#but speaking about this wip in particular

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

Gonna say this as nicely as I can. If you are one of those people complaining there isn't enough of a certain kind of fic and you never support the fic you do like, that's part of the reason you aren't getting more of what you like.

In my experience, the people that complain the loudest that there isn't a particular thing for them are also not commenting, refuse to read WIPs, and are not recommending the fic when the DO find something they they like.

Doing that is important if you want writers to keep writing at all. But it's EXTRA important if you like a non-main pairing. Or if you like non-shippy fic. Or if you like fic featuring and exploring secondary characters.

I can't speak for other fic writers, but I personally care very little about hits and not a ton about kudos. What I care about is comments. A comment tells me an actual person read and connected with my story. That's what motivates me to write. Even if it's just a string of emojis or a keyboard smash or quoting back a bit you liked.

If I'm writing a niche story with characters other than leads and I have like...5 people who reliably comment on every chapter, I will keep writing. But if I write the niche fic and it's crickets even if it's got a few hits and a handful of kudos, I won't. And honestly I might even delete what is up there. If the fic has 100 hits but 20 comments from people regularly commenting on each chapter, I will keep feeding you.

You get what you give. Commenters and WIP readers are the reason silent readers and people who refuse to read WIPs even have anything TO read.

And before anyone says it: you can easily check to see if a writer has a history of updating regularly and finishing their WIPs. If they do, you have every reason to think their next WIP will also be completed. Conversely, if the person has a history of abandoning work or being really slow to update, yeah I get it. Maybe wait for those folks to finish.

.

[sighonaraa]

working on one of the gift fics and i have never in my LIFE written the word ‘hug’ this many times in one paragraph. i’m reaching new authorial heights

[hauntingofhouses]

hi, it's me. the fic writer that uses culturally-specific idioms in a very different cultural time setting and keeps confusing words like reign and rein. this is my story.

[thebumblecee]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

I see you T 👀

Game recognises game here but since this is almost the entire thing it’s getting spilt up.

40 roses 40 lines and ONLY because it’s you.

Just Like Heaven

“You couldn’t have appeared when she was here?” TK demands when Carlos reappears by the side of the sofa.

“When who was here?” He frowns at him. TK feels like he always frowns at him now, even before their fight. He has this confusion saturated into his bones. TK is only partly to blame because he promised to help him find out what happened.

“Never mind.” he looks at Carlos closely. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Carlos just looks more confused but he doesn’t say anything out loud about it. “Was someone here?”

He doesn’t look like he is up to hearing what the curandera has to say about the whole thing, not that she said much that made any sense at all. “I’ll tell you later, do you need to sit down you look…” he looks terrible, shaky and paler than he’s ever seen him. Can ghosts get sick?

“Where do you go? When you’re not here, where do you go?”

Something Wholesome About You

TK arches off the bed when he feels Carlos come in him. “Fuck, baby,” he moans as Carlos pants over him. He came himself, twice, so now just gets to bask in the afterglow. He collapses against the mattress with a heavy thump bringing Carlos down on top of him. They just get better and better at that.

“Okay, wow,” Carlos mumbles into his shoulder. TK shouldn’t still feel smug. They’ve been together officially for months now but he still gets a thrill every time he blows Carlos’ mind in the bedroom. It’s not that TK has a wealth of experience but he’s definitely tried a lot more than Carlos has.

“Getting tested was the best thing we’ve ever done.” TK grins, he can feel the start of the familiar loving ache in his lower back, “getting rid of condoms has been a blessing.”

When I’m Like This You’re The One I Trust

He flirts with some nameless guy but he doesn’t hold his attention for long. Excusing himself to the bathroom with the intent of ditching him. He doesn’t plan to run slam into Carlos who is coming out the bathroom.

He flounders for something to say. When they were together he knew Carlos liked to party, he showed them the best clubs in Austin and he even chose somewhere to live that was close to them, so he shouldn’t be surprised to see him here. He’s flushed under the low lights from dancing and he’s clearly been drinking. He looks so fucking good, TK’s mouth goes dry. His heart fucking aches. He can’t help himself from glancing behind him to see if anyone follows him out the bathroom. He has no right to but they how they first met so it’s not like it’s out of character.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos says, he frowns and that makes TK want TK scream at how concerned he is.

Wherever it takes me I’m down

“Good.” Tyson says, he clears his throat, “that’s good, rookie.”

TK frowns, “Carlos isn’t a rookie?” He wants to boast about him studying for the detective exam but Carlos reaches over and squeezes his hand. It’s a sign that he’s okay with the name.

“He ain’t earned any other rank yet. Men who need other men to fuck their husband’s don’t get titles.” Billy says dismissively. Carlos groans from the driver seat and squeezes TK’s hand harder.

Thank god they’re seconds away from parking or TK might jump him in the car just to watch Carlos’ reaction. Tyson might just be the best choice for this after all.

“Fucked a lot of cops?” TK teases, he rubs his thumb other the back of Carlos’ thumb. He seems to know how to rile them.

“A fair few.” Is all the answer Billy gives.

Mwah 💋

[writingmeraki]

kiss the shit out of you — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you thought there'd never be a time when you would experience first-hand jealousy but turns out you aren't an exception to this emotion.

( or in which your boss seungcheol loves to find new ways to push your buttons. and push you towards mingyu too. you might just punch him or thank him. )

pairing: secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, established stage. genre : fluff, angstish. warnings : jealousy, mentions of bars and drinks, death threats, no actual kissing guys im sorry

a/n : pri comeback with another secret agent mingyu drabble. who cheered. not a full on comeback but hey i picked this up from my abandoned clusters of wips and welp this is how it turned out, let me know what you think !! also urm if the writing is a lil yk wonky pls bare w me it's been a long while <3 also the summary probs sucks my bad g again it's been aaa whileee :DDDDDD

word count : 1.8k

“I want to kill you.” 

You glared at Cheol as you clenched your fist to your side resisting the urge to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. 

Not an ideal sentence to tell your boss but the situation he’d kept you in was going the way he predicted and not how you thought it would. 

It started earlier in the day when he called Mingyu and you along with Chan and Seokmin in to do a mission which would require disguises and putting on an act. It was simple really he said, you all had to attend a gala, which had the member of a gang you’d been trying to catch attending as well. 

Butter him up, a few drinks later and he’d let the information you seeked slip out with ease. This particular member was one who caused a lot of mishaps, knowingly or unknowingly, he was hard to track but this was a sure tip as his name was also on the guest list.

It all seemed okay until he told you the twist. You would be the servers along with Chan and Seokmin. You looked at him in confusion wondering if he forgot Mingyu was also called in and was right beside you also wondering something similar. 

“What about him?”

“Oh right. He’s going to be attending as a couple with Yura.” He said it nonchalantly while looked towards you,

“It shouldn’t be a bother to you right? Considering it’s just a few hours and most importantly for the job.” He had a smug look on his face to which you slowly narrowed your eyes at him. Mingyu was going to oppose, but you shushed him. 

“It’s for the job Gyu, it wouldn’t matter to me.” You knew he had more to say but he just frowned and nodded at your words.

You knew what card he had been playing, you could remember him asking you that what if there came a time your partner would have to act as a couple with someone else would you have gotten jealous and you also remember you scoffing at him saying, it would be for a mission only anyways, why would you be? He protested saying it was natural to feel jealous but you told him that then you would need to get a grip instead of being unprofessional. 

Now you could feel your words bite you back as you tried not to glare at the way she seemed more than excited to be with ‘the most sought out’ agent.

You scoffed at yourself, feeling an even worse guilt at being jealous. The kind where you trusted him, but you couldn’t help the ugly emotion to rise up and as time went it seemed to rile up.

It was going to be one of the rookies, her first big assignment being this. Her name was Yura, from what you recalled. 

Your relationship with Mingyu was not exactly public. Again it was your idea. It seemed all your ideas were eventually coming to bite you in the back. Maybe this was your karma for something.

Eventually looking away from the couple, you sighed as you sat down by the bar.

“Oye, you aren’t supposed to sit, you’re the server here.” Before he could speak further, Chan elbowed your boss to which he glared at him but eventually gulped a little when he saw the look on your face. 

Now, Choi Seungcheol was no coward. But he knew better than to already fuel a fire that might just burn him alive. Quite literally. He thinks he’s spoken enough when he sees your stare harden.

“Haha, or not, yeah um��continue to sit as you wish, besides we’re just back up here…I’ll uh, I’ll go finish the um…cleaning the glasses.” 

“Get me a drink. Strong.”  

And as your pretend bartender colleague made you an actual whisky on the rocks — training required prior days to mission — your eyes automatically once again drifted off to him. 

Your partner, your boyfriend, highlighting the your factor harshly in your thoughts as you looked at the pretend couple. 

Jealousy, you learnt that day, is an ugly emotion but a fascinating one too. It might slowly chip away at your self esteem and build on a pile of undeserving guilt but it somehow helps in emphasising just how much one means to the other. 

It was a horrible pit at the bottom of your stomach but an unflattering brush in the depth of your heart. Both making you more confused and therefore, anger being the only emotion that would make sense. 

You could hear her giggles as she leaned in closer to his side, her arm practically cushioned between his and you clenched your molars in the assumed anger. 

It was as if he could sense your gaze. He always could, since a long time actually. As though his mind seemed to embed you, your presence right into his unconscious to the point he could practically feel your gazes on him. 

Maybe an exaggeration but he thinks when it comes to you, it all seemed to fall less.  

His eyes flickered to see where you were directing yours at, and immediately he had to put in his all to not just move away. He was trying his all honestly, the reason he accepted was because he was sure you were also okay with it. 

Professionally. Of course.

Emotionally? Personally? 

You may have just been on the edge of punching someone. Seungcheol, you wish. 

The way you were looking seemed nonchalant but this was the man that loved – loves you. Of course he knew when you were anything but. 

Before you could even move your attention to him from where it had darted to – Yura subtly moved her hand above Mingyu’s. It was so subtle but you were very observant, unfortunately in this case, hand clenching around the now almost empty glass of alcohol. 

It seemed in a flash, he abruptly pulled away, murmuring an excuse of getting another drink and you rolled your eyes at the pet names that smoothly rolled out of Yura’s tongues for him. You could feel your sanity level drop at that point. 

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself as you shut your eyes for a second, that this was a mission. A job. You couldn’t, shouldn’t fuck this up because you can’t keep your newly acquired emotions in check—

A hand on top of yours was the next thing you felt. And even before you opened your eyes to face the owner of the hand, you already knew. 

“Hey.” Minyu softly whispered, facing affront while you turned your head in his direction. He was close but not enough to seem suspicious, hand being hidden from the view of the others at the table. 

Even though it was just a small touch, he kept it there as he spoke out to Chan. Mumblings of the drinks, a few details about the information he managed to get. 

Yet all you could focus on was the warmth that radiated from his hand above yours. The way his hair was styled, the way his longer strands stood out perfectly, the way his pinkish lips moved as he spoke, eyes briefly shifting to yours when he did and it seemed he noticed your blatant checking out as one corner of his lip rose up. 

Dammnit, his suits were always your weakness. 

“Hi” He tried again, briefly shifting his head in your direction which seemed to snap you out of your daze as you blinked a few times.

“Hey.” You turned your hand that was facing down, and he briefly looked over and intertwined his fingers through yours.

Chan hastily looked over as he made the drinks, deciding he could probably slow down making the few drinks, and not like he was an expert at being fast anyway.

“Be careful.” He whispered to your pair, to which you looked at him and rolled your eyes but gave a short nod. 

“Are you alright?” As Mingyu asked, you froze up for a moment, wondering if your obvious discomfort was already known to him. 

Gulping, you nodded because it seemed easier to nod than to let your words out in fear of stumbling over reasons for your discomfort. 

Jealousy, was again, odd. It made you ashamed, a lump in the throat due to feeling like perhaps you were just overthinking it all.

You didn’t even realise you were blatantly showing your nervousness, eyes looking at anywhere but his and mulling your bottom lip. 

“You don’t need to worry over anything, ‘s going fine okay?”

“I can see that.” 

The words came out sharply than intended, and he blinked owlishly, eyebrow raising at you with an emotion that seemed familiar to both confusion and wonder in his eyes. 

“You don’t seem okay though.” He bit the bullet and told you his actual thoughts. He would have even said his assumptions but he did not want to tread too far. 

“I’ll be fine, stop worrying about me. Your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that.” 

Aha. There it was.

He scanned your face. The scoff was prominent as you narrowed your eyes ahead.

“You know you're the only one that matters to me right?” And even though he was tempted to tease you at the moment, he figured he'd save it for later. 

His hand squeezed yours, as if to amplify his words, their meaning to you. How much he truly meant them, he hoped that it would somehow reach to you through the simple motion of squeezing your hand tighter.

And somehow, he knows it did when the crease between your brow slowly disappeared, when the scowl on your face dropped and a seemingly exhausted sigh escaped you.

Jealousy was…tiring.

“Yes, I know.”

Without thinking, he leaned in closer to you, mouth grazing your ear as he spoke, the sudden warmness of his breathing so close making you shudder slightly.

“Tell you what baby? You can simply kiss the out of me when we get back. You know, remove all your anger, I heard it's a great exercise.”

The abruptness of the statement made you pull away and you couldn't help but giggle at his words, feeling a lot lighter than previously. A warm feeling spreads on your cheeks at the thought of his pink lips captivating yours. 

And of course, no one in this world could surprise you the way Kim Mingyu does. 

Well two could play at this.

Leaning in closer, your eyes gleamed with an equally mischievous flair to his, you whispered, only for his ears.

“As if I need permission to kiss the shit out of you, I hope you know I can and will do it anytime, anywhere.” 

His smile turned into a smirk as he glanced back at the table, seeing how his colleague was occupying the others, knowing he could go off for a few.

Looking at you determinedly, he stood up, pushing his hand forward,

“Bathroom break?” 

And of course, anywhere Kim Mingyu would go, you'd too. 

Placing your head in his, you nodded with a chuckle at how unserious this was getting,

“Sure.”

Lucky for the both of you, it seemed you were good at keeping your words. And kissing of course. 

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys ; @toplinehyunjin ; @cherrylovescheol ; @stagefrjghts

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: this one came out of no where.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s uncharacteristically grim on the plains of Debray. Rains pelt the tall green grasses, flattening them in a slanted downpour that dims the horizon. Clouds blot out the daylight and lend to atmosphere of unease in the warring lands. 

Behind the castle walls, one can forget about the bloodshed staining the counties red, though it is all the dukes and his audience can speak of. The lords that bluster through those gates, sometimes at the toll of morning, some in the black swathes of night. You can’t count them all, you can name even fewer, but they come anon and leave just as brusquely. 

A peel of thunder shakes the land and a dark line limns the curve of the horizon. What appears first as a storm cloud advances quickly through the fields, appearing more clearly to the naked eye, distant nonetheless. Men. Another party fast on the approach. 

The alarm goes up at a man’s holler. Ethred, man at the gate hollers to the other men in mail. Niam peers out from the vantage of the tower and calls back down. A hush falls and bodies scurry all around, metal clinking and boots crunching. There’s something amiss. Something you can’t quite place. 

You turn away from the window, the steam rising from the basin in your hand swirling around your head. You carry on down the corridor, wool skirts around cautious steps as you balance the swaying water in the vessel. You approach the lady’s door and give it a rap with your knee. Merinda, another handmaid, opens it from within. 

You enter without a word and place the basin on the vanity table. The duke’s daughter preens herself with a painted fan, fluttering her lashes at her reflection as her curls spill down her long back. She tilts her head this way and that. She snaps the fan shut and puts it down, touching her soft brown cheeks with a devilish grin. 

“Do you know what father mentioned last eve?” Jazlene asks with a vain flutter of her lashes. 

“What did he mention?” Her mother, Lady Rezlyn prompts lazily as she plucks another cherry from a dish heaped in fruit. 

“A husband,” the daughter grins coyly at herself, “it is well due, isn’t it, mother? Who do you think it might be? Lord Gai, perhaps? He is young still.” 

“Perhaps the Earl of Mesafin,” her mother taunts back to a disgusted gasp. 

“Do not,” Jazlene pouts, “I could never... I am much too pretty for that haggard beast.” 

“Well, then, who might you have, precious?” Rezlyn goads. 

There is a clamour in the hall that keeps the younger of the woman from answering. She rolls her eyes and darkly glare at the door. You peer back behind your shoulder as a wail goes up carrying her father’s name; ‘Lord Dustan!’ 

“What is all that?” Jazlene whines, “as if it isn’t enough with the rain and the winds. It is summer!” 

“It’s always summer in Debray, darling,” Rezlyn scoffs, “otherwise I’d have never married your father. Pray you don’t hook yourself a winter lord.” 

You peek over your shoulder as you stand near the door, in your vigil, awaiting your next order. You face the ladies again as the elder continues to feast and the younger fusses over her thick brows. You scrunch your lips back and forth, a habit that often has your jaw aching. 

Jazlene turns to narrow her eyes at you, “what is it then? What has you making faces?” 

You bow your head, appeasing her ego, “my lady, there were men coming. A party approaching from the north.” 

“There are always men,” she shakes her head, “who was it then? Anyone I should wear silk for?” 

Her mother laughs, “I warn you, daughter, that trite tongue will not endear any husband.” 

“I do not know, lady,” you answer. 

“Ugh, useless, must I work as my own handmaid?” Jazlene tisks, “come, pin my hair. Merinda find me a gown. Mother... wipe the dribble from your chin.” 

“Eh, watch yourself,” Lady Rezlyn rises and wipes her lips with her sleeve. She wears muslin in a dark shade of burgundy, embroidered with little copper finches. “Or hope you marry above me before you lash that tongue at me.” 

Jazlene merely trills with laughter. You take the pins and work at twisting her fine curls into place. Merinda brings to her a dress of teal satin and is promptly shooed away, “something pink. It brings out my bosom.” 

You ignore her bawdy jest as her mother harrumphs. You work in quiet tandem with the other handmaid. You add a touch of paint to the lady’s cheeks and kohl around her eyes. You tint her lips with pigment and she pushes out her lips at the mirror. You help Merinda dress her, pulling the noble daughter’s corset tight enough to leave her lightheaded. 

The pair of ladies, elder and younger, leave the chamber with you at their skirt tails. They sweep through the corridors with chins up. They are queens in their own minds. Their fine dresses and sparkling gems are untouched by the disparity of war. The lives lost are squares on a game board, tawdry talk for men in their studies. 

“Lord Dustan,” Lady Rezlyn mimics the earlier call for the lord of the castle, “my husband. Dear, dear husband!” 

The women go to the banister and look down upon the great hall as the flurry continues below. You and Merinda loom behind, not daring to stand at a level with the pompous nobles. You have never volunteered yourself for their impetuous lashings. 

“Woman!” Dustan booms back up, “do not trouble me now.” 

“Oh, has another lord come? Perhaps a suitor for our lovely daughter--” 

“Cease!” The duke demands hotly, “now is not the time for womanly games.” 

“Tell me it true, husband, she will be an old maid before you find a suiting son-in-law--” 

“Go away to your chambers. Now. The men who come are not to be trifled with and you lot do trifle overly much!” 

“Bah! Oh do not be so uncouth!” Rezlyn decries. 

“Father, please, is it a husband?” 

“Go before I send my guards up to put you away like thieves in a dungeon. Hear me when I warn you that this does not concern you. Not as yet,” Dustan snarls, “you would spoil this war with your puny concerns.” 

“Ugh,” his wife puts her hand to her forehead, “he does tax me. All I ask of him is to take care of us, daughter. As any husband should.” 

“I should have your lips sewn shut!” Dustan rebukes hotly, “be gone before I find a tailor.” 

The women share an aghast look. The turn back to flutter away in their skirts. You and Merinda follow them to the drawing room, closing them in as they fall onto the velvet cushions. Jazlene reclines dramatically on the chaise as her mouth mopes on a sofa. 

“Shall I be alone forever, mother?” Jazlene snivels, “why won’t he let me marry?” 

“He only wants to find the right man, that is all, darling,” Rezlyn coaxes. “He is overprotective and that is good for it means he will find a husband for you with a similar bearing.” 

“Such sweet words cannot convince me. He punishes me. When all my lady friends have wed and borne a whelp or two, I remain with the dust and stone.” 

“Do not be theatrical,” Rezlyn girds, “you are silly.” 

“I am not silly, mother. I am afraid. I am twenty and three and I have no suitor. I have only a war butchering any man who might have my hand. Why must this go on? Why must I suffer for the gripes of stubborn kings.” 

“We cannot fear. This war will be won and you will have a knight for a husband. Isn’t that better? To have a warrior you can be proud of than some bookish lord in his tower?” Rezlyn stands and moves to sit with her daughter, petting her as she cooes, “oh my beautiful, no man can resist you. You will see.” 

⚔️

Some hours pass with the restless women, pacing and chattering, about careless things beyond marriage and war. Like needlework and a banquet that should be had upon the truce. Would that the day would come sooner. 

You and Merinda stifle yawns that pass between you. The act is contagious as you stand in the tedium of the wealthy and wait for a duty to be called upon you. The hours you spend watching the women preen and swoon make you envy the stable boys and the shit shovelers. 

The noise beyond those walls continues. You heard the moat open and the clopping hooves of horses, even the clatter of carts. The voices had since hushed but footfalls carried back and forth. The wordless activity betrays an air of impatience, almost of nervousness. As the ladies within mirror the sentiment. 

Finally, as the windows darken and the candles burn brighter, a knock shakes the door. The ladies snap their heads around. Merinda is asleep on her feet as you move first. You open to a man in grey and black waits on the other side. He is not Lord Dustan’s. 

“The duchess and her daughter,” he garbles through a mouth that sounds full of salt. 

You dip your head and look to the ladies in question. There is a tension, of unease, of unknowing, of excitement turned to dread. This is not as it has been. There is not call to the dinner table. There is no buoyant introduction of a lord Dustan met as a young scamp. There is silence and fear. Has someone died? Has a battle been lost? 

The women emerge and greet the man with niceties and tight-lipped simpers. He does not pay them heed as you and Merinda exchange looks. You trail after the ladies but the man stops. He turns back, a hand on the pommel at his waist, and sneers, a furrow in his brow. 

“One of ya,” he grits. 

Jazlene says your name. She must’ve noticed Merinda swaying on her feet. If she even cares so much about a maid. You keep your head down and follow as they press on. Down the corridor and around the duke’s study, recently deemed his war room. You’ve never been within. It is not the domain of women. 

The grey and black soldier thumps on the door. Mother and daughter clasp hands. Even they can sense the unusual frigidity. The door opens from within. It is Lord Dustan. He wears a serious look on his lined face. The ladies are beckoned in and the soldier nudges you after them as you hesitate. 

Lanterns light the space from the desk at the rear of the chamber. The large table draped in maps, wooden horses, and little wooden pucks stands central on a thick rug. A figure stands behind it, head down as his burly and broad silhouette seems to sop up the shadows. 

The ladies follow the duke to stand across from the man. His head is down as he slides a horse along a road on the map. He stops it and grips it tight. He looks up and the lantern light dances on his features. You suck in a breath, as the rest do, stunned by his appearance. 

His hair is white, his eyes are a goldish yellow, pupils deep pools of black, and his square jaw is just as thick as the rest of him. You have never seen a man like him before, but you have heard of one. Of him. King Geralt of Rivia. 

You stand in similar confusion to the ladies. Their silent confoundment is broken by Duke Dustan as he nears the table. He sniffs and presses his fingers to the table top. 

“Your highness, my wife, Lady Rezlyn, and my daughter, Lady Jazlene,” he introduces. 

The women glance at each other then curtsy to the white king. He watches them dully. You fold your hands, taking it in curiously. It is rather something to witness the scene. You are so unimportant as to not be a part of it. 

“Your highness,” the recite, “it is...” 

“An honour,” Dustan finishes for them, “of course it is. We fondly welcome you and your allyship. We hope that we will be essential in ending this war. In helping you attain the peace you have so valiantly fought for--” 

The king raises his hand to silence the lord. You can’t help but quork your head. Allyship? But King Geralt, he is of Rivia, he is of the hinterland, he is the one who invaded the summer country and bid it his own. He is the foe. That is what they told you. 

“Enough...” the king speaks in a silty tone that scrapes in his throat. His eyes wander over the women and narrow. You wince as your own meet his golden irises and you shy away, putting your chin to your chest. That’s a mistake. “...words.” He slaps his hand down, “you do not win wars with words.” 

“Yes, your highness, you are correct. I know it well. It is why I invited you here. It is the very reason I made my entreaty. You have my men, they will win this war for you.” 

The king is hardly impressed by the fact. He looks back to the table and moves the horse further before turning it back. He knocks it over and stands completely straight. 

“And the daughter of Debray, your highness. To have a wife of summer’s blood, men will bend the knee. If you show them you do not mean to eradicate but to join with them,” Dustan moves to stand closer to his daughter, “isn’t she a fine queen for a fine kingdom?” 

Jazlene swoons and falls against her father. She’s fainted. Rezlyn grabs onto her other shoulder and you peek up at the chaotic scene. You come forward to help, snatching a pillow from the single couch, and you place it under Jazlene’s head as they lay her down on the floor. 

A shadow shifts as Dustan and Rezlyn fuss over their daughter, fanning and calling to her. You look up as darkness clusters over you. You see the king staring down at the scene. No, not them. He staring at you. Before he can reprimand you, you put your head down. 

You must quit that lest you find yourself at the wrong end of a switch. 

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Intermediate Pack — 16 Longfic Recs

As a follow-up to the Tomarrymort starter pack rec list, I put together a list of Intermediate Reads that are best enjoyed with a bit of context about the ship. If you’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a while, or have read everything in the starter pack, this next set of recs is for you. 

These recs feature a sampling of different authors than the first list, with an emphasis on underrated fic that I think deserve more recognition (hard to define, but for the most part, I tried to find fics with fewer than 2000 kudos). So I hope that even for the readers who’ve been reading Tomarrymort for a long time, there’s something new in here to discover.

This is Part 2 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1, and Part 3 will be an Advanced reading list that will feature works of a more challenging nature). In the meantime, please enjoy these additional 1.8 million words of wonderful Tomarrymort fic.

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Tomarrymort Intermediate Recs

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 136k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry wakes up one day with no memory of his past, upon which he’s greeted by a handsome, doting older man named Gaunt who claims that he and Harry have been in a relationship together for years.  Why I rec it: A haunting psychological horror where the truth slowly creeps up on Harry that his domestic life with his devoted partner Gaunt is not as idyllic as it initially appears. The twisting, unhinged depths of Voldemort’s obsession in this fic are so beautifully portrayed. There were chills that ran down my spine as Harry starts to get his memories back and the mystery of what happened starts to unravel. I love the pacing in this fic — there’s no one big reveal; it’s a slowly unfolding sequence that gets delightfully darker and more fucked-up as the fic progresses.

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes (E, 66k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Tom Riddle appears in London the morning of Voldemort’s defeat, with the last thing he remembers from 1944, and quickly realizes that Harry Potter is the key to all the answers that he’s looking for.  Why I rec it: A light-hearted take on the identity porn trope, full of playful banter and delightfully charged chemistry between Harry and Tom. It’s usually Harry who’s thrown back through time, so it’s fun to see Tom scramble to figure out what’s going on when he’s pulled forward into Harry’s time. It’s also fun to see Harry try every avenue to prove that this mysterious new Tom is the Tom Riddle, even as he ends up hitting dead ends, and subsequently falls so deep into his obsessive tendencies that he refuses to let Tom out of his sight.

My Lord, Master, My Soul by FletchleyRose (E, 69k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry after the final battle and decides to break him — not with torture, but with pleasure and softness. Why I rec it: The soft, creepy non-con in here is so memorable and excellent! Voldemort takes a different approach to breaking in his horcrux than what we usually see, and this particular approach leads to such delicious and hot smut scenes between them wherein Harry utterly succumbs to all the softly pleasurable attentions. I can never get enough of darkly twisted captive Harry stories and all the ways that Voldemort keeps Harry isolated and utterly reliant on him. I gasped out loud at the part where Voldemort made it so that Harry can only speak Parseltongue — this exactly the kind of fucked-up content that is so perfect and fitting for this ship.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry returns to Hogwarts after the war for eighth year, and he’s the only person in the castle who can see and talk to the ghost of Tom Riddle.  Why I rec it: This fic completely destroyed me. The story unfolds in such a poignant and haunting way — it feels like the most natural thing for Harry to feel such a strong connection with Tom and fall in love with him as the year progresses. The angst in here is so delicately layered and beautifully portrayed — Harry’s feelings are muddled with a growing hope that Tom doesn’t have to move on to the afterlife and the desperation that he feels when he realizes they’re running out of time — such that the emotional beats will end up resonating for a long time after you’ve finished reading this fic.

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 124k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If a series of gruesome murders 10 years after the war has Harry and the rest of the Aurors completely stumped, and Harry figures out how to bring Voldemort back from beyond the Veil in exchange for his help in solving the murders.  Why I rec it: This is a spectacular and richly layered murder mystery featuring incredibly complex character dynamics and gorgeously lavish prose. I am blown away at the sophistication of the storytelling here — we get to delve into Voldemort’s past and so many hidden layers of his character, as well as how Harry has been handling the ‘picture-perfect’ life he’s always wanted after the war (in short: not well) — and in between, following all the clues and disparate threads of a mysterious serial killer case that could be its own standalone casefic! One of the most impressively sweeping pieces of writing I’ve seen in this ship, and there isn’t an element of this fic that I don’t absolutely adore.

Perfect Places by @skaelds (NR, 72k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort dies in the Final Battle, and then wakes up in a strange house with no one but Harry Potter for company, and there is no way for either of them to get out. Why I rec it: I absolutely love the trapped-in-a-room trope, and how Voldemort and Harry have to work out their differences if they want to have any hope of getting out. I adore that the entire fic is told from Voldemort POV — his arrogance and his malevolence and his rage and the utter force of his emotions are so palpable. The emotional journey in this fic is so intense from beginning to end, as they eventually come around to an understanding about each other and figure out a way out.

Promises, Promises (part 1) / Dreams in the Dark (part 2) by @mosiva (E, 72k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry is accidentally thrown back in time to Tom’s 6th year, and then suffers a bout of amnesia from a memory-loss spell and can’t remember anything about Tom Riddle or why he spent all semester trying to avoid him.  Why I rec it: A brilliant fast burn featuring amnesia trope and tons of delicious dubcon. Tom is at his manipulative peak here, as he tries every underhanded technique to first figure out exactly what is going on with that new transfer student Harry Evans, and then when he’s figured it out, doing everything he can to keep Harry within his grasp. I cannot say enough about how hot the smut is throughout this 2-part series — so many layers of dubcon and manipulation that blew me away at every turn.

Sunspots by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 249k, WIP)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry grows up in the muggle world without realizing he has magic, but he suspects there’s a bigger world out there because he’s had recurring dreams featuring Tom’s horcruxes his entire life.  Why I rec it: One of the most unique takes on a book 1 rewrite that I’ve ever seen. First of all, the characters are aged up to college-age, and since Hogwarts starts at 18 here rather than at 11, there’s a lot of character dynamics that are possible to explore with older characters that aren’t possible with 11-year-olds. Secondly, Harry has access to each of Tom’s horcruxes through a magical dreamscape dimension he can access in his sleep, and he has unique and distinct relationships with each of them, including (the main) Voldemort, so there’s a lot of fascinating and multi-faceted Harry and Tom dynamics. Also, the descriptions of magic in this fic are just stunning; it’s clear that a lot of thought went into the magical worldbuilding here that makes you feel as excited and awestruck by the concept of magic as reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

Tender Reigns Our Night by @noumena-writes (M, 69k, WIP)

Setting: Time-Travel (1940s)  Premise: If Harry is sent back to the 1940s, just after Tom Riddle has graduated from Hogwarts, on a mission to stop Tom becoming Voldemort and imperiling the world of magic. Why I rec it: I love the mutually obsessive chemistry here as Harry and Tom quickly fall into each other’s thrall as their relationship heats up. The writing style is so poetic and beautiful, and I find myself rereading many sentences over again just to fully absorb the impact and beauty of @noumena-writes’ words. Even as Harry becomes increasingly entwined with Tom, he’s never blind to who Tom is, and he’s able to strike back with just as much viciousness — their relationship dynamics are so very intense and suspenseful, and the latest plot twist had me completely floored.

The Incantation of the Oak-Priest by @relic--crown (T, 223k, complete)

Setting: Alternate Universe Premise: If Harry and Tom are pulled into an alternate reality where Voldemort never existed and Harry’s parents are still alive.  Why I rec it: The richness of the magical worldbuilding in this fic blew me away — there’s a whole system of magic explored here that goes deeper and is far more brilliant and sweeping than what is covered in canon. The relationship between Harry and Tom develops in such an organic, lovely way, and it was fascinating to see all the changes in this parallel universe where Harry’s parents live and what Harry’s life could have been like, were there no Voldemort. Also, the plot! This fic was so intricately plotted that it felt like reading multiple books with a complex, epic plot spanning fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts, ending in a grand showdown like in the original book series, but with a surprising twist.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87k, complete)

Setting: Time-Travel Fix-It Premise: If Harry and Voldemort find themselves trapped in a strange cycle of reincarnations where they visit different points in time in Voldemort’s past.  Why I rec it: A very cool take on a time-travel fix-it. Instead of traveling back to a fixed point in time, Harry and Voldemort are thrown back to various points of Voldemort’s past and relive life through certain people significant to shaping Voldemort into who he eventually becomes. The time travel theory in here is amongst the most complex that I’ve encountered — I love the concept that time is a river where multiple timelines and divergent events end up converging, rather than branching off and creating a bunch of alternate universes. I also love how organically the growing relationship between Voldemort and Harry unfolds as they progress through each cycle and gradually start to develop trust in one another and care and attraction for each other.

These steep woods and lofty cliffs by Rimeme (M, 76k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry runs away to America after Sirius’s death and disguises himself in the Muggle world for many years before getting discovered by MACUSA and offered a job with the magical government. Years later, he is recruited back to Britain to work for the Ministry, under none other than Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt himself.  Why I rec it: A thoroughly enjoyable read from beginning to end — I devoured this fic in one sitting. Harry makes an extremely rational decision here — why not run off from the war if Voldemort is trying to kill everyone you love? But then, when he comes back undercover 15 years later, things don’t quite seem to add up. Britain doesn’t seem like it’s been taken over by a genocidal Dark Lord, but there’s something nefarious simmering under the surface. Voldemort as a very rational Undersecretary Thomas Gaunt is a delight here, with his seemingly very reasonable focus on progressing wizarding society. It was fun to follow along as Harry slowly starts to put the pieces together, and I love how relentlessly Voldemort pursues and seduces Harry in this fic, until he's utterly unable to resist his attraction to a Voldemort who seems to have turned over a new leaf.

These Violent Delights by @heirofdragons (M, 55k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry, Ron, and Hermione accidentally find themselves thrown back in time to the late 1940s, four years after Tom has graduated Hogwarts and is working at Borgin and Burkes.  Why I rec it: A highly entertaining time travel fic with Harry stumbling back in time to find Tom Riddle in the full dregs of his Retail Hell years post-Hogwarts. Their chemistry is delightfully charming as they prod at each other and do everything to get under each other’s skin (including attempted murder), while growing undeniably attracted to each other. They simply can’t stay away from each other, despite Harry knowing who Tom turns out to be, and Tom knowing that Harry is the one who destroys all his Horcruxes and ends up defeating him in the future.

Three Turns Should Do It by @vdoshu (M, 284k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time after an accident with the Time Turner in 3rd year, and ends up as a disembodied voice in Tom’s head from the time that Tom is 11. Why I rec it: I absolutely love Tom growing up alongside Harry who is a kind of caretaker presence in his mind, helping make his days a little bit less lonely and helping him navigate the unfortunate circumstances he’s thrown in. This is probably the most extensively researched WW2 era story I’ve ever read; at times I felt like I was learning more detailed history about everyday life during WW2 than I’ve ever read out of a history book. This fic does an amazing job of fleshing out the pivotal events of Tom’s Hogwarts years and showcasing Tom’s humanity, and the bond of mutual trust and love that he and Harry build over the years is so beautifully portrayed. It also does a great job of exploring the question of predestination and whether anyone has the power to change the fate that lies in store for them.

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry gets captured by Voldemort and held as his captive, in a world where Voldemort had won the war sometime before Harry was born, and Harry has been fighting against Voldemort his entire adult life. Why I rec it: The emotions that this fic evokes are so moving and heartfelt. The evolution from Harry as Voldemort’s prisoner to Harry as Voldemort’s trusted advisor unfolds in such a beautiful, unrushed way. Harry is in his early 30s when he’s captured, so he’s older than what we typically see in fics where he’s Voldemort’s prisoner, and his maturity and composure really shine through as he starts working together with Voldemort and trying to exert his influence to improve the fate of the wizarding world. He eventually breaks through Voldemort’s shell, and helps Voldemort to grow in so many ways as the story progresses — particularly in his understanding of love and acceptance of death as a part of life.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 84k, WIP)

Setting: Same-Age AU Premise: If Harry and Tom attend Hogwarts together and are selected as Hogwarts Champions for an AU version of the Triwizard Tournament that is structured more like the Hunger Games tournament.  Why I rec it: This is a skillfully-written generation mashup featuring an incredibly suspenseful and high-intrigue setting. There’s a dark overhang of dread and anxiety that permeates every character interaction and training session, as we’re informed that most of the champions (8 from each of the 3 schools) will not make it out of the Tournament alive. Yet the chemistry between Harry and Tom builds and builds despite the life-or-death stakes — Harry is immediately attracted to Tom, and Tom admires Harry’s resourcefulness — even while they each realize they may be the death of the other.

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[esotheria-sims]

Long Overdue Life Update

Whew, the title sounds kinda ominous, doesn't it?

Lemme say right off the bat that this isn't some Big PSA post or anything to that effect. I'm only checking in because I've been quiet for a while and figured an update is the least I can do. 🙂

Nothing major or life-changing is happening on my end; I've just been shitty at finding the time for sim-blogging these past months due to work and other day-to-day rl stuff, though I have been simming a bit in the background. Mostly going on download sprees and sorting cc, but I'm also about two-thirds through my next BaCC rotation and have a few new hair and handswap wips that are share-ready save for previews.

Oh and also: I got a new puppy! She's a 3-and-a-half-months-old Jack Russel mix and the main culprit for the abovementioned lack-of-time for simming. The cute lil' attention hog wants ALL the cuddles! "PC time? What PC time? Pet me instead, hooman!"

Everyone, this is Lucy!

Other things of note in my life, in no particular order:

We've had relatives from Croatia visiting last week with their kids. The kids are super smart and super cute but with the energy levels of a medium-sized nuclear reactor. It's been fun.

I finally went to see a Rammstein concert!!! 🤯 The experience of a lifetime, holy shit. I literally have no words to describe how mesmerizing that stage was. Like, I shit you not, I have 3 GBs worth of concert footage.

Speaking of metal: Gojira KILLED IT at the Olympics Opening! Also: Turkish Shooter Guy and Norwegian Muffin Man are living rent-free in my head. I'm the worst, I only follow professional sports for the memes.😆

I've been moved to a new division at work and am currently sitting in a small office with the two biggest goobers in the entire institution. Between that and me finally having accumulated enough knowledge + experience to have a clue what I'm doing, work's been pretty stress-free for once.

Conversely, my colleagues from the old division are struggling due to lack of staff, too much work, mismanagement, internal strife, and pressure from both within and outside the institution. I feel so bad for them, but at the same time, a selfish part of me is grateful that I'm not there to suffer the shitshow on my own hide.

I have unanswered asks from (probably) months ago and am Very Ashamed of the fact. I'll get back to you guys, I promise! 😰

[guppybibi]

Ditzy Princess

𖦹 pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2019

𖦹 content: mild cursing, childhood friends to lovers (eventually..) , denial, she fell first but he fell harder, reader is oikawa’s little sister, reader’s brain is a lil empty, but she's a strong woman nonetheless!!

𖦹notes: i have so many wips..but hajime my Filipino king AUGHH (im gaslighting myself shh)

✧. ┊    Part 1

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Being Oikawa Tooru’s little sister meant that you were equally as insufferable as him, debatably even more than him according to Iwaizumi. Iwa wouldn't go as far to say he disliked you, despite you being 2 years younger than Oikawa, the three of you still grew up together and developed a pretty strong bond. Oikawa had his moments, being the seemingly arrogant and egotistical person he is. Iwa was aware Tooru had some issues with his self esteem and was helping him in his own way. But in your case, nothing was backing you up. You really were just a crybaby diva, wailing as her big brother comes to save her. It really didn't start off so bad, after all you were a child who needed guidance and protection. He expected you to just grow out of it, news flash—you didn't.

Now that you're in your first year in Seijoh, he couldn't avoid you at all no matter how hard he tried. Being a headache must be in the genes, I guess. But you weren't worth putting up with, so he just started distancing himself away from you. Sure, sometimes you would barge into the gym, interrupting their practice to go to your doting brother. Which pissed him off, obviously. Though it was hard to tell since he always had a scowl on his face no matter the situation. Oh and by sometimes, he means every single day–unless you were absent or something.

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t present today due to getting a nasty cold. Normally he’d make fun of Oikawa, along with the rest of the Seijoh four but he remembers that you’re present and that he would be your temporary savior while your brother is gone. It didn’t help that today in particular was a pretty stressful one, and as if the Gods above cursed him, a bunch of assholes picked on you for being the ‘uglier’ sibling. A bunch of envious little liars.

Naturally, it was your first instinct to go to annoy him. Your muffled cries could already be heard before you've even entered the gym, which made Hajime groan in annoyance as he muttered a random curse under his breath. And as if on cue, the metal door of the gym slides open; unveiling a very much messed up you.

Your mascara all smudged across your pretty face, fat tears staining it. Your subtly pink lips all wobbly as you make your way to Iwaizumi, knowing your brother wasn't here. At this point, this was basically a daily routine for the team, they didn't complain though. You coming in here and taking their captain and or ace meant they had an opportunity to take a break.

“ ‘Zumi! T-they were being so mean to me again, I didn't do anything wrong!” You cry out as you approach the ace with a pout on your face. ‘Pathetic..’ He thinks to himself, you were more than capable enough to defend yourself. (Verbally, at least. Physically is a different story.) “It's not my fault I don't look exactly like Oikawa! And I can't do anything about it, why pick on me for it?!” You continue, wiping away a tear from your glossy eyes.

Hajime couldn't even say anything in response, this wasn't the first time you came to him after someone bullied you for whatever reason. It was a sad thing to happen to you, but did you really have to go to him or your big brother every single time? What if they're not there for you? What will you do then? Still his good conscience couldn't just leave you sobbing like that, your doting brother wouldn't be happy about it.

Placing a rough calloused hand on your trembling shoulder, as an attempt to comfort you he starts speaking. “And what did you say to them after?” He asks, it was a completely normal question, you knew that. But you were used to just..constant coddling, no other questions asked–just instantly tending to you. “I..Nothing? I mean, maybe what they're saying is true..it still hurts though..” You reply, earning a nod from your older brother's friend. You had a point there, but you should still stick up for yourself! You had to learn, plus he didn't want to keep playing as your knight in shining armor when the two of you are pushing your thirties.

“Did you want to say something back to them?” He questions, raising a brow. You could be doing this for shits and giggles for all he knows, maybe this was a plan you and Oikawa had or something. “Well um, kind of?..” Even that answer somehow made sense, coming from a ditz like you–he didn't really expect much. “So can you or can you not defend yourself?” He asked yet again with a gruff voice, watching intently as he saw you shake your head. Okay, cool. You aren't doing this just to piss him off, that's a start.

“I could teach you, if you want to.” You blink once, twice. “Teach me how to..fight for myself?” You never considered it, you were just used to your big brother being there for you. No matter how serious or stupid it was, he’d be there in a flash. He nodded, crossing his arms as you thought about it. Your brother wouldn't always be here, today was proof of it. The same goes for Hajime, who knows where he's going after high school?

“I..think that’ll be nice actually.” And those were the words that started your tutoring sessions. You were incredibly nervous the first few times, like the personification of an earthquake. You did soon manage to get the hang of it, being able to defend yourself against your bullies unless it was really necessary for your brother and or him to step in.

To be honest, Oikawa was pretty opposed to the idea at first. Saying to his best friend that teaching her all of this ‘nonsense’ wasn't needed since he’ll always be there for her anyway. (What Oikawa didn't know is that Iwa was doing future him a favor, I mean–he didn't know he was going to Argentina!)

And so ‘Operation: Teach Y/N How to Defend Herself’ was successful. It had been like years ago at this point, barely remembered by you two like some distant memory. You didn't piss him off that much anymore, though he did have little to no contact with you; only getting updates through Oikawa.

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When he went to Irvine, California for personal matters he was aware of you being there as well since you went to visit and stayed at your grandparents. The chances of you two meeting were slim but fate had to play its part too! Now the both of you were sitting side by side, having a cup of ice cream as you catched up on your lives.

He told you about the meeting he just had with Takashi, some stuff about sports science and his personal life and whatnot. While you told him about life here in the States, being taken care of by your overbearing grandparents and stuff. You were a lot more mature than what Hajime had remembered, still a scatterbrain though. Though something comes up, leaving Hajime at some random bench while he taps away on his phone after you exchanged him your number. Saving it and putting in ‘Puny Princess’, it was stupid–he knew it was as he chuckled to himself.

No matter how fully grown you are, you’ll always be that spoiled little brat who seeks her dear knight in shining armor's protection.

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He was flying back to Japan soon, and he wanted nothing more but to cancel his flight and stay here–with you. Highschooler Iwaizumi would be laughing his ass off right now, any chance to get away from you was a blessing. He’d get on that plane like he's being chased by the police. He thought about it a lot, was it because you were less of a pain in the ass? Nope, that couldn't be the case because you still were. Sure, you didn't exactly need Prince Charming anymore which made you considerably much more bearable but it felt like there was something more to it. Why won’t life just tell him instead of forcing him to dig through a bunch of dirt in his mind?

Maybe he simply got used to being around you, to be fair–he’s been with you through thick and thin after all. Yup, that's what it was. No need to manually crank the gears in his brain anymore, this was totally it. Would he admit he had a teensy weensy little crush on you when you two were kids? God no, and that doesn't matter! I mean, that was like a decade ago–he doubts that mattered right now in any shape or form.

Well the first stage of grief was denial, he’ll work his way up. You, on the other hand, have fully accepted this stupid happy crush you got on Iwaizumi. Even your big brother knew about it, well you were pretty much an open book. Hey, your brother’s words–not mine. The way your cherubic cheeks would heat up when Hajime helped you up when you got yourself stuck in the mud, it was painstakingly obvious that you had liked him ever since.

You and your big brother had a heart to heart talk about back in middle school actually, it sits there playing constantly at the back of your mind.

It was midnight and Oikawa had come home late, you noticed he had been practicing overtime these days which worried you quite a bit but you knew Hajime was there to keep him grounded. So that's how the two of you ended up at 1AM, your brother silently eating his late cold dinner while you accompanied him.

“Did ‘Zumi practice late with you..?” You questioned, breaking the growing silence in the room. In response, he nodded and let out a dry chuckle. “Mhm, you haven't spoken a word since I got home and when you decide to speak it's about Iwa-chan? Do you not care about your dear big brother anymore?” He asks, dramatically feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

He didn't miss how your lips went and formed a thin line, trying your best not to crack a smile. “Cmon, don't lie to your big brother–you like Iwa, don't you?” He teases, trying to get it out of you like he's sipping the very last drop out of the milk carton. “Maybe just a little..” You mumble, finding it just a little bit embarrassing that out of all the fish in the never ending sea, you manage to have feelings for your brother's best friend. “Hm..well I guess if you were to pick someone to marry I’d honestly prefer Iwa y’know?” You almost choke on your own spit upon hearing his words, blushing furiously. “E-eh?! Marry?! It's too early for that!” You exclaim, while your brother starts laughing like a hyena.

His words were very much true though, he trusted Iwa–so much so that if he had the chance to pick the person you’ll marry, he'd choose Hajime with no hesitation.

You roll around in your soft bed, unable to sleep as Iwaizumi’s face keeps flashing in your mind like a broken record. Wanting nothing more than to scream into your pillow, but your grandparents sleeping soundly in the other room prevented you from doing so. You wondered if you would ever go back to Japan, it seemed like your brother wouldn't after hearing him recently renounce his citizenship but it's not like you were going to follow in his footsteps. You've never felt this homesick before, stupid Iwaizumi–it's his fault for coming here unannounced. You thought your delicate heart moved on from this childish crush of yours after not seeing him in a couple of years, looks like it bounced back after meeting up with him again though..

Well, at least you had some form of communication with him after you gave him your number. That was temporarily enough for you.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Out of context WIP

The blonde boy sticks his tongue out at the cool one and makes a fart noise.

“See Darry? They ain’t gonna take Johnny! You’re stupid and wrong!”

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis!” A man Ponyboy assumed must be the nice lady’s husband and the boys’ father boomed, “What have I told you about using that kind of language towards your brother?”

“That it's not how we speak to our family,” the blonde boy, Sodapop, said like he was reading off a teleprompter. Clearly, this was not the first time he’d heard that particular reprimand.

[seafumes]

the pink bows you wore. . . (WIP)

a/n: this is a work in progress.. it's been a lil bit since i posted smt, and i can't really figure out an ending yet soooo lmk what u think.😭🙈

synopsis: after a fatal accident, the memories of your lover seemed to have faded.

cw: character-color-trope, angst/hurt w barely any comfort, fem reader, tighnari x readerrr, i've never written for him before so bare with me please🙏🏾

a/n pt2: TY TO MY MUTUALS WHO HELPED ME CHOOSE!! @mwahkazu & @sl-vega 🫶🏾

TIGHNARI had never been so distraught as he sat at your hospital-bed side. His ears were dropped, his eyes a little puffy and red, it seemed like he'd just finished crying for the nth time this week.

as you laid there, all he was left with was his thoughts, and the occasional beep of the heart monitor; which seemed to ease his worries a tiny bit. at least he knows you're alive.

if someone were to ask him what happened, all he could say was "an accident."

"an accident?" he'd say to no one in particular when the interaction was done, and he was once again alone.

more like tragedy, he thought, face palming himself. even though it had been a week, he could remember the incident like it was yesterday.

"'nari!!" you exclaimed, waving at him from the top of the akademiya stairs. you were visiting because of an event for former students, and you decided to bring him as you plus one.

he greeted you with his usual smile, waving right back at you.

as you ran down the stairs to greet him officially, all you could hear was a "watch out!" before you were falling.

falling. it was all you could register before the world went black.

he couldn't stop thinking about it. you falling, and him not being able to run fast enough to catch you.

the wounds on your head were fatal, was one of the only things he remembered from the doctor's report about your condition.

he couldn't help but blame himself for them, even though it was his fault.

if i was faster, maybe i could've caught her, he thinks, feeling like he was going to cry again.

he then sighed, shaking his head. he knows you wouldn't want him thinking like that but he can't help it.

you looked so pretty up there with your sun-dress and pink bows tangled in your hair and around your outfit.

your smile was bright like the sun, you looked so happy till it happened.

the bows nestled ever-so-gently in his hand were the only things that gave him an ounce of hope.

hope that you'd wake up, and that you'd forget this thing even happened.

and he'd happily place them back in your hair.

but it seems that fate had other plans for him.

you groaned, opening your eyes, and slowly blinking to adjust to the dim hospital light.

you felt a slight pain in your head as you lifted your head up to see something—or rather someone on your bed.

who is this?, you thought, and decided to speak up. you coughed to get his attention.

"um, who are you?" your voice was hoarse, and some parts of the sentence came out a bit higher in tone than you liked it.

when the stranger looked up at you, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

to your dismay, he didn't answer you question, and immediately rushed out the room.

you sat there and blinked, until the door opened again, and a person who you presumed was a doctor, and the stranger walked in again.

in the course of a few minutes you were bombarded with questions from the doctor, which you tried to answer to the best of your ability.

the stranger seemed to know most of the answers better than you. like "what's your name," birthday, etc.

it didn't bother you that much though, since your were supposedly waking up from a coma, and you didn't really feel like going the extra mile to recall details.

when the doctor finally finished their verbal analysis, they left the two of you alone.

"[name]! i can't believe you're-!" you cut him off as he engulfed you into a hug.

"uh," you started, stiffening at the sudden contact.

"i don't think you heard me but, who are you?" you finally asked, pulling away from the hug.

"what.." his voice barely above a whisper.

remember this is a WIP,, so abrupt ending for now🙈

[diazsdimples]

Inspiration Saturday/ Several Sentence Sunday

I started a new wip. No one look at me.

The inspiration from this shamelessly comes the fact that I've been working in labour and delivery for the whole month of May and there's an obstetrician/pediatrician couple here that always see each other in the OR and I instantly thought of Buddie. So please enjoy the first (long) snippet of Doctors AU, featuring Obstetrician!Eddie and Pediatrician!Buck. The rest of the 118 will also feature in the obstetrics/pediatrics field, although roles are yet to be confirmed. I'm not 100% sure about this and a little nervous about sharing it cause sharing words has felt weird lately, so I'm sorry if it's not great!

Tagged for Inspiration Saturday by @inell @hippolotamus (eventually smh) @cal-daisies-and-briars @dangerpronebuddie and @daffi-990 (I will be getting to all your snippets so soon!) Snippet under the cut to save your dash.

Eddie pushes through the doors of the NICU, his chest heaving. He doesn’t do this; he doesn’t let patients get to him. He’s a professional. He performs a surgery, delivers a baby, stitches up the mother and moves on to the next one.

Except today, he can’t.

Eddie strides down the corridor until he’s in the nurses’ station and begins to scour the brightly lit electronic board with all the patient’s names.

He can’t shake the feeling that he’s fucked up, that he should have called it sooner and rushed the mother to surgery the second he’d been asked to see her. She’d been labouring for hours, and she was tiring when they called him in to review her. One look at the monitor by her bed had told him all he’d needed to know – that her and her baby were in distress, and something needed to be done.

But, she’d clutched his hand and begged him to let her try just a bit longer.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath as he tries to rid his mind of the memory of hearing the baby’s heart rate drop on the monitor. Even after being an obstetrician for 10 years, nothing will ever prepare him for the gut-wrenching fear that comes during an emergency. The way you hold your breath and will it to increase, counting in your head as you wonder how much longer you let it go before you dive for the emergency button. He’d done an examination when it was clear the heart rate wasn’t going to recover, to see if there was any chance she could push the baby out, and his heart had sunk into his shoes when he’d felt the umbilical cord before he was even up to his second knuckle.

Taking some deep breaths through his nose, Eddie opens his eyes and scans the board, trying to find the name. It’s possible it’ll be too early – the nurses might not have admitted the baby on the system yet, but the pit in his stomach grows with each passing second that he doesn’t find it.

There’s a noise behind him – someone clearing their throat – and Eddie spins around as a deep, calming voice speaks.

“Hey man, can I help you with something?”

Eddie is instantly taken aback by the man in front of him. He must be new, because Eddie’s certain he’d remember if he’d seen this guy in the OR, and he’s looking at Eddie with concern, his eyebrows furrowed and blue eyes piercing into Eddie’s. He’s tall and muscular – obscenely so for (Eddie assumes) a pediatrician, with dark blond hair that’s been plastered with a criminal amount of hair product. He’s in a pair of delicate pink scrubs, with a white lab coat over the front. There’s a small, rainbow watch hanging from the breast pocket of his coat, and a name badge on his chest, with two tiny feet drawn just beside his name.

Evan Buckley.

“Hey, I’m Dr. Diaz – uh – Eddie,” Eddie says, awkwardly extending a hand towards the man. His grip is firm but warm, and his hands are soft, although Eddie’s not sure exactly why he’s noticing that.

“Dr. Buckley,” the guy replies with a friendly smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Everyone calls me Buck. You looking for someone in particular?”

Eddie turns back to the board with a frown, folding his arms, and Buck sidles up next to him, mirroring his stance. Their shoulders brush, and Eddie notices how the guy is just a couple of inches taller than him. Interesting.

“Yeah I’m – uh – I’m looking for baby McKinnon? Born about an hour ago via emergency caesarean due to cord prolapse and obstructed labour, resuscitated immediately after birth and bought here.”

Buck frowns and pulls out a list from the pocket of his scrubs.

“Is everything okay with the mother?” he asks as he scans his list, “You’re an obstetrician, right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, pulled through surgery and is in recovery now. Just wanted to check up on the baby – he looked pretty rough.”

Buck lets out a deep sigh next to him and Eddie whips his head around, doing a double take when he sees Buck’s expression.

God, no, please no, let him be okay, let him have survived, he’s just mixed up with someone else.

“I’m sorry, man,” Buck says gently, resting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We couldn’t stabilise him. He was so hypoxic and they couldn’t intubate him and we – I’m sorry.”

Eddie must make a noise because the hand on his shoulder tightens. His chest feels tight, like he’s not getting enough air, the world is beginning to spin. He take deep, gulping breaths of air as he tries to regulate himself, but it’s not use.

It’s too close. Too much like Christopher. His son, his perfect, 7-year-old boy, looked just like that kid when he was born. Eddie’s too close to this. He’s gotta get out.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Eddie shakes himself from Buck’s grip, blinking furiously as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta – I need to go,” he says hurriedly, his voice cracking, and he turns on his heel. He doesn’t run from the room, but it’s a close one. He barely even registers Dr. Buckley calling after him as he briskly walks down the corridor, practically throwing his swipe pass at the door, and then he’s in the stairwell before he knows it, drinking in the crisp, cool air as he slides down the wall and comes to a rest on a step.

Fuck.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan @babybibuck

@aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg

@jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @exhuastedpigeon @houseofevanbuckley

@epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual @thekristen999

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @simpingforhotfictionalcharacters @loserdiaz

@elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings

@spagheddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie

[andiftheycare]

hello, do you have any fav stsg fics?

Hi anon!

I do indeed - even if I don't read as much ff as I'd like (my "to read" on AO3 gets bigger by the day) since I do tons of reading for work.

So I'm twisting this a bit and leaving below some fics I recently read and loved, and some of my highly-anticipated to read. Hope it works!

Current Favourites

Caesura by @cielelyse - Mature, 85.5k, multichapter, Complete This comes highly recommended in the fandom, and for a reasons. Rarely I read something so stunningly written and IC -- their teen Gojo is my favourite Gojo in the fandom, and the way she manages to mix character development & interactions with plot and romantic tension is chef's kiss. The narrative structure and use of language are stellar, too, often using interesting and unexpected turn of phrases. I think I devoured this in two sittings, and had to force myself to stop reading it. Fic is marked Mature for canon-typical violence rather than sex.

a spin around the rumor mill by ilovegetosuguru - General Audiences, 5K, Oneshot, Complete. The fist fic I read in this fandom, even before getting to ship stsg. This contains an unhealthy amount of fluff, great multi-characters characterisation, and speaks too well to anyone who went to uni and had to battle a shitty teacher. Nobara, in particular, is the gem that made me bookmark this. It's a one shot so it reads super quickly. Also sense of humor 10+++

Coanda Effect by @bunnieshoneys - Mature, 200k+, Multichapters, ongoing (22/24) Coanda Effect is a well loved ff and for a reason. I started it because I saw some great fanarts on Tiktok, despite the fact that was 100k+ at the time and I usually run away from fics that are already long. But the premise was great, and I thought why not. I proceeded to binge this in two weeks whilist losing my tube stop multiple times. What Coanda Effect really does -- that is addicting, really -- is beautifully lying down a spokon. You really care about the races. You start to understand how F1 works. And you find yourself having your favourite teams, too. It's also a compelling character study of Gojo and Geto, and I love that the author doesn't shy away in displaying their most unhealthy & complex traits, without oversimplifying their complexities. I read up to chapter 16, so I have a lots to catch up to, but I'd still highly recommend a read.

5 Times Gojo Satoru Tries to Rizz Up Geto Suguru and 1 Time He (Kind Of) Succeeds by seonghwaffles - Teen+, 16k, Multichapter, Complete Such a fun ride! This is perfect if you want anything with a very stupid, wipped Satoru, where everything he does goes wrong in the most improbable ways. Quick to read too!

Highly-Anticipated

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow -- Mature, 80k+, Multichapter, ongoing Idol AU featuring kpop idol Gojo and producer Geto. I know zero about this, but I quite like kpop and I find the industry fascinating (although brutal). I think the setting is up for some intresting dynamics, so I can't wait to dig into this one.

Cannibalization of the Apex by CharmPoint - Mature, 55k, multichapter, complete Fic where Gojo dies during the hidden inventory arc, comes back as a curse and is absorbed by Geto. The premise is just right up my street, I'm just waiting to be in the right state of mind to give this a read.

Hope this answers it anon!

[panur]

Scary Witcher fics (Geraskier)

Last year i decided i would compile a mini list of some dark/spoopy Geraskier fic recs to share with the masses. In no particular order:

The Only One Who Resonates by crushcandles

"Did you really worry?" he asks, licking his lips.

Jaskier barely hears the question and it doesn't register. It doesn't matter. No matter what Geralt asks him, the answer is the same.

"Yes," he says, deep from his empty belly.

++++

with lilies and with laurels he goes by twelvemagpies

The day that Jaskier dies, Geralt wakes up to an almighty ringing in his ears.

++++

Fever Song by crushcandles

"What are you doing?" Geralt barks.

Jaskier freezes, knife in one hand, a long deep blue strip of fabric in the other.

"Cutting a ribbon," he says. He doesn't stutter, but his eyes are wide; he knows he might be doing something he’s not supposed to.

++++

Quiet by Funkspiel

But still, Geralt looked for a cure. He did not ask for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it – not while Jaskier was still unable to say the words to pardon him for his wish. Wishes. How Geralt hated them, hated the word. His wish had driven Yennefer away. His wish had bound Jaskier to a life in which he could not do what he loved. Geralt didn’t deserve forgiveness. So he did not ask.

And then came the contract about the witches of the bog.

++++

Silver and Copper by Heronfem

From the shadows a man steps out, his feet soundless on the flagstones. He’s tall for a human, lanky, and dressed all in grays and blacks. His clothing is good but oddly threadbare, the embroidery standing out against the silk, and the collar is high on his deathly pale, sun deprived neck. He wears many rings on his fingers, and several necklaces tangle at his throat. Handsome, with nut brown hair with a bit of a curl to it, and a fine jaw and nose, but his eyes.

His eyes are horrible.

++++

haunt by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

He is exhausted with the grief of it. He does not let himself feel, and he feels this anyways. Sharp, aching, unfair. The absence of a heartbeat.

++++

Echo by ravenbringslight

Jaskier was gathering his things and he wasn’t panicking. He’d known that Geralt was going to leave any day now like he always did, so that was no surprise, even if it hit him like a punch to the gut (he was familiar with Geralt’s punches to the gut and he could say with great authority that getting left behind again felt slightly worse). But he had enough money to get to Oxenfurt now and his headache was gone and the vomiting seemed to have been short-lived. Other than the whole “can’t speak without the pain of a thousand rusty knives” situation he was right as rain.

In the corner, the thing that looked like him winked.

++++  

Bloodhunger by SpinnerDolphin

“What do you need?” Jaskier asks, low. His heart stutters a little, and he firmly tells himself that this is his friend, and he is not afraid of his friend.

Geralt actually trembles. “I need to kill something,”

++++

a thousand voices by mrc2 (this one is actually a WIP but guys it’s SO disturbing i refuse to read it after dark)

“You scared me,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t see you there.”

The statue, as expected, didn’t reply. It was a strange place for a statue to be.

“Why are you here?” Jaskier asked slowly as he took a tentative step closer.

And to his horror, the statue simply smiled.

[vapolis]

Speaking of, what are your top 10 favorite WIPs with demo and top 10 without demo right now? There are so many good ones!!!

not u about to out me as someone that doesn't keep up w wips... I wish I was better at it, but seeing as I have taken massive breaks from the IF community before and disappeared into thin air it was pretty difficult for me to keep up with wips. so many great writers left or abandoned projects which I totally understand but some of those are so brilliant I want to shake someone into picking them back up ngl.

I'll try to name as many as I actually follow actively!

fave wips with demo in no particular order:

fallen hero 3

breach: chicago warzone

180 files: crossfire

defiled hearts

seven days in purgatory (how I miss u)

chop shop

eyes of shan

children of the gods (I mourn her weekly)

fave wips with no demo so far:

tosahobi

once bitten

twelve days

I have a hard time following wips when there's no demo because imo, a cool intro post is all well and good but it comes down to how the person writes that story in the end. there are more ifs I passively follow but haven't checked up on in a while but will once I finish my semester but i think for now these 2 lists sum it up wel!

[loganwritesprobably]

Your Love, For Me

A request from @akagami-no-laney for my 200 followers event

Find the 200 followers event here!

Content/Warnings: Hongo/F!Reader, shy!reader, fluff, established relationship, jealous!reader, inspired by Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA

You'd never been someone that was prone to jealousy. What was the point in it, really? Being jealous didn't change anything about a situation, and it was more likely to create an issue between partners than do anything good. You thought it was all a bit ridiculous really. Then you started dating Hongo.

Things changed just a little.

You hated feeling jealous, even worse feeling possessive. Hongo was yours though, your boyfriend, your partner, your lover. Yours. These ridiculous women with their flirtatious jokes and horrific pickup lines just didn't seem to understand how uninterested he was.

The longer the two of you were together, the more you and your understanding of yourself seemed to shift. You weren't entirely sure that you were comfortable with it, but if that was the cost of being with Hongo then you were willing to withstand it.

It'd been easy for him to make you fall for him, too easy really - it was almost embarrassing. You were a grown woman, you'd met many men in your life, but the truth was just that none of them compared to Hongo. He had you hooked from the very beginning, without even trying, and you were helpless to do anything but fall for him. Not that you'd tried to stop it. No man had been able to do that to you before. He made you incredibly shy, which generally speaking wasn't abnormal for you, but Hongo in particular just made it so much worse. You were honestly a little in awe of him.

"What you thinkin' of, honey?" Hongo asked, smirking at you from his seat beside you, chin in his hand. "Huh?" You asked dumbly, face heating as you realised that you'd have to admit you were thinking about him if you wanted to tell the truth. "You weren't thinkin' of me were you? All appropriate thoughts, I hope?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows, and you reached out to shove him playfully, not willing to respond to his teasing.

As much as you often withered under his attention, and he made you embarrassed of what a school girl you'd become because of him, you couldn't help loving him, and hoping that he loved you too. You weren't sure what you'd do if he didn't - probably be a little hopeless.

"Can I get a kiss?" He asked softly, reaching out to gently take your hand in his own, and with your heart fluttering and stomach twisting, you leaned in closer to accept the offered kiss, never able to deny Hongo, nor yourself.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | WIPs | Recommendations

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable