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[tackytigerfic]

when you find a fanfic writer whose work just sings to you… i would read anything you write…. i would wade into a tag no matter how deranged… i would travel to the ends of the earth for you if only to soothe your little oyster shell just so you would be comfortable enough to make another pearl whenever you felt like it … i would love you tenderly and support you as you carefully place every grain of sand onto your little castle, regardless of how long it takes, if only to enjoy your words just a little longer

[tackytigerfic]

[tackytigerfic]

Hi Liv, what are your favourite “they finally kissed” scenes

Thank you

Hi anon! Oh I love this ask, I’m such a sucker for first kiss scenes 🤌🏼 Here are some that live rent free in my head, all these fics are masterclasses in anticipation/payoff. Highly recommend!

Here’s the Pencil, Make it Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

"I think you're so fit, Harry Potter. I meant that about the snow suiting you. You've got really lovely eyes."

"Oh," says Harry, heart kick starting again, pounding hard in his chest.

"Tell me a secret back," says Malfoy, fingers reaching out to, inexplicably, turn Harry's head towards him and touch his scar. Malfoy's fingers are touching him so gently, and he's smiling in his silly lopsided way, and he thinks Harry's fit with lovely eyes. Harry's drunk, and he wants him so much.

"I want you," he whispers.

"Oh," says Malfoy. His eyes flick to Harry's lips, and then back up to his eyes.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Draco’s still laughing when he steps closer. “The first kiss is important,” he says. “It’s how we’ll know if we’re… compatible.” He lifts his hand, slides it along the soft, sensitive skin just under Harry’s jaw, into Harry’s hair. He tugs, gently, pulling Harry’s head back just a fraction.

“It might be awful,” Harry says, trying for solemn, but even he can hear the low gritty sound of need in his own voice. “This might all be a huge mistake.”

Draco’s fingers tighten in Harry’s hair, and he leans in. “It might be awful,” he agrees, and Harry clutches at him then, digs his fingers into the clean tapering lines of his hips. Through Draco’s shirt, he can feel the solid shift of muscle as Draco shivers under his hands.

“It’s not going to be awful,” Harry says, and Draco answers low and desperate, “It’s going to be so fucking good.”

The Compact by astolat (E, 64k)

Draco had his hand gripped tight in Harry’s hair. “Why did you come?” he demanded again. He shut his eyes and shuddered as Harry moved on him, and then dragged his head down and kissed him. He held their foreheads together: they were sweating despite the chill, bodies straining against each other. “Why did you come to me?” he said again, a murmur, going low and almost tender, and Harry groaned against the bare skin of his shoulder and gave up the true answer, the one fighting to come out of him. “You’re my king,” he said, raw, and Draco breathed out one long satisfied sigh, shuddering beneath him.

Little Compton Street by @writcraft (E, 65k)

The strains of music filter into the space around them and Harry tips his head, listening. The smile on his face widens. “I’ve been speaking to the DJ. I wanted them to play a song, that’s why I came looking for you.”

“What song?” Even as he asks the question, Draco already knows the answer.

“Life on Mars.” Harry puts his hand on the wall next to Draco’s head, his gaze dropping to Draco’s lips. “Bowie.”

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Malfoy was desperate for this kiss, Harry realized. He had been desperate for it forever, if those things he had said were true—those things about his cells and his Pensieve and living on just a glance for weeks—and weeks—Harry gave it to him. He wanted to give him everything. He wanted to reach down inside of Malfoy with his tongue and hands and body and take away sad memories of loving and not being loved, replaced them with memories of this kiss. Harry didn’t regret not having loved Malfoy earlier; he only regretted the pain those memories must hold for Malfoy.

[tackytigerfic]

What does "fth" stand for :)

Hello Anon, if this is related specifically to me then it stands for Fandom Trumps Hate. I'm finally finishing/editing a long fic for the bidder who "won" a fic from me in the auction (three years ago now... it is long and i am so slow) and sometimes I post snippets from the fic on tumblr under the tag tacky's fth.

Hope that's what you were looking for - but just in case, here's the @fandomtrumpshate tumblr in case you were looking for more general information on the event.

[tackytigerfic]

”Daniel's out of the car Max, he's all okay” ❤️

[tackytigerfic]

Someone is in love and distracted 🤭

Some pynch sketches i needed to get out of my system 🙊🙊

[tackytigerfic]

The Opposite of Hate You

Drarry ~ 3.9k ~ M ~ Falling in love, happy ending, evocative handjobs, a bit of hair-pulling, discussion of sexual fantasies, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it vicar kink, church and hymns, wine in the bath, and a small smattering of past traumas.

Happy, happy birthday to my darling @bonesliketambourines - I hope you have all the ice cream cake your little heart desires, followed by the nicest cocktails man can provide.

They walk the whole way home, in the end—the long way, through Holborn and out past Coram’s Fields and all the way to St Pancras, where they stop for coffee from AMT and bring their drinks up to the top concourse so they can look down on the quiet station. Draco gets a Froffee which he drinks too quickly, then complains about how cold he is, and Harry rolls his eyes but puts his hands around Draco’s bare, red hands with their raw knuckles, brings Draco’s fingers to his mouth, blows gently until he can feel the tips warming under his lips.

“We should take a trip,” Draco says, like he always does whenever they’re standing on the upper concourse under the delicate metal spines of the curving roof. The glass gleams with snow. “We should go to Paris.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, “I’ve never been.” Though Draco already knows that of course, because Harry says that every time too—though he’s absolutely serious, and he’d go down and buy a Eurostar ticket right now if he thought Draco would want him to, just get on the train and go. It’s probably just as well that they don’t, though. Harry thinks that if he saw Draco with the Eiffel Tower in the background he might do something mad and stupid, like propose to him, and Draco would very probably say yes, and Ron’s only just stopped getting all glinty-eyed and puffed up when Harry mentions Draco’s name, and Draco’s only just started leaving a toothbrush at Grimmauld. It’s probably too soon for forever. Probably.

Read it on AO3

Keep reading

[tackytigerfic]

i have been laughing about this to myself all day

[tackytigerfic]

Seven years after the break-up.

[tackytigerfic]

this is going around twitter and i thought it'd be a fun little thing to bond over

in the tags as usual

[tackytigerfic]

Blue 💙

Hello! Thank you for the ask, i think I associate blue with Draco because I got a lot of results from this one! Here's the memory of a blowjob from a WIP where down-and-out Draco and Harry are in a friends with benefits situation, and then Draco leaves to work in a caravan park in France.

“I don’t really do a lot outside of work,” Draco said, but he could see Harry didn’t believe him, though he wasn’t sure it mattered very much. Harry was lying on his back, so Draco could really look at him, and the light was perfect for it—London summer evening light, a vivid wash of sun filtering through the horrible net curtains at the flat window, rosy gold and brimming with the potential of the stretched out, elastic length of day. It could have been any time from midday to dinnertime, except that Draco knew the direction the window faced and how the sun moved. Being this high up meant cheap rent and nothing to see through the window but a rectangle of blue like a corridor of sky. 

Harry was sweating. 

“I got the water last time,” he said in a wheedling tone, and turned abruptly onto his side so he could be closer to Draco, tucking a hand under his cheek. He never seemed to mind Draco knowing he was watching him, and his eyes were amused and knowing and very green against the white pillowcase. “And my throat…” 

He coughed pathetically, and then followed the line of Draco’s rising flush with his finger, all the way from his chest, along his neck, until he was tracing Draco’s cheekbone. Draco could feel it in his bones, the memory of Harry eager and pliant in the heat, on his knees in front of the big window, and his mouth, Draco bracing his hands against the glass at the momentary, muscular constriction of Harry’s throat around his cock, his own unthinking thrust and all that heat.

[tackytigerfic]

For the word ask game, how about the word 'traitor'? 👀

Ooh thank you, anon - I have lots of these in my current WIP because Draco is an Order member and then defects. Some of them are a bit spoilery so here's a piece from early on in the fic. Draco has returned to the Order after seven years, but they obviously don't trust him so he's been kept in custody and subjected to Veritaserum and some invasive magical testing. CW for vomiting and cigarette smoking!

“May I come in?” Harry managed, and then regretted his politeness when Draco just sniffed and said, “I can’t exactly stop you, can I?” and turned and padded across the room, his footsteps silent in his soft white socks.

“I came to let you know that your wand will be out of processing by tomorrow,” Harry said to Draco’s back, watching the tensing of his shoulders, the tiny pause. “You can collect it after breakfast and let us know what you’d like to do.”

“And in the meantime I’m here overnight, totally unprotected and vulnerable,” Draco said stiffly. “At least last night I had a guard on the door.”

“If I had my way,” Harry said pleasantly, “you’d still have a guard on your door. But sadly even traitorous bastards get to benefit from the outcome of the justice system.”

“Oh, piss off if you just came here to bait me,” Draco said, voice thick. “I went through your due process, I jumped through all your little hoops, and I—” He held a hand up, swaying gently, face horrified, then he clapped a hand over his mouth and strode over to the little bathroom in the corner, where he was—efficiently and impressively quietly—sick into the sink.

Harry waited until Draco’s shoulders had finished heaving and he was washing his face under the cold tap, and Harry could be reasonably sure he wasn’t going to be sick again.

“Would you like a freshen up?” Harry asked him, expecting him to say no, but Draco just sighed into the towel as he dabbed his face dry and said, “Yes please,” mildly enough. Harry got his wand out self-consciously and performed the spell, trying not to catch Draco’s eye as he wrinkled his nose and blinked, the smell of spearmint and citrus sharpening the air.

Harry had never quite got the hang of courtesy spells—Draco had always been the one to cast this one, back when they were whiskey-sodden hungover idiots the morning after whatever night of long involved chatting and plotting they’d had, or the time they found an old pack of cigarettes stashed in the attic in Grimmauld and decided to sit out on the angled roof below the casement and try out smoking. Draco had coughed himself almost sick that time, though Harry had taken to it too easily, so much so that he stubbed out the cigarette and told himself he wouldn’t try it again. He didn’t trust anything that he liked that much that quickly.

Harry wondered if Draco remembered all of that stuff the way he did, if Draco thought about the things they had been to each other back then. If Draco had missed him.

[tackytigerfic]

Hello pal, has anyone asked for citrus fruits yet? Any of the family, lemons, limes, grapefruits, and so on! Otherwise how about throat?

Thank you friend <3. An NSFW throat here, and here's a classic citrus from Our Objective Remains Unchanged:

“I really am nervous,” Harry said again, quietly.  “It’s because we’re still bloody talking,” Draco said, coming closer to him. “That was never our particular strong suit, if I remember correctly.”  Harry wet his lips. From this distance, he could smell the orange juice and champagne on Draco’s breath. “No, it wasn’t.”  Draco reached a hand forward, his fingers brushing the line of Harry’s buttons. “Can I kiss you, Harry?” Harry stared up at him. He couldn’t remember Draco ever asking that before.  “Yes,” he said. 

[tackytigerfic]

Tee! Ok first for the word game, I have to ask for couch/sofa 😂. And if that doesn't work I'll try spinach as that's what I'm cooking right now.

✨🪩 Word Excerpt Ask Game 🪩✨

Featuring 'couch', taken from The Brightest Constellations of Our Souls (256k, E, 2023)

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Malfoy pulled open the curtains, flooding the room with soft morning light.

“You could’ve at least warned me,” Harry muttered, opening his eyes a crack. “Reckon I could go blind from that.”

Malfoy stared at him with crossed arms, leaning against the curved window. “I’m about to go blind with rage, so forgive me for not being considerate of your eyes.”

“You’re not forgiven.” Harry yawned and stretched his arms over his head, leaning back slightly. His muscles ached a little, but it was a pleasant ache. Harry could no doubt thank the few days of sleep in an actual bed rather than a couch for that.

Malfoy let out an odd noise that sounded halfway between a gasp and a squeak. Harry dropped his arms and turned to look at Malfoy, who was looking down at his shoes. They stood in silence for a moment before Harry cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot.

(that word features 114 times in that fic)

Featuring 'spinach', taken from an unreleased fic which has the document title of 'Angsty Azkaban Release'

“No peeking.” Potter stepped back and Draco felt the loss of him keenly. He wanted to tug at his arm and make him come back, but he wasn’t sure that he could. They weren’t quite there yet. “Here’s the first one.” Something was pressed against Draco’s palm, one of the soft things from the plate.

“Give me a hint about what it is at least. I want to know if I’m eating spinach or samosas.”

“Cupcakes,” Potter said, his breath washing over Draco’s ear. “Take a bite, go on.”

Draco was thankful that his eyes were already closed because they would have ended up there anyway, slipping shut so that he could focus his senses on what mattered most; the feeling of Potter’s breath on his skin, his fading warmth on Draco’s back, the position of his fingers, still resting against Draco’s hip as though intending to guide him around the room.

🛋️🥗 🪑

(If there is a difference in meaning between couch and sofa, I do not know what it is. I use them interchangeably, sometimes in the same sentence 😅)

[tackytigerfic]

Wolfie this is so fun! For the word excerpt game, please may I ask for any or all of: king, history, brother.

oh tacky you spoil me with these! and they're all so fun, as well. I had to do some real digging this time! (also - you know me so well, king AND history, oh my!)

King, a real deep cut this one, Heal Your Shrinking Soul, one of my first ever wolfstar fics, an AU where Remus is a novelist:

Sometimes he likes to think his agent is good for nothing, but it’s usually when he’s at his wit’s end or at his bottle’s end or he really, really wants to twist the knife a bit and make her work hard for her commission. Twenty percent. What an absolute joke. Louboutins are on her feet and her fingernails are regularly manicured because he props up the Bookseller charts invariably, not just during his key selling period of Autumn where his titles dominate the shelves on Amazon, in Waterstone’s, and every cheap Halloween display at your local big supermarket. And of course there’s the rights income, the recently released adaptation he hates because the casting is all wrong and the whole thing is far too American: squeaky clean and sterilised. Abbot’s Ritual. Monster Boy Lake. The Comfort Creature. Remus’s bestsellers; the books about demons and hell and hauntings and death. He’d tried experimenting with some apocalyptic science fiction a few years ago, a real passion project actually, but it bombed, roughly around the same time everything else in his life was teetering dangerously in the wrong direction too. His creative process had been in turmoil because he’d fallen out of love with the work that made him famous at the enviable age of twenty-five, a horror wunderkind, the UK’s answer to Stephen fucking King; and therein began the slippery slope into casual alcoholism he’s yet to fully admit to, the chain-smoking that makes it difficult to move faster than a light jog without feeling like his lungs are on fire, and the general grouchiness pervading his everyday mood, interactions, processes, relationships.

And history, from The Hollow:

Now, encased in his crimson, reinforced finery with a badge on his breast, Draco Malfoy is a man who exudes a quiet, cautious sort of strength. He is guarding—what? Remus could wager a guess, given Draco’s history. But Draco doesn’t seem like the kind of man who enjoys being read. He is a man who would rather turn the focus on others, ruffling their pages to peek inside, so they don’t get a chance to lift his own covers.

And finally, brother, from Precious Metal:

He hadn’t spent much time paying attention to Malfoy as Harry had. Ron had done his best to avoid him, actually, at all costs. He remembers how hard his heart would race whenever they would line up for lessons in the school corridors, how he’d dreaded bumping into Malfoy and his friends because it was the perfect public forum for scrutiny and humiliation: nice trousers, Weasley, are they your brother’s? Isn’t he like… thirty now?

send me a word and I'll share an excerpt from a published or unpublished fic ✍🏻

[tackytigerfic]

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern. I was tagged by the lovely @officialmood 🧡 and the equally lovely @powerful-owl 🧡

Well, i've not posted much over the the past couple of years so we're cheating a LITTLE to make it just f1, including a) some unposted fics, b) a reveal of a kinkmeme fic that some people guessed was me, c) a kinkmeme fic that nobody guessed was me and a selection of AO3 and tumblr fic :)

✅ The text on Zoe's deleted Instagram story says: finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you because your dash GPS breaks and you have to use his phone for Google maps to get you home: fucking sucks

🌸 He finds them when he's bored enough one day to consider catching up on laundry: a pair of pale pink knickers caught up with a single discarded sock and a kicked-off pair of his boxers under the bed in his second bedroom. 

👨‍👦 It's late when Daniel wakes up.

🥫 Max at seven years old is red cheeked and mutinous, sitting in the corner of Charles' driver's room with his arms folded and his grown up race suit falling off him.

🐙 "What the fuck is wrong with your dick," Max says, approximately five one-hundredths of a second after storming into Charles's motorhome and coming to an abrupt stop in the doorway.

❓ ***** ** ** ********** ****** **** ******** *** **** ** *** **** ** *** ***** ** **** ******

🩰 His dick is soft and pink and wet from Daniel's mouth.

🏎️ Alex waits until they're in the car before he leans over and cups his hand over George's crotch. 

🍊 Max dreams of his bond.

🕵️‍♂️ "Daniel, you should leave now," Max tells him, stalking off towards the end of the marina.

higher than average selection of dicks in the first lines tbh.

and I tag @astorytotellyourfriends, @tackytigerfic, @flawlessassholes and @junkshop-disco if they fancy it and haven't already done it :)

[tackytigerfic]

My love letter to Modern Love by @tackytigerfic.

See the full art on AO3.

I don't usually dabble with colors or lineart (terrible at both, and I love the feel of semi-realism and greyscale), but with this piece, I knew I had to at least try.