marauders

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thomasisaslut · 7 months

Text

Lucius Malfoy x F!Reader

DDLG — KTober

Word Count: 1k

Includes: Vaginal Fingering, DDLG, Barebacking, Lingerie, Blowjobs, Oral (M), Desk Sex.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50679682

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1388283912-𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑-𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐆-𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬-𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲-𝐱-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You've had an affair with your best friends father for a couple of months now, the sex has been phenomenal and freeing... no other man has ever touched you like that—or, as Lucius likes to call them, inexperienced boys.

Currently, you are choosing out your Halloween costume when your eyes land on the perfect one—an angel costume. Smirking, you see it's latex. Before you put it on you check your closest once more when you spot something else. Hanging on one of your hangers is a white lingerie set that Lucius gifted to you a few days ago, now would be an opportunity to tease him. Quickly you put on the lingerie before shimmying into the white, latex, angel costume.

Checking yourself out in the mirror only makes your smirk grow. The tight costume highlights your curves and not to mention it shows off the lingerie, you're sure it'll tease Lucius.

You tug on a black cloak before heading to the car, but when you get outside you see Lucius has ordered you a chauffeur. You chuckle at his careless money wasting tendencies.

After thirty minutes you arrive at the Malfoy Manor, you see Halloween decorations on the outside—Draco must've convinced him to decorate.

You go to knock on the door when it's opened.

"[First Name]!" Draco smiles and brings you into a hug, his own costume wasn't surprising. He wore a all maroon suit, a black cape hung on his shoulders by two golden broaches—atop his head were two little devil horns.

"We're matching!" He winks.

You chuckle and nod. "Yes, we are. How has the party been going? I know I'm a bit late." You smile.

"Don't worry about it." He places his hand on your hip and leads you to the main hall, there you see even more decorations—the lights have been replaced to an orange tint, the walls covered with fake cobwebs and spiders, tables covered with bloody tablecloths.

"Enjoy yourself." He looks over to Astoria Greengrass before winking at you and walking away.

Luckily, this gave you the opportunity to sneak away. You quickly make your way upstairs and to Lucius’ library-office. You push open the door and begin to look around when you can’t find him.

Sighing, you begin to leave when you feel hands on your hips.

“Looking for someone, little girl?”

“Lucius!” You jump and turn around.

He hums, pale blue eyes scanning over every inch of your body. His hands move from your hips to your waist before he tugs you closer.

“What are you doing up here?”

“I was looking for you…” You admit, your cheeks flushed.

“And who gave you permission to dress like this?” He tucks his finger under the latex before pulling back and letting it go—stinging you like a spank.

“Answer me, little girl.” He grips your hips again.

“Myself.”

“Oh?”

In a second you feel your feet get lifted off of the ground, now tossed over his shoulder be brings you to his desk, he places you down on it—your back against the hardwood.

“I am the one who gives you permission, little one.” He glares and flicks his wand, in a second the latex angel costume is off. His eyebrow raises.

“Lingerie?” Lucius laughs and runs his index finger from your cleavage to your lower stomach.

“I wore it for you..” You hook your legs around his waist and tug him closer, his cock rubbing against your half-clothed cunt.

“Did you now, little girl?” He smirks.

“Mm… yes, daddy.” You smirk back.

His smirk only grows, Lucius moves one of his hands to your cunt—ripping away the thin lingerie strap there before he inserts two fingers.

“Ah! Daddy!” You moan.

“Already so wet for me, little girl?” Lucius teases and begins to scissor you.

“Yes… just for you, daddy!”

“Good girl.”

He continues to thrust his fingers into you before he flips you over. He rubs your ass with his palm.

“How many spanks do you deserve?” Lucius smirks.

You ponder, you know there is now way escaping his punishments.. “Ten.”

“Ten? Hm… alright, little girl.” He brings down his palm. “Count.”

“One!” You shout.

You feel his left hand move back to your cunt whilst his right smacks your rear again.

“T-Two!” He thrusts two fingers into you.

“Three!” You shout as another spank comes down.

Lucius smirks and pounds his fingers into you, he finds that soft spot deep within you and begins to rub.

“Four…” You moan as he smacks you again.

“Oh, good girl…” His hand comes down on your ass again, much harder than before.

“Five!” You shout, his fingers only increase in pace.

By the tenth smack you’re a moaning mess, your ass sore as you leak onto his desk.

“Are you close, little girl?” He smirks before sitting on his chair, tugging you down with him without removing his hand from your wet cunt.

“Yes, daddy..” You whine and begin to rock your hips against his hand.

“Aw…” He removes his hand from your pussy. “On your knees, princess.”

You pout at the loss but quickly sink to your knees before him, within a second you unbuckle his pants and connect your mouth with his cock.

You begin to suck him off, his hand flying to your head as he tugs you down—choking you on his member.

“Good girl… so good for me.” He continues to thrust his cock into your mouth.

“Keep going!” He demands.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, putting forth all of your effort.

“Im close, princess.” He groans. Your hand moves to play with his balls as you continue to suck him off.

Soon enough his load shoots down your throat.

“Swallow it.” He demands.

You nod with whatever will power you have left, swallowing all of his cum before pulling off of his cock.

“Such a good girl, princess.”

Lucius motions for you to go back on the desk, you quickly comply and hop onto the desk.

“Are you ready for more?”

“Yes daddy.” You smirk.

And for the rest of your Halloween night you spend the night fucking your best friends father in his office, waiting to get caught.

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #lucius x reader #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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metalomagnetic · 1 month

Note

I was re-reading Dissonance and I wanted to ask if Abraxas ever kept the poison chandelier? Like is it a treasured family heirloom? Or does Lucius just inherit it when his dad dies with no clue why they have this dangerous, tacky piece of decor he can't get rid of because Lord Voldemort vaguely complimented(?) it one time?

It's hilarious that you sent me this ask, while I am still laughing myself to tears (I just read your comment 1 minute ago).

The 'homoerotic chandelier' (I am STILL laughing, thank you, truly) is, of course, gaudy; just horrid, really, there's a reason no one was buying it, even with Tom's outstanding sale talents.

Being an impulse purchase (a horny purchase), Abraxas didn't think it through- how on earth will he explain this monstrosity to his father?

He hides it in the dungeons, knowing his father doesn't go there (draft and all).

After Tom disappears, Abraxas might, or might not, visit the dungeons to have a look at it from time to time. He sent hundreds of letters to Tom, but they all returned unopened, so he's convinced his enemy-lover is dead. His cold, tiny heart, is broken.

Once his dad finally dies, Abraxas moves the chandelier to Gringotts, wrapped in a secure box, in the hopes he won't have to think about it (Tom) anymore, if it isn't in his house. At first, he wanted to destroy it, but he couldn't make himself. (It's lucky he didn't try, because that was one CURSED chandelier that would have reacted poorly to violence).

A decade or so later, Lord Voldemort shows up.

Abraxas is furious (happy)! How dare that mudblood be even more powerful than when he left? (how dare Tom just show up, as if Abraxas didn't mourn for him, thought him dead, and grew stupidly attached to an ugly chandelier as a stand in for Tom?)

Everyone is playing this silly game, pretending not to recognise this is Tom Riddle. Abraxas cannot wait to actually meet him face to face and spit 'Riddle' at him; he is a Malfoy, Riddle doesn't scare him! Alas, before he can meet him, he hears old classmates are dropping dead all over the place (the only thing they had in common was that they knew the name Riddle) and he reconsiders. It's not that he's afraid (he's terrified), but he's just cautious. Yes, cautious. He determines is better to avoid Riddle (even if his broken, even tinier and colder heart longs to see him again).

But then his stupid son comes back with a horrid brand on his arm (he remembers Riddle doodling it in his schoolboy silly journal) and Abraxas is horrified. Furthermore, Rodolphus keeps saying Voldemort is unnaturally close to Lucius, that they have many one on one meetings, and Abraxas has had ENOUGH. So he goes to face Riddle and tell him to stay away from his son (he has no idea that once, long ago, his own father went to tell Tom to stay away from Abraxas. Apparently it's a Malfoy tradition, now.)

Anyway, things don't go as planned, Abraxas freezes when he sees what Riddle had done to his previously perfect face. He freezes when he feels the *power* emanating from him. He ends up pretending he doesn't recognise him.

It's a long and complicated story (really, it is) but eventually Abraxas invites Voldemort to the Manor ( to discuss Lucius, of course, no other reason. Not like Abraxas had decade long fantasies of bringing Riddle to his Manor and fucking him in the master bedroom or anything like that). On a whim, he has the chandelier brought back from Gringotts and hangs it in the dining room.

Riddle's new waxy, harsh face does something funny, shows some emotion for once, when he sees it. Abraxas is suddenly hot all over, but they attempt to talk normally until Lucius comes home, bows to Riddle ( the indignity! Lucius should only bow to Abraxas) and then, with a sneer, asks if Abraxas has lost his mind, what is that ugly chandelier doing in their lovely home?

The chandelier apparently doesn't take the insult in stride, and , with a thunder like noise, starts raining poison down on Lucius.

It's fine, in the end. Riddle was always good with spells of all kind, the arrogant mudblood, so he fixes Lucius up, and then sends him to get some rest.

The next morning, when Lucius stumbles out of his room, with a headache from the remaining after effects of the poison, he witnesses his lord getting out of his father's room.

He blinks. Once, twice. He rubs his eyes, frozen.

"You're hallucinating," Lord Voldemort tells him. "From the poison. Go back to bed."

Lucius decides that yes, he must be hallucinating (he dearly hopes so, because why else would he see the dark lord, robe not entirely buttoned up, leaving his father's room at dawn?), and he retreats to the safety of his room.

Another decade later, when his father dies, Lucius decides to leave the chandelier in place ( in his father's room, where it was moved after it assaulted Lucius). He thinks it's wiser not to mess with the thing. Besides, it seemed to matter quite a lot to his old man; Lucius swears his father loved that ugly monstrosity more than he ever loved Lucius.

Thank you so much for your comment, and you're at fault for this lengthy, cracky answer! I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

#tombrax #crack #my fics #this is all because of a wonderful comment I got

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awyeahitssam · 7 months

Text

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

“You’re late.”

Harry considered his response as he stepped farther into the room, head tipping up to take in the fifty some-odd witches and wizards that made up the Wizengamot. They were all watching him keenly, some with open derision and others with curiosity. His head pulsed faintly at the weight of the attention on him, their emotions eagerly battering his Occlumency shields. Harry worked to think through the sensation even as he reinforced his mental defences. He could already tell by the sweat beading on his back that this would be a trying experience. The fact that this section of the Ministry was deep enough to obstruct the weight of all other presences did not make up for the fact that he was in front of fifty people rather than the expected four to six. He hasn't practised for this, has had no means to.

Fudge sat in the middle of the first row, and the smugness he and the witch to his right were emanating made it rather easy to pinpoint who had been responsible for the sudden change in the time of his trial.

"Am I?" Harry asked, and the jolt of astonishment, annoyance and fury that swept through various members of the court almost had him gritting his teeth. Harry imagined that Fudge's anger and embarrassment would have been obvious to him even without his abilities. The man had turned faintly red at the question, face pinching.

"You were sent notice of the change in time this morning," the Minister barked out. "It is not the Wizengamot's fault you are late. Now sit down."

Harry allowed his eyebrow to quirk, slow and incredulous. This version of Cornelius Fudge was far different from the one he had met two years ago.

“While I would hardly blame the Wizengamot as a whole, it sounds as if whoever is charged with correspondence is at fault. Per a standing law written in 1839, all changes in time and venue must be completed in excess of twenty four hours prior to a trial's start time. Said correspondence must have been confirmed as seen by the person or persons on trial and their representatives at least sixteen hours before the scheduled start time.”

“That is for an official trial,” the Minister returned, voice sharp despite the fluster and anxiety Harry could sense beneath it.

“Apologies for my presumption, then,” Harry said dryly. “I assumed that any trial which our entire governance presided over would be considered official.”

“Besides which, there is no such specificity to that law,” A broad, square-jawed witch to the left of Fudge said, giving the Minister a quelling look.

The Minister did not respond to the implied reprimand, instead puffing himself up a bit and saying, “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley, horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he stared down at a piece of parchment, quill poised to write. Unlike most everyone else in the room, his attention did not seem to find sole focus on Harry. Harry didn’t expend any effort to attempt to see how Percy felt about the entire situation, his focus drawn to an approaching presence. It was a whirlwind of concern, faint annoyance, and a dash of enjoyment.

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” said Fudge in a ringing voice, emphasising the word hearing, and Percy began taking notes at once, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Fudge continued on, listing interrogators, and Harry’s attention was distracted from Fudge’s words, the approaching presence, and his Occlumency shields by a jolt of glee and greed. His gaze flickered up to meet the icy grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The realisation dawns quickly that the Dursleys address was now a matter of public record. Harry had already decided he wouldn't go back, and this only provided more incentive.

He hesitates around the thought of whether the Dursleys will be targeted. Whether he should warn somebody that they need to be moved. Whether he cares enough to, after so many years of their oppressive hatred.

Behind him, the door presses open.

“—Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Dumbledore’s voice isn’t projected like Fudge’s, but there is no doubt that he is heard. The press of the Wizengamot’s emotions is momentarily overwhelming: annoyance, bemusement, fear, anger, respect, deference, joy… Harry’s own anger is hardly a blip amongst the cacophony.

When he strides into Harry’s view Dumbledore's expression is serene, but Harry can feel his spiteful enjoyment at the reception his disruption has created. He looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his crooked nose.

A few of the Wizengamot members muttered to one another, but most were quiet, eyes locked on Dumbledore.

While Harry’s presence had invoked interest and curiosity, the reactions to Dumbledore were far more substantive. Perhaps it was that the Headmaster had interacted with all of these people personally, socially, and they knew him by more than reputation. They had personal feelings and opinions fully developed about Dumbledore, while Harry was still, largely, an unknown.

“Ah,” said Fudge, thoroughly disconcerted and flustered by Dumbledore’s presence. “Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our—er—message that the time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

It was a lie, Harry recognized, and one the Headmaster took a good deal of amusement in stating. Some of Dumbledore’s lingering frustration seemed to melt the longer he watched Fudge, the genial cast to his face a farce. He took joy in Fudge being wrong-footed, and the longer he fumbled, the more Dumbledore’s contentment with the situation grew.

“Yes—well—I suppose we’ll need another chair—I—Weasley, could you—?”

“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest.

Harry had never thought of Dumbledore as anything approaching petty before, and perhaps he typically was not, but there was no denying that he was fond of making Fudge feel foolish. Well, his name had been dragged through the Prophet by the Minister's word; Harry couldn’t be surprised by a grudge. Seemingly omniscient or not, Dumbledore was only human.

The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.

“Yes,” said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. “Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.” He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy.”

“You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.

“Yes,” Harry agreed, not looking at Malfoy this time.

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” interrupted Fudge. Harry felt his vindictive pleasure at cutting him off—even with Dumbledore here, he was finding his footing—but as Harry failed to answer this question, his irritation rose to overtake it.

“You are expected to answer,” the witch to the left of Fudge said, raising a brow at him. She had been the same woman to defend the law he had parrotted.

Harry lets his silence linger for a moment, feeling the anticipation of the Wizengamot build, before returning, “Will I be allowed to do so in full?”

His voice is perfectly respectful, but Fudge’s outrage still blooms. Dumbledore, a glance away, feels of surprise-concern-suspicion, and it makes the hairs on Harry’s nape stand at attention.

“Yes,” the woman gave the Minister yet another quelling look, “of course you will.”

“Thank you. To your last question, Minister, I did receive an official warning three years ago. The warning was,” it took a moment for Harry to recall the right term, said by three other representatives in three other trials, but the momentary pause has the interesting effect of focusing attention on him all the more, “improperly dispersed. The magic that triggered it came from a visiting House Elf. Being the only known magical in Little Whinging and without the supervision of an adult witch or wizard, the charms used to enforce the Statute of Secrecy were triggered. If anybody would like to see a memory of the event in question, I would be more than happy to provide it, assuming there is a pensive available.”

“There is no pensive,” a man with dark hair and an austere demeanour said, then emphasised again, “This is no trial.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked, eyebrows raising as he glanced tellingly down at the chair in which he sat, wrapped in chains. “Very well.”

“Either way, it is rather late to be blaming your troubled past on elf magic,” Fudge dismissed, and let out a short laugh, as if he expected others to join him in it. At his side, the woman still cloaked in shadows let out a titter. “A unique and unprecedented excuse, as, I suppose, we should have expected from a young man trying to squirm out of trouble.”

It is Fudge’s tone, a mix of condescension and chiding, even as his emotions are anything but, that does it. Behind his Occlumency and building headache, Harry realises that he's angry. He is disgruntled, disgusted and dissatisfied. He had accessed the public records available, he had pulled transcripts from previous underage trials, and this—this is a farce.

This is Fudge, afraid to believe that Lord Voldemort is alive and smearing Harry’s name because he can. Because Harry has nobody looking out for him, and he’s been fair game since nobody stepped in the first time Rita did it. Beside him, Dumbledore is perfectly silent.

Harry is a symbol, but he's also fifteen, and it's an odd thought that reeks of his Godfather.

“You're fifteen, pup,” Sirius had insisted mere days ago, like it meant something, like it mattered. “You deserve the chance to be a boy without all of this added pressure.”

The glimmer in his eyes had been just as telling as the mingled pain-grief-exhaustion-despair. He was speaking from experience, Harry had thought, throat tight. It made Harry want to fight for his Godfather, for the boy that he once was. Where, then, was that impulse to fight for himself?

“You matter, Harry. What you want matters.”

Harry does not want to play their games, though he has already begun to. He does not want to use the information he's researched, as he sits in a chair with chains, and struggles through polite phrasings. He won't let his research go to waste, though. He knows something for once, and he'll use that knowledge.

The look he levels to Fudge, then, is faux-concerned. “I understand you've had no reason to research this, Minister,” he says, voice kind in a way that is mockery and can not be called such, “but I take the threat of having my wand snapped very seriously. According to public records, the Statute of Secrecy charms have been proven defective in the exact scenario I've discussed once before, in the case of Richard Pike, who’s classmate had an elf deliver things on multiple occasions until he was brought between a five-panel jury to plead his case.”

“Mind you, the Ministry hadn't been running a campaign to discredit Richard Pike,” Harry added casually. The reaction from a simple remark didn't disappoint; Fudge spluttered, the woman beside him leaned out of the shadows, revealing an overwhelmingly pink ensemble, and someone burst out, “Now see here, young man—!” before being abruptly silenced. “He was fifteen, too, but he actually had adults willing to advocate on his behalf.”

Dumbledore’s concern is growing beside him, but Harry doesn't turn to meet the man's eyes, and Dumbledore does not speak out, despite Harry’s accusation.

Harry’s rage is bubbling at the back of his throat, and he wants to shout, but he had learned about the ineffectiveness of screaming his ire long ago. That lesson had only been reinforced after his outburst at Ron and Hermione, and he is more than willing to try something else now.

He takes a moment to consider his approach, and then goes with something that feels natural, a release that will keep his shouts in check; Harry laughs.

“Something funny, Mr. Potter?” A cold voice comes.

“Not really, Something is ridiculous, though, and I’m sure you’d all rather I laugh than deal with a moody teenager's temper tantrum.” He lets his smile go a little sharper, and feels the good his reminder does. There is a particularly keen sense of culpability from a woman he faintly recognizes from his research; Head of the Panel for Underaged Sourcery, Irena Covey. Is the guilt for allowing this to spiral so out of hand, into a room meant for criminal proceedings, or something else?

“I have before me the entire government of magical Britain, wasting their time at a hearing for underaged magic which is typically handled by an empaneled jury of four. We are in the bowels of the Ministry, in a room that has not been used for anything but trials of the most dangerous criminals, and yet this is not a trial, but a hearing to decide disciplinary methods, as if there is no doubt of my guilt and I must be punished.”

“My ‘crime,’” he uses the air quotes readily, “is using the Patronus Charm to protect myself and my cousin from a dementor. My cousin, who knows about magic and does not count as a breach in the Statute. If you'd like to see the memory of the encounter, I give full permission to have it pulled from my head. If you'd like to give me veritaserum—well, I have no parent to consent to the use of a regulated substance, but that's never stopped anybody before. I’ll submit myself willingly to that as well. And if,” he smiles sharply, “you'd like to handle this especially quickly, and get back to your doubtlessly busy lives, I will swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. How's that?”

It’s nothing that can be compelled or asked for, not ever, but the offer is a powerful thing. Vows on your magic can be taken as irrefutable testimony, and are rarely given, as they rely on objective rather than subjective fact, a twist that always leaves one with the slightest chance of turning squib.

He feels the shift in the air, the reconsideration of biases, the sharpening curiosity.

“I find your tone disrespectful, boy,” says a man with the longest straw-coloured hair Harry has ever seen. It lies in neat curls, soft and touchable, but the man’s face is cold and his tone hard, and Harry can’t pinpoint his intention with so many other people in the room.

“Perfectly understandable, sir. I find this entire theatrical display disrespectful. You are all very important and busy people, so I can understand that you are frustrated with having your time wasted. However I hope you'll forgive if my frustration outweighs your own, as I am being treated like a war criminal rather than an underaged child due to a bewildering grudge that our Minister seems to be harbouring.”

“You want to snap my wand?” Harry asked the Minister if Magic, eyes blazing but posture relaxed, “Then you can be certain I will put up a fight.”

He let his eyes trail over the rest of his jury, the heady, odd feel of their captivated attention allowing his shoulders to relax into something looser and more confident.

“Magic is the only thing I have of my mother and father. So forgive this fifteen year old orphan for his sentimentality,” Harry bared his teeth, “but I plan on keeping it. Especially considering that I have broken no laws, and there are clear caveats in place that allow an underaged witch or wizard to use magic when in fear for their life.”

He let his gaze slide over the Wizengamot and paused to meet every set of eyes that were not looking away. His point has been well and truly made. Dumbledore is surprised by his outburst, or perhaps by its effectiveness, and faintly suspicious for some reason.

“Strong words prove nothing,” a man larger than Harry’s uncle says when Harry’s gaze lands on him, and he doesn't believe Harry, but he is used to that.

Harry thinks back to the books on magical vows he had studied during the tournament, and the book in the Black Library that he had read two days ago. He thinks of the vow that he had carefully drafted, under Sirius’ supervision. His godfather has emphasised the importance of his wording, so that there could be no mistake.

“Harry, wait.” Dumbledore’s order comes curt and harsh, but Harry pays it no attention. He knows what has caught the Headmaster’s attention; the golden glow that had encapsulated Harry the moment he chose his words. It hazes around his form, and Harry looks down at his hand with interest and curiosity.

There is a sudden murmuring from his audience as they catch on.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my magic that on the night of August 2 I used a patronus charm to ward off dementors in Little Whinging, Surrey, in fear of losing my soul.”

The golden glow retreats. Several people gasp at the act, but it is no mere dramatics; the shock he feels pulsing through the room is genuine. He allowed the pause to linger for a moment before saying, “I would cast a spell to prove my claim, but this is a disciplinary hearing for underaged magic.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but before he could speak a worn voice sounded from the top tier of the gallery. “I vote an exception be made. Raise your wands if you are in agreement.”

It was nearly unanimous, and Fudge’s expression was taut. His emotions were hard to pinpoint, though multiple people were radiating fear, stomach-churning and vile. Madame Bones glanced around the gallery, expectant. “Mr. Potter, if you would?”

Obediently, Harry drew his wand and murmured a spell under his breath. It was a rather cheeky choice, but Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason. His patronus burst into existence and lifted its head regally, sightless eyes fixed on the Wizengamot. After a moment it turned to Harry and met his gaze before bowing its head. Harry bowed his head back in respect, tension lessening as he felt the warmth and serenity his patronus gave to him, deeply soothing. It took a step forward and pressed its head to his chest, and Harry smiled.

“Fantastic,” Madam Bones murmured. “Very impressive.”

She said it, but Harry could feel it radiating from all around the room; respect, wariness, keen interest. A couple of people even seemed amused by his gall, which, he supposed, was better than offended. Fear was regulated to an undertone in the room, pervasive but not overpowering.

Harry’s patronus raises its head, a huff ruffling his hair. He raised a hand to brush over its snout, feeling the warm, welcoming peace it emanated more than its fur. It stares into his eyes for a long moment, grounding Harry, before lowering its head one last time and glimmering out of existence, purpose served.

“Well then,” the shift in the room was abrupt. With two words the attention of the Wizengnot had been captured by a dark-haired woman, whose brown eyes were cataloguing Harry. The abrupt pull and shift of emotions might have been startling had his patronus not left him so balanced. “I might have agreed that all of our time was wasted on this day, Mr. Potter, if not for this exquisite demonstration of a mastered patronus. That it is tactile as well as spiritually corporeal is a rare and impressive feat, especially given your age.”

Beneath her intrigue and open interest, the turn of her emotions had an odd chill to them. Her fascination is detached and clinical. Her regard had the effect of sharpening the interest towards Harry all the more. Dumbledore’s emotions pulsed behind him, an odd mix of wary, vexed and rueful.

“Perhaps, Lady Laurier, it would be most appropriate to turn our attention to how a dementor managed to make its way to Little Whinging in the first place.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Bones clears her throat. “That is certainly a matter that needs attention. First, however, Mr. Potter’s verdict.”

“I believe that Mr. Potter’s vow constitutes irrefutable proof, and this tria—hearing should be closed.” Covey spoke up, her slip made all the more apparent by its correction.

“So it shall be,” agreed Bones. “As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I accept into the record Harry Potter's magical vow. In combination with his subsequent proof of magic, this vow is considered irrefutable evidence. As such, all charges against the accused are dismissed with the Ministry's sincere apologies. I put forward my professional recommendation that future cases of underaged sorcery are dealt with by the bench traditionally empaneled.” She added pointedly.

#my writing #Empath Harry #I'm desperate to start writing this story again #but as in love as I am with the premise I've set up and other scenes that've been written #writing this is like pulling teeth #Harrymort #unless I'm incapable of continuing

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