Snippet Monday

“Give me a nice thing,” Harry said that night.

Draco blinked up at him, sleepy and lazy, like a lizard in the warm. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he said.” - Nice Things, aideomai

Here’s a little gift for everyone here ♡ I’d like to think that often, Draco would stop, pause, and think, it’s a sheer wonder that they get to be together like this.

Your honor. They keep piling up. Help.

I recently finished Never Mind the Bollocks by The_Sinking_Ship. Since that day, it has been living in my head rent-free, and will remain there. Perhaps for a long, long time.

Every time I try to collect my thoughts to articulate every single thing I loved about a fic, I just end up screaming and dying with the feels. So instead of words, here’s some drawn lines (and more screaming).

they better accept each other's invitation, right? | also on ao3.

a little offering after being inactive for some time. happy new year, everyone!

Those who have seen them mentioned the same thing about the unidentified man: He has striking, platinum blonde hair.

💜 ✈️ 🍓

Really love your art btw !! xx

Hi nonnie!

💜 Barely breathing pen/camera/laptop holder

✈️ I recently went on a trip to Taiwan, and amongst the places I visited there, it’s Jiufen Old Street that took my breath away (figuratively and literally because… lots of walking! But I’d go back there in a heartbeat).

🍓 Obsessed with llaollao lately!

Thank you being here and and *gets emotional* for your kind words about my art ♥︎

good god.

Since when had his name become a soft prayer on Draco’s lips?

Friendly reminder that fan-made content (fanart, fanfic, fanvids, etc) are:

extremely time consuming. Remember someone actually took time out of their life to create that, time they could’ve used to, idk, sleep, for example

entertainment you’re consuming for free. I can’t stress this enough: you’re enjoying someone else’s craft for free. You paid exactly zero money to look at/read/watch it.

S H A R E D  with you, not made for you. This is the most important point: someone created that, put it online and you found it. No one forced you to consume that fanwork, you C H O S E  to do it. 

Whenever you feel like leaving a mean comment, anonymous hate or make a ~clever post about how ‘lol look at all of these overused tropes every fic writer crams into their fics’ remember you’re being a dick to someone who shared their work with you. You’re not being funny, you’re not being edgy, you’re not being brave for calling something out - you’re being a dick.

hi!! #14 & #90 for the trope mash-up if you want to? 👀♥︎

Fanfiction trope mashup - Bodyguard AU x Unexpected Virgin

I took this in a slightly different direction to what I was intending, but I quite like it!

Rating: M

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Malfoy slammed the door as he stomped in behind Harry, the rusty hinges squealing. “Do you have any idea–”

“Come off it, Malfoy, you pillock.” Harry rolled his eyes, delighting as the corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched. He sagged against the cool stone wall, trying to catch his breath for the first time in hours.

“I told you not to draw attention to yourself.” Malfoy tugged at his pale hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. He looked far older than his eighteen years, the seemingly endless months of war hanging heavy on his frame. He had lines now, between his arched brows and across his high forehead. They stood out when he hunched over a book as he read by candlelight, too nervous to cast a proper Lumos.

“I didn’t try to–”

Malfoy’s laugh was hollow. He fixed Harry with a look that displayed the fatigue and sadness lodged deep in his soul after so many losses. “You pulled your wand on Greyback. That–”

“I had to.” Harry’s words tripped over themselves. He clutched at the wall, breaths coming faster and faster, the echoes of the offensive spells fired at him and Malfoy still hot on the skin of his heels. “I couldn’t not, not after everything.”

“Then let me do it.” Malfoy’s voice was desperate, pleading. “I’m supposed to protect you. You can’t let me fail at this, Potter.”

“You don’t care about me,” Harry said, though he didn’t believe it. He saw how Malfoy looked at him now, had watched the fear and determination on his face when he threw himself between Harry and the oncoming spells.

“Sirius does.” Malfoy yanked at his jumper, tugging it over his head. There was no point in keeping it now, not in the state it was in; they’d have to burn it before nightfall. Before they moved on from there, to somewhere safer. Wherever that was. “And I can’t let him down, Potter. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

What about me? Harry wanted to ask. He ached to, needed to hear the answer out loud, that something that he felt from Malfoy every day, in each action he performed. What about what I’ve done? What about what you’ve done for me?

Malfoy’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. He looked at Harry then – really looked at him. “I’ve killed for you.”

“Yes,” Harry said. And I’d do the same for you.

Malfoy’s pale throat moved as he swallowed. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.”

“I would.” Malfoy’s gaze was heavy, his shoulders sagging. “But please don’t make me.”

And that was something that Harry couldn’t promise, no matter how much he wanted to. Malfoy knew that; Harry could see it in his face.

The rest of their clothes hit the floor, the threads of fabric standing on end, friction from the offensive spells caught in each strand.

Malfoy stared at the pile for a moment, jaw clenched tight. “We’ll have to burn them.”

“Not in the fireplace.”

“No. The bath.”

Harry gathered up their things, shuddering at the remnants of hostile magic that brushed against his skin. Every atom seemed to scream They’re here. He’s here. Come and get them.

The light of the fire danced across Malfoy’s face as they stood next to the tub, watching as their clothes burned. The scent of it was cloying, magic mixed with ash and charred polyester. Malfoy shuddered, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. Harry glanced at him only once, eyes dropping lower, cheeks heating.

Malfoy cleared his throat, the sound harsh against the backdrop of crackling flames. If Harry closed his eyes and listened, he could almost believe he was camping somewhere in the countryside, innocent and safe.

“We need to wash the magic off.” Malfoy’s tone was rough, like shoes on gravel. “I…”

“Together,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. He couldn’t go back downstairs and wait, ears straining for any sign of someone having followed them to that crumbling lighthouse on the edge of the world.

Malfoy nodded curtly, turning away when Harry looked at him.

They couldn’t turn the water on, just as they couldn’t activate any of the lights. Instead, they took turns holding Malfoy’s wand up, keeping a finger on it to activate the Aguamenti. Malfoy shivered, stepping closer to Harry as water sluiced over the planes of his torso. It shimmered, magic running down their skin and collecting at their feet. Droplets of water clung to Malfoy’s pale lashes as he turned to face Harry, blinking slowly. He didn’t flinch when Harry reached for him, not as he had the last time, the only other time Harry had tried.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, and Malfoy finally touched him back. He slid a hand round the back of Harry’s neck and tugged him in close, kissing him firmly. Their knees bumped in the cramped space, Malfoy’s fingers tangling in Harry’s hair, his breath a whisper.

Malfoy gasped, tipping his head back, when Harry wrapped a hand around the length of him. His legs shook, fingers clutching for any part of Harry he could reach. “I can’t … Potter, I haven’t … not before. Not ever.”

Harry kissed the confession from his lips, swallowing each of Malfoy’s moans, keeping him quiet so they wouldn’t be found. His bicep bulged, muscles straining with the effort of keeping Malfoy’s wand raised above their heads. He didn’t protest, didn’t ask to swap. He touched Malfoy slowly as Malfoy looked his fill, ran his fingers over another body for the first time.

“Please,” Malfoy whispered, legs shaking. “Fuck, I need…”

“Hold on to me,” Harry directed, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes.

Malfoy clutched onto him and gasped, mouthing Harry’s name again and again against his damp skin. He said it out loud as he crested, Harry’s given name passing his lips for the first time as the smell of their burning clothes filled the air.

“Sirius is going to kill me,” Malfoy muttered against Harry’s shoulder, later, after they’d Apparated to a damp forest in Cumbria.

Harry wrapped an arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, holding him close. “Not if I do it first.”

His words rang loud in the quiet, a joke that didn’t so much as fall flat, but seemed to predict something, a future that neither of them wanted.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He pressed his lips to Harry’s throat, parting them and swiping his tongue across Harry’s skin. “But not if I do it first.”

Send me two tropes and I'll mash them together

(◡‿◡✿)

(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”

(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”