#and leave comments on old fics and old WIPs

[archivewriter1ont]

I've seen a couple of posts in my feed today that were discussing commenting on old Ao3 fics, or how authors feel about someone fic-bingeing and leaving comments on every or every other fic.

My take is.... NOTHING MAKES ME HAPPIER than to see comments and kudos! On old stuff too, because just because it wasn't posted today doesn't mean I didn't pour my heart and soul into it. If I see my inbox full of comments from one person who apparently read my entire portfolio at 3am, it makes me grin like a mule eating briars. I have one reader who found a WIP late in the game, and left a comment on every chapter as she read. I was writing at the time and had my inbox open, so I was watching as she guessed what would happen next and commented on each chapter. And it was great! TDLR: Please comment if you like a fic, no matter how old it is or how long or short the feedback is. It's encouraging to authors like you wouldn't believe. It's a digital dose of motivation. We don't get paid to write and even though I personally try to write for my own enjoyment, seeing that someone else likes my work is smile-inducing like nothing else.

[all-things-jily]

You know, fanfic archives aren't appreciated enough. Look for older fics, for fics older than a year, older than two years, many years old, look through other fanfic platforms - there's so much incredible stuff to be found!

[vulpinesaint]

how are people finding my fic series from three full years ago. dkfjghs. who put me on a fic rec list be honest

[swagging-back-to]

im debating not making art anymore.

[causticsunshine]

.

[mariasont]

aaron hotchner masterlist

smut = ✧ clean (ish) = ♡ angst = ✩

this list goes oldest to newest! (idk why i did it like that but im too lazy to change it now)

fics:

✧ our minds entwined WIP paused!

one shots:

♡ marked territory: you are not happy about a consultant trying to make a move on your man

✧ negotiation with mr. h pt 1 pt 2: hotch doesn't know what to do when his nanny flirts with him out of the blue

♡ bumper to bumper: you can't seem to park your car and hotch is the man to help

♡ office sleepover: you get put on a hit list and have to stay over at the office pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

✩ the manuscript: you find a series of letters aaron wrote you in college

✩♡ talking to a brick wall: you overheard aaron’s not so nice words about you

✧ spoiled: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

♡ some profiler you are: in which hotch insists you stay with him after you get shot

✧ ideas from a book: in which hotch catches you reading smut and finds out you have a gun kink

♡ give this old man a heart attack: you almost get yourself killed on a case and hotch has some choice words about it

♡ they think i'm pregnant: the team thinks you're pregnant and you decide to have a little fun with it

✩ please, don't prove 'em right: aaron hotchner is a busy man and he tends to disappoint you by missing important events pt 1, pt 2

♡ stupid crush: being the youngest member of the bau you think you have no shot with your hot boss

♡ late night podcast: hotch finds you fast asleep to the soothing sound of a seriel killer podcast

✩♡ too emotional: you and hotch are taken hostage, hotch makes some comments, but is it part of the plan or did he mean that?

♡ dangerous: you get hit with some laughing gas and become much more bold and flirty with your boss

♡ schoolboy-esque: spencer and hotch spend the day competing for your attention

♡ secret nicknames: hotch accidentally calls you your middle name at work causing suspicion in the team

✧ let me take care of you: you had a rough day at work and hotch decides to draw you a bath and help you relax with a couple creative methods

✩♡ softly, slowly: you have a hard time opening up because of a past of your mom being dismissive with your feelings but hotch is slowly helping you overcome that

✧ short skirt, long day: on paperwork days you tend to wear short skirts, one day perv!aaron decides to take advantage of that

nanny!reader

♡ laundry day: hotch notices a difference in how his clothes smell and realizes his nanny might have something to do with that

♡ parent-teacher conference: nanny!reader isn't too happy about a teacher trying to flirt with her boss

♡ date night: nanny!reader comes home after the worst date

♡ career day: mr. hotchner can't make jack's career day so nanny!reader steps in and maybe embellishes just a smidge about how the fbi works

bimbo!assistant!reader

♡ my assistant: bimbo!assistant!reader can't reach a book so hotch helps you out

♡ my boss won’t be happy about this: bimbo!assistant!reader is wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

♡ strawberry wine: hotch is a lot more flirty when he's got some alcohol in him (bimbo!assistant!reader)

♡ semantics: bimbo!assistant!reader flirts with an officer that has been driving hotch mad all day

♡ jealousy, jealousy: a witness flirts with hotch and bimbo!assistant!reader thinks that hotch is reciprocating

♡ good luck charm: bimbo!assistant!reader is gone for the morning and leaves hotch a couple sticky notes

♡ training day: bimbo!assistant!reader doesn't understand why hotch is giving her training lessons, but apparently he thinks she needs it

♡ talk about a bad date: bimbo!assistant!reader went on a shitty ass date and calls hotch to her rescue

♡ rainy with a chance of hotch: bimbo!assistant!reader gets caught in the rain

♡ business of making babies: bimbo!assistant!reader gets hotch worked up at the casual mention of kids

♡ smiling like a fool: hotch is the one making bimbo!assistant!reader flustered for once

♡ lovely menace: hotch and bimbo!assistant!reader are in an established relationship and reader lovessss to be a menace at work

[4th-make-quail]

IWTV Fic Recs - Old Man Daniel Focused

I've been meaning to put together a list somewhere for this, and since I just sent a bunch to someone, here it is finally! it's a mix of Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Louis, Armand/Daniel/Louis in various configurations - please enjoy!

if you read and enjoy these fics, please make sure to leave a comment for the authors on ao3!

Daniel/Louis

Conflict of Interest, by hereticas - T, 2000 words

Louis comes by Daniel's room the morning after they recover their memories of San Francisco.

Very very cute kissing post s02e05 fic!

Daniel/Louis, Daniel/Louis/Armand, Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis (combo of all)

it seemed the thing to do (what made me think I could start clean slated?), by fastcarmp3 - E, 3900 words, WIP

Louis asked Daniel if he wanted to… now. It wasn’t an empty offer.

Danlou with Armand watching which is SMOKING HOT

Terza Rima, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

Daniel finally gets what he came to Dubai for, but the aftermath brings even more questions.

INCREDIBLY hot threesome with stellar character voices, bit of Armand Voyeurism (THE GOOD SHITE), bit of Daniel being a slut for being bitten

That's It, Mr. Molloy, by anonymous - E, 4900 words

Daniel finds himself distracted, during the interview. Rashid comes to help, and invites Louis along, too. He snaps his gaze away, clearing his throat. “So, are we, uh…talking about that? Or…” “Talking?” Rashid cocks his head, amused. “Is that what you would like to do, Mr. Molloy? Talk?” As he speaks, he steps forward, walking Daniel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Daniel looks back, startled, as though he hadn’t realized he was moving, at all. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Molloy?” Rashid asks, gesturing.

that old man gets PROPERLY FUCKED!! bit of a Rashid!Armand situation, bit of massage, very very hot

Push it away but it all comes back again, by butchybats - E, 5400 words

“'Let me get this straight. You left me for dead,' Daniel addresses Louis, who very pointedly does not make eye contact with him. This time Daniel turns slightly to face Armand. 'And you saved my life in the most erotic way possible?'” Or: All Daniel wants is to resume the interview like normal after finding out about the supposed "love of Louis' life". Louis and Armand have better plans.

Threesome sex VERY HOT (includes a bit of flashback to 70s era) with a really fucking excellent Daniel Voice!

Armand/Daniel

were the flowers orange?, by andrealyn - T, 6700 words

Years ago, Daniel cut out the love of his life to save himself from choking on tiger eye, daylily, bird of paradise. Now, in Dubai, suddenly the disease returns even though the only thing that's changed is Rashid became Armand. And yet, the flowers tell him something -- whoever he cut out is fighting like hell to be remembered.

Absolutely DEVASTATING hanahaki fic, this shit is really fucking good!!!

the fog eating the night, by tei - E, 3700 words

If Louis had wanted him alive, he'd have escorted him out himself. But he hadn't. He'd left Daniel standing there stunned, and walked out like none of this had mattered to him at all. Whether he meant to or not, Louis had given Daniel to Armand.

Very tasty post s02e08 turning fic! Really damn good Daniel Voice.

At Close of Day, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

On a frigid Christmas night, Daniel and Armand celebrate being alone together as they explore their budding relationship.

Really hot with human!Daniel! A top Armand who absolutely ADORES him, it's very fucking cute

Only a Name, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1500 words

In Dubai, Daniel is visited in dreams by an opinionated young man--but there's something terribly familiar about him.

More Rashid!Armand fic, very very fucking hot

strange mutations, by leavethebes - E, 11000 words

Armand’s done it to him once before—gored him through the stomach, gutted him like a fish, snipped his gills off, and drained him right down to the fluttering valves of his heart. Left Daniel little more than a shriveled husk of a person, and somehow Daniel is back here anyway, on his knees in front of Armand and begging for the oblivion that was promised.

Post s2 but before Armand turns Daniel, really fun Armand interfering in Daniel's life post-Dubai and another excellent Daniel Voice!

Devouring, by verimeru - Mature, comic

An 11-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand facing his worst nightmare.

OUGH, MY FEELS.....

Daddy, by GreyGiantess & verimeru - Mature, comic

“What's with the face?” Daniel asked. Armand’s eyes widened slightly, which was probably meant to make him look innocent, but it only made The Face worse. “This is just my regular face, Daniel.” “Yeah, right. You’re up to something.” In which VERIMURU and GRAYGIANTESS team up to give you the Armandaniel age difference COMIC you didn't know you needed! Very loosely related to Baby.

VERY cute age difference comic with human Daniel! Appreciated him still having his parkinson's, and their relationship and dynamic is SO cute

whip in my valise, by firstaudrina - E, 3100 words

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Armand said. “Yeah,” Daniel said, the word an aggravated pull. “Well.” Old Man Daniel goes to Night Island.

Very very good, VERY VERY HOT, excellent level of fucked up with some delicious voyeurism also

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

make you mine 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 dubcon/noncon, age gap, possible abuse, alcoholism, and other possible triggers. 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: Your father is strict but his authority is challenged by the boy in town and the man at his door.

Characters: Arvin Russell, Lee Bodecker

Note: you know what, why shouldn't I?

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 <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You keep your head down as you near the store. That group of boys is smoking at the corner again, their stained white tees and dusty old flannel jackets smell of sawdust and oil. Your daddy always tells you not to talk to strange men and except for him, they're all strange. 

"Hey, doll, where you in a rush to?" One of them flicks a cigarette away as he breathe smoke behind you. 

You hurry up as he whistles, "yeah, walk faster, girl. Wiggle them hips." 

"Quiet," another hisses and you hear the heavy thump of a slap against his shoulder, "ain't no way to talk to a lady." 

Footsteps rush after you and before you can reach the door, it opens, the bell jangling above as one of the men pulls it back. You look at his boots, grimy, laces fraying, slouching around the ankles. His other hand dangles by his side, cap folded in his grip. 

"I'm really sorry about Jethro, miss, he's got a real nasty mouth," he says, "you alright?" 

You nod and say nothing as you continue inside. 

"You're scarin' her, Arv," another man calls over, "look at her shaking in her shoes." 

He sighs and lets the door close between you as he turns back to respond. His words are muffled as you take a basket and flit into an aisle. Mr. Canavan is behind the counter, flipping through a newspaper as the radio crackles. You pick out the few staples running low in your pantry and add on a bottle of rum for your pa. 

"Afternoon, miss," Canavan greets in his piggish snort. You return the sentiment as you wait for him to tally up your order. "How's your daddy?" 

"Good, good," you answer as you peek towards the window. The men cross the street and disperse, some still walking in pairs. 

"He got a thirst?" he comments on the bottle. 

"Doesn't he always?" You count out the money and hand it to him. 

"Yeah but he usually takes care of that down at Hal's." 

"Lost too much on the table last time," you shake your head as he gives you back the change. 

He packs up a paper bag and you thank him, sliding it off the counter. It's heavy and makes your shoulders ache. You shouldn't have waited so long. 

You push the door open with your hip and turn, nearly colliding with another. The same man chuckles as he puts a hand on your elbow to keep you from toppling. You bite your lip and his eyes fall to his touch, dropping his arm guiltily. 

"Sorry, miss," he says as he sweeps back a curly lock that droops down his forehead, putting his cap over his hair to hold it back, "didn't mean to scare ya." 

"It's fine," you nearly whisper. 

"I wanted to say sorry again for my friends, if I can call them that. They don't see ladies often and they forget their manners." 

"Really, it's okay," you insist with a squeak. 

"Nah, it isn't," he counters, "but I told 'em to leave you alone." 

"Oh, thank you," you look past him. 

There's a pause. Awkward as he digs his heel into the ground. He chuckles and rubs his hands together. 

"That looks heavy, can I help ya with that?" he asks. 

You look at your armful. You don't know if you should. Would he be mad if you say no? He hasn't been mean. 

"Just halfway," he offers, "not tryna creep on ya or nothing, I'll just walk you to your corner." 

You press your lips together. Your daddy wouldn't see him at the corner.  

"I really feel bad about those other jerks," he continues, "so least I can do is carry your groceries." 

"Okay," you utter. 

You stand stupidly as he grins at you. You catch a glimpse of his dark eyes and crooked smile before your eyes return to the ground. He gently reaches to shift the bag out of your arms and lifts it easily. He steps back and you feel his gaze hanging over you. 

"Which way am I goin?" he asks. 

"Oh, uh," you point past him. 

He turns and waits for you to come up beside him before he starts off. He's shorter than the others but his shoulders are broad. He's still got a couple inches on you, though he's much trimmer. You catch up and focus on keeping pace with him. 

"I'm Arvin," he says. 

"Um," you breathe and muster your name in return. 

"I like that. It's pretty. Hope you're husband wouldn't mind me sayin' so." 

"Husband? I'm not–" 

You stop at the corner as you wait for several cars to pass before crossing. A brown and white cruiser rolls past and you watch the bumper disappear down the next street. You continue on as Arvin kicks a pebble unwittingly. 

"Not married?" he finishes for you. 

"I live with my pa," you answer. 

"Course. You must be young then." 

"I'm grown," you insist.  

You hate how your daddy teases you in the same vein, especially when he has friends over. It felt worse coming from someone nearly your own age, or looks to be. 

"Ah, just wonderin'," he assures. 

You're quiet as you carry on. You know you shouldn't still be at home. Lots of girls in Knockemstiff marry before they finish school. You haven't even had a date, not a kiss, or a look in your direction. 

"Just up here," you point to the next corner. 

He nods and carries on, stopping at the end of the street as he turns to you, "you sure I can't walk you all the way?" 

"My pa wouldn't like that." 

"He loves you, huh?" 

"He's my pa," you shrug and reach for the bag. He hands it over reluctantly. 

"I hope I see ya around. I work down at the mill. For Mr. Haroldson. Case you're wonderin' where to find me." 

"Thanks," you hug the groceries. 

He gives a tight-lipped smile. Disappointment twitches in his cheek. 

"See ya ‘round then." 

"Maybe," you answer as you turn away. 

You continue down your street. Halfway, you look back. Still watching you, he waves and slowly walks back the way you came. You spin back along the old country road, houses speckled over flat fields. You pass the rusty old brown truck at the edge of your pa's property, the sheriff's cruiser parked closer to the shed. 

You didn't expect company tonight. It must've been the same cruiser you saw at the corner. Your dread bubbles up but you quickly tamp it down. The sheriff always makes you nervous. He's talkative and you're... not. 

As you go inside, you hear your pa grumbling. You put down the groceries as the screen door clatters and take off your tweed jacket. You hang it as you step out of your boots. 

"You know we miss you down at the station," Bodecker's voice nears as his footsteps lurk, "there she is." 

Before you can retrieve your haul, he has it in his arms, "how ya doin', baby girl?" 

His usual pet name makes you squirm. Your pa says it's just him being nice. You never say anything against it. 

"I got it–" 

You try to take the bag but he holds it away from you. 

"Nah, what kinda man would I be, let alone a sheriff, if I didn't help a lady?" 

He winks and turns away from you, leading you past the doorway of the front room. You peer over at your father as he scowls and gulps from a can of beer. The sheriff likely brought the appeasing six pack to ease his presence. 

"What's for dinner tonight?" Bodecker asks as he puts the bag on the counter, peering inside. 

"I'm making a meat pie," you explain as you go to the fridge, "be more than enough for company, if you like?" 

"Now, how'd such a sweet thing like you come from that old coot?" He smirks over as you take out the beef wrapped in brown paper. 

You shrug and take the cutting board from against the wall. He doesn't move as you set up around him. You hate how his eyes follow you. Every time he's around. 

"You don't gotta work?" You ask as you reach for the bag. He pushes it towards you as he steps closer, looming over you. 

"I'm off duty for the night. Think I might indulge with your daddy," he reaches into the bag, his belly brushing your elbow as he lifts out the rum, "good brand." 

"Pa likes it," you step away as you search the cupboard. 

"You're old enough, you could join us after dinner–" 

"I don't like the taste and my pa don't want me drinking," you kneel to pull a pan out from the drawer. 

"Good habit not to take up," he clunks the bottle on the counter and rests his hand on the neck, "that boy you were walkin' with, he your friend?" 

"Boy? No, he was being helpful is all." 

"Was he, now?" He comes closer as you stand, "I know that boy, he ain't helpful." 

You glance at him. His blue eyes cling to you and you don't miss how they wander to the top of your blouse. You put the pan down and turn to grab your apron.  

He comes up behind you and takes the string, tying them tight as you wince in surprise. 

"Well, you're young. I'm sure you're fixing to find a husband soon. I'm just lookin' out for you." 

"I'm not looking for a husband," you draw away from him, "thank you, sheriff." 

"Well, your daddy won't live forever. Who's gonna take care of you, then?" 

You face him and frown, "I don't wanna think about that, sheriff, and I got dinner to make." 

"I'm sorry, baby girl, I worry about you. How long have I known you? I can't help it." 

"Thank you, sheriff, for worrying, but I'll be just fine." 

He tilts his head, bemusement sparkles in his vibrant irises, "I'm sure ya will be, baby girl… very fine." 

He sidles away and you return to the counter, pulling a knife from the block. The sooner dinner's on the table, the sooner you can go hide. 

🍽️

You clear your plate first, dinner’s made less appetizing by the sheriff and his leer. Your father doesn't help as he drinks more than he talks and you're left to entertain Lee's comments about your cooking and the same blouse he'd seen you in a dozen times. 

As you stand, the sheriff slurps from his beer and watches you. His lips shine as he puts the can down and smirks, "baby girl, you mind gettin' me the ketchup?" 

You swallow and nod, "certainly, sheriff." 

You turn and carry your plate into the kitchen, clunking it down on the counter before pulling open the fridge. You take the glass bottle of Heinz and return to the dining room to set it down.  

"Pa, you need anything?" 

"Dammit, Marcy, leave me be. I told ya… patrol's been busy," he waves his hand at you dismissively, your mother's name giving you pause. Lee hesitates as he twists off the metal lid. 

"I… pa, I…" 

"Is this what you're gon' do? Pester me?" Your daddy slurs, "'cause what? She was only being nice, ya know? I was too, I couldn't say no–" 

"Jack," Lee reaches over and pats your father's arm with his knuckles, "ain't there a game on soon? That old radio still work?" 

Your father blinks drunkenly and scowls. He shakes his head and hiccups, swearing as he tries to drink from his empty can. He tosses it so it bounces off the edge of the table. 

"Course it does," he sneers. 

"You got twenty on the home team?" Lee goads, "I should lock ya up for gambling." 

"Ah shut up," your father glowers into a dark chuckle, "it's you that's gon pay me fifty anyhow. Can't lock a man up for winning." 

"Ah sure, Jack," Lee stands and claps your father's shoulder, "come on. We’re missing the first." 

You don’t miss how the sheriff shifts his grip and lurches your father out of his chair. He gives him a nudge toward the front room and glances back at you. You should be grateful for the redirection, yet the leer in his eyes only makes you nervous. You know he’ll be wanting thanks for that for a long time to come. 

“How about you bring some of that rum out with dessert?” Lee smirks as he follows your father towards the den. 

You don’t mention that you didn’t have anything planned for dessert. He doesn’t wait for you to say so. He chuckles and teases your dad again about the wager. 

You’ll have to come up with something. You might be able to spare enough for cream puffs. Those were always ma’s specialty. 

[wangxianficrecs]

💙 Building it back, stone by stone and seal by seal by KizuKatana

💙 Building it back, stone by stone and seal by seal

by KizuKatana (@kizukatana)

M, WIP, 49k, Wangxian

Summary: It had been over 200 years since the war between cultivators left more than half the land ravaged and uninhabitable and the practice of cultivation punishable by death. Despite the risks of being caught as a practicing cultivator, Wei Wuxian took on the hunt of a dangerous yao that had destroyed a small village and killed all of the civilians. While searching for the demon, he encountered a mysterious cultivator dressed all in white. Wei Wuxian was excited to finally meet another cultivator, but instead of greeting him or making pretty much any conversation at all, the man attacked Wei Wuxian on sight. - - - - - - There is NO WAR in this fic. This takes place two centuries after the war happened, and it has a sort of post apocalyptic vibe. This is a story of rebuilding and finding safety. It's about found family and forming a new society away from the old one that persecuted them. Kay's comments: Kizu is back with another banger! I'm so hooked on this story and this one is for everyone who's here for regular updates, because they are coming and they are amazing. As always with Kizu's stories, the world-building is amazing and I really loved what we saw of Wei Changze's and Cangse Sanren's origins so far (though they are already long dead by the time the plot happens). I'm also really curious to learn more about Lan Wangji and for him and Wei Wuxian to clear out their unfortunate miscommunications~ I'm also living for Wei Wuxian's very literal found family. Excerpt: “I never thought I’d see another cultivator,” Wei Wuxian said, half in shock. He had been searching for years to find any sign that he was not the only cultivator remaining, and abruptly being confronted with living proof that he was not alone was something he hadn’t been braced for. The man narrowed his eyes, his face a cold mask that gave little away. “Leave,” the cultivator said warningly. Wei Wuxian blinked at the unfriendly, cold tone. He had been so excited to finally have met someone who was like him that the rejection cut a lot deeper than he was used to. The man was dressed in traditional cultivator robes, something that even Wei Wuxian’s mother had stopped doing within days of coming down from the Mountain given the danger being caught even owning them would bring. How could the man be so fearless in his appearance? Maybe it was because, unlike Wei Wuxian, this cultivator was not alone. Perhaps he had a community to return to: People to look out for him. People to train him. People to help him if he were injured. All the things Wei Wuxian did not have. “Are you alone? Are there others? Where have you been staying?“ Wei Wuxian asked, one question tumbling excitedly after the other. Instead of replying, the man drew his sword and attacked.

pov wei wuxian, post-war, alternate universe, canon era, rogue cultivator wei wuxian, rogue cultivator lan wangji, burial mounds ensemble as family, families of choice, literal found family, orphan wei wuxian, hurt/comfort, injury recovery, strangers to lovers, misunderstandings, miscommunication

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[jayparked]

go big or go home | lee heeseung / nishimura riki

PAIRING:pitcher!heeseung / batter!riki x concession worker!female reader GENRE: comedy AU: strangers to ???, love triangle, baseball RATING: 18+ (my blog is 18+ but this is sfw) WORD COUNT: 4.2k WARNINGS: strong language, riki is kinda an egotistical jerk LOL, old man heeseung with creaky joints, good ol rivalry (i might be missing more) A/N: SURPRISE!! i kept staring at the photos when the boys visited my home town and went to a mariners game and then boom this idea bloomed in between writing my other wips! also omg what snail posts a fic that isn't just porn without plot??? craazzzyyyyy. anyways i love baseball, i grew up going to mariners games (maybe jay and i were at the same game at one point sfjkaldj) anyways i'm rambling this is a different writing style than what i normally do but thought i would experiment a bit! i hope you enjoy it ♡ SPECIAL THANK YOU TO: @sungbeams for making this sexy banner and for helping me figure out some details in this fic ily always

It's the bottom of the fifth inning and Heeseung cannot wait for the day to be over. It's hot, more so than ever before and it feels like he has to wipe the sweat off his forehead every twenty seconds or so. Soon enough, he won't be able to see where he's pitching.

Spitting out a buffalo flavored sunflower seed to his right, he re-positions his cap, nearly taking over his eyebrows. It can't possibly go any lower and he's wasting valuable time stalling with it.

The catcher has been throwing out basic plays that Heeseung has seen and done a million times. The kid knows his pitcher can't throw a decent changeup or slider anymore due to years of muscle strain and poor self care habits. Hell, it’s even difficult for him to throw an accurate knuckleball now. His specialty has switched to a ninety-seven mile-per-hour fastball. At least, that’s how fast it was two years ago.

The mitt smells sour against Heeseung’s nose as he finally nods his head, accepting his teammate's suggestion for a basic splitter. The catcher, Yang Jungwon, readies himself, rocking his body slightly as his knees adjust, giving his own mitt a few playful smacks as he does so.

Deep breath, the roar of the crowd stills into a faint white noise in the pitcher's mind as he lowers the mitt and the ball to his chest. As a pitcher, it's important to have a signature move. Something subtle, yet eye-catching that drives the fans crazy. Some have claimed his technique is too predictable; but those who comment, aren't usually the ones on the field.

Heeseung rocks back his left shoulder, his right rolling up towards his ear before making a rowing motion with the mitt and ball back to the right, the ball in his left hand leaving the comforts of the mitt. Left knee kicking up in front of his body, Heeseung releases his breath and winds up, the last of his energy exploding as the ball leaves his hand and spirals down towards home.

"STEEEEERIKE THREE! YOOOOU’RE OUT!"

Stomping feet of the fans in the stadium and the inspiring roars of his teammates from the dugout fills Heeseung's ears all at once. When he was first starting out in his career, all the excitement would make him jump right there on the mound. Now, the noise is comforting and he smiles fondly to himself. At this point, it's hard to concentrate without it.

Two batters down. One to go.

The next player that approaches the plate is someone Heeseung has been excited to compete against. With stats higher than any fresh new recruit the league has ever seen, Nishimura Riki is a force to be reckoned with. It’s midseason of the kid’s first year. Riki has never struck out. The batter struts out of the dugout with the bat over his shoulders, taking long, slow strides towards the plate with his chin held high.

The breeze picks up as Heeseung uses his mitt to hide his face, discreetly popping in some more sunflower seeds into his mouth, concentrating hard on Riki's broad, wide, confident stance. The kid is glaring right at Heeseung, the bat now held just next to his left ear, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

Rolling his shoulder a couple of times, Heeseung tries to ignore the growing ache inside his joint or the way his smile is naturally pulling into a frown. It helps to see that Yang has a newfound fire in his eyes, his first-hand signal is one Heeseung hasn’t seen in a very long time. And oh, does that simple hand signal excite the fuck out of the pitcher.

“Let’s take this newbie back old school style.” Heeseung chuckles to himself, his mitt covering his mouth as he gives a short nod to Yang.

The ritual restarts.

“STEEEEERIKE ONE!” The umpire hollers. The crowd screams as the tension builds in the stadium. Riki has had strikes before, so Heeseung isn’t phased by the hype of the crowd. Unless he smiles, they think that he will be the pitcher to knock the kid down a few pedestals. Riki did have a delayed swing reaction for that first pitch which isn’t how he usually reacts at base.

Yang quickly tosses a new ball to Heeseung.

Wasting no time, he winds up again, this time with a little more gusto and confidence laced in his fingertips.

"STEEEEEERIKE TWO"

Pride swells quickly in Heeseung's chest, how could it not? Riki grimaces, stepping back from the plate and hitting the end of his bat against his cleats. This time, he swung too early. Heeseung watches as the batter rolls his neck, shaking his upper body before comically bouncing up and down - the same way Heeseung used to do. Stepping back up to the plate, Riki sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek and narrows his eyes at Heeseung.

Another ball is tossed to Heeseung who catches it casually and without much effort, barely even giving it a glance.

The sun feels warm at the nape of Heeseung's neck and on his forearms. He’s definitely walking away from this with a wicked sunburn and he just knows the long bath he’ll sink into later will feel so nice on his aching bones and singed skin. It's the perfect weather for a game. It's the perfect weather to win a game.

And, for the final time (he hopes), Heeseung winds up to pitch. Every muscle in his body feels relaxed and ready as he eyes his target: the center of Yang's mitt.

Right as Heeseung is about to release the ball from his hand, there's a yell in the crowd.

"COTTON CANDY! GET YA COTTON CANDY HERE! FIVE SMACK-A-ROONIES! COTTON CANDY!"

For just a moment, Heeseung looks to see where the noise is coming from. A girl is waving around blue and pink bags of cotton candy above her head. By the drastic movement of her jaw, Heeseung guesses she's chewing a big wad of gum. She tosses a pink bag towards a man in the middle of a row and collects the money promptly. Something about her energy is captivating, hell, the way her voice was even able to carry out all this way past the roar of the crowd is something Heeseung has never seen before in all his years on this mound.

And then, she turns towards the field.

It feels like time stills as Heeseung notices her features. With long hair swooped up in a messy bun, held captive by a home team baseball cap, the craziness of all the wisps floating with the breeze somehow makes the features of her face stand out even more. She’s smiling wide with each short interaction with the customers around her, glancing to the field every now and then to see the action going on. Every time she turns to the field, her eyes glisten slightly and that smile widens.

She's absolutely beautiful.

He feels it– the quiver throughout his body making him lose his focus. The baseball leaves Heeseung's fingertips all too soon as that quiver offsets the direction of the pitch. Riki watches the ball confused as it thumps against the green tarp just about five feet to the left of home base.

Silence.

"Raaah!" Heeseung yells and kicks at the mound, coughing instantly as the dirt rises up to his mouth. Everyone in the arena is confused as to what just happened. Heeseung has thrown walks before, sure, but nothing even close to this drastically bad.

Then suddenly, Yang calls for a timeout and runs up to the mound to meet Heeseung.

"Dude, Lee, what the hell just happened? Is it your shoulder?" His voice sounds muffled behind his catching mitt that covers his lips.

Words escape Heeseung, but his mouth moves anyways. Inaudible sounds manage to sneak out and Yang stares at him with a concerned look in his face before waving one of their coaches over.

Mitt also in front of his face, the coach tries to find his words before blurting, "What's going on? I've never seen a pitch that bad since we tried you out for pitcher." The coach laughs as he bumps shoulders with Yang who only grimaces back.

"I don't know, Coach, I think he's having a stroke or something." Concerned, Yang sticks out a finger and aims to poke at Heeseung's nose.

Heeseung shakes his head and grabs Yang's finger, pushing him away, still not meeting the younger player's eyes.

The coach follows Heeseung's line of sight and immediately smacks the pitcher on his non-throwing arm. "A girl? You have got to be shitting me right now. You are not being paid to ogle at stadium workers! Acting like a real rookie right now, Lee. Get your shit together, you’re about to make history!"

Heeseung barely feels the smack. He's too busy looking at the girl juggling massive bags of cotton candy like a professional. There's a wave of grace as she rolls a pink bag of fluff down one arm and into her hand, only to flick it towards a customer seconds later. Fascinated, Heeseung has never seen anything quite like it. She’s not like the other concession workers he’s seen throughout his years; one’s that always have that dark cloud following around them as they sluggishly drag their feet around the stadium rows. Strands of hair from her bun are coming undone, the wind slowly untangling the strands with each gentle push.

Finally, she turns towards the field again.

Underneath his team’s cap, her eyes flick to meet his.

She doesn't stay facing them long, yelling about cotton candy left and right, customers eagerly trying to get her attention. As she spins around, Heeseung feels like fainting seeing his name painted in bold letters on the back of her baseball jersey, his lucky number 49 also printed largely on the back.

The air suddenly feels stiff and musky. Heeseung feels sweatier than before and can't seem to focus on the words his coach and teammates are saying to him, a smile blooming on his face meanwhile his cheeks start to burn, and it’s definitely not from the sun.

"AYO, Lee!"

Heeseung shakes his head and turns his attention back towards home base, instantly annoyed at the sight of the batter, Riki. The newbie has his shiny oak bat resting on his shoulders, one hip casually jutting out, looking bored as ever. Heeseung can see from the mound how flat Riki's eyes look as the younger man smacks his bubblegum.

"We gonna play some ball or something?" Riki waves a hand up in an annoyed fashion.

Clenching his jaw, Heeseung nods his head, prompting Yang and the coach to head back to their spots.

Two strikes. One ball. It's an easy out at this point. Heeseung has the rage fueling him and he always throws faster and harder when there's something to target. Plus, it would be pretty cool if he could strike out the un-strikable in front of the pretty girl.

Stealing one last glance, Heeseung sees the cotton candy girl leaning against the metal banister upfront and close to the field. She's focusing hard on Heeseung with an intensity he has never seen before. It's clear she's looking at him, waiting for something to happen.

Gulping down a lump of nerves, the angry fire that was bubbling within quickly becomes dormant.

Wind up. Breathe.

Release.

Riki swings, catching the baseball with the tip of the bat. Instead of going forward, the ball spirals behind him. A perfect foul.

Two balls, two strikes.

When it comes down to the wire like this, Heeseung feels his strongest. And the intensity coming from Riki only reminds Heeseung of how it used to be when he was first starting out in the league: exhilarating, adrenalizing, a never-ending insatiable hunger. Heeseung sees that same drive in the batter in front of him. It’s rejuvenating to see that raw emotion can still exist in the newcomers. 

Hopefully, for the final time, Heeseung winds up and prepares to strike out Nishimura Riki’s ego for good.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect pitch. The baseball leaves Heeseung’s fingers tingling with the sheer force of the throw. When his leg kicks up from the momentum of the throw, Heeseung can feel the speed of the ball as it barrels in a perfect line towards Yang’s mitt.

So, imagine Heeseung’s anger and confusion when the ball sinks into the catcher’s mitt and the umpire is dead silent.

Uproars from the home team fans go crazy with insults as replay after replay shows on the jumbo screens. 

“Timeout! Timeout!” The coach of Heeseung’s team yells furiously as he runs onto the field. The coach grabs Heeseung by the arm and drags him to the dugout, quickly thrusting a water bottle into Heeseung’s hands and puts an ice pack on his shoulder. Heeseung winces at the impact, his sun kissed skin not prepared for the harsh contrast so quickly.

“Fucking umpires I swear they’re out to protect this Nishimura’s reputation. That was a strike if I’ve ever seen one! A textbook, picture perfect strike!” The coach enunciated the words with his pointer finger jamming into his other palm, and continues to grumble as he applies more pressure to Heeseung’s shoulder.

The cold does feel great against his joints after a moment, but sitting inside the dugout does not feel ideal. He’s not meant to be a bench warmer, especially not in the middle of an intense moment. Walking away from the mound has anxiety bubbling deep within his chest. He’ll rest after all of this is good and over with, no matter the outcome. So, wordlessly, Heeseung waves his coach off, takes the water bottle, takes a long swig, stepping back onto the field wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

The feeling of the ice-cold water going down his throat felt more refreshing than he was expecting as his eyes gaze around the field, casually trying to find the girl from earlier.

Unknowingly, Heeseung walks closer to home base before finding the cotton candy girl just a few rows away. She looks beautiful as she smiles at the customers, the pinks and blues of the cotton candy bringing out the blush in her face and the sparkle in her eyes. Heeseung leans against the padded wall, reaching into his pocket to pop a few more sunflower seeds into his mouth.

Following Heeseung's glance, Riki scoffs and turns back to him. "Really? The cotton candy girl? Buddy, friend, you do realize what kind of people we are right? We have million-dollar contracts. She makes minimum wage. Those classes don't mix."

Heeseung has never been more grateful and proud of his own self-control than in this moment. If he were any other place, he would have socked Riki right in the jaw with as much might as humanly possible. Preferably right in the spot where the edge of his smile forms a lined dimple. Instead, he spits out the sunflower seed shells as close to Riki as he can without it being called unfair sportsmanship. The kid doesn’t even notice.

"Despite the class difference, I guess she is kind of cute," the younger boy continues, "I wonder if she's ever dated a baseball player before." There's something hidden behind that seemingly harmless statement, challenging almost, and Heeseung has a weird feeling, enough to make the hair stand on the back of his neck and his nose to scrunch.

Wordlessly, Heeseung looks back and forth between the cotton candy girl and Riki.

"What's it gonna be, old man? Do you really think she would pick you over me?" The kid laughs and adjusts his helmet to fit over his ear better, squaring up to bat and locking gazes with the pitcher. 

Unspoken words thrash across the field between the two players while Heeseung walks back towards the mound, tired of waiting for his coaches to be done bickering with the umpires. He can't decide if he wants to call the rookie's bluff or not.

Actions speak louder than words, Heeseung tells himself and casually throws the ball into his mitt a couple of times, finding a rhythm that feels right. Riki is still waiting for him, the umpire now back in place and Heeseung’s coach fuming against the railing in the dugout.

Quiet.

Suddenly, the ball is no longer in Heeseung's hands.

It's like he blinked and didn't even feel his body move. But Yang has left his crouched position and is picking up the baseball on the far, far right side of home plate.

Heavy groans arise from the sea of fans, growing louder and louder as their doubt in Heeseung sets in more permanently. There’s a faint sting in his wrist that makes him want to shake it vigorously.  That wouldn’t go unnoticed by the coach, though, so he refrains. 

Looking at the sky, Heeseung immediately notices a change in the weather. The sky is now filled with dark purplish clouds, casting a dark shadow over the field. At first, it seems that the universe is mocking him, telling him that his wonder years have officially come to an end. But then, a flash of white lights up the sky, and Heeseung’s melancholy attitude fills with annoyance.

“God dammit!” 

Maybe it was a one time strike. Maybe no one else saw it. If there’s lightning they will cancel the game immediately. And that means he won’t be able to see the look on Riki’s face once he finally strikes him out.

For a few moments, nothing happens and it seems like the perfect chance for Heeseung to wind up again. As quickly as the thought came to mind, another streak of lightning hits the sky, this time, more noticeable than the first. To make matters worse, Heeseung is hit in the forehead with a juicy raindrop, the contents sliding down his nose and across his cheek.

“Everyone, due to unforeseen weather, we will have to postpone the rest of this game. Please evacuate safely to your vehicles. Updated game information can be found on our website-”

Shaking his head, Heeseung walks off the mound and heads towards the locker rooms. 

Up ahead, he sees Riki leaning against the wall with one elbow, his other hand placed on his hip. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Heeseung follow where the rookie is looking. Devastation hits when he sees that Riki is flirting with the cotton candy girl.

Jogging over, Heeseung can feel the rain increase in intensity, his jersey starting to cling to his skin.

“This lighting is way too dangerous, babe. Why don’t you and I get out of here? I’ll keep you safe.”

Heeseung wants to gag at Riki’s words. The younger generation just has no problem being so blunt these days.

“Have a little class, rookie,” Heeseung grits his teeth before turning to the cotton candy girl, “I can walk you to your car. You’d probably be safer with the lightning than with this guy.”

“Says the old geezer,” Riki laughs, “she’d be walking you to your car if anything!”

Tired of the old man jokes, Heeseung can’t help but jut his lower lip forward as he says, “I’m only a few years older than you, you know. Just because I’ve been in the game longer than you’ve held a baseball means nothing.”

Taking his elbow off the wall, Riki faces Heeseung fully, setting his shoulders back as he sizes up his opponent.

“You’re just mad that I got to Y/n before you did. Yeah, that’s right,” Riki crosses his arms over his chest and takes a few more steps towards Heeseung with a newfound smugness on his face, “I learned her name before you could even guess it.”

“Oh, yeah? If you think you’re so in, then why is she wearing a jersey with my name and number on it?”

The next five minutes are a blur of insults and jabs between Heeseung and Riki, the cotton candy girl long forgotten while the rain comes down harder. Heeseung has never been in a fight with someone like this before, and, in the back of his mind, he’s kind of worried about if Riki is the type to get physical or not. Heeseung definitely can’t afford to injure his shoulder more than he already has throughout his years in the game. Even just bruising his knuckles would throw him out for the rest of the season. 

Their voices increase with the sound of the thunder.

“You two!” Heeseung’s coach yells from the other side of the field. “Quitcha arguing and get to safety! I’ll be damned if my best pitcher gets electrocuted on the field!”

Smugly, Heeseung turns to Riki, raising an eyebrow as he soaks in the unintentional praise from one of the world’s most decorated coaches. Success hits when Riki furrows his brow, his mouth tightening to a white line with frustration.

Victory won in his own mind, Heeseung turns to say something to the cotton candy girl, only to find that she’s long gone.

Riki is also looking around him, annoyance evident on his face as his tongue pokes the insides of his cheek, his jaw muscles setting a little stronger than usual.

“You…” Riki growls and swiftly reaches for Heeseung’s jersey, fisting the material tightly as the younger player tries to find the right words to express his anger. Defensively, Heeseung grabs at Riki’s biceps, trying his best to hold him at bay. He really doesn’t want to fight in the middle of a lightning storm over a girl who isn’t even around to witness the outcome.

As more players are leaving the field, making jokes at the two guys about to pummel each other, Riki loosens his grip, his gaze focused on the other side of the field.

Heeseung barely sees you walking away from the field with someone else beside you.

Riki still holds onto the front of Heeseung's jersey, but Heeseung has since dropped his arms to his sides as he sees one of his own outfielders reach for the cotton candy girl's hand, lifting it, and pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

"She's...laughing..." Heeseung pouts, his shoulders drooping slightly. Another crack of thunder booms lightly in the distance, closer than the previous one.

Riki finally turns around, promptly releasing Heeseung from his grasp. "Damn," he mutters as watches, “guess she does date baseball players.”

"You guys didn't know?" Laughs one of Heeseung's teammates. "They're engaged, bro. Have been for a couple of months now." He pats Heeseung and Riki on the back simultaneously before walking off, not even turning as he waves his hand goodbye.

Disbelief and embarrassment overwhelm Heeseung all at once as he watches you leave towards the stadium doors with Jongseong. Before this point, Heeseung had barely paid any attention to the outfielder. His skills were average at best, his batting stats about the same, he wasn’t great enough to be a fan favorite, but also not bad enough to be the outrage of the fans and team. They’ve never really connected on a personal level either and have just kept things professional these past few years. And it just doesn’t make sense how someone as average as Park Jongseong could find love and not himself.

Noticing the cease in your bickering, the cotton candy girl turns back to them with a wide smile, “Now you guys can walk each other to your cars! Be safe!” She yells and winks, turning back to her fiance.

“Maybe she’s allergic to greatness,” Riki tuts, shaking his head before adjusting his hat. His hair is greasy from sweat and rain, curling at the ends. 

Wordlessly, Heeseung begins to walk towards the locker rooms, Riki following close behind despite having his own team’s locker room behind him. The first few trickles of rain glide down the nape of Heeseung’s neck, leaving him feeling chilled and uncomfortable. Something about what Riki said keeps playing over and over again in his mind. And the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets.

“If she’s happy, let her be happy. Maybe he’s great in her eyes and has more going for him outside of this stupid game.”

Riki scoffs and laughs, barely stopping before he continues towards the locker room.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, old man. Just know the next game, I won’t be going easy on you. And there sure as hell won’t be any lightning or girls to stop me.” He turns to flash a toothy grin at Heeseung, who can’t help but laugh in return. There’s a fire in the kid's eyes, one that Heeseung remembers he himself had when he first started out. It’s become more of a rare thing to see; genuine passion from newbies who are in it for more than just fame, money, and status.

With that realization, Heeseung can’t help but feel some sort of respect for the obnoxious guy.

It’s too bad he’s on a rival team, Heeseung thinks. Imagine the chaos the two of them could have created if they were on the same team, how well they could push each other.

“Until next time! You better bring it!”

“Only if that’s a promise, old man!”

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 12/14/24 do not copy, repost, or translate

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix @v3lv3tvampir3 @theoneandonlykymberlee @luvvnightingalee @dillybuggg @sun-joo @perfectus-in-morte @evilive @satakingslime @comfortless

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

[sweet-s0rr0w]

day 18 of @hprecfest - a fic that makes you laugh

Little Red Courgette, by @blamebrampton - T, 31k, 2009

Summary: When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

All along, Kingsley Shacklebolt finds himself pining for the good old days, when, instead of governing, all you had to worry about were Dark Lords and imminent death.

Excerpt:

They each made it through a bowl of chocolate with sundry other flavours garnishing it. And three large glasses of wine. This was the only excuse Draco could find for the fact that he found himself asking Potter: 'So what's your game?'

'Quidditch,' Potter replied instantly. 'Or Exploding Snap.'

'Here. What's your game here.'

'I'm not with you.'

A part of Draco's brain screamed at him to stop, but the alcohol-soaked part, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Smythe's, encouraged him to go on. 'Are you working with Kingsley to enlist me as your pawn in a clean out of the Ministry? You were very quick to agree when I asked you to warn The Quibbler off, was it all a ruse?'

'I thought you were engaged in your own hands-on grass-roots Ministry reform, making the one department work well, with an eye to expanding in the future,' Potter rebutted.

'Well I am, so you needn't try making use of me in your nefarious scheme.'

'I don't have a nefarious scheme.'

'So is it all a complicated plan to take some highly personal and embarrassing revenge for the Potter Stinks badges? Because that was years ago. And although I feel a little badly about it now, they were excellent work for a wizard that age.'

'They were, I was impressed. I still have one at home, you know.'

'Really?'

'Yup. I thought you were a wanker at the time, but I have to say, that was a quality Charm.'

'Thanks. So what's left? You're in the hire of someone keen to assassinate the last of the Malfoys; it's all an elaborate if somewhat clumsy plan at seduction; or you're desperate for someone to talk to now that all your friends are getting married and having children.'

'Those are my options? I'll take two, clumsy seduction.'

'Really?'

Back in 2019 when I rediscovered the joys of fanfic after over a decade out, I started off the way any (less tech-savvy) millennial would, by googling 'Drarry fanfiction'. blamebrampton's works were some of the first that I found, and I was immediately entranced. They're such an incredible variety, from the Muggle World-set Doing the Lambeth Walk, to travel fic Beneath Boundless Skies, to wartime epic (and longtime @tackytigerfic obsession) And Save Me From Bloody Men. No matter what the topic, though, blamebrampton's sense of humour always shines through in her sharp observations and witty dialogue, and in Little Red Courgette she's able to showcase this to the fullest extent. It's a hilarious examination of government bureaucracy from the world-weary point of view of one Draco Malfoy, an employee of the Office for the Volumetric Standardisation of Edible Wizarding Greengrocery Produce. The veg related puns are numerous, and excellent, and both Draco and Harry are incredibly endearing. Big rec, for all her works!

If you read it, and especially if you love it, please do let me know! And as always, please do take the time to leave the author a kudos/comment <3

day 1 - first fic you remember reading

day 2 - a fic rated G

day 3 - a fic not on ao3

day 4 - a comfort fic

day 5 - a romantic fic

day 6 - a fic for a ship you don’t normally read

day 7 - the best of your OTP

day 8 - a fic that was recced to you

day 9 - a WIP

day 10 - a fest/event fic

day 11 - an underrated fic

day 12 - a fic from your favourite author

day 13 - a rare pair

day 14 - a fic rated T

day 15 - a fic over 50k

day 16 - a podfic

day 17 - a fic that makes you cry

[pimosworld]

Read it again- part I

I wanted to start a list of recs that I find myself going back to when I’m happy or sad or just in need of something to distract me from the crazy world we live in. This will be multiple parts so consider this the first installment. These will be old/new/current wips and fics.

Please head the warnings in each fic or series.

Triple Frontier

The devils backbone- @ezrasbirdie

Feed your ego- @whatthefishh

War makes thieves and peace hangs them- @brandyllyn

Messy Pile of Affection Series- @flightlessangelwings

The homecoming series- @astroboots

Awakening Series- @romanarose

Switch to channel 2- @autumnleaves1991-blog

My best friends girl- @tropes-and-tales

Moon Knight

Prized possession- @melodygatesauthor

Third ones the charm-(part I, part II) @missdictatorme

Egg Fried Rice- @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

The Jake problem- (part I, part II) @bensolosbluesaber

For science- @projectionistwrites

Joel Miller

Pink- @netherfeildren

The checklist- @thetriumphantpanda

Trick or Treat- @morallyinept

Meet me in the back- @atticrissfinch

Honey do- @kiwisbell

Take care of you- @theidiotwhowritesthings

Javier Peña

It’s never too late- @javierpena-inatacvest

Paranoid heart- @goodwithcheese

Late night texts- @undercoverpena

D.I.Y.- @swiftispunk

Please comment and reblog the authors works that they pour their time, heart and soul into.

Feel free to leave a comment with your favorite re-read or message me directly to include in future installments.

[solardrop]

I wanted to post some excerpts from two of my Hotch wips to see which one people find more interesting! I included a poll at the bottom because I know a lot of people don't like commenting but I'd appreciate comments, asks, etc about the one you like more as well! There are a lot of typos and issues in these but they are just first drafts!

Both of these will end up being nsfw stories so minors please do not interact with this post (because you won't be interacting with the actual fics anyway)

this one is the first hotch fic I ever tried to write. I abandoned it because I felt like my first fic being a smut was too horny (only for my first posted fic to still be a smut...lol). But rereading it I actually still really like the idea I just need to actually figure out where I wanna go with it. Its currently very lovingly titled: "A sad attempt at a hotchner fic". WIll definitely be changed before I actually post it LMAO. Maybe to "strawberry salt" or something

He grabs you by the hips as he leans against the headboard. Sliding you until the soft curve of your belly meets his, and the swell of your breasts push against his collarbone. The wiry hairs across the top of his legs tickle your inner thighs. His eyes drift downward for a brief moment, distracted from his original mission, before he places a quick kiss on your sternum. “What was that again baby?” He smiled up at you. An absolute shit-eating grin if you say so yourself. Trying to sweet talk and ‘baby’ you out of this wasn’t going to work. Neither was the mischievous hand sliding under your robe towards the curve of your ass. “Aaron,” you swat his hand from below you, “how many times are you gonna use my body wash  and leave me with nothing!?” This makes him grin wider, his dimples teasing and tempting for a kiss. Your belly warms as you look at him beneath you. How could a man so damn infuriatingly be so annoyingly sexy? His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, it takes all your self-control to stop from moaning at the sight. You force yourself to look up from his lips and raise your hand to lightly pinch the very tip of his nose. A soft blush forms on the skin there when you remove your fingers. “Not funny Aar! Now I smell like Alaskan sea salt and thunderstorms instead of Strawberry sugar.”  “Well. I think you smell amazing.” He buries himself in your neck, inhaling deeply. “If you think so, then use your own body wash!”

This second one is just called "shower" it's my longest wip so far and I like it a lot but I need to rework a lot of things about it because its a lot of word vomit right now:

Your thoughts are interrupted by Aaron reapproaching you, still dressed in his button-up, the sleeves now rolled up his thick forearms. He tries to get the detachable showerhead when you reach up — with your good arm— and stop him.  “What are you doing?” you question. “Getting the showerhead so I can help you shower?” “Your clothes are still on.” “Yes? What’s wrong—” He pauses, face marked with confusion until he slowly pieces together your meaning, “Honey, you’re injured. I’m showering you, not showering with you.” He laughs reaching for the hose again before you stop him. “I’m not a patient. I’m your fiancee,” you seethe, “You’re not gonna scrub me down like I’m some sweet little old lady. Get in here, Hotchner.” His arms cross over the expanse of his chest, staring you down like he was giving you a field order to comply to. Too bad you weren’t scared of him. You stare back at him, the water streaming down your body as the moment passes. He breaks eye contact and begins unbuttoning his shirt. “Alright,” he sighs, “but we’re just getting clean and getting out.” He shrugs off his shirt, revealing beauty of his broad body to you. You eyes travel, admiring the way the muscles move under his skin as he scratches the soft pudge of his belly. He unbuckles his belt and pants. You bite your lip as he finally hooks his fingers in his pants and boxers, sliding the fabric down, slowly exposing the hair lined down his lower belly before his hands just stop. Your eyes flick up to his at the clearing of his throat. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “No funny business. I promise,” you whine.

[tricksterringmaster]

🦇 18+ StarPrince discord server 🐶

I was allowed to make a little post about it, SO. If you are a lonely snack shipper who wants to find a community to share your headcanons, works and whatnot, and you are 18+ years old, you can join us.

We are not super active, but we occasionally share headcanons, character analysis, different ideas for fandom content and WIPs of art/fics/etc. We also have some creative games, like drabble game, round robin and etc. (maybe they can inspire you to actually write that fic, they certainly inspired me!)

If you want to join, you can DM me or leave a comment and I'll DM you! ✨

[adhdprincess]

TLOU rec-list for fics with less than 100 kudos!

If you don't have much time to read, rebloging is a great way to show support. Let's uplift these talented fic writers!

Cuddle up with some Fluff

Rest - 3k words, Joel gets sick in Jackson. It's filled to the brim with lots of banter and sweet family-shaped moments. Also, Ellie doesn't live in the shed!

New Seasons - 5k words, Outside of Jackson, Joel gets a migraine. Ellie takes care of him and it’s just so sweet. I have a cavity, guys 🥹 Both by: ABeckoningCat, @inherstars on Tumblr

bear with me - 700 words, Ellie spots a bear outside the walls of Jackson. Joel’s reactions are funny as hell. By: @bearrycool on Ao3 and Tumblr

if i could give you the moon - 4.5k words, 10-year-old Ellie meets Riley. Fluffy shenanigans ensue, wrapped up in a beautiful ending. Happy belated fic-erversary! By: @becomethesun on Ao3 and Tumblr

When the Party's Over - 2k words, Ellie attends a party in Jackson, but her anxiety takes over. Hurt/comfort vibes? Check! Fluff and angst? Double check! By: @paigegonerogue on Ao3 and Tumblr

Tear your heart out with Angst

Dear Shadow, Alive and Well(WIP) - 30k words, A gritty, immersive multi-chapter set after Ellie, Tommy, and Dina return from Seattle. The prose, the imagery, and the dialogue are all BEAUTIFUL! This story has killed me. @wicked--loving--lies I'm throwing you all of the virtual flowers!! 💐 By: Wickedlovinglies, @wicked--loving--lies on Tumblr

Arsonist's Lullaby - 4.5k, A character study of Joel and his relationship with anger. The angst had me clawing at the floor. The writing is AMAZING! By: fae_the_gay27

think I’ll miss you forever… - 1.5k words, A character study of Ellie after the major character death in TLOU2. Beautiful prose and I think I’ll cry actually 😭. By: @crystalflys on Ao3 and Tumblr

March 2, 2038 (tw gore) - 1.5k words, Might be the saddest fic I’ve ever read, but the angst is so good. This takes place right after the major death in TLOU2. By: Three_kittens_in_a_trench_coat

Journey through these AUs!

sangfroid - 3k words, Joel and Tess have an oops baby and it's Ellie. This is so beautiful and has an awesome twist at the end. By: Glitter_Gecko, @seethesunny on Tumblr

Calamity's Child - 10k words, An AU where Joel is a trans man set after the events of TLOU1. It’s very fluffy with a good helping of angst and so well written! By: Fiachra, @consultingzoologist on Tumblr

Ashes denote that Fire was(WIP) - 3.5k words, A firefighter🔥 AU. Ellie is feral, Joel is bewildered, and Tess is a banter queen. This AU is such a fun read! By: @bumblepony on Ao3 and Tumblr

Roll for Halloween Hijacks - 5.5k words, On Halloween, in a no-outbtreak AU, Joel joins Ellie and her friends to play a tabletop game. It’s so fluffy and communal and everyone is alive! By: MichiMe, @freetobeyouandmichi-me on Tumblr & @marceltheshellwithflipflopson on Ao3 and Tumblr

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Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the divider!