#have a fic teaser

[lululawrence]

You Should Be Here With Me

A 2024 Advent Fic by lululawrence

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 34k | 26 Chapters

The festive period is a traditionally hectic one in the world of Premier League football, and this year is no different. A lot is riding on how Manchester United is able to come through the fixtures in the coming weeks.

Louis and his teammates know all too well the pressure that is on their shoulders. They need to prove, not just to fans of the club but the entire league, that they still have what it takes to be a team worthy of fighting for the top of the table.

Throw in the fact that Louis is all too aware that he's not getting any younger in a profession that demands your peak physical fitness year round and the incredibly fit Harry Styles, who is part of the club's social media team, and this year's festive period might just be the most important one yet.

🎄1 🎄 2 🎄 3 🎄 4 🎄 5 🎄 6 🎄 7 🎄 8 🎄 9 🎄 10 🎄 11 🎄 12 🎄 13 🎄 14 🎄 15 🎄 16 🎄 17 🎄 18 🎄 19 🎄 20 🎄 21 🎄 22 🎄 23 🎄 24 🎄 25 🎄 26 🎄

NOW COMPLETE!

[kinardsevan]

fuck-it friday

tagged by my beloved @perfectlysunny02, and I'm currently working on a lil somethin' somethin' for y'all based off that "baggage". this floated into my head today, so this is what you get:

-

“Maybe he just needs time,” Tommy offers, lifting a hand to gesticulate at the invisible offer. 

Eddie narrows his gaze at Tommy, giving a slight scowl. “What time? He’s had months of time.” 

Evan clears his throat, pushing up off of the chair. “I-…I think he means more than just space, Eds.”

Eddie looks over at Buck, and then back up at Tommy, whose gaze is now on his watchband that he’s twisting nervously. Tommy looks up at him nervously. 

“Look man, I-..” 

“No that’s a terrible fucking idea,” Eddie retorts. “So not only is my son hundreds of miles away, but I should stop reaching out and let him think I’ve completely given up on him too?” 

“That’s not what-..” “He’s trying to suggest-..” 

“No!” Eddie growls. “He’s my son!  And beyond that, I don’t understand why it matters so god damn much if I want to be left alone for a few days. It’s not like anyone had a problem with Buck wanting to jump off the 118 a few weeks back.” 

Tommy’s gaze suddenly shoots up in Evan’s direction as his expression shifts from one of concern to one that…Evan’s never seen it on his face before, but there’s a definitive degree of pain in his eyes. 

“What?” He rasps. His breaths are shallower, quicker. “Y-you what?” 

Evan glares at Eddie. “That’s not what this is about right now.” 

“Seems like it is,” Eddie replies, tilting his head in Tommy’s direction. 

[arcanegifs]

[renthewerecatboi]

sometimes things will change, sometimes not, you'll never know until it's already happened

[orykorioart]

Don’t make that face Raihan, I’m sure you’re at least a little bit charmed by it.

(Click for better quality bc I cant tell if the qualitys a little cooked bc of mobile 🥲)

+ Based on this Rai-sand I made some time ago lol

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned)~ Teaser #2: Bitten the Apple♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Teaser #2: Bitten the Apple Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

♱♱♱

You were the kindest, purest soul in Heaven. Even the Seraphim recognised your virtue, and adored you for it- more than any other angel. Your humility on the fact only made them love you even more.

Which is why your Fall from Grace shocked everyone more than any other Fall before.

♱♱♱

[Sneak Peek]

Why am I even here?

You were standing in a garden. A garden in Hell. A familiar building loomed before you. If you squinted hard enough, you could have almost spotted a broken window.

You didn’t know Hell had gardens- you’d expected it to be a barren wasteland, more or less, but the lush “greenery” (it didn’t look very green) seemed to be proving you wrong.

What you definitely didn’t expect at all, however, was the apple tree you were standing under.

The fruit seemed beautiful, ruby-red and delicious. You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then glanced at the sky, praying the the exterminators weren’t worried about you or looking for you. You looked back at the tree.

It had caught your attention from above. It seemed so- so out of place from the otherwise hellish landscape that you just had to take a look. You frowned, recalling Sera’s words.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

”But satisfaction brought it back.”

You shrieked and jumped a couple of feet in the air, feeling your wings burst out behind you as you whirled around. Lucifer crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell?” You hissed, nerves frayed.

“That’s what I should be asking you. Snooping around in my garden.” His eyes flicked to the tree. “Ogling at my apples- alright that- that sounds weird when I say it like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point is, you’re the one who’s out of place here. Couldn’t get enough of me the first time?

You hesitated. You’d never expect the King of Hell to fumble around with his words like that. Your muscles relaxed slightly. “That is far from the truth. The tree just… piqued my curiosity.”

You both stared at each other, silently. As if on cue, an apple fell off of a branch, straight into his outstretched hand.

“Have a taste, then.”

You stared at the shining red fruit in his hand, then looked at his golden eyes. His smile seemed surprisingly genuine.

“I…”

♱♱♱ A/N: Stay tuned!

Note: Posting Chapter One before the end of the week ! + didn’t know if I should include the taglist in this post since it’s just a snippet so I’ll just put it anyways

Taglist: @ica1, @boredlime, @tremendoushearttaco

Update: Chapter One out now! Here is the Masterlist.

[junkissed]

some quick updates !

first, i just turned in my last final so i'm officially on winter break woo!!!!! :D i have been DYING to start writing again and now that my responsibilities are out of the way i finally can :)) i can't make any promises how often i'll post because life is still busy in other ways, but i have more down time rn and i'm so excited to get back into writing <3

secondly!! if you've been following me for a while you'll know that i'm in a collab with my dear friend mars @onlymingyus called the king's gambit, and after a long break we've finally started working on it again!! it's by far my longest fic and i am so so excited to finish this collab that's been almost 2 years in the making. we are planning on making a new masterlist and taglist soon so please keep an eye out for that, and feel free to send asks if there's more you want to know! there is no release date yet as we're not finished writing but we appreciate your patience so much and i promise we are going to get it out soon!!

my wips (including tkg) are updated here :)

[libra-cant-just-dance]

Trying not to rant too much on here and be really dramatic but I’m so upset.

I know it’s ridiculous to get this upset over a silly little dancing game ship, but that’s not really the main issue for me. I’m more mad because I’ve been writing Wanderrose fics for over a year. I did the math, I have over 130k words written of just JD stuff. Is it ridiculous to have put that much time and effort into a silly little dancing game ship? Absolutely, I’m not gonna pretend otherwise, but the point is I did. And now because of one decision the team made, I’m basically gonna lose all that work.

If they actually confirm The Dad Situation, I have to leave Mirrored Walls unfinished. I’ll probably take all my stuff down too (partially cuz it feels weird to leave it up and partially cuz I just know some people on here are gonna tear me to shreds if I leave it up with a “written before the reveal” warning). I don’t usually get into fights online but I swear to god if someone tries to hit me with the “it’s just a ship” line I’m gonna lose it. Yeah it’s just a ship, I don’t really care about the ship. But I happen to have made the mistake of investing way too much time and energy into it and I can’t get that time and energy back. Plus I’m having to scrap a bunch of work that I’m actually kind of proud of.

Not saying this like it’s the JD team’s fault or anything. They have zero obligation to cater to this little corner of the internet that got super invested in a silly little dancing game ship. It’s their story and they can do whatever they want. I’m just really upset about it. This is the only fandom that’s somehow given me the motivation to write a bunch of fanfiction, so I’m pretty much losing a whole hobby along with it.

[voxofthevoid]

Teasers for this month's planned updates! They're 200–300 words each and also unedited. I'm also queuing this up while exceptionally sleepy, so if anything's mixed up, welp in advance.

Chapter 6/9 of everything burned, as promised

He turns around. Yuuji doesn’t flinch.

Satoru crosses the distance between them, slow enough that Yuuji has plenty of time to retreat. He doesn’t, of course. He doesn’t move at all, not even when Satoru comes to a stop within breathing distance of him. He does tilt his head up, meeting Satoru’s eyes through a few inches of heavy air and thick fabric.

Brave, beautiful fool.

Satoru curls a hand around his throat.

Yuuji still doesn’t flinch.

Under Satoru’s palm, there’s a soft, steady pulse. No fear, no arousal. Only a flesh mirror of the dead-eyed serenity on Yuuji’s face. Satoru tightens his grip, and Yuuji’s eyelids flutter slightly. It’s almost beatific.

Satoru considers it.

The finger is there, waiting, and Yuuji is here, also waiting. Maybe Satoru was also waiting—for this day, this date. There’s a seductive appeal to ending this on the twenty-fourth of December, a day that’s already witnessed so many endings and beginnings. It’d be poetic.

Satoru could confine all his grief to one single day.

Fingers brush the inside of his wrist, the touch unspeakably gentle. It grows bolder, firmer, but Yuuji doesn’t pull Satoru’s hand away from his throat. He only holds it, with a care that says he’s afraid Satoru might be the one to break.

He says, “It’s alright, Satoru.”

Satoru lets him go as if burned.

Chapter 3/7 of for granted, in vain, i took everything i ever cared about

He tugs his hand gently free from Yuuji’s grip, raising it to the boy’s face. His knuckles brush the edge of a jaw. His thumb finds a mouth—and the scar thickening the edge of it. 

“This,” Satoru says, “is new.”

Yuuji swallows thickly. “Yeah.”

Satoru’s hand easily spans the length of Yuuji’s face. Hot puffs of breath warm his palm, Yuuji’s breathing speeding up. Satoru’s fingertips curl into another line of scar tissue, cutting violently across Yuuji’s brow.

“Do they hurt?”

“No,” Yuuji whispers, lips brushing Satoru’s skin. “I don’t feel anything.”

Satoru slides his fingers into Yuuji’s hair; it’s as soft as ever but a little longer, filling his fist a little easier.

Yuuji makes a gutted noise.

“Say, Yuuji, are you angry at me?”

“Wh—” He can practically hear Yuuji try to compose himself. “No. No, why would I—”

 “For all the promises I couldn’t keep.”

“I don’t know—”

But he does. And Satoru can tell the moment Yuuji realizes it—a sharp exhale that shudders through the whole of him.

It wasn’t just his teen self that offered Yuuji safety. Satoru did it first.

He drags his nails along Yuuji’s scalp, down the back of his head, and grips the delicate flesh of his nape.

Yuuji bows his head.

“No,” he says. “That’d make me…one hell of a hypocrite. And just—no. I don’t hate you. I don’t want to hate you. I just wanted you back.”

Chapter 11/18 of (let me be clear) every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered

“Did you really bring me here for the curse?”

“Oh?” Gojou turns his head fully to face Yuuji, his eyes hidden under his sunglasses but the sharp arch of his eyebrow no less expressive. “And why else would I do it, you think?”

“This,” Yuuji mutters, gesturing widely at the ocean, the sands, the people, themselves.

Gojou’s smile grows teeth, as familiar as it’s haunting. “You’re sharp when I least expect it, you know.”

“Why?” Yuuji asks, and he’s not talking about Gojou’s dig at his perceptiveness.

“I figured I owed you an apology,” Gojou says, “and some uncomplicated fun.”

“This is a lot of trouble for just an apology,” Yuuji points out, tugging at his hair; the dye stains his fingertips, but he knows from his early-morning shower that there’s enough of it in his hair to keep up the disguise.

“You don’t expect much from me, do you, Yuuji?” Gojou asks, with a surprising lack of petulance or accusation. “Or do you just not expect much from life?”

“My expectations are fine,” Yuuji says stiffly. “Answer the question.”

“You didn’t ask one, technically,” Gojou says. “But fine. Call it sentiment. Some of the best times of my youth were spent on this beach.”

“Oh.” Yuuji stares out at the ocean—the deep-blue water and the burnt-orange sky. He looks at the people laughing in the water and sprawled in the sands, before his eyes return helplessly, inevitably to Gojou; he’s sitting hunched, arms loosely hugging his knees. Yuuji can see the knobby line of his spine pressing up into skin. “That sounds…nice.”

Chapter 3/24 (this is also part of the story) how the story changes

He starts with the scar on Yuuji’s left, tracing the underside of it with a single finger. It really does look so violent. And he doesn’t think it’s his imagination, the way Yuuji’s cursed energy seems to pulse in a frenzy at the almost-touch. Then Satoru does touch it, sweeping two fingers swiftly along the curve of it.

Yuuji makes a strangled noise.

Satoru cups the matching scar on Yuuji’s right side with his other hand, teasing the tissue with his palm. Yuuji’s reaction is a lot more restrained this time, probably because he braced for it, but his breath still shudders in the space between their bodies. Satoru tightens his grip, squeezing the scars the way Yuuji squeezed his pecs earlier.

“Satoru.” It’s a low, throaty growl—pretty sexy.

“Sensitive?” Satoru asks innocently.

Yuuji’s hand curves along his left hip, nails digging into skin. But that’s all he does.

“There are things in me,” Yuuji says very softly, “that want out.”

Satoru swallows, a pleasant burn. “Seems unhealthy. You should let them out.”

“You…really haven’t changed.”

“I resent that,” Satoru says. “I’ve matured and shit. I’m legal too, but I guess that doesn’t make much of a difference to you.”

“It’s the least of my sins,” Yuuji agrees placidly. “How long are you going to stay like this? Little Satoru seems neglected.”

“Little?”

Yuuji snorts, reaching for Satoru’s dick with his free hand. But like before, he doesn’t really touch it, only the pad of a finger tapping the wet slit. “Calm down. You’re proportional all over, we both know that.”

Chapter 4/7 of i can offer you a black-lit paradise

Itadori isn’t cleaning him up anymore; he’s just eating.

“Breathe, Megumi.”

Megumi breathes on instinct, and then he snarls, prying his hand off his mouth to try prying Gojou’s hands off his chest, except it doesn’t matter how roughly or meanly he tugs, they don’t budge. He rakes his nails over veiny knuckles and bulging forearms and even tries to lever the fingers off one by one, and all it does is make him feel like a child, grappling with beasts shaped like men.

The entire time, Itadori goes at his ass with a madman’s fervor—another kind of beast.

He’d eat you alive, Gojou said.

If Megumi let him.

Except Megumi is letting him, his lips sealed against any protest that might slip out, and what’s Itadori meant to think about his writhing and squirming when Megumi’s shoving back against his mouth half the time, like he’s eager for the tongue taking him pieces?

His hands clench on Gojou’s forearms, the angry scratches he left already fading.

Thumbs slide over his nipples, a humiliatingly absent motion.

“It feels very good, doesn’t it?” Gojou asks softly. Megumi doesn’t even worry Itadori will hear him, not when he seems to be trying to shove his entire face into Megumi’s ass. “Do you like his mouth?”

“Stop it,” Megumi grits out. “Just stop talking.”

“That’d be boring,” comes the answer, predictable and infuriating.

Chapter 4/5 of your resistance, prophetic self-destruction

Under his lips, Chōsō’s flesh is starting to knit back together. Yuuji licks at it, blood wetting his tongue, and Chōsō squirms on his cock, scrabbling at Yuuji’s shoulders as if that will give him any leverage. Yuuji bites deep into the healing flesh.

Chōsō gasps his name like a curse and a prayer.

“Well,” says a voice that is distinctly not Chōsō’s, “this isn’t what I was expecting.”

Yuuji freezes, but so does Chōsō, and that’s a bad idea given the position they’re in. His dick doesn’t care that Yuuji’s veins just iced over; the blood fattening it up is as hot as anything, as the blood still slicking his mouth.

He lifts his face from Chōsō’s mangled shoulder, staring over it at the dark room. The only illumination is the faint moonlight from the open window, but Yuuji’s eyes adjusted to the darkness long back. He can see all too well the figure slouching in the darkness by the door—the still-locked door, which sure as hell didn’t open and close without either Yuuji or Chōsō noticing it.

But when has a paltry door ever stopped Gojou Satoru? How many times did Yuuji wake in his dorm room to find a body looming over him, a mouth stifling his shout before it could rend the air and probably bring Fushiguro running?

“Gojou-sensei,” Yuuji chokes out. “What are you doing? Why are you here?”

[bellaxgiornata]

I'm contemplating sharing the series masterlist with its summary and banner for a short 3 part Matt series today. Just to give y'all a feel for it. I was waiting for it to be partly written before I shared anything!

Which is true of another series I'm working on for Matt that's a bit darker, but so far I'm just writing it for myself because I want a few parts done before I share too much. But I'm already dying to share the banner and summary for it so bad.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

third teaser for the final chapter of my itafushi fic and i've been tryin' not to feel it

[ivoryghostyy]

the villain fell in love...

you're the war hero of the empire

the common folk chatter about you in the bustling streets, and the bards sing of your adventures

nobles whisper behind their hands, free of the crimson blood and guilt that stains your own

you've won the war, but at what cost?

the lifeless eyes of your comrades still prick your skin. screams haunt your dreams, their bloody hands clawing into your scarred flesh

the empire sees you as a pawn. your title is a glorified cage, and the land you are gifted is far from a reward—the walls have eyes

so, pray tell, how did this sly genius find his way into your room?

…and if it takes another war to get you, well,

nothing compares to a rose stained with blood.

[merchantarthurn]

remind me later (like send an ask in like 5 hours, idk) to ramble at length about Ambessa and Mel in Season 2, in particular how much Act 2 has flipped how I was initially feeling about the Black Rose stuff from "oh! a good reason to have Mel and Ambessa and their relationship front and centre? this is exactly what i want" to "i hate this. i would say i hated this more than anything in this Act but regrettably the bar is pretty high given what happened with vi and jinx and ~warwick~"

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

how is your new fic going? I'm so pumped for it. I crave your fics tbh

Thank you! You are very sweet. My new fic is going alright! I'm 7k words into it and drarry haven't even interacted which means that once again I can't keep a story short to save my life lmao.

But I am excited for it! The premise is funny to me, and I get a chance to have a Harry and Neville brotp which is always a plus because I just love Neville.

[jimmytimmy-teen-pregnancy-au]

Chapter 20 teaser

...now, when she was ten, and she found out Dad and her Papa met back when they were kids. It shouldn’t have been such a shock to find out. It was objectively lame. But Dad never talked about Papa. The only thing she knew about him was he liked magic, and it wasn’t nearly enough to sate her curiosity. But asking Dad always made him sad and angry. She understood why, of course. She would hate it too, if she had a kid who killed her papa just by being born, and then had the audacity to ask her questions as if she deserved answers.

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Behind him, there is movement. The sharp, sudden clang of metal against metal. Lan Wangji glances briefly over his shoulder.

Perhaps predictably, Su She has decided to try and strike at his exposed back, like the dishonorable coward he is. A fool, as well, for having apparently forgotten the presence of the Ghost General despite insulting the man only a moment ago. The tip of Su She’s blade is trembling against one of Wen Ning’s chain-wrapped forearms, the trailing length of those chains pooling at his feet where they writhe like twisting like snakes, rearing to strike. Lan Wangji’s next breath brings with it the tang of resentful energy. He has already turned his attention back to the scroll.

There is more movement, though Lan Wangji doesn’t pay enough attention to discern what exactly may be happening. Wen Ning’s presence stays at his back, cool and steady as a fortress wall. “You!” Su She’s voice reaches an irritating pitch. “How dare you, you think even you have the right to look down on me?!” He makes a noise not unlike a wild boar before it charges. “You aren’t even human! I thought Lan Wangji was the most arrogant man I’d ever met, but you clearly outclass him there. You’re nothing but the Yiling Patriarch’s dog! Undead servant mutt!”

That, at last, gets Lan Wangji to pay more than a sparse fraction of attention. He has to peer around Wen Ning, who is still standing between them, a marble pillar separating Lan Wangji from Su Minshan. And, it would seem, the embarrassing clump of Moling Su and Lanling Jin cultivators slowly filling the cavern. “Dog?” Lan Wangji repeats, softly. Wen Ning does not visibly shift, but the black veins in his neck pulse, just once, ever so faintly. Resentment in the air smells like tar, sharp and thick.

Su She’s disciples pick up his call, loudly proclaiming the contemptible nature of the Ghost General, the Yiling Patriarch’s filthy, flea-ridden Wen-dog bitch, unfit to be even called a servant by way of his inhuman nature. Lan Wangji listens to very little of it. His eyes are on the part of Wen Ning’s face he can see from this angle, smooth and jade-pale as a porcelain mask, almost colorless in the low light if not for the yawning blackness of his eyes.

“You think he’s your dog, too?” Su She’s voice reaches a new and grating pitch, all inflated self-importance. “Hanguang-Jun, your arrogance knows no bounds! He’ll bite you the second his master has no use for you anymore. You’re not special, you’ve only fallen for the Yiling Patriarch’s tricks!”

Lan Wangji gives that statement exactly as much consideration as it deserves. Before Su She has even finished speaking, Lan Wangji is calling, softly, “Wen Ning?"

Wen Ning cocks his head to the side, bird-like, considering the embarrassment in front of him for a moment. Then he turns his face to Lan Wangji, looking at him with his big, dark eyes.

He answers: “Woof.”

Lan Wangji flicks a glance briefly at the advancing gaggle of cultivators. He and Wen Ning really are well and truly surrounded now. Then he turns back to the scroll, and once again lowers his charcoal to paper.

“Sick ‘em, boy,” he says. He does not raise his head again until the screaming has stopped.