#i am so incandescently happy

[jokermoreau]

thinking about how my bf stopped mid-y'know to admire and kiss all over me and then he looked up at me and told me i was so beautiful

fgkjldf it isn't even the first time he's done something like that, it just blows me away how loved and cherished he makes me feel

[junewild]

ok so. i’ve already told this to all of my nearest & dearest so now it’s time to tell my beloved tumblr folks too. but i’m going to put it in the tags because i am whispering it to all of you

[wordsinhaled]

Charles has settled on Edwin's lap in the wingback chair in a comfortable sprawl, his knees on either side of Edwin's. He'd gone about it with a practiced ease, as though this is something he's done a million times; as though he belongs here; as though he could search out this spot in his sleep, if ghosts could sleep.

Yet Charles being so near to him, and with such deliberate and specific intent—that being their mutual enjoyment—is a relatively recent development, in the grand scheme. Edwin is... ablaze with the newness of it. He has to tip his head back just to get the full measure of Charles perched astride him, of the low lamplight diffused across Charles' face, of the fond, familiar mischief that glimmers in his eyes.

Port Townsend may have opened Edwin to his innermost desires, but if he is very, very honest he can admit that his private longing for Charles is of much older provenance. He would have given Charles an eternity to sort out the shape of his own feelings, if he needed it. And if it had meant Charles' continued happiness, he would have been content to live out their days alone in his regard, content with a cherished friendship that never included this.

By some miracle, he does not have to.

It had not taken Charles anywhere close to an eternity to figure out the rest, so to speak. What is a single year, after all, to a pair of ghosts? Falling in love, Charles had told him, felt like waking up in a strange bedroom which became, as you shook off sleep, suddenly as familiar as your own. "Oh... bit of a weird metaphor, that," he'd said, wrinkling his nose in the way Edwin privately found exceedingly endearing. Then: "Sorry, mate. I'd been building up to this, you know? What I was gonna say to you. Had it all planned in my head and now. Well. Can't get it out right, can I?"

But semantics didn't much matter, in the end.

In the end, being in love with one another had come to them as easily as it had to fall into step walking through the gates of St. Hilarion's, away from their shadowed past and towards their intertwined future.

It is dizzying to acknowledge that this is real—not a game, or a trick, or a trap. Just Charles Rowland, whom he adores, looking equally smitten as he steadies himself with his hands on Edwin's upper arms, the better to give an experimental shimmy of his hips against Edwin's. Like an anchorless ship Edwin drifts on the sweeping tide of pleasure their proximity brings. He relishes how Charles’ gaze rolls over him, terribly tender in its focus and promisingly molten.

"Charles," he says in unspooled wonder, simply because he can. Simply because happiness, in this moment, takes the shape of his best friend's name in his mouth. To his own ears he sounds strangled. Transported. Not himself whatsoever. It ought to scare him, the difference Charles can work through him so easily with the barest effort; it both does and doesn't. "I am certain you'll be the death of me."

"You're already dead, mate," says Charles, "live a little," and he actually giggles, like he's just said the funniest thing in all the world; like it pleases him immeasurably to know he can have this mad effect on Edwin. The giddy edge of his laughter vibrates through his chest, and into Edwin's. And Charles sounds breathless, even though ghosts do not need to breathe.

Edwin loves him so much, just then, that it genuinely aches. Not the agony of hell or the shocking burn of iron, but something new altogether, an incandescence that lances sharp beneath his breastbone. Something else to add to his running mental catalogue of sensations he shouldn't be able to feel, along with the beginnings of a flush spreading over his skin and the welcome heat of Charles' body through their clothes.

It is, all told, rather overwhelming.

Charles must read something of the enormity of his predicament writ plain on his face, for in the next second he reaches out to stroke careful, calloused thumbs over Edwin's burning cheeks. It's only a feather-light touch, back and forth and back again, one that might irk him were it to come from anyone else—but Charles has always been permitted certain liberties, so instead Edwin finds it... grounding. Or exhilarating. He isn't sure which. Possibly both.

"Hey," Charles says. "It's all right. It's fine. Still going slow, remember? This is brills, just this. We can st—"

"I do not wish us to stop," Edwin protests, before Charles can even finish the unthinkable suggestion. He could remain suspended in this precise millisecond for the next thirty years without complaint. "It is only that I... I can feel you. And everything. Everything we are doing. And it—you—you are so very...”

"Good?" Charles supplies, grinning Edwin’s favorite of his grins—the wide, unfettered one that shows his gums and lets a bit of his tongue peek between his teeth. He looks hopeful, impossibly bright in his joy, and just a little wicked.

“Yes,” Edwin says. "Better than good." He smiles up at Charles, some distant part of him registering that he must look utterly besotted.

Charles laughs, delighted.

And he tips forward to drop his forehead onto Edwin’s shoulder; to put his lips to Edwin’s neck, just below his ear. He presses a kiss there, so quick Edwin might think he’d imagined it, except that Charles does it a second time. And a third, this one open-mouthed and lingering, sending little shivers skittering down Edwin's spine and drawing a soft noise from his throat.

“I like this,” Charles whispers into Edwin's skin. His voice is raw-edged, confessional in a way Edwin hasn't quite heard him sound these three-odd decades. “So much. Being like this, with you. Didn't know how much I would, did I? 'Course you'd see it before me. Brilliant, you are, Edwin Payne."

[cressidagrey]

Welcome to the World - Chapter 4

Summary:

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

Warnings:

Azriel being a adoring First Time Dad

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

He was entranced. 

Bewitched…enchanted, captivated, mesmerized…all of that and more. 

As he watched the baby, Aurora, Aurora, who had her mother’s curly hair and his mother’s name…as he watched her greedily drink from Ciara’s breast…both of them so content…so happy…seemingly glowing with it. 

It was everything that he had never thought he would ever have. 

“I think I’ll sneak a nap in before all of Rosehall is awake,” his mother said quietly from her place at Ciara’s bedside, who looked up from Aurora, reaching to touch his mother’s hand. 

“Thank you.” 

She pressed a kiss to Ciara’s forehead like she had done to him thousands of times. “Of course. Try to get some shut-eye as well, alright?”

She came towards him, hugging him tightly. 

“Happy Birthday, Ma,” he whispered. 

“I am so happy for you,” she gave back, whispering in his ear. “Look at you, making me a grandmother without even knowing.” It was a joke and it wasn’t, because he was quite sure that even without a mating bond between Ciara and him, that was exactly the role his mother would have taken in Aurora’s life. 

But like this…

He let her press a kiss against his cheek and then it was just the three of them, Nora long since gone…just him and Ciara and Aurora . 

She finished drinking and Ciara rested her against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back above these tiny little fluttering wings…helping the milk settle…one hearty belch later and he was quite sure that she was already deep asleep again. 

“You should sleep…” he said, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears as he looked at her. 

Even as exhausted and tired as she was…she looked so beautiful. Glowing with Maternal Pride as she looked at her daughter, a smile curling around the corners of her mouth. So happy. So…beautiful. Incandescent with love. 

She looked at him, hazel eyes watching…and then she patted the bed next to her, shifting slightly. 

“Come sit down, mate.” 

She could have asked anything of him in that tone of voice and she would have gotten it, he was certain. 

But this…this was so easy to grant. 

“Sorry about putting you through that during our first meeting,” she quipped and he couldn’t help but laugh, a deep rumbling sound somewhere deep in his chest. This was just so…

This was the last thing he had expected…and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“She’s so perfect,” Azriel whispered again as he sat down next to her on the bed, careful not to disturb her or the baby, as he sat down next to her…kicking off his shoes so that he could be nearer…She leaned against his shoulder, her wing brushing against him…not giving a single thought about that bit of startling intimacy. 

But if she did that…he dared to reach out for Aurora, dared to run a single finger across one pudgy little cheek…

“She is,” Ciara agreed quietly, a jaw-cracking yawn taking over her face…she was still shivering with something only she could feel. 

“Sleep?” he asked, once again.

“I don’t want to let her go…” Ciara admitted weakly. “I don’t want to put her in her crib and make her be alone…”

“Then don’t,” he agreed quietly. “Keep her with you, and I’ll stay awake and make sure that nothing happens.” He could do that. He wasn’t even tired…not when he could watch the two of them. He would watch the two of them for the rest of his life. 

“Aren’t you tired?” she wondered but he shrugged. 

“Not like you are,” he promised her. He hadn’t brought a child into the world. He had just watched. 

Ciara met his eyes and something inside them softened.  She did listen to him, laid down on her side with Aurora nestled between the two of them, one of Ciara’s hands on her baby’s stomach.

She fell asleep between one breath and the next, so quickly that he was surprised Ciara had even been conscious enough to have a conversation with him. 

She fell asleep, her face easing and he…he just watched them. Watched Ciara’s face often and looked so much younger than she probably was…watched Aurora’s heart-shaped mouth purse and then her little grunts…

Watched the two of them. Both of them.

The emotions that were swirling in his chest were numerous and difficult to name…but the one thing that he did know was…he wanted them. Both of them. He wanted to be able to come home to them, he wanted to watch Aurora grow up. 

He wanted to see Ciara and get to know her properly and fell in love with her and…he wanted that. 

He had no idea how he had even come close to deserving them…but he wanted them. 

You could have them, Master. It was a soft whisper from his shadows, coming to poke around…gently, so gently drifting over to Ciara and Aurora, like they knew how precious they were to him. 

They did know. Of course, they did. 

Did you know? he asked curious. Had the shadows sensed a mating bond before he had even had an idea about it? Had they known? Was that why they had suggesting him to start knitting and visit his mother? Was that why…

That she was your mate? No, Master…otherwise we would have dragged you here months ago. You could have stopped your moping without needing to try out hiking. They told him drily. 

He snorted softly, not wanting to wake up either of the two of them, though it didn’t seem like that was something that he needed to worry about. 

Ciara shivered. 

Without a single comment from him, the shadows pulled a fur out of thin air…and stretched it over her form. 

Pitch black. Glossy. Thick. Massive. 

You are incorrigible, he told the shadows with some amusement as he watched them wrap Ciara up in that Fenris Fur. 

She’s yours, Master. They are yours, the shadows repeated, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

It was a startling view to see them like that, wrapped in the fur of the animal he had killed…wrapped in his protection, kept safe and warm through something he had done…

It soothed the monster deep within him. He had provided this. 

Just like The General had said, the shadows said pleasantly, happy enough to return to swirling behind his wings and letting him watch both of them.  

Should we tell Cassian that he has a future as a seer? he quipped, still watching them. You watched her over the last year, didn’t you? He asked. He didn’t want to infringe on Ciara’s privacy, didn’t want to know anything that she wouldn’t willingly tell him, but…

Yes, Master. We like her . They told him pleasantly. 

You do? 

She’s very sweet. Everybody loves her. Even the donkey . Azriel was sure that Thistle had probably never tried to bite Ciara’s wings. 

He saw Aurora move quietly, and make a soft noise, and he reached out to pick her up.

She was barely big enough to span the length of his forearm, her head fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand. Her wings weren’t even the site of his hands. 

“You don’t need to cry,” he whispered quietly, even as her cries slowly heightened. “Hey, hey…let your Ma sleep alright? I am right here. Right here,” he promised her, gently rocking her. 

She quieted right down, a soft snuffling sound coming from her, seemingly leaning into his touch. 

She didn’t even seem to realise the violent scars marring her hands, that the texture of his hands was different than the ones of her mother…she just rested in his arms, head comfortably in the crook of his elbow…

“And I am going nowhere,” he continued quietly, wondering if it was the warmth of his body or the sound of his voice that was quietening her back to sleep…though she was still looking at him, dark eyes unfocused… tiny hands fisting into the blanket she was wrapped into…he reached out with his other hand, gently touching her tiny hand, offering her his finger and her hand wrapped around it…not even reaching the whole way…

“You know, your Ma…she worked really, really hard to bring you into this world. And she needs her rest so that she can heal, alright?” He said softly. “She already loves you so, so much.” 

He didn’t doubt that for one moment. Ciara adored her daughter. 

And she wasn’t the only one. Aurora would grow up like that…surrounded by love. 

“You’ll be surrounded by that, you know…All the people that love you. It doesn’t matter if it’s the blankets your mother made you or whatever little dress I am sure your Grandma has sewn for you…“ the title slipped from his mouth without even thinking about it. “She’s so delighted with you, you know? We probably won’t even get to see you when you are a little older, because Grandma is gonna want to love on you every day…” He couldn’t help but laugh softly before growing serious. 

“She never got to do that with me as much as she wished because my father kept me from her, but you…you are going to get all that from her,” he promised her fiercely. 

His father had taken so much from both his mother and Azriel, but it was never going to happen again. Not if he had a single thing to say about it.

He had fought for less. And for this, he would fight until death. Until there wasn’t a single drop of blood left inside him. 

“Nobody is ever going to keep you from your Ma. I’ll take care of that,” he promised fiercely. 

Aurora would never spend even a day locked into darkness, into a cell underneath a keep…Aurora would grow up here in Rosehall, between the mountains and the ocean. She would be free. 

She would be free every day of her life. 

“I’ll take care of you both if your Ma is going to let me,” he said softly. If Ciara would let him… “Maybe I’ll manage to wear her down…I don’t deserve either of you, but I am going to do my damnest to do right by you both…” 

He would. 

“And I’ll protect you. You are never going to be hurt like she was. Or like I was…I’ll lay waste to the entire continent if that means that you’ll grow up safe and sound…and that you can do everything you want to do in your life…” he trailed off as her eyes opened again, as he could feel the wings twitch in their blanket cocoon and she made a soft unhappy growly noise. 

“Do they itch?” he cooed softly, “I bet they do.” he unwrapped them carefully, and moved her so that she could rest against his chest…her wings moving, twitching slightly…

“You get used to them, sweetheart. And one day your Ma and I are going to teach you how to fly…you’ll love it. I do,” he promised her. “I didn’t always get to do that, but you will. You’ll fly and your wings are going to grow bigger and stronger and…and nobody will ever take them from you.” 

***

 She listened to every single single word he said…warm and safe and feeling…so very cherished. She watched him…Watched him dote on her daughter, on Aurora…on how these big, scarred hands touched her so gently, so hesitantly. 

How he promised her, them…protection. Love. Safety. Everything she had ever wanted. He offered it for her taking. 

And he didn’t ask for anything in return. 

Not that she could offer him much. 

Her love. She could offer him that…

And she watched him rock Aurora, and starting to hum to her as she grew restless in his arms…and then with a low voice, he started singing to her. 

An old Illyrian nursery rhyme…she knew it, even when she didn’t remember it…about wings and the song of the wind…

and then he broke off because Aurora had started determinedly rooting around his chest for a breast. 

“You had to pick the one thing that I can’t give you, didn’t you?” he asked, sounding both exasperated and amused. 

“Not even a day old and already stubborn,” she quipped hoarsely. 

His face snapped towards her. “How much…” he started to ask her. She couldn’t help but smile. 

“You have a beautiful voice,”  she complimented him, watching him in amusement as the blush grew over his cheeks…

“My mother used to sing it for me,” he said as he offered her Aurora, and she took her daughter, pushing away a fur that was definitely not…hers. 

She was used to the crinkled cotton quilt and a thick duvet stuffed with goose feathers…and not…“That’s not Esmeray’s,” she said quietly as she turned on her side and offered Aurora her breast. She latched on with a hungry growl and then there was just the happy smacking sound of her lips as she hungrily downed her milk. 

She could feel the cramping in her womb at that, but she ignored it in favour of touching the thick glossy fur that was enveloping her. 

“No,” Azriel agreed. “It’s yours,” he said softly, biting his lip and she stared at him…and then the fur…and then it hit her. 

“Azriel,” she whispered weakly. 

“You were shivering,” he explained, blush once again growing over his face.  “And I have been reliably informed that I was supposed to give it to my mate. That’s the tradition.”

It was the tradition. As a bride gift…she wondered if she had ever gotten one of these before…but she didn’t care. She got this one. And she knew that it was…the most impressive one she had ever seen. 

She knew that Granya had gotten a coat made out of a hundred rabbit furs as a bridal gift from her husband…but all the females she knew…if they had gotten a traditional fur as a gift, it was always pieced together…it nearly never was…something like that. One massive piece. 

“Where did you get it from?” Ciara wondered. 

“The traditional way,” Azriel answered, one corner of his mouth kicking up. 

“You killed a Fenris,” she said pointedly. A major predator. “Why?”

“It was kinda an accident, but yes,” Azriel admitted with a sigh. 

“How could that be an accident?” she asked him with a snort. What had he done? Gone traipsing through the woods and found it at random? 

“My shadows decided I needed a new hobby….so I tried hiking,” Azriel said quietly. “It thought I would make a nice afternoon snack.” 

Ciara blinked twice, not even sure where exactly she was supposed to start at that. 

And then finally… ”What else did your shadows suggest?” she asked, a grin widening over her face. 

“Tried wood carving, which was the most successful…reading, but the only books I found that I really liked were children’s books… I wanted to ask Ma to teach me how to knit yesterday,” Azriel answered. She shifted slightly, moving Aurora so they both could be more comfortable. 

“Esmeray can teach you that. She’s really good at it too,” Ciara agreed. Though the thought of Azriel with knitting needles in his hands was…something. 

“Can you knit?” he asked her curiously. 

“I am better at sewing…also better at crocheting, where you only need one hook and not two needles,” Ciara answered. “ I made Aurora a few knitted things though…couldn’t help myself…they are so tiny and cute.” With little slits for her wings too…Esmeray loved it though. 

“Do the shadows often do stuff like that?” she wondered, craning her head so that she could watch them swirl around his wings until one tendril came to rest on her wrist where she was holding her daughter. 

“No, not often. However, I think they are done with that now...I found something else to occupy my time,” Azriel said, a small grin on his face, and a matching one bloomed over Ciara’s face. 

“Did you now?” she asked, the smile widening on her face. 

“If they’ll have me,” Azriel said, his voice quiet. 

“They will,” she promised. It was such an easy to promise to give him as well. So easy. “We’ll have you. We’ll have you for the rest of our life.” 

[absolutebl]

What are some BL couples who you DO think could actually have a long haul perfect ending and not burn out two months after the show ends?

(Also if possible, could you drop the show titles aswell? Thanks)

20 BL Couples I Love & Think Would Actually Make it In the Long Run

Ha, yeah I intentionally didn't include the titles in that last post because I was being negative. Since these are positive... here you go!

Advance Bravely

I know right? One from China. But yeah I think they're very opposites attract but still well balanced and suited to each other. Plus "stern but indulgent Daddy + spoiled brat" is a favorite dynamic of mine.

Guardian

He waited 10,000 gd years. It has to work out. Despite censorship.

Old Fashion Cupcake

They both mature enough to be very motivated.

Tokyo in April Is

They suffered for that love. It's an enduring eternal kinda thing.

Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Taesung is NEVER letting him go. Never.

Long Time No See

Not only are they staying together, can you imagine anyone trying to separate them?

Nobleman Ryu's Wedding

I just think they gonna live in obscurity in the middle of the woods with their books forever.

Our Dating Sim

Of course they're gonna last, that was the whole point of the show.

Oh Boarding House

I think they both had to come around to each other with a lot of self-examination as to what it meant for them, their identities, and their lives. That kind of thoughtfulness bodes well for longevity.

(This is an under-appreciated gem. IMHO)

Be Loved In House I Do

Yeah they just so into each other but also adoring but understand each other's quirks. There's no meanness or pettiness to either of them. Double down on affection + chemistry is a good recipe for longevity.

DNA Says Love You

They came back for, and waited for, each other.

HIStory Obsessed

It's in the title. This level of mutually obsessed disfunction only ends in death.

HIStory 4: Close to You

Problematic side couple. Dito the above.

Thousand Stars

It's high romance of the eternal forever kind.

2 Moons Ambassador

They are *that* couple. "I married my college sweetheart and am incandescently happy forever in a disgustingly sappy way" that shouldn't work but does.

My Only 12%

Again, they suffered too much not to make it work. They are basically each other's half, it codependent, but that's the point.

Ingredients

They define domesticity. The true key to most couple longevity is the ability to actually live together.

Oh My Sunshine Night

File these two under the "once he had a taste, its' forever." The seme is too bossy and too possessive for anyone but the one he picked. This one lasts because Rain would MAKE IT last.

Oxygen

Dito the above, only softer.

Until We Meet Again

Of course. I mean, OF COURSE OF COURSE. That's the point. Dean's entire existence would be a failure if they broke up.

Despite my love of the genre I didn't pick any high school BL couples. Even if I think they may have a chance I'm not sure how I feel about that kind of pairing.

I didn't pick ones we know lasted because they showed it to us: e.g. Unintentional Love Story, His, Dear Doctor, My Ride.

There are a few I left off because I think they could last as a couple but the circumstances of their lives and surrounding, means I'm not sure if they would be allowed to, like Not Me, Never Let Me Go, Manner of Death.

(source)

[reputationmunson]

Incandescent Glow | s.h. x fem!reader

summary: late night swimming with your boyfriend, steve

content: SMUT (18+ ONLY), oral (fem rec), mentions of riding and spooning position, you and steve being so in love it hurts, fluff, pet names, no use of y/n, food mentions

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thank you so much @lilacletter for reading this and for your kind words. ily <3

divider credit

Anxiety courses through your veins when your phone rings at nearly midnight. 

Who would be calling this late if it wasn’t some sort of emergency? 

You quickly make your way to the telephone and pick it up. “Hello?” you answer, voice filled with concern. 

“Hi, pretty girl” You let out a sigh of relief when you hear your boyfriend's voice. “Hi, Stevie. Is everything okay?” 

“Nope. Far from okay” he replies and your stomach drops. “w-what’s wrong?” you stammer.

“I miss my girl.” he says, sighing dramatically and making you chuckle. “I thought you were hurt, dummy!” you lightly scold. 

“I am hurt. Even more now that you didn’t say you miss me too” he whines. “I haven’t seen you all week, you know I miss you, too. A lot.” you reply honestly. 

A week might not seem like a long time to most, but for you and Steve, it felt like a lifetime. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you started dating almost three months ago. 

You weren’t ashamed of how much the two of you cling to one another, not one bit. You loved how he always had his hand on your thigh, his arm around your waist, or even just his pinkie looped with yours. Showing you affection was like second nature to Steve. Every touch or glances at each other in a crowded room was a reminder of how much you loved each other, even if you haven’t officially said those three words yet. 

His friends always say he’s “disgustingly obsessed with you” and he always tells them “you would be too if you had a girl like her”. Though his friends like to make fun of how soft he is for you, they love how happy you make him. They especially love that they don’t have to listen to anymore stories of failed dates with girls that left him feeling hopeless. 

“Can you come over?” He asks and fiddles with the phone cord while waiting for your response. “What’s in it for me?” you joke. “Unlimited kisses, obviously, and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.” he promises. 

“You’ll make your special pancakes?” you ask.“I’ll make my special pancakes.” he affirms. 

Steve’s ‘special’ pancakes were just normal pancakes. Sometimes he would add blueberries or chocolate chips, but that isn’t what made them special. What made them special is how domestic it felt when you made them together or when he surprises you with breakfast in bed. Anything Steve does is special, even if it’s something as simple as pancakes. 

“You’re very convincing, Harrington.” you say in a sing-song voice.“Does that mean you’re convinced?” you can practically hear him grin. 

“I would’ve said yes even without the pancakes.” you tell him and he chuckles. “I know. I just like to spoil you. Do you want me to pick you up?” he offers. “It’s alright, I’ll drive. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, okay?” 

“Bring a swimsuit.” he tells you. “Why?” you question. “I wanna go for a late night swim with my girl. If you want to” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun! I’ll be there soon”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes.” 

“You’re so cheesy.” you giggle. “Bye, Stevie”

“Bye, honey”

_

Steve opens the front door before you even have a chance to knock. He wastes no time pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you, baby” he lets out a sigh of relief at the feeling of finally having you in his arms. “Missed you, too.” you respond, burying your face in his shirt and inhaling the scent of his cologne. 

Steve can’t believe how happy he feels right now to have you with him. He’s almost embarrassed at how tightly he’s holding you, scared that if he lets up even a little you’ll disappear. 

“C’mon, let’s go inside” he grabs your hand, not letting go until you reach his bedroom. “So, I’ll, uh, let you get changed. If you still wanna go for a swim” he nervously scratches the back of his neck and you can’t help but grin about the fact he gets nervous around you. 

“Of course I do. What else is the point of having a boyfriend with a pool?” your arms wrap around his neck and his hands fall to your waist. “So, that’s all I’m good for then, hm?” 

“That, and all the free movies from family video.” you kid and he playfully rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna get changed in the bathroom, then I’ll meet you out by the pool, kay?” he says and pecks your lips before exiting his bedroom. 

Before changing, you take a moment to look around Steve’s room. You’d been in here many times, but usually only to sleep or steal borrow one of his shirts, and you’ve always been too tired to observe his bedroom. 

The first thing you take notice of is the nightstand next to his side of the bed. His glasses that he refuses to wear in public lay on the stand out of their case, which you will gently remind him to put in the case when he isn’t wearing them. 

“Baby, you gotta keep them in the case or they might break” you’d tell him, to which he’d reply “like that would be the worst thing in the world.” and honestly, it might just be the worst thing in the world. Not only does he need them, despite his protests, but he looks incredibly handsome in them. You also find it sweet that he’s comfortable enough to wear them around you. 

Your heart grows about three sizes when you see the picture in the frame that he keeps next to his bed. The picture is the two of you at Robin’s birthday party. You’re both wearing goofy party hats and Steve’s cheeks are flushed due to the drinks he had that made him unbelievably lovey dovey (not that you’re complaining). You’re both smiling so big your cheeks hurt just from looking at it. 

That was the night Steve asked you to officially be his girlfriend. You said yes, but kindly asked him if he’d ask again when he was sober. It was the first thing he did when he woke up the next morning. 

In the bottom corner of the frame, there’s a polaroid of you he took a couple of weeks ago. He called you late, much like he did tonight, and asked if you wanted to go on a little adventure. You said yes without hesitation even though he gave you no context. 

He took you to lovers lake, of course. You both jumped in the lake and quickly got out when you felt the freezing water, giggling all the way to shore. You laid on the ground while your clothes dried and looked at the stars. Steve insisted on taking a picture of you, saying he never wanted to forget how pretty you looked under the stars. 

Setting down the picture frame, you realize you should probably change before Steve comes back and finds you snooping through his room. Not that he would mind.

You quickly change into a simple one piece that’s the color Steve loves you in and throw one of his shirts over the suit before heading downstairs. 

Steve’s already in the pool once you get outside. He’s floating on his back, but he lifts his head once he hears you walking towards the pool. 

“Hi, handsome. Don’t you look relaxed” you observe and sit on the edge of the pool. “Figured I’d get comfy since you were taking too long” he teases, swimming over to you and standing between your legs. “m’sorry. got distracted.” 

You run your fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back so it’s out of his eyes. “You look so pretty right now” you say, still running your fingers through his hair. “Do you have a crush on me?” he dramatically gasps, causing you to laugh. “Maybe I do” you move your hand to cup his cheek and wipe off water droplets with your water droplets.

“Are you gonna join me or sit there and look pretty? I’m fine with either one” he says before pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’ll join you if we play marco polo” you jokingly bargain. “Only if I get to be polo” he counters. “You’re so on. Prepare to lose, Harrington.” you say before standing up to remove your t-shirt. 

Steve lets out a whistle once your shirt is off and thrown onto a lounger. “You trying to kill me, honey?” 

“What? This is, like, the most conservative bathing suit ever.” you chuckle. “You’d make a garbage bag look sexy, babe.” 

“Whatever you say, loverboy.” you respond, sitting back on the edge of the pool and sliding into the water. 

Once you’re within reach, Steve grabs your arm and pulls you close to him so that your chests are pressed up against each other. His arms wrap around your waist and your wrap around his shoulders, your hands linked together behind his neck. 

His nose gently nudges yours before he finally kisses you over and over. The loving and soft brush of his lips over yours fills your stomach with butterflies. One of his hands slowly travels down until he reaches your butt, giving it a light squeeze and a small gasp escapes your lips. 

“I thought” kiss “we were gonna” kiss “play” kiss “marco polo” you say in between kisses. Steve chuckles and slightly pulls back. “We can if you really want to” he responds. 

“No” is all you say before capturing him in a breathtaking kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist and his hands grasp the underneath of your thighs. His tongue glides into your mouth causing you to moan.

 “Fuck, baby” Steve sighs into your mouth. “I wanna taste you” he confesses and you whimper. “yeah? you like the thought of me eating your pussy, sweet girl?” 

“yes” you moan, absentmindedly grinding against Steves’ bulge, causing him to groan. 

Steve carries you all the way to the side of the pull, encouraging you to sit on the side and you oblige quickly.  

Steve uses his large hands to part your thighs and a smirk appears on his face once your legs are spread. “You’d do anything I told you to, wouldn’t you?” he looks up at you, still grinning like a devil. “uh-huh” you nod swiftly. 

Steve presses a kiss to the side of each of your knees. He begins kissing up the inside of your thighs, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin. You let out a shaky sigh in anticipation and your fingers thread through his hair, giving him a slight tug. 

Once he’s reached the top of your thigh, he presses a kiss to your clothed core. “Steve, please” you plead and he doesn’t think he can make you wait a second longer. 

He moves the part of the bathing suit covering your core to the side and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. Your hand that isn’t in his hair grips the edge of the pool to keep you steady when his lips wrap around your clit and he starts to gently suck. “Fuck, Stevie” you moan just loud enough for him to hear, not wanting to alert any neighbours what you’re up to. 

His hands hook onto your thighs with a harsh grip and you hope it leaves a mark. 

His tongue toys with your clit at a slow, excruciating pace. He loves to tease you, loves to hear you beg for him. He knows it’s a little mean, but you just sound so pretty when you’re begging. 

“Faster, please” you whine and that’s all he needed to hear. 

Steve doesn’t hold back, sucking and licking your clit like a man starved.  Steve’s tongue dips into your entrance and his nose nudges your bud. You throw your head back as you feel your orgasm approaching. You start to grind your pussy on his face, chasing that high you need so badly. 

“I’m so close, baby” you groan in pleasure. Steve would know you’re close even if you didn’t tell him. Your breaths have shortened, the grind of your hips has gotten faster, and you have a death grip on his hair. 

He doesn’t change his pace or do anything different because he knows you’re about to cum and he’s not going to do anything that would mess up hearing you scream his name as you cum for him. 

“Steve, yes!” you scream, neighbours be damned. “I-I’m gonna- fuck- gonna-” you stammer, unable to speak as your orgasm washes over you. The pace of your hips still and Steve works you through your high, pulling away once he knows you’re satisfied. 

You collapse onto your back as you catch your breath. Steve hops out of the pool and sits next to you, taking in how beautifully blissed out you look. 

He can’t seem to think straight when you turn your head and look at him, giving a loopy smile. Love has been something that’s scared him since he was a teenager. Well, not exactly love, but the vulnerability that comes with being in love. When it comes to you, he’s never felt scared. He’s not afraid to give you his heart or show you sides of him that no one has ever seen, good or bad. Steve feels something with you he was sure only existed in movies and he can’t go another second without telling you. 

“Hey” Steve whispers. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. anything” you say and sit up, scooting closer to him. You grab his hand and give it a loving squeeze and he squeezes back. 

“I love you. So much. Almost too much. It’s kinda crazy, actually. Like, I’m always thinking about you and wanna be with you all the time. I hope that doesn’t freak you out or anything, but, yeah, I just really fucking love you.” 

“Steve…” you whisper, holding back happy tears “I really fucking love you too” 

“Yeah?” he asks like it’s too good to be true. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite person.” you say and he smiles so big his nose scrunches. “You’re my favorite person too. Just don’t tell Robin or she’ll kill me” 

“Deal. Now, should we go up to your room so I can show you how much I love you?” 

Steve’s never moved faster in his life, practically sprinting inside while dragging you with him. 

You rode him for as long as you could until you had no strength left in your legs. After that, you both laid on your sides as Steve fucked you from behind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, not stopping until sunlight began to stream through the bedroom window. 

You eventually fell asleep with your limbs intertwined with his, needing every inch of your body touching his. 

Even though he was exhausted from barely sleeping, he still kept his promise to make you pancakes with an extra side of kisses when you woke up. It’s easily the best meal you’ve ever had.

_

thank you for reading :)

_

[luvtak]

sandcastles, lfx x reader

✧ genre/ tw f2l <3!! sugary sweet fluff, angsty confessions, a couple pet names, a very sweet kiss, and felix and mc being unbearably down bad for each other, unedited <3

✧ w/c 2586

✧ a/n okay so i am writing this at 2 am after basically throwing this up, I've had this idea in my head for a couple days and finally had time to execute it, I am a sucker for f2l!felix and I hope you enjoy this very sweet confession, as well as the fun summery vibes I hoped to embrace the story in, happy reading! mwah <3!!

The first time you saw him you thought he was a daydream, sun bright and shiny–a made up boy for a lazy sunday afternoon. He came with golden hour, everything orange and yellow and the floral july smell was creeping around you. At twelve, you’d never seen a boy so sure of himself or so kind. Usually, the boys at school were listlessly mean or energetically cruel–ever patient in their mission to bother you. But here was Felix, funny and sweet and asking to be your friend. 

The summer passed in oceanfront days and popsicle covered nights, pop songs on the radio as you talked from the backseat. Goofy and glamorous months spent together as you awaited Fall. You remember those days like the lines of your palm, linen sheets wrapped around your bodies as you told scary stories and held each other to ward off nightmares. Some days, going to bed with the sun still high in the sky–naps on the beach with his head on your tummy. 

Felix’s sister’s hands in yours while you played ring around the rosie, giggles loud when you let go. The little girl’s voices as they yelled they all fall down! And Felix's own little voice asking if you were all okay, always worried about skinned knees and chipped nail polish. Childhood flashed with bandaid kisses and sandy shoes, freckled skin and ocean covered giggles. 

You’d never forget when you realized he was beautiful–stepping out of the ocean like Aphrodite herself, a boy born from sunshine and seafoam. His wide eyes were crinkled with sun, surely adding more stars to his golden skin, and he was smiling. Smiling at you of all things, bright and incandescent Felix grinning at you like the happiest man on earth. 

You think of that boy now as he sits next to you, watching the movie with an almost exaggerated delight. Taking in the action and the humor like someone just shown technicolor after a life of black and white. He’s grown up so much, grown up and away from you as you’ve gotten older. Those summer nights are just an origin story for who he is now, a big bright star like you always knew him to be. 

As his very first fan, you always saw in him this man he could become, but sometimes under the cover of midnight you selfishly wished you could have kept him to yourself. He was always just yours; until he wasn’t… Always your north star, leading you on your journey since you were just a little thing, and now he’s that to thousands of people–none of them knowing he was yours first. 

If you told him this he’d giggle up a storm and tell you he was still yours, but he wasn’t, not really… not in the way you wanted him to be. How could you tell him you loved him when in an instant he became bigger than you or any childhood wish. 

“Silly, why aren’t you watching the movie? It’s the best part!” eyes gleaming and mouth pouty, Felix looks so pretty in the tv light, “I know we’ve seen this one like a billion times, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pay attention.” He huffs, undeniably pretending to be annoyed with you. He can’t really, couldn’t even if he wanted to. You’re just so dear to him, one half of his heart, and he could never attribute any negative feeling to you, even if you deserved it. 

When he came home and saw you, more grown up and more beautiful than his phone screen allowed, he couldn’t believe he ever left you. He was so excited to watch your movie together, and while Ponyo had lost the astonishment of childhood, it still held its charm. The film was the background of so many childhood memories–putting it on after midnight nightmares or days spent sick in bed; children versions of you wrapped up and watching every sleepover. 

It was silly, he had you there right next to him, but he still missed you until the movie was on, and here you were not watching it. 

“Sorry, Lix, I just can’t believe you’re actually here.” your voice trembles a little, hiding the true emotions and fear that he’ll find you out. He would never stop being your friend just because you had a little crush on him, could never abandon you for something so little as a flutter in your tummy. But this wasn’t just a crush or a flutter, this was a stampede. You’d been in love with him for so long now, kept it hidden away in teenage diaries and grown up journals. A secret between you and the moon. You could never be sure how he’d take it, that for years now you’d been cowardly and afraid of him, a boy so brave he conquered his dreams. 

“Well, believe it baby! And watch the movie… or else…” He said it in a funny voice, and even though you knew he meant well, the pet name pushed an ugly feeling in your gut. 

Quietly and painfully you looked back to the screen, avoiding the way you can feel his body breathe next to you. For so long you missed this, the knowledge that your best friend was next to you, but now you think he should go home. Back to Seoul where he doesn’t hurt you by being him, sunshiney and starlit him. “Hey, seriously, are you okay? Where’d you go?” Felix is genuinely worried now, a sinister feeling arising in his chest that you’re not okay, and that it’s because of him. 

Sure, he’s been gone a lot the last couple of years, but he never forgot the way your eyes got misty before you cried. He grew up alongside you, nursed bloody knuckles and broken hearts and he could feel when you were sad–knew like the back of his hand when you were devastated and hiding it, but was this just because you missed him? 

“I’m fine, star boy, I just always get a little sad when I watch Ponyo. You remember don’t you? The way I would cry and cry when Sasuke promises to love and take care of her?” you mutter, softly without any conviction, and while the boy knows this to be true, he can’t help but notice your fidgety hands and the way you won’t look at him. 

You’re so worried, crushed beyond belief that one night home and he’ll figure you out. You could never keep a secret from him, running to tell him as soon as someone told you a whisper of hidden truth. Since you were twelve you told him all your innerworkings and private feelings, all but this one. It was easy when he was gone, easy to train your voice to sound happy over the phone, but you couldn’t hide anything with his eyes so close to you. 

Shoulder to shoulder you sat on the sofa you grew up on, right in this position with this beautiful boy. Watching this movie at 12 and 15, holding hands to ward against scary movie monsters. You couldn’t keep this secret here. 

“You’re a shitty liar, Y/n, is it some boy? Do I have to defend your honor?” it was so silly to him, you were so silly. How could he think any other boy mattered to you but him? Him with his golden hair and bright eyes, star studded cheeks smiling at you in the sunshine. 

You would never forgive yourself for that day on the beach. The day he became more than Felix, your best friend. You used to gag when your parents teased you about him, winced when one of your girls would say you looked cute together, and then all it took was the sun hitting him just right. 

You would never forgive yourself for this night either, you had to tell him. Had to make sure he knew it didn’t matter if he couldn’t feel the same. Who were you other than his friend? He was an angel and you were just someone he knew before he ascended. 

“Yeah, I guess. Some boy who I just can’t get out of my head.” 

“Oh, my silly sweetheart, is he devastatingly handsome.” he was giggling, the way he always did when you brought up boys to him, like it was ridiculous you would think a boy was cute. 

“I think so, he’s handsome and sweet, and I’ve never known anyone like him.” 

“This sounds intense, Y/nie, you must really like him…” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” 

You can’t help but notice his body language shifting, turning inward and hesitant. His voice got quieter too, shifting back into his normal voice. You wonder if you transferred some of your fear to him, then dismiss the thought–your Felix has always been brave. 

The movie still plays, little kid voices filling the otherwise silent room. The picture can be seen in his eyes, lighting the dark with bright oranges and blues. They're looking at you, and some tiny part of you can tell he seems sad. That piece of you that always knows how he’s feeling; attuned even when he’s in South Korea and you feel with all parts of you that you need to send a message to cheer him up. 

You feel that now, and reach out to take his hand, calloused and warm in yours. 

You stay like that for a while, finishing the film hand in hand like you did when you were both still small. Until finally, he asks so quietly you can barely hear him, 

“Do you like him more than me?” 

Shocked, you can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, which stuns Felix enough to pull his hand from yours–rubbing with his other hand where yours touched. He’s hurting, and you’re laughing at him, and this is enough to pull all of his bravery into you. Deep breathe in and out until you are sure every ounce of courage he’s ever had is running through your veins. You need to tell him, and even if he never speaks to you again, it's better than if he never knew he spins your whole world around. 

“Oh my god, Felix, it is you.” it comes out in a breath, faster than you’ve ever said anything and more relieving than any sentence you’ve rattled out before. The tears you’ve been fighting off all night come tumbling down, cascading over your cheeks with reckless abandon into your shaky hands. He’s silent for so long, barely even moving from his place next to you. The only indication he’s still hear the shaky breaths he’s releasing, and still you don’t look at him.

You’re waiting for him to leave, to walk out the door and go home, waiting for him to walk out of your life and back into his place in the sky, when finally you feel his hand on your wrist. His hold is so delicate, nervous as he moves your hands from your face and can finally see your eyes. Eyes sad and exhausted and so familiar to him, even through the tears their lovely–a reminder of home and unconditional love, and growing up. He can’t believe you would like him, Him with all his idiosyncrasies and softheartedness, you were so beautiful and so strong and you liked him. Thought he was handsome and sweet, you’d never known anyone like him… 

How long could this have been going on, how could he have been living never knowing you felt this way? Never knowing he felt it too, not just butterflies in his belly, but falcons, wings so strong and so big they started hurricanes. 

He looked at you like he always did, like you were the most important thing in the room. Eyes on yours and a smile of disbelief rising on his face. Slowly, without any reservations he brought his forehead to yours, looking down at you in all your snotty glory and lifting a hand to swipe at the falling tears. His voice is a whisper, deep and familiar, the same voice he used to tell stories and secrets, 

“It’s me? You promise?” 

“It’s always been you, Felix, how could it be anyone else?” 

He shudders, the hand sitting atop your cheek bone falling to your neck before he moves closer, settling his lips next to yours. Eyes lifting in a silent question, is this okay? With a nod and a close of your eyes he’s leaning in, moving to kiss you with all the desperation the moment requires. His tongue wiping up all the fallen tears as his lips moved with yours–when you were children he always kissed your wounds better, sweet pecks over bandaids and foreheads, and here he was now fixing up a broken heart–putting it back together. 

When he comes back up for air his eyes settle over your frame, flushed and hair messy from his hands, and he smiles. He’s loved you since he was a boy, since you asked to build that sand castle, 12 years old and braver than anyone he’s ever known. He’s loved you through teenage tantrums and silly crushes, it’s always been you. 

“We’ve been so silly, sweetheart.” he finally gets out, laughing at the impossibility of it all. The one secret you kept from each other being the same. Like always, exactly on the same page–telling the same story over and over again until you met in the middle. “When did you know? When did you know you loved me?” 

He’s so happy, you can feel it in the way he’s holding you, in the way his hands haven’t left your skin since they arrived. You can’t believe it, this beautiful boy is holding you. 

“That day you told me you were gonna audition… you came from the sea smiling and covered in sunshine, and I saw you for the first time–larger than life, my dream.” 

His eyes closed, and then he laughed. A great big wonderful laugh that took him away from you, falling onto his back with happy tears streaming. It was such a lovely sound you couldn’t help but join in, giggling with him even if you didn’t know why. 

When he finally speaks again his voice is still twinged with laughter, breathless and happy when he says, “You were so late” pausing to laugh, “I loved you since we were 12, you were covered in sand and I was in love.” 

You move to him quickly, settling your body on top of his as gently as you could manage, and you take in his happy face. This is what he looks like in love, not any different than he’s ever looked, but the shock of it–the fact that it’s you who he loves and is loved in return makes you want to cry again. 

This is where home is, here in his arms with your movie playing, smiling at each other in awe. There's so many moments you can share with him now, moments you shared with the moon and shooting stars, things you never thought you could tell him. Days and weeks holding a secret that he carried too. How silly you’ve both been, to deny what everyone has told you since you were children–two humans made for each other, sculpted out of the same sand. Lives entwined since that day on the beach when you asked him to build a sandcastle, how funny looking back, that you never did.

© LUVTAK 2024

[chvoswxtch]

Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore. 

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes. 

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself. 

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

"the earth was made for lovers — " and no purer lovers exist than sol and sunjae. fate fell in love with them at first glance: and how could it not? it knew what a miracle it was witnessing: two souls bound to each other beyond the reaches of death and life. forever intertwined. "how could you make me live without you?" sunjae asks — the devastation in his eyes almost a living thing; a bleeding heart. how indeed? how can two people that neither time nor evil could separate stay apart any longer? and then, right after: "i'm sorry i'm late." this boy — this beautiful, beautiful boy. after finding out that sol erased his memories, that he DIED for her — his first instinct is to apologize. TO APOLOGIZE for not remembering her earlier. and the childlike surrender in sol's sobs — because HER sunjae has finally returned. has remembered her. will no longer let her be alone: how she instantly reaches for him. how they reach for each other. a lifetime's worth of love, finally fulfilled. the fact that they got to celebrate just being with each other, savoring the sweetness of each other's company: it meant the world to me. when you walk with pain as your constant companion, ordinary moments like being held in someone's arms, waking up to the face of the person you love most — they take on a kind of holiness. and you can see that blessing bestow itself over both their heads; the profound relief and joy shining in their faces during every scene. because nothing can keep them apart any longer. the callbacks during this episode were beautiful: it means so much to me that sunjae put aside his proposal to let sol pursue her dream. it's the pinnacle of love — he's willing to wait as long as it takes. and why shouldn't he? they have all the time in the world, now. taesung's last scene being him smiling at a happy sol — wishing her well from the bottom of his heart. being the key to their freedom at last. never has a second lead storyline been resolved so gently, with so much kindness. i was in tears for the entire hour: i think my body broke into blossom, it was filled with so much pleasure seeing sol and sunjae be happy together at last. i've always been a reluctant cynic, but i felt my imagination bloom, soften into pink watching sunjae propose to sol while the cherry blossoms looked on, witnessing the weight of three timelines fall away at last — make space for the radiant future: a bride and groom with eyes for no one but each other. love is real. love is reachable, attainable, capable of pouring sunlight into the darkest recesses of the soul: only someone who truly believed that could have made this show. i have loved every second of lovely runner; and no second more so than their expressions at the very end: incandescent with joy, finally free of all fear. they are safe in their love for each other; in the sanctuary of each other's arms.

poet joy harjo said it best: "i am not afraid of love / or its consequence of light."

[sunsetlovelydreams]

The Ritual - LoVM Season 3 Episode 12

It takes a few days to bring a Percy de Rolo back to life by way of demon exorcism. Similarly, it takes a few days to purge the tears from my body after a LoVM season. And especially after that ending.

Can we talk about it? Let's.

First, that ritual. God am I so happy that they dedicated so much time to it. The vibes were immaculate too. The shot of Percy and Vax lying down parallel to each other? Creepy and beautiful all at once. The sliding shot from Percy inside Pike's spell to Vax clutching the gun in his hands? So much tension and urgency in just that one shot. And the sanctity of it all makes it all the more dreadful. The golden circles of light. The incandescent ropes holding Vax down. The silence. All of it in the darkness, all of it next to a tomb. And how Vax holds the gun so delicately, as if it wasn't a weapon forged by the fires of vengeance and hell. As if he were cradling his friend to his chest, and not cold, heartless metal. What a gripping image. He has become one with death, used to wear it, to bear it, to harness it. It is as the Matron intended, the one time that she warns him against it.

And the scene is so emotionally charged. Vex's feather in Vax's hair, her heart in Percy's cold, dead hands. Her brother and her lover, the two people she loves most, one risking his life to save the other, both lost to her at any moment. The dilemma of allowing Vax to even perform this insane plot was taken out of her hands when he freely admitted that his life was worthless compared to hers - in his blind fucking eyes, mind you. But think how desperate Vex must have been to go along with it, how hopeful, how very, very in love.

Love. What a cruel, pretty thing. "She loves you. And so do I, brother." Love brings Percy back to life: Vex's love for him, Vax's love for Vex. Vex's feather on his gun, Vex's feather in Vax's hair. The first time they met Percy in that prison, he was as disheveled and lost as when Vax finds him in Orthax's domain. Each time, a hand was offered and taken. This is the victory of people giving each other second chances, of people forgiving themselves, of people fighting for each other.

Not Vax, though. Oh no, Vax just keeps on losing. Love kills Vax piece by piece, one raven feather around his neck at a time. Love is literally rotting Vax away, but that's a whole other post that I'll get into later. And oh the post that will be. There is not one dull moment in Vax nation, bless him.

[boku-no-anime-phase]

Just thinking back on The Apothecary Diaries and Frieren now that their S1s have both ended and...i keep saying it but I just can't believe how good both of these shows are. And I can't even begin to describe how incandescently happy I am that two REALLY strong entries in the category of feminist anime are getting so much attention in general, not just from people who specifically seek that out. And I just think it's cool that two such amazing anime came out at the same time (and I heard Dungeon Meshi was good too? But I don't have Netflix so idk)

I'll probably have more to say about both of those shows - not that I have anything to add that hasn't already been said - but mostly I'm just so happy and content and I feel very lucky to have gotten to experience these shows!

(this is how I feel finding incredible anime to enjoy)

[sakkiichi]

FROM ME TO YOU.

Because good things take time and it’s not too late for happy birthdays.

ft. Albedo x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, birthday special, reader is an amateur painter.

this is just something spontaneous that I came up with… I just… kinda gave free reign to whatever flashed through my mind once I was before the blank document, parting from a very vague idea I had haha.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Autumn’s cold always arrived early in Dragonspine.

The faraway rays of a molten copper halo fuse with the peaks outlined on the horizon.

Magic is the word you’d use to describe such scenery; seconds that seemed to both be suspended in the helpless passage of time, and slip between your fingers; like golden sand inside an hourglass too small to savor every snapshot brought by the incandescence of crepuscular skies.

On instances like this, you wished your painting skills were better; if only to capture the glow of early dreams threaded through the asters of twilight.

For now, however, this will have to do.

Why did you wait until so late for this, you are unsure.

True, wishing a happy birthday to someone as the clock strikes twelve is not an uncommon occurrence.

And you’re kind of doing just that, more or less.

Except…

Well, it’s usually when the special day starts that calls are made, starlit whispers are uttered between lovers, and secret kisses are exchanged.

So you can’t help but wonder… is it too late?

For this? Or to back out now?

A sigh escapes your chapped lips, into the dimness of dusk, the stillness of frozen peaks, the stars.

Stars.

Your gaze is drawn to the easel you’ve set before you, fingertips delicately trailing over the four-point asteroids decorating a heaven made of brushstrokes.

Gold pinpricks, almost aglow beneath the darkening penombre of sundown, over a backdrop of ultramarines and indigoes, akin to sunlight over the depth of a frozen sea; a mirror image of the sky now hovering over snowy plains.

Looking up, you find a firmament of constellations. Stories, sketched in the silver flames of light years away suns, above an infinity of obscurity.

Those tales, however, had a tendency for lighting up paths that fell victim to the constant fluttering snowflakes.

“Hello, dearest.” A voice, smooth, liquid dawnlight over dewed cecilia petals, greets. “Am I late?”

The sound of crunching snow fills the fire-lit silence, the torches from his camp casting him in tepid hues.

“Albedo!” You call him, turning around.

And when you do, you swear he alone outshines every galaxy you could ever dream of rendering on canvas.

Tendrils of midnight sun and honeycomb seem to meld together in the blonde locks framing the alchemist’s porcelain-like face. Spotless, argent light from distant stars kisses his skin, fading into flecks of sparkling acacia blossoms to halo his gaze.

Summer skies.

That’s the image his eyes always evoked: clear skies, endlessly blue, over meadows to lie on, the low grass soft beneath your forms, as hands entwined and fingers pointed above, determining the shapes of the occasional cottony clouds.

What a paradox, how someone who spent his days surrounded by ice could make sparks ignite in your heart, cheeks heating up like the embers that remained after the coziness of a homey hearth.

“Is there anything you needed my help with, love?” He asks, gloved hand running its thumb over the back of yours.

Your gaze flits from your intertwined hands to his smiling lips, taking in his features in full.

“Not exactly your help.” You offer, your own lips a moon shaped brushstroke of vermillion. “I just… would like you to see something.” Your hand squeezes his, as you swing your linked hands between the both of you. “It’s your special day today, after all, isn’t it?”

Your rhetoric is met by the alchemist’s windened gaze, followed by one of his subtle smiles.

Tugging him along, you guide him to the candle lit spot where your easel is propped up.

Why are you feeling nervous all of a sudden? You internally chide yourself, biting the inside of your cheek.

Relaxing your shoulders, you turn to face your lover, gaze averted when you mumble:

“It’s not much but…” You scuff one of your boots on the dirtied snow. “I just… I remembered your painting, ‘You and I’ and… well… you know… I…” Your lids close, your nose scrunched up in that way he always found utterly endearing. “I wanted to make a painting for you too!” You finally sputter, stepping aside so he can see your masterpiece.

From that moment on, Albedo would forever believe no starry night could ever come close to capture the sheer magic of your art.

Gilded speckles abound in your make-believe heavens, each of them a shade slightly different than the previous one. They rest against a backdrop of cyans, accentuated in baby blue around your handmade constellations, the piece’s finale, a violet horizon. Outlined against it, two figures seem to dance, their happy ending created by them, rather than foretold by the celestial bodies staring in envy at a proximity that doesn’t burn, but warms and completes.

“I know it’s not the best but-“

“It’s perfect.” Is the kreideprinz’s awestruck answer, as his svelte hands hover over the frame. “You’re perfect, [Y/n].” He blurts, still staring at your work.

Then, he meets your eyes again. Your face is in his tender hold, a fleeting frosted kiss landing on your lips.

“I love it.” He assures. ‘I love you.’ His dilated pupils confess.

“‘From me to you’. Its title.” Your hand reaches up, resting on top of his. “You know… I hope you didn’t think I had forgotten about today… I just… kinda wanted this to be your last memory of your day.”

With that, both your gazes fuse in a watercolor of each other’s lips, of the anticipation of feeling them against your own.

“Happy birthday, Bedo.” You utter, before leaning in.

And then, the night, the snow, the starshine, all fade away, in a myriad of rose colored frenzied blazes. Your hands lost in the ash blonde strands at his nape; his, pulling you closer by the waist. Your kiss is a nebula of pulsating light, undimmed by even the most ruthless blizzards, lighting up the ebony of the pines obscuring the moonlight. Frozen air is exhausted in your lungs, but you don’t care right now, not when you’re kissing your prince charming under the lights of an aurora that’s still hours away.

A few moments pass, with the stars orbiting marking the approach of midnight.

A snow-kissed breeze caresses both your faces when you part, causing a shiver to rake through your body.

Your prince’s arms wrap around you.

When you look at him, matching chuckles fill the night air.

Moments like this were worth waiting all day for.

[penny00dreadful]

So... some of you may have noticed my fics have come to a screeching halt the last couple of months which is not like me and I am here to explain myself.

Babygirl, I have been preparing.

The end of this month is my 1 year anniversary of posting in this fandom, of posting any of my work online after not doing it for like fifteen fucking years and it has brought me so much incandescent joy, I decided I had to do something for it.

(I've also hit like... several milestones which is fucking insane like you all know I'm just some cranky bog witch, right??)

I have been working on my WIPs for over the last two months. All... holy mother of god... like nine of them???

Some of these have been completed, some I am still writing and some are mostly done.

So starting from my anniversary date, 23rd October, every second or third day, I'll be posting a chapter of something.

I have so much material built up this shit could go on until 2024

@hbyrde36 called it my own personal Penny00Dreadful BigBang... and yeah kinda! 😅

I wanted to do this to show just how much I love this community. Your kind words, your support, your unhinged ramblings, your obsessive love, your talent (for free??) it's all amazing it's so amazing and I wanted to explode forth with my love for it so I figured why the fuck not do this stupid idea??😅

All of these will be posted both to tumblr and AO3 so subscribe over there to keep updated or follow me here!

OH! And let me know if you wanna be tagged! If you wanna be tagged for a specific fic or for everything I'll add you, whatever you want.

You've made me so happy and so warm for the last year. The way I know if I'm having a bad day I just need to hop onto this side of tumblr and everything will be peaches and gravy again.

I love you guys so much. 😘🖤

Updated Schedule - (18th Feb 2024)

Fic list with blurbs below the cut, this will (roughly) be the order they're posted in:

Return of The King - COMPLETE

Steddie Vampire AU with a twist! Vampire Steve comes back after falling to the bats. There is two more chapters left and those chapters have been completed.

Comeuppance - COMPLETE

Dustin just wants Steve to be happy. So he tries to parent trap him with Nancy. Clearly they should be together. But Steve's heart doesn't even seem to be in it at all! How is he so bad at this? And Eddie is being less than helpful

Rookie Mistake - COMPLETE

My Steddie Established Relationship Spies AU oneshot that will have a multi-chapter prequel fic coming very soon after!

Eddie is "retired" and Steve has been injured on the job, so he's supposed to be taking it easy. How hard could a walk to the gas station be?

Before He Cheats - COMPLETE

Songfic! Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

I literally have no excuse for this one. The rotted brainworms were behind the steering wheel with this one.

One evening, Eddie gets a call from some guy named Steve dropping the news on him that his boyfriend has been cheating on him. With this Steve person and Steve had no idea up until that day.

And Eddie rarely takes that shit lying down.

Steddievember Smut - COMPLETE

No Nut November is here! One can play however he wants. The other just has to wait for December to roll around. I have no other words to describe what this will be, it does what it says on the tin. I blame the STWG discord server. Currently we're looking at four little ficlets for this.

Cat and Mouse - COMPLETE

The Steddie Spies AU Prequel! How they got together and the extreme ups and downs their enemies/rivals to lovers journey goes through. I had so much fun with this one.

And They Were Roommates! - COMPLETE

omg they were roommates.

Steve and Eddie don't hate each other exactly. They just... tolerate each other. But one night Eddie doesn't come home for hours. Long after he's supposed to and it's not like Steve is worried or anything... he's just... concerned for a fellow human being... that's all.

Through The Valley - IN PROGRESS

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Eddie, Dustin and Nancy have a nice little community of survivors outside of Hawkins that they take care of, surviving day to day. Everyone's a little broken, missing the rest of their Party just hoping that one day they'll find each other again.

Devotion

Dungeons and Dragons AU. Steve is the golden boy of the small town of Hawkins. Harrington in name and now a Paladin with his very own oath to hunt down the Bard, the witch Eddie Munson and bring him back to justice under High Priest Henry Creel.

[fluffytriceratops]

❝𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆.❞ ⎯ 𝘇𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗻.

notes: n/n means nickname by the way, in case you don't know! just a short lil imagine based off of my favorite pride and prejudice (2005) movie scene. <33 

warnings: none. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Y/n sat comfortably on a blanket of grass. Her hands were bawled with the fabric of her skirt. Green blades tickling her toes. The dress she wore was soft and airy. Which felt nice against the humid heat, even in the darkness of night. 

The stars twinkled and shone so brightly, she swore she had never seen such a magnificent sight before. Especially not when she still lived at home with her parents. 

Her gaze dropped from the sky to the pond in front of her. Glistening from the light of the lanterns strwen about her yard. A family of swans swam on the surface gracefully. Causing her heart to melt for she adored animals. 

A smile crawled onto her face at the sound of footsteps approaching. She had a feeling she knew who it was, and that was confirmed when he slipped his jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm. Y/n nuzzled her face into the soft fabric, taking a deep inhale of his scent which cause goosebumps to raise on her skin. 

Zane smiled down at her, and she reached over with cold fingers to grasp at his calf, rubbing his skin lovingly. For it was the closest part of him she could reach. Mainly due to the fact that he was standing while she was still seated. But that was only for a moment, as he turned and knelt down in the grass next to her. 

Y/n turned too, sitting criss cross in front of him, the biggest of grins all but plastered to her face. 

"How are you this evening, my dear?" Zane asked, eyes shining down at her with all the adoration in the world. 

"Very well." She hummed, "only I wish you would not call me 'my dear'." She reached forwards and grasped his hands with her own. Fiddling with his fingers in delight. 

Zane tilted his head in amusement. "Why?" He asked, nearly shivering at her touch. He loved it when she did stuff like that. It was such a comforting feeling. 

"Because it's what my father calls my mother when he's cross about something." Y/n giggled, shaking her head to herself from the memory. 

He chuckled in return. "What endearments am I allowed?" He let go of one of her hands to reach forwards and brush a few strands of hair behind her ear. Y/n's cheeks flushed at the action and he swore her grin grew. 

"Well, let me think.. N/n, for everyday." she dropped her gaze to his palm where she traced the lines of his skin. "My pearl for Sundays. And.. Goddess Divine, but only on very special occasions." 

Zane's icy gaze had never left her beautiful face. His own smile grew, and he swore if she kept this up he'd probably end up short circuting. He let out a small, amused, huff. 

"And what shall I call you when I'm cross?" He leaned forwards, so close that their noses were almost brushing and he could nearly feel the heat from her breath.  "Mrs. Julien?" 

Y/n eyes widened and her blush darkened. "No." She said, almost offended he said such a thing. 

"No..." She mumbled again, shaking her head and glancing back down at their intertwined hands, if only for a moment. "You may only call me Mrs. Julien," she started, tilting her head up to brush her lips against his own. "When you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy." 

It was Zane's turn for his smile to grow. "And how are you this evening, Mrs. Julien?" He whispered, cupping the side of her face and running his thumb along her cheek. He closed the distance between them and pressed a tender and loving kiss to her forehead. Y/n closed her eyes at the feeling, leaning into his touch. She swore her heart was beating so fast, there was no way he couldn't hear it. 

"Mrs. Julien." He said again after he pulled away. Pressing his lips to her right cheek. 

"Mrs. Julien." He breathed again, smooching the tip of her nose. 

"Mrs. Julien." His lips came in contact with her other cheek. 

"Mrs. Julien." He uttered one final time, thumb moving from her cheekbone to brush against the plumpness of her bottom lip. Zane dipped his head in, connecting his lips to her own. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed and her heart soar. 

She had never been as incandescently happy as she was in this moment. And neither had he. 

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy

Rating: Explicit Chapters: 15/25, part 1 of 3 (maybe 25, might be less) Word Count: 136,872 Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong, Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

READ ON AO3 Series Page on AO3 - Subscribe for ALL updates!

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen - Your Love Is Like Sunlight Pride is taken and love is given.

“My lady!” he called, his voice nearly lost to the noise of the arena. “The joy on your face could outshine the sun itself!” Abby heard Wylla scoff behind her, but paid her little mind, teeth nibbling along her lower lip. “Are you truly so happy this day?” “I am, my prince,” she called down to him, feeling Wylla slide the braided ring of flowers into her hand. Abby toyed with the favor. She wanted to call down to him that she was so happy because he told her he’d loved her. He had said those words to her, confessed them to her first and she was drunk with it, giddy and incandescent. She wanted to kiss him again, to taste the promises on his pouty mouth, but all she could do now was toss the favor down to him. “And if you wish to keep me so happy, you will come back to me safe and victorious!” Aegon’s smile took a mischievous edge, a rakish glint in his eye. “I do wish it, my lady. All you must do is command me.” He tucked the favor onto his armor, turning his gaze to meet his father’s. He crossed his arm across his chest in a sign of fealty and bowed before giving her a wink and going to stand by Daeron who held his swords in hand. Further down the pitch, Abby could see Aemond and Alyn Hull standing safely out of the way. Aemond looked serious, face pinched in concern as Alyn hollered his cheers of encouragement.

ON HIATUS THROUGH END OF APRIL because life! And Chapters needing to be written!

@fyeahhotdocs, @ocappreciation, @stannisfactions, @fragilestorm, @starcrossedjedis, @darkwolf76, @arrthurpendragon, @dopedaegus, @hiddenqveendom, @mantillon, @lightofthearrow, @songsonacliffside, @acrossthesestars, @insabecs, @moireia, @dragonsbone, @corporalicent, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @gwenllian-in-the-abbey, @notbloodraven, @impales, @arcielee, @thesunfyre4446, @duxbelisarius, @dream-beyond-the-fantasy, @godswood-girl, @mimikoflamemaker, @murmel-malt, @rainwingmarvel7, @aegonx, @tremendouswolfsaladranch, @theothermaidoftarth, @lullaebies, @julyzaa, @jotterjots, @zae5, @persesnickety

[saintsenara]

Absolutely no pressure if it really does make you uncomfortable to talk about but I would LOVE to hear about why dramione pisses you off... first and foremost because I'm a card-carrying dramione hater and there's nothing quite as enjoyable as a fellow hater articulating their haterade. Please. I'm handing you the mic. Go to town. (If you want!)

thank you very much for the ask, anon - and it's very sweet of you to ask whether dramione makes me sincerely uncomfortable [it doesn't, and if there's ever a day when i find harry potter shipping preferences that deep i shall face god and walk backwards into hell]. i subscribe to one belief in fandom above all others - that you can write yourself into, and out of, the most nonsensical premises if you are willing to engage with your characters in their full spectrum and if you have enough nerve. which is to say, there is almost certainly dramione out there that i would regard as interesting and well done, which feels coherent as a premise within which to situate both hermione and draco's canon selves, and which does so by being unsparing in how it deals with the whole "he thinks she's literally subhuman" thing...

but the reason i don't like dramione as a pairing is because i've never actually seen it done in a way that actually is interesting.

i'm on the record as a straightforward hater of fanon!hermione - the preternaturally perfect, incandescently beautiful "brightest witch of her age" [lupin means by this - please, i am begging you all to understand - that she's clever for a fourteen-year-old, not that she's some sort of epoch-defining intellect] who makes you wonder if we've all forgotten the early-00s flame wars over mary-sues. i am also on the record as a hater of the classic draco-in-leather-pants version of the other half of our pairing - draco is an insecure, pointy little dickhead whose jokes always flop, and he is so much more fun in this form than he is as the suavest man alive.

and, obviously, dramione is famous for being beholden to these characterisations [something, if i may, which is really letting harmony and snamione off the hook...]. and that is just so boring! even in a setting in which an author doesn't want to deal with the context of blood-supremacist prejudice - and good for them! why not! - i would much rather see fics think interestingly about how mashing draco and hermione's personalities together would actually go. how would he handle her constant need to debate things? how would she handle his fits of crippling jealousy? how would he handle her stubbornness? how would she handle his self-interestedness?

and i think something quite striking could actually come of this... as i've noted elsewhere, draco's narrative mirror is ron, who is obviously a ride-or-die hermione stan, and there is - therefore - a way set out within the arc of canon for thinking about how hermione and draco might interact. it could be a genuinely fantastic piece of enemies-to-lovers fun, but this would involve both hermione and draco's canonical characteristics being thought about [and harry and ron's: the former always seems to come around to dramione really quickly, while the latter is written as a death-eater-adjacent boor who doesn't want the woman who "belongs to him" to be happy], and i'm afraid that the vast, vast majority of dramione writing seems to have no interest in doing this when "just make him suave and her perfect" exists...

but, of course, there is a second major objection which i know many people have to dramione: that he is a member of a terrorist organisation which believes in eradicating people like her, and that he believes wholeheartedly in that organisation's beliefs.

and my feelings about this are more complicated.

because, to be frank, as someone who has - only this week - written harry having a sensual little snog with his parents' murderer, i can't really get up on my high-horse about people shipping the heroes with the villains. and, indeed, i won't - another fandom [and life!] principle i have is that the potential of redemption for everybody is one of the most important things about humanity; that even the most evil people can repent and repent sincerely; and that love is strange and unpredictable.

i do think something interesting could be done with draco having to unlearn literally everything about his life, and with both him and hermione grappling with their personal limits when it came to remorse and forgiveness as they realise that, against all the odds and no matter the heavy weight of the past, they want to make something together. but, once again, the standard move in dramione seems to be a sort of "nooo, he didn't really mean it!" or a "hermione gets over it immediately because he didn't rat them out when the snatchers caught them!" [no - he didn't rat harry out. he doesn't seem to have a problem with hermione getting tortured by bellatrix...] or a "well harry using sectumsempra means i'm over the fact he called me a mudblood" or "uwu he was sixteen". and, once again, i think it's dull!

and this, of course, brings us to the other category of dramione - the one in which she's a dirty little fucktoy for a sadistic pureblood lord. while this is at its worst in other hermione/death eater ships, we've all seen the fics: hermione is given to draco as a forced bride; hermione is given to draco as a sex slave; hermione is given to draco to be degraded etc.

i have no moral objection to people wanting to read and write this stuff, because i'm neither a cop nor a priest. my objection, once again, is that this is dull.

i think there is something really, really interesting which could be done with draco finding himself attracted to hermione despite what he's been raised to believe about her, above all for the way this could be used to play with the gendered dynamic we might expect to find when this trope is used.

discrimination is justified by societies - again and again throughout the course of history - with the claim that it protects women [and men's claim to them]. we can imagine easily that this is the same in the wizarding world because voldemort literally tells us so - in the opening chapter of deathly hallows he explicitly equates tonks' marriage to lupin as the cause of the "rot" in the black family tree, before he goes on to murder charity burbage while accusing her of supporting miscegenation.

what we see less frequently is the idea that men need to be protected from the other - societies are much more amenable to seeing men's behaviour as hypocrisy [and tolerating this] rather than moral corruption, and we can assume in the wizarding world that it would be perfectly acceptable for a pureblood man to have a muggleborn mistress or a half-blood love-child in a way it never would be for a pureblood woman.

so how does draco justify his attraction to hermione to himself? how does he keep her a secret? how does he think of women more generally, if he has a pureblood wife at home and a muggleborn woman he cheats on her with? does he see nothing contradictory about sneaking off into broom cupboards and then strutting into the slytherin common room and telling pansy parkinson that hermione is a digusting mudblood dog?

or, does he get the other side of the coin? do lucius and narcissa think he's being corrupted? is his temptation all-consuming? will he lie about hermione attacking him to save face? will he turn on the tears and place her in unimaginable danger and then feel only the slightest hint of regret?

and i just think that has so much more potential than your standard "draco's sadistic but, more importantly, he's hot" stuff.

because i will read things that are objectively baffling if they are, at least, interesting. dramione nation, i'm begging you... just be interesting.