#my ao3 bookmarks are filling up

[uhuraprime]

Does anyone else have any old fics they wrote like a decade ago that they're not super proud of but also deleting/orphaning them feels... wrong? It's like throwing away your childhood drawings. You might want to look back on it at some point, even if they're 'cringe' to you.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ reading between the lines

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read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Jason Todd loves nothing more than the sight of you with a book. The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk. He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.” pairing: jason todd x fem!reader warnings: smut tags/notes: oral sex (fem receiving), domestic fluff, jason might be ooc sorry, lets just pretend its a less traumatized version of him wc: 2k

You think Jason has a thing for you and books.

You mean together, of course. Jason Todd’s affinity for literature is well known, and so is his affection for you. But you can see the way his lips curl up when he sees you curled up on the couch reading, wrapped in his favorite blanket.

The soft glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the way Jason leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. He’s always been drawn to those quiet moments, watching you lose yourself in a world of words.

“Is that another tragic romance?” he teases, stepping further into the room. You glance up, catching his playful gaze.

“Not as tragic as your face.”

“Ouch,” he groans dramatically, clutching his chest. He falls onto you, plopping his full body weight and nearly crushing you. He buries his face in your neck and presses a chaste kiss there.

You huff and half-heartedly shove him away. “You’ll make me lose my place!”

“That’s why you should use those bookmarks I got you, honey.” He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Bookmarks are for amateurs, Jay.” You gesture to the stack of books on the coffee table, a mixture of dog-eared pages and hastily folded corners.

He grimaces at the sight. “I should break up with you.”

“Who would read to you, then?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Touché.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips and shifts so as to pull you into leaning on him. He wraps the blanket around both of you, plucking the book out of your hands in spite of your protests. “Can’t let you ruin this anymore. Lemme read to you, hm?”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “You can’t do it justice.”

“I’ve got the voice of a poet,” he retorts, arm wrapping around you. His voice is low, intimate and for your ears only. You move to rest on his chest so you can feel the way his chest rumbles as he speaks.

As he reads, you let your eyes drift shut, the sound of his voice becoming a soothing backdrop. Jason leans his down, pressing a light kiss on your head and effectively muffling his voice. Each word he reads intertwines with his heartbeat, spinning a cocoon of intimacy that cradles the both of you.

You notice the way he plops a bookmark on the page you were on just before you fall asleep.

“You’re killing me, honey,” Jason groans over the phone.

The smell of a home-cooked meal fills your apartment as you shoulder your phone. “Come home, then,” you chuckle.

“I swear I can smell it through the phone. Why’re you always cooking something good when I’m away, huh?”

You move to grab a pan. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be away so much.”

“Gotta do my job, honey,” he sighs. “To keep my beautiful girlfriend safe so she can continue to spoil me with her delicious cooking.”

You laugh, stirring the simmering sauce. “It’s just pasta, Jay.”

“Yeah, but it’s your pasta. That makes it gourmet.”

You can’t help but smile at his praise. “Dork. I’ll save you a plate. Just don’t take too long, or I might eat it all.”

“Don’t you dare!” His voice rises in mock horror. “I’ll be home soon, I promise. Just a couple more things to wrap up. You got dessert for me?”

You scoff playfully. “Pick it up yourself. I’ve got a book to finish.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, then his tone softens. “I’ll get you your favorite. Only the best for my girl.”

You exchange sweet goodbyes before hanging up, the warmth of Jason’s words lingers in the air, wrapping around you like the blanket he often claims. You focus on the pasta simmering on the stove, the fragrant aroma filling the kitchen. Your mind drifts to Jason, as it does a lot, and you can’t keep the stupid grin of your face as you finish cooking.

After plating the pasta, you set the table, stealing glances at the clock as you wait for him to come home. You flip through the book, and allow yourself to get lost in the words. The minutes stretch, the kitchen filled with nothing but your muttered words as you read. You’re just about to take a distracted bite of your food when there’s knocks on the door, the specific pattern Jason went over with you.

Jason steps in, Red Hood helmets already off and perched under his arm, a bag carried by his other. You perk up, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face. He steps in, shaking off the remnants of his day, and his eyes light up at the sight of the table set for two. “You’re making me fall in love with you all over again, you know that?”

You laugh, stepping forward to meet him in a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets back one you separate. He places the bag on the table, the logo of your favorite sweets brand greeting you. “As promised.”

“You spoil me,” you hum happily, parroting his earlier words. “Everything go okay?”

Jason nods, pulling out your chair for you before taking his own seat. He grabs his fork with an eager shine in his eye that makes you snort. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Jason, it’s that he loves to eat.

“Usual stuff.” He keeps it brief, for your sake. He doesn’t like you to hear about the stuff he deals with on patrol, once said, “pretty things like you shouldn’t worry about things like that.” Flattering, but it’s whatever.

“Dickhead mentioned this new bakery that opened up, though you might like it,” he mumbles, voice obscured by his chewing.

You smile. “Sure, let's make it a date.”

Jason goes on to mention little things about his day, and you do listen… at first. You love hearing Jason talk, and you love hearing about his day but… you also really wanna finish this book. It starts as subtle glances to the open pages. Then, it goes to skim reading while nodding along to his words. Now, you’re full on reading and have tuned him out. Whoops.

Jason pauses mid-sentence, a playful glint in his eye as he watches you. “Baby.”

“Hm?”

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, smirking.

You look up, feigning innocence. “Of course. You just mentioned the arcade you went to with Roy.”

He raises a brow and you know he doesn’t believe you. Damn detective skills. If he feels any type of way because of it he lets it go and continues talking. This time you do better to try and pay attention, but when he leaves to go to the bathroom your eyes wander right back onto the pages.

“You’re killing me again, honey.” Shit, he came back fast. To his credit he doesn’t look annoyed, just fond. Still, you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you groan, shutting the book and throwing it across the room. Miraculously, it lands on the couch.

Jason raises a brow. “Nice throw.”

“Jay,” you whine. He snorts and comes around you, laying a hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “It’s so good. You’ll love it when I finish.”

“I’m not mad, honey.” He leans down and presses a kiss against your forehead, whispering, “Besides, I think it’s hot.”

You blink, watching him sit back down as if he said nothing at all. Well, that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him about it.

You are one of the many people guilty of not knowing when to put down a good read.

In your defense, however, it’s not bedtime yet. Bedtime is whenever you and Jason are in bed, and he still has to shower. Until then, you’re content to let him take his time, as you’re completely taken by your book. The gentle hum of the water running in the background almost becomes white noise to the whirlwind of words in your head.

The book's tension builds, your fingers gripping the pages a little tighter as the protagonist faces a crucial moment. You barely register the sound of the water shutting off or Jason stepping out of the bathroom. He stands in the doorway, towel slung low around his waist, shaking his head with an amused smirk.

He slowly takes steps toward you, right up until his knees hit the mattress. He leans down, his arms coming to cage you. Finally, you really take notice of him. “Hi, Jay.”

“Hi, honey.” His eyes sparkle with amusement as he takes you in. He smooches your cheek before his hands come to grasp at your hips, pulling you to sit at the edge of the bed. You don’t break your focus from your book (if we’re being honest, you’re kind of used to it…)

He knees at your shared bed and spreads your legs. You don’t pay too much mind, even when the feeling of your underwear sliding down your legs sends a familiar shiver down your spine. It is only when a hot wet feel slides against your core that you’re snapped back into reality.

Your body reacts instinctively, squeezing your thighs around Jason’s head. “Jay!” you yelp.

He responds with a hum that sends a buzz through your body. His hands massage your skin as he kisses around your thighs. Your heartbeat picks up and your chest starts to heave. Your fingers tremble around the pages.

A hand leaves your pressure book to grip Jason’s hair. Your hips begin to rock against his face. Your breathing becomes more labored. His thumb begins to swirl your clit, stimulating you to your very core. The room around you fades away, leaving only the rising tension in your body. 

Jason's hands move up your thighs, his fingers digging gently into your skin as he holds you in place. His tongue darts in and out, teasing you with gentle licks and soft kisses. You moan, your head falling back against the bed as you give in to the pleasure.

Suddenly, the book slips from your fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You don't even notice, too caught up in the sensations coursing through your body. Jason’s hands pull you impossibly closer, caught up in your pleasure.

"Jason," you moan, voice laced with desire.

It seems that your voice sets him off, because his tongue starts moving faster along with his fingers to bring you to your peak. Your body trembles, and your hips rock against his face, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you. Your toes curl, back arching against the bed as your moans get louder and louder.

White fills your vision, mouth falling open as a final whine leaves your lips. You take deep breaths as you come down from your high, thighs twitching. Jason’s eyes meet yours, slowly rising from his knees to meet you. His lips brush against yours in a gentle manner. You feel yourself melt once again, your body aligning itself with him.

“Good?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Good,” you affirm, breathing him in.

“Good,” he nods, breaking away from the kiss, before meeting you back for more. You smile against him as the two of you exchange chaste kisses. Your legs fall open to welcome him closer. You whimper at the feel of his bulge against you.

“Jay,” you moan, grinding against him.

You feel his smirk. “Yeah?”

“Please…” He’s only wearing a towel, all you have to do is hook a finger around it and pull…

You’ve never felt such disappointment like when he pulls away from you, tightening the towel. He bends down, picking up your forgotten book, and strolling out of the room.

“Wh- Jay!”

“You said I’d like it, might as well start now. Who knows when you’ll put this thing down again,” he calls from the hallway.

“Jason!”

“This is payback!”

notes: kinda hate this but what can ya do 🔥

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

okay so full transparency: i've never really read much fic. i don't have a ton of free time set aside for creative/recreational purposes and the time i do have, i use to write because that just fills me up a lot more. however, i made a commitment to consume more fan-created work in 2024 and i succeeded in that!!! there were still periods where i wasn't able to read much, which has lead to an ever-growing tbr, but i wanted to take a moment at the beginning of this new year to share a hodge-podge of some (completed) fics that wow'ed me this year. a great deal of these are several years old and likely 'old news,' but i got to experience their magic for the first time in 2024 and want to spend some time showing them some love!!! in no particular order:

in losing grip by @keep--driving - 2024 was the year of me learning to love a good second chances au. this fic has all the trope-y goodness you could ever want, along with toe-curling kiss scenes, the perfect kind of humour that makes you squeal into your pillow or porridge or wherever you find yourself, and characters that you just love and root for so easily. i especially loved her take on james and lily's mums and the ways they navigate the world with and beside their children. i read a large chunk of this fic on my kindle as i pushed a stroller this autumn and i will forever associate it with peace and calmness. i'll be re-reading it soon!!!

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by lizardcookie - enter: the other trope i fell in love with in 2024—failed friends with benefits. the way this fic deals with grief in such a poignant, devastating, incredible way had my jaw on the floor. yes there is sexy jily, but there is also giggly jily and insecure jily and scared jily and earnest jily and oh mannnn this is the good ish. the small detail of lily coming around to sirius and james both through her help with the flying motorbike. i love the minute breakdown of lily's thick walls until they come tumbling down and james is right there, waiting, as he always is, patient and Good.

i would drink a case of you, darling by treacherous_talks - one of the tags on this fic is "a good old fashioned 'lily and james get together fic' because there aren't enough of them" so obviously i was in from the jump. this magical fic does such an excellent job at highlighting exactly what it means to be a teenager with a crush on another teenager who you think has a crush on you but you're not completely sure and so you can't ruin it because what if you're wrong. that is such a jily sweet spot i don't often see done as well as it is in this fic!!!

poison of trust by soopsiedaisies - not a jily fic! gasp! in fact, it's remus and sirius (not wolfstar) who are actually not usually as compelling a relationship as some of the other marauder era possibilities. but this fic made me eat my words because it is delicious. the part that i literally included in my ao3 bookmark and that i think about all the time is when remus tries to accuse sirius of equating harry and james and sirius says, oooooh i have chills thinking about it, "i dare you to finish that sentence." YES guarddog sirius black! his position as sole protector of the potter family will never not be important to me and this fic highlights that in such a unique and compelling way.

bad day wall by @apalapucian - there's nothing i could say about this incredible fic that hasn't been said, and recently, but truly—jayne is such a phenomenal wordsmith. this has a dash of 'texting fic,' but make it canon compliant and so beautiful it makes you wanna diiiiiie. the blackevans is unmatched, of course. but james's head-over-heels-ness for lily also has to be mentioned. i love every single one of his batty contributions to the bad day wall as he mopes and wades through all the chaos of trying (and failing) to get over lily evans.

The Guide to Becoming a Better Man for Lily Evans by bronzeagepizzeria - the shirtless james potter agenda is quite special to me, which needs to be stated right out the gate, really. the shirtless james potter who is shirtless on purpose just to get under his dream girl's skin agenda is an ascension i have yet to come back down from.

Of Chrysalism by @maraudersftw - i shall give you this, line, dangling on a stick as a perfectly buttered and garlic'ed (??) carrot, enticing you to cast your cares aside and come read this fic: "He’s spoilt, and persistent, and endearing, and she’s hopeless." like??????? yeah. okay. sure. i'll pretend that i'm capable of returning from that in this lifetime. but actually: james "my feelings matter, too" potter is so important and i love the agency this fic gives him!!!

Scenes from a Hogsmeade Pub by @bcdaily - i think i read this years ago. perhaps. idk i was basically a baby when it was published in 2012. but i recently stumbled upon it (again? maybe?) and just absolutely devoured it. this is quintessential jily to me, in each iteration, as they grow and learn each other and finally, finally, finally choose each other. each of these scenes is so carefully crafted to showcase really important moments in their relationship, but does it using really unimportant moments, which is genius. it's the grand fromage of showing, not telling, and this would absolutely be the first week assigned reading on my syllabus if i got to live out my dream as a professor on jily.

say goodbye to my heart tonight by spinawren - my bookmark for this was literally just "SQUEEEEEEE" and i don't exactly know what i meant by that, but i think it's more eloquent than anything i could come up with here. the premise of this fic is genius: james and lily repeatedly having 'one-night stands' with each other until they realise they've accidentally started dating. but james potter's devotion to being in lily evans' presence is what makes this fic belong on the top shelf!

Bluebird by ocean_away - whewwww, this fic knocked me back in a way i didn't expect. it's a second chances fic of a different calibre all around, but what stands out to me the most in this particular fic is the way james and lily are both shown to so seamlessly grow. they begin as two broken, purposefully hurtful individuals (read: teenagers) and become young adults who choose goodness and each other over and over, even though it's not easy. i feel proud of them, when i read this fic. what a labour of love for our favourite couple.

The Way the Light Looks by @stonecoldhedwig - i have nothing more to say about this fic than this: BEST KISS SCENE I HAVE EVER AND WILL EVER READ!!!!!!!!!!!

Whispers in the Dark by @yallthemwitches - okayyyy so it's difficult to choose just one of tay's fics, but this is such a stand-out to me. friends to lovers!!!! james "but i've never lied to you" potter, i want to kiss you on the MOUTH! he's so earnest, so pure, so "no actually i just wanted to see you" when he has no business being such a sweetheart. honourable mention: the beyond-precious proposal scene at the end.

Love is Complicated by @theesteemedladydebourgh - this fic feels like sitting in the most beautiful library in the world watching rain trail down the ornate, darkened windows—and then the hottest professor on earth walks up to you and snogs you without preamble. except it's made better by the fact that he is somehow both james potter and an indiana jones variant? listen. just read it. then squeal and kick your feet with me, okay?

Sunshine in my Eyes by monroeslittle - another fic i devoured on my kindle this year (but definitely not during standardised testing at school when i was supposed to be actively monitoring teenagers for academic integrity and technically signed an oath that i locked all my electronics in the closet). ahem. this is some of the most rewarding angst i have ever read, which is genuinely some of the highest praise i could ever bestow on someone. lily going to james for lessons on how to kiss and the entire scene that follows will follow me forever. they're so endearing and sweet and did not deserve all they went through. but. angst with a happy ending xx

[tamayula-hl]

Recently, I’ve been feeling a strong urge to write fanfiction, but as a Japanese person, I can’t help but feel the immense barriers of language and cultural differences standing in my way.

I’ve always loved writing fanfiction and have more experience as a writer than as an artist. But I don’t know any English at all. The Japanese short story collection about Seb and Omi that I posted on AO3 over a year ago still has zero bookmarks (which isn’t surprising 😂). In other words, as someone who can only write in Japanese, my value as a writer in this fandom is practically zero. I have so many stories I want to tell, but since I can’t speak English, I can’t even stand at the starting line 🤣🤣🤣. Even if I started studying English intensively now, it would probably take years before I could write stories in English on my own 🤣.

On top of that, I only have a Japanese perspective shaped by Japanese values and ways of thinking. For someone like me, it’s impossible to depict Western characters’ personalities, thoughts, and actions without them feeling off. The more I read fanfiction written by Western authors in this fandom, the more I realize how significantly values and ways of thinking differ between Japan and the West. I notice these differences so often that I’m genuinely shocked. With art or comics, I can at least visually mask these cultural discrepancies to some extent, but with novels, where detailed psychological descriptions are key, there’s no way to gloss over these differences.

Foolishly, I’ve been thinking about translating my stories using ChatGPT, just as I do with comic dialogues. But even with AI tools, translation takes an enormous amount of time. And more importantly, translating between Japanese and English is incredibly difficult—no matter how advanced modern tools like DeepL or ChatGPT are, they can’t produce truly accurate translations. This fandom is already filled with amazing, beautifully written stories in natural English. So who would ever want to read a poorly translated story in unnatural English produced by tools like ChatGPT or DeepL? 🤣🤣🤣

With art or comics, I know that I can improve with practice. But when it comes to mastering English and capturing the nuances of cultural values, no matter how hard I try, I will always fall short compared to Western creators. I recently became painfully aware of this reality, and now I feel so sad and empty. Even so, I can’t suppress this foolish urge to write stories. Someone, please give me the final push to give up on writing fiction 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣.

(I couldn’t find the right term, so I used the word “Western” in this text. But I do understand that there are many people in the West who aren’t fluent in English, and that cultural values differ greatly from country to country.) (And to all the non-native English writers who work hard and create amazing stories, I have the utmost respect for you.)

[eddiediaaz]

You answered an anon about 911 fics and you finished saying that could recommend more! I’m new in the fandom and taking all the recommendations so if you want to give more, my ao3 and I are ready ☺️☺️☺️☺️

omg alright!! let me go through more of my bookmarks then hehe

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

what a heart can do by bvckandeddie

dead reckoning by euadnes

takin my time verse by archerincombat

would you lie with me and just forget the world by colonoscopys

a spell on you (because you’re mine) by starkvandyne, tawaifeddiediaz

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin

how you lean on my shoulder (how i see myself with you) by withoutthetiger

Traded by Princessfbi

i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling by calvingseason

i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by Aficatyourfingertips, brewrosemilk

the persistence of memory by withmeornotatall

stupid people. by brewrosemilk

dirty symphony by tawaifeddiediaz

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars

Smoke and Ashes Brushed Off with Ink by Princessfbi

take me to the lakes by archerincombat

let's hear it for the boy by hattalove

Wait for me there by kitkatpancakestack

Ever After by ElvenSorceress

Frequent Flyer by whileyouresleeping

burn the straw house down by rarakiplin

maybe i’ll be brave enough by then by trippedandfell

Love Leaves A Memory by LeandraLocke

never felt this way before (yes i swear) by withoutthetiger

listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee

at the right time by elisela

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane

Lifelines by hetrez

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Leveling Up by lamardeuse

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars

Agua Dulce and Other Sweet Things by TazzySnow

Gravity by rowan_wood

I'm cold but you light the fire within me by Beulaugh

if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics

you fill my head with you by Underhung_Aura

okay i think this is quite enough lmao, but if you do need more after all of these and the previous ones, let me know (because yes i do have more and more bookmarks lol)!! you can also check my #fanfic tag 😁 it's mostly buddie in there!

[glossdebut]

All time favorite Yoongi fics?

AHHHHH this is such a hard question! i've read SO many yoongi fics! my personal ao3 account has 100+ bookmarks for him and that's not even including fics from writers that are tumblr-exclusive... but i'll try!

trip no further was one of the first yoongi x reader fics i ever read. i've read it over and over since because it's just SO fucking beautifully written. 100% i would not be writing fics on this website if it weren't for trip no further. it found me at the perfect time and sucked me right back in to bangtan world. if any of you know matchy, i am supremely jealous because they seriously are a master at the craft.

by the time i’ve figured out what it’s worth by @ugh-yoongi!! oh my god. i don't think i could properly put into words what this fic means to me. yet another fic that lives in my brain rent free because FUCK it is so gut-wrenchingly beautiful. i'm not quick to cry but i cried reading this one. 10/10 will never listen to transatlanticism without thinking of this fic again.

countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona. everything that cheryl writes leaves me breathless, but i have a particular soft spot for this one. i love a fic where the MC's personal journey is just as important as the romance, and i read this fic when i was feeling a bit tetherless myself. it definitely made an impact. i said so when i reblogged it a few weeks ago, but this yoongi feels so real. i'm not entirely convinced cheryl doesn't know him personally.

three tangerines by @kithtaehyung... FUCK, i have no words. ryen is so insanely talented and so incredibly deserving of the audience this fic has garnered since its conception. 3tan yoongi lives in my brain rent free. i've felt the entire range of human emotions reading (and re-reading) 3tan, and i'm so excited to see how ryen wraps up the main storyline this year. it's going to be bittersweet, but there's no doubt in my mind that she's going to do an amazing job with it.

the second time by @kkaetnipjeon! first fic i ever read from MJ long ago, and i think about it CONSTANTLY! the way MJ writes yoongi makes me feel a little bit insane because you know what, he WOULD confess the way he does in this fic (no spoilers) and i kind of hate him for that. but also when will it be my turn? (honorable ment. to this drabble MJ wrote so kindly for me because i have super speed/notifications on for her, because it makes me feel similarly crazy)

the pink pill | myg version by @dollfaceksj. clover knows this, but i start to froth at the mouth any time she posts ANYTHING because i'm insane and obsessed with the way she writes. pink pill yoongi... when i catch you... this fic is SO hot, with that angst element that is so classically clover. i don't think i will EVER recover.

there are SO many more (seriously i've read a lot of yoongi fics) but these are the ones that immediately came to mind! i also have a tag of my all time favorites, which i'm slowly filling up with fics i've had stashed on ao3/my old rec sideblog.

[altruistic-meme]

skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

~

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

~

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

~

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

~

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

~

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

~

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

~

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

~

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

~

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

~

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

~

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

~

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

~

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

~

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

~

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

~

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

~

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

~

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

~

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets. 

~

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

~

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

~

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

~

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

~

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

~

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

~

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter...  Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

~

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

~

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 9

Part 8 / AO3 Link

Eddie felt like he blacked out. One moment he was on stage, playing his heart out, the next, Steve was leading him by the hand back to his car. Eddie had come to the venue with one of his bandmates, instruments in the back. When they got to Steve’s car, the keys were put in his hand.

“Your place”, Steve said, going around to the passenger side.

Eddie nodded hurriedly and in a rush of movements, they were off. He worried for a split second about the state of his apartment but those thoughts were pushed out when he felt Steve’s hand on his thigh. In the close space of the car, Eddie could smell him so deeply. He took a deep breath. 

“You looked great up there”, Steve said. “Have you been playing long?”

“Since I was a kid”, Eddie answered, wishing with all his might that they could get a red light just so he could look at Steve at least once. It had been only a few minutes but even that was too long. “My mom put a guitar in my hand and it was like…nothing was ever the same.”

“A natural.” Steve started to stroke his thigh. 

They came to an apartment complex and Eddie led the way up to the third floor. They got to his place and he paused as he unlocked the door. He turned to Steve with a sheepish expression.

“Gimme just one minute.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Eddie, I live with a child. A little untidiness isn’t going to turn me off.”

“I’d rather not welcome comparisons to a kid”, Eddie said.

“Fair enough. Go on, go and spruce it up before I see.”

Eddie thanked him and then went inside. Steve could hear movement from behind the door and after about a minute, Eddie opened it again. Steve took everything in and looked around. It had the makings of the usual bachelor pad, everything here was clearly Eddie’s. All meant for a single alpha. He smiled when he saw the teacher manuals, bookmarks sticking out from the lesson he’d left off at. 

Part of him wanted to explore some more, see all the little pieces of Eddie that could be found. But then there was a warmth against his back and a nose at his neck. Eddie’s arms snaked around his waist.

“I’d love to give you the grand tour. Starting with the bedroom~”

“I bet you say that to all the groupies.”

“You’re the only one hot enough to make it this far”, Eddie said, turning Steve in his arms. “And you didn’t even have to throw me your panties.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you don’t even want them tossed to you”, Steve teased. “And after all the trouble I went through…”

“‘Trouble’?”, Eddie perked at that.

“Lead the way.”

Eddie released Steve, holding his hand only to take him to his bedroom. Steve closed the door behind them and then pushed Eddie onto the bed. Eddie leaned back on his elbows to watch Steve make a show of removing his jacket and shirt. Then he unbuttoned his pants and Eddie saw a sneak peek of what was to come. Steve licked his lips as he watched the alpha’s eyes darken and the scent of arousal began to fill the room.

Steve took off everything else, leaving only the black thong. The darkness of the fabric meant that Eddie couldn’t see the wet patch between his legs. But the way his nostrils flared, he could probably smell it. Steve walked closer and Eddie sat up, his hands moving reverently like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

Taking the initiative, Steve brought Eddie’s hands to his hips. Eddie licked his lips as his eyes traveled up and down the other man’s body, lingering on what must be a sopping wet cunt. He swallowed thickly. 

“When was the last time someone ate you out baby?”

“Well-”, Steve was saved from answering by Eddie diving face first, mouthing at his crotch like a man starved. His knees buckled and one hand went to Eddie’s shoulder while the other went to the back of his head, cradling it there. 

Eddie had been able to smell his wetness. Now he could actually feel and taste it. And it was so. Fucking. Good. He lifted one of Steve’s legs over his shoulders to spread him even more, still licking the fabric and sucking him through it. Eddie felt the leg by his ear tremble and he looked up. The purr that left his body, seeing Steve enraptured because of him, it must’ve traveled from his throat to his lips because Steve let out a purr of his own.

Steve felt Eddie pulled off and nearly let out a whine when he found himself on the bed. His legs must’ve been weaker than he’d thought if he was able to be moved like that. Eddie kissed him sweetly and then kissed down his neck, to his chest. 

“How the hell do you still have so many clothes?”, Steve breathed out.

“Natural talent”, Eddie winked. But he was beginning to overheat, so he paused to started undressing himself. He moved just a tad slower when he realized Steve’s hand was between his legs, stroking himself. 

“Careful Mr. Harrington. I might need to start charging you for the show.”

Steve snickered. “Please do not call me ‘Mr. Harrington’. Makes me think of my students.”

“Alright”, Eddie stripped off the last bit of clothing. “How’s about baby?” He kissed Steve’s ankle. “Or sweetheart?” He kissed his calf. “Angel face?” He gave one of Steve’s thighs a soft bite.

“Yes.”

Eddie peeled off the thong, duty completed and watched a string of slick try to stay attached. It was soaked from them both and Eddie was fighting the urge to stuff his face in it and he wondered how attached Steve was to this particular piece of underwear.

“I can tell you wanna lick it”, Steve said. “But wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?” He used his fingers to spread himself and a thick drop of pre cum dripped from Eddie’s cock. 

Permission given, Eddie dove in, his hips rutting against the bed as he ate Steve out. It was so soft and warm, he felt like he could get lost in it. All Steve saw was a mop of dark curls between his legs but he could feel everything Eddie was doing and it made him see stars. He felt something else prod him and when he looked down, Eddie was gazing up at him, asking with his eyes while his lips were wrapped around his clit.

Steve nodded and then he felt a finger push inside. Eddie treated him gentle, which Steve appreciated. He’d done his best to prep for the night, knowing what he wanted. But the fact that Eddie was taking his time, was enjoying the scenic route. Whenever his mouth left his pussy it was to lick his thighs, to kiss his hips, even to nuzzle his bush like every part of him was worth savoring.

During all this, he spread Steve open, bringing him to the brink before pulling back. Steve wanted to be frustrated but he liked going the long way. No rush, no fuss. He was more than happy to cum on Eddie’s cock. If it was like this now…he could only imagine during a heat or a rut.

Steve was lost in the thought as Eddie pulled his fingers out and reached for a condom. Steve sat up a little and held a hand out.

“Let me.”

When Eddie handed it to him, Steve took his time too. He got up on his knees and scented Eddie’s neck. That aroma was no longer just safety when he was on the brink of rejection sickness. It was a deep fondness, a strong attraction, and the utmost trust. Steve licked his throat and collarbone while looking down and placing the condom onto him. Even just the feather light touches were almost too much for him and he sucked in a breath.

“You don’t know what you do to me, sweetness”, he said as he laid kisses on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve used his fingertip to play with Eddie’s tip. “I think I have an idea.”

Eddie pushed him back down and lined himself up. He waited for Steve’s nod and then began to push inside. Steve waited until he was fully inside and then wrapped both his arms and legs around him.

“Feels so good, you’re so deep, fuck.”

Eddie growled in his ear as he started to move. Steve smelled so delicious. Eddie’s nose was pressed into his neck, fighting the urge to bite, to claim him, to make Steve his own. Steve wasn’t helping things by actually baring it to him, back arching as they pushed and pulled into each other. Everything about Steve was telling him to do it, to seal the deal.

Everything but Steve’s own words.

So Eddie stayed his teeth. But he was going to make sure that before the night was through that Steve would be carrying his scent home with him.

Steve was no nun, there had been partners after Billy, here and there, and of course, he had his own heats to deal with. But nothing could have prepared him for the way his orgasm crashed over him when Eddie thrusted just right. He scratched down his back (he’d apologize later) as his cunt squeezed down, trying to take his knot and milk it for everything.

He was still riding the wave when he felt that knot finally come inside and Eddie bit down on his shoulder as he came. For a few moments, all they did was breathe together. Eddie brushed the sweaty hairs away from Steve’s forehead and kissed it. Words lingered on his lips. Words that felt too heavy to say. So for now, he would let his body do the talking.

There was a split second where Eddie thought of everything the words might entail - changing his address, being a sudden parent to a six year old and all that it required, Steve learning about him and vice versa. It all sounded too good to be true. Definitely not the kind of pillow talk after having sex for the first time. So all he said was:

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pop it in like that”, he said, moving them to their sides.

“It’s fine. Not like I’m going anywhere soon. Hope you weren’t expecting to kick me outta bed.”

“Honey, it’s all yours. I’ll give you the deed and everything.”

“Actually, did you know that until the 50’s there was something called ‘common scent law’ that-no wait, nevermind”, Steve covered his face with his hand. 

Eddie knew that look. The ‘I had to learn something to teach my students and now I have an abundance of knowledge on this obscure subject’. He pushed a lock of Steve’s hair behind his ear and then kissed the hand that was hiding his face.

“We’re gonna be here a while, sweetness. Go ahead and tell me about now defunct laws.”

The way Steve melted, Eddie wished he could bottle it up and keep it forever.

Part 10 coming soon

Tags

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

[sesshy380]

got any fics or authors you can recommend? :3

Oh wow, it's been a while since I've gotten one of these. I am ashamed to admit that I've been in a real slump this year as far as reading fic goes (same with writing). That being said, I still have a lot of oldies but goodies, as well as a few additions.

(Please forgive me, but I am going to be copy/pasting a few of these from a similar question back in 2023)

It should go without saying, but READ THE TAGS. I tend to like stuff that pushes the boundaries.

Going to start with authors

BladeofM - Also known as @micheladee, is the author of one of my faves, Eldritch Encounter. Not only did this fic introduce me to the indescribable awesomeness that is @andr0nap's art, but I fell in love with BladeofM's writing style. All I need to see is the name and I know it'll be good.

QueenBastet - Sadly, we lost this amazing author this year. She will always be on my rec list. She really had a way with writing the Puzzle boys that I absolutely loved.

Resuri - If you didn't know, I a huge fan of @resuri-art lol. It doesn't matter if it's art or fics...I love it all!

atlas_x - If you like smut, look no further than Atlas lol. I am addicted to their smutfics. Infected is a zombie apocolypse au, less on the smut side, and only a few chapters, but still worth looking at.

Next up is fics.

The Cornered Collection by YadonushiRyou aka @millenniumringg. This AU has an alternative 'bad' ending that ripped my heart out and made me cry...and that's my favorite ending for some reason. If you love your fics in the same genre that Ryou loves his movies, then this is for you.

Role Play AU by @ninjam117. I have always loved fantasy, and this AU hits the spot. Filled with everything a fantasy fic needs: Magic, a Unicorn, battles filled with action, romance/smut, you name it.

The Last Puzzle - by @tenderwulf. I originally binged this over on FFN, and was so inspired that I took the leap and began writing my own longfic. If you've read 'Homecoming' by Fiver over on FFN, you'll love The Last Puzzle.

Philosophy of a Knife by @crush3dmary. Sair's writing style is so poetic. I am very behind on this one, but once I get out of my 'wanting to read' slump, I am going to binge this angst poetry of toxicity.

Kill Shot by @apathetic-theme-song (MMMOTH on AO3)- Another AU that I absolutely love. I am such a fan of immortality and magic in a modern setting. And of course, there's smut. Gotta have that smut in there.

Chained to You by @saijspellhart. A post-season Zero setting where Yugi never learned about the Spirit of the Puzzle. This is another of those longfics that I originally binged over on FFN, and now have bookmarked on AO3.

above all shadows the rides the Sun is a series by lossen on AO3. If you want to see someone put Atem through a meatgrinder the way I do with TKB, definitely worth the read.

The Sunrise is Gone is another fic by lossen. I've been lucky enough to get sneak peeks of some of the coming chapters, and all I can say is I am foaming at the mouth to see how it all comes together. This is a Puzzle boys me-flavored angst fic.

Ok, you can't ask for fic recs without me throwing in a few self-recs.

Our Scars remind Us that the Past was Real . Imagine waking up, and everyone is trying to convince you that the things you 'remember’ never happened, and that those 'memories’ exist only in YOUR head. The Thief King doesn’t have to imagine…because that’s exactly what happened.

An unhealthy Obsession . Set post-DSOD. Explores the toxic side of Tendershipping.

Returned. Gemshipping sick fic sprinkled with bits of me-flavored angst and sarcastic humor.

[tommyshelby87]

Empy shelves and promises - Chapter 1

Hi everyone! I am slowly going to post the chapters I am writing for my Peaky Blinders fic, since I'm way too excited to wait until I am completely done. When I first started this blog, I posted a snippet and asked who wanted to be on the taglist. A lot of wonderful people responded and those are the people that I'm tagging right now. Do let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Title: Empy shelves and promises

Chapter 1: A union arranged. Ao3 link

Summary: Evelyn Carnahan, the daughter of Howard Carnahan is set up the marry the infamous Tommy Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Howard is in debt with the Peaky Blinders and in payment, Tommy insist on a marriage with Evie. Can the bookish young librarian hold her own against his dark and commanding personality?

Warnings: DarkTommy, arranged marriage, loss, angst, grief, dark themes and serious subjects, will post appropriate warnings with each chapter.

“So. Evelyn. Are you any good with children?” Thomas Shelby asked in a gruff manner, his low voice rumbling as he eyed the woman across from him up and down. His blue eyes took in every little detail, as if she were prey in his grasp. “I have a son, Charlie. He's five.”

Evelyn stared back at him wide-eyed, her hands neatly folded on her long beige skirt. Her simple white striped blouse formed a strong contrast to the wealth around her, especially emphasized by the plain black scarf that decorated her neck. A small pair of black glasses was high up on her nose, but occasionally slid down, revealing her light-brown eyes. Her brown curls were done up in a practical bun, a few loose curls framing her face. All in all she looked far too sweet and conservative to even be in this well-off mansion, with the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas took out a cigarette, raising a bored brow at this mousy little creature. “I don't really have a lot of experience. Besides that of my work,” Evie hesitantly stated. “And you may call me Evie for short, all my friends do,” she added, warmly. He raises a brow and chuckles some, sending her a rather arrogant gaze. “Your work? Well then, do enlighten me..Evelyn” he asked, his tone laced with venom. It was clear sign that he wasn't going to consider her a friend. He lit his cigarette and inhaled. “What do you do for work?” Evie was taken aback by his cold demeanour, even while she did her best to be pleasant. She noticed how he refused to call her 'Evie', but insisted on using her full name. But she swallowed hard and tried to explain her predicament, in a shaky voice. “I work as a librarian, you see, and I read to a group of children on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” she stated. Thomas blew a puff of smoke in her direction, staring her down intently. “You don't work as my wife.” “Well, you see, I've had this job for so long, I love doing it, so I do not wish to give it up.” “You don't work. As my wife,” he repeated, gesturing at her with the cigarette bud between his fingers. When she opened her mouth to protest again, he blew another cloud of smoke her way, smirking lightly. Evelyn gasped at the rude gesture and got up from her seat. “What did you do that for? It's disgusting. And yes, I will keep my job, thank you!” “Sit down.” Evelyn stared at him in disbelief, no idea what this rude man was ordering her around for.

- Three weeks earlier -

Evie was reading her favourite novel Treasure Island with a smile, after a day of hard work. The story filled with pirates, treasure and adventure never failed to cheer her up. As she got to her favourite part, her heart began to hurt a little. Ever since Jonathan... A knock on her door disturbed her thoughts and her reading. She placed the bookmark between the pages carefully and put it aside, before opening her door to see who was visiting her. “Father!” she said, sounding happily surprised but wary at the same time.

Howard Carnahan took off his hat and cleared his throat. “Evelyn, we need to talk,” he stated and entered her home. Evie frowned, her father only called her by her full name when he was very serious about things. “I'll put the kettle on,” she stated softly and did so. Her father cleared his throat again. “You eh...you know that I am in debt, don't you?” She nodded. How could she not know? He had been asking her and other family members for money left and right, because of his gambling and drinking. “And you know that...that..” Evie made some tea and put a mug in front of him, stepping back to her kitchen counter to sip from her own. The fact that she didn’t sit down with her father betrayed the distance between them. “Things have been hard since...since...your mother passed and...” “Yes, I know,” she said sadly. She still remembered that awful time and the events leading up to her mothers death. She shuddered as she thought of it. “I thought moving from London to Birmingham after that would solve things..that we could start anew here.” Evie nodded.

“But I miss your mother so much and..I know I've lost myself in my vices.”

A silence fell between them. A tear ran down her cheek. They had too much grief between them, it swallowed every bit of love and affection between the two and only left distance in its wake. “I've been getting myself in trouble, Evie...and you have to help me.” Howard finally admitted and Evie rose a brow, taking a gulp of her warm tea. “There is this gang of mobsters here, ruling the streets of Birmingham, as you know..” Evie nodded, having heard of them. “The Peaky Blinders, I know. You warned me to stay away from them.” Howard nodded. “The thing is, my debt is to them. I've been wasting money at the races, at their games, for their drink...and now they threaten to harm me.” “Harm you?” Evie said in disbelief as she sat down at the table across from her father. It was the closest they had been in months. “I cannot pay them off, I've not been able to find a job here. The museum here has a curator already and I havent had much luck in other positions.” Evie stayed quiet, not mentioning the fact that her fathers drinking habits were most likely what was preventing him to find and keep a job. “Do you remember we attended that fundraiser last week?” Evie nodded, she remembered. Her father still tried to pretend they were the same well-off family they once were so he attended the high society events as much as possible, as not to tarnish their reputation. “The leader of that Peaky Blinders was there as well. He was looking for me, to try and get me to pay off his debt. Apparently he saw you and...” Evie was shifting in her seat uneasy, afraid that she was in danger.

“He wants your hand. He has offered to forgive my debt and even pay me money, as long as you will marry him.”

Evie's jaw dropped and she got up, backing away from the table again. “You..you gave me to a hoodlum?!” she asked in disbelief. “Evelyn...this would solve all of our problems!” The woman scoffed. “It would solve -your- problems,” she said, shaking her head. Howard looked at her in disbelief. “Is that how you treat your father? I have put you through three studies, always working hard so you could attend university. This is how you repay me? Stop being selfish, girl! This would save me!” Evie looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. “Father I don’t want to get married, you have to understand! That is not the life for me! You're expecting me to give up all the dreams I ever had !”

Howard shook his head. “Its not about what you want anymore, Evelyn. Its about what’s good for the family. You wont turn your back on your family, now would you?” “So he saw me and decided to marry me? I don’t believe that for a single second!” “His wife passed away last year, he said. He has a son and he needs a mother for the boy. He wants to marry again so the boy will be cared for and he doesn’t have to waste time to find a wife,” her father explained. Evie rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Well, isn't that just perfectly charming. Help me, my knees are weak!” “Your life is not a book, girl! Stop living in this ridiculous stories you love so much and come back down to earth!” Howard said sternly. Evie teared up at his harsh words. All of her life everyone had always told her to stop living in her stories. But that is where she felt safe and warm, how could she turn her back on her books? “You will marry him and save your family from ruin and that is final!” She sighed, shaking her head, still not fully comprehending this while ordeal. “Fine. Fine. Let's set up a meeting. What's his name, anyway?” Howard sighed in relief, happy that she was finally coming to her senses and helping him out. Now the family wouldn't fall in ruin and he would be kept from harm from the gang. “Thomas Shelby. I'll let him know you said yes.”

- Present day -

“I said, sit down,” Thomas ordered her again, gesturing at the chair behind her. “And think of how it would look if my own wife had to work? I earn enough for the both of us, all I want for you is to form a family with me, for my boy Charlie. Give me heirs in time, of course.” Evie guffawed as she paced around, ignoring Tommy's order to sit down and instead pacing around the room. “Oh is that all, just a couple of heirs?” she asked, as he was asking her to pick up some flowers at the shop. “What is the problem?” he asked gruffly, frowning at her constant need to go against him. “I made my terms clear to your father when I bought you.” Evie stared at him, anger in her eyes. “Do not say that.” Thomas smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke in her direction once more. “I did buy you, didn't I? And yes, you will give me heirs. I need my legacy to live on, to keep my family safe. You will be part of that family and so you will be cared for and protected for the rest of your life. I fail to see why you are making a fuss. Sit down, do not make me repeat myself again.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as Evie sat down again with a dejected look on her face. “Blow smoke at me one more time and I will feed you that cigarette,” she muttered with a huff.

Thomas smirked and put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk. “What is the problem anyway? Don’t all lasses want to marry and reproduce? What's so special about you?” “I am not a lass that wants to marry and reproduce, thank you very much,” she said haughtily. “My mother and father put a great deal of effort into my education and I've always valued it above all else.” Tommy scoffed. “I guess that was smart of them, giving you opportunities. Tell me about yourself, Evelyn,” he stated, a little softer than before. “What are you educated in?” “I studied history, literature and Egyptology. My parents have always been fascinated by it and it rubbed off on me. I even assisted at a excavation a few years ago, in Egypt.” He rose a brow. “A excavation in Egypt. Now that is something you don't hear every day. Aye, I get why marital bliss would seem dull compared to that. Did you find anything interesting?” She shrugged. “A few artifacts here and there, they are on display at the London museum of history.” “I see. And why is an educated woman like yourself doing working a boring library job?” Evie frowned. “I am very proud of what I am, mister Shelby. I was supposed to become curator once my father retired. You see, he was the curator at the London museum. But the death of my mother made him decide to move here instead. Also to cover up the financial trouble we were in. There is just one museum here and they have a curator, so neither of us was able to land that job. There's not much opportunity for me here, so I applied at the library. I do love it, its very rewarding. I started a program for the poor children, they come in twice a week for story hour. Since I love to read so much, I read to them. I have a vast book collection myself.” “Of course you do,” Tommy said, slightly mocking but also a little moved that she seemed to have a soft spot for the poor. “And I suppose you are bringing that here, after our joyous day?”

He made it sound as if they were to attend a funeral together instead. “I'd like that, yes. I love my books. Do you read, mister Shelby?” Thomas let out a bitter chuckle. “I do not have time for silly stories. What would they possibly bring me?” Evie eyed him confused. “Stories bring us a great deal, mister Shelby. With your permission I was planning on reading to your boy as well.” “Reading to him, hmm? Like what? Little Red Riding hood?” “Treasure Island, for starters.” “Treasure Island? A story of thugs, thieves and crime?” He asked as he took a sip from his whiskey. “Its a wonderful story of adventure, of belonging and overcoming all obstacles to achieve what you want!” Evie orated and Thomas flashed a crooked smile at how passionate she got when she spoke of this story in particular. “It's your favourite.” She smiled a little. “Yes, I guess it is.” “It’s unseemly, for a woman to enjoy such tales of woe,” he stated gruffly, his face suddenly falling. Evie was taken aback. “But..mister Shelby...I heard that you were all about equal treatment. How could you be for equal treatment, but also think its unseemly for a woman to read?” she asked softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. “And all that business of me not working..” “You heard wrong. A woman’s place is in the kitchen.” “You have a cook,” Evie dryly replied. “Do not defy me, woman! You will give up your work and you will give up these silly stories! I will lock your books away in the attic and that will be that!” he growled, his steely blue eyes boring themselves into hers with fierce intensity. Evie's eyes grew sad, disbelief and anguish in her eyes. “Do not give me that look, you will achieve nothing with it. Now, I expect you to move into Arrow House tomorrow.” Thomas continued sternly, downing almost all of his whiskey at once. She glowered at him, torn between mouthing off to him and doing as he said. She sighed deeply and shook her head. “I understand that you are going through a very difficult time, with your wife passing and...” she started to say. “You do not speak of her. Ever. Not to me and not to Charlie, do you understand?” he asked in a low, threatening voice. “You dont speak to your boy at all? About his mother?” she asked with a frown.

“I said you do not speak of her!” he said, slamming his hand on his desk, causing her to blink rapidly as she swallowed hard. Then her face hardened and she huffed. “Don't you raise your voice at me, I'm just worried about Charlie.”

Thomas clenched his jaw. “He is not yours to worry about. He is mine. I know what's best for him and its best that he forgets her. Its best if we all do,”

Evie frowned. “But you loved her, we should never forget the people we love, thats the only way of keeping them alive.”'

Thomas' eyes were unreadable, but Evie could swear she saw a flicker of emotion dance deep within him, only for a moment.

“She's not alive. She's dead. I want you to move in tomorrow.”

Evie opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his cigarette bud in her direction, causing her to close her mouth with a huff.

“Tomorrow.”

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[somer-writes]

GREETINGS CAMPERS

WHO IS READY FOR

SOMERS DODECANNUAL MONTHLY BEATDOWN

october edition

OCTOBER 👏 WORD 👏 COUNT 👏: 72,479 WORDS TO Ao3

CURRENT 👏 WORD 👏 COUNT 👏: 1,000,246 WORDS ON Ao3

CHAT! CHAT! WE DID IT! POGGERS!!!

1 MILLION 1 MILLION 1 MILLION

WORKS (new/continued in October): 34 BABY!!!

MOST POPULAR: HAVING BEEN CHOSEN & CHOOSING FOR OTHERS

MY RECOMMENDATION: OBLATION (reader discretion advised!)

IN REVIEW: 1 MILLION 1 MILLION 1 MILLION!!!

also whumptober! 31 days of beating the shit out of twilight bc i can and it sparks joy. also beat up wars and time this month <3 i love them i promise

this month also saw the continuation of Memento Mori, the sequel to the ever popular Burial Rites (reader discretion advised).

further! @crazylittlejester filled twilight with cheese. and i wrote a fic about it. Cheese Whore (thank you @toyouhellohowareyou for the title)

also also 4000 comments!!! FUCK YEAH!!!

ty so much for all the support!! i love reading all your comments, reblogs, tags, and whatever else! thank you everyone who reads, kudos, bookmarks, or comments on fics!! ily!!!

on that note, lets get SAPPY for a moment motherfuckers:

when my brain latched on to @linkeduniverse in September 2023, i never imagined it would lead me to where it has today. it spurred me to not only write freely again the first time in almost 2 years, but to also POST my writing on the internet for the first time in nearly a decade. AND THE RESPONSE! i treasure every single comment just as much as my first comment. i read your bookmarks, i reread comments, i treasure it ALL!

LU has led to me forging incredible relationships. not only in my personal development as a writer with brilliant and lovely peers, dare i say, colleagues, but also deep friendships AND even led me to my loveliest gumdrop beautiful handsome partner @wanderlustmagician

i never IMAGINED hitting 1 million words after 12 months, completing 6 month long challenges, having so many regular readers, being involved in discord servers and reblog wars--! theres too much i cant even FATHOM

i am so eternally grateful to ALL of you. im grateful to the fandom, to its community of artists and writers, to @jojo56830 for creating such a lovely work which brought us all together, and anyone whos ever beta read for me

starting tonight (oct 31 my timezone) and running through tomorrow is the next 24 hour LU writers' marathon! please give it up for @hotcheetohatredwastaken and @not-freyja for keeping this up! also big s/o to @a-manicured-lawn @noorahqar @gia-d @winterfen @tashacee @weavingstarlight @rebornofstars @zarvasace for modding!!!

heres to the next 1 million words!

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

In My Civilization You’re the King and the Queen (ao3)

For day 7 of @cassianappreciationweek ❤️ (if you thought Semper Eadem was self-indulgent, this is a whole other level...)

When a favour for Rhys brings historian Cassian up to the special Manuscripts reading room at the British Library, he crosses paths with the formidable - and beautiful - archivist, who isn't at all pleased when this towering and tattooed newcomer badly handles one of her Anglo-Saxon treasures.

Cassian’s eyes hurt.

He didn’t know how it was possible— he’d only been working for two hours but, he supposed, staring grimly at the pile of books still waiting on his borrowed desk, he’d spent every moment of those two hours scanning page after page of printed text, looking up only to type up his notes. Given the fact that his head was spinning and his water bottle remained sealed away in the lockers downstairs, forbidden in any of the library’s reading rooms, it was probably no wonder that the two hours he’d been there was already starting to feel like two years.

How do you get a headache in your fucking eyes, anyway?

God— he needed a break. 

The pulsing at his temples was the nudge he needed to push away from his desk with a final, cursory look at the stack of material on twentieth-century warfare, closing his laptop with a gentle snap that seemed to resound through the carefully maintained silence. The single blunt pencil he’d brought with him was left on the desk beside the small notebook he’d scribbled in; a silent I’ll be back soon conveyed in the piece of paper he’d used as a bookmark and tucked between the pages of the book he’d just been rifling through like his career depended on it. 

Given the current state of the higher education job market, perhaps his career did depend on it. 

He didn’t let loose the derisive snort that bloomed in his throat as that thought crossed his mind. Instead he kept his steps silent as he abandoned his desk, cutting through the expansive, high-ceilinged space filled with sunlight streaming in from the high windows. On all sides he was surrounded by the rustle of pages turning, of wooden seats creaking, of fingers typing rapidly on keyboards— and Cassian breathed it all in, drawing it deep into his lungs in the hope that it might chase away the headache before it could take root. 

As a historian, he wouldn’t ever deny the thrill that research gave him.

He slipped out of the first-floor reading room in silence, and only when he was outside, standing in the cool hallway that seemed to echo with a hundred voices drifting up from the foyer below, did he let loose a breath. Already the headache was starting to subside, like all he’d really needed was some fresh air, and in the brief respite he allowed himself before he returned to his desk, he leaned against the wall and pulled his phone from his pocket. 

He was only half surprised to find a message waiting from Rhys. 

Are you at the BL today?

Cassian rolled his eyes before sending back an affirmative. Yes— he was at the BL, or the British Library. The home of thousands upon thousands of books and historical artefacts, including the journals Cassian needed to write his latest article and the hand-written accounts of some soldiers present at the Somme which would form the basis of a conference paper he planned to give in the spring. 

Almost immediately, Rhys responded.

Remember that favour you promised me last year? I’m calling it in.

Against the pale stone wall, Cassian blinked warily at the message chain, wondering what in all seven hells Rhys wanted this time. A senior lecturer at the same university, Rhys was a historian of language and literature, already well on the way to a professorship in some stuffy department that somehow saw twice the amount of funding as Cassian’s modern history department, despite receiving less than half the number of students. Cassian often imagined his brother’s office hours to be little more than him donning a velvet smoking jacket, legs crossed whilst seated in a leather armchair before a roaring fireplace. What are your conferences like, he teased Rhys often, Mr-fucking-Tolkien?

Rhys only ever rolled his eyes and launched into a pre-prepared lecture about the fucking structure and etymology of Beowulf or something. 

But before he had chance to ask what, exactly, it was that Rhys wanted, the bastard was already calling. 

“Why do you only ever call me when you want something?” Cassian asked as he picked up the call, tucking it between his ear and shoulder as he pushed off the wall and made for the spiral staircase that would take him down to his locker. 

“I do not,” Rhys insisted, his voice thick with indignation. “You know I love you like a brother.”

Cassian only hummed, and in answer Rhys let out a short laugh that echoed down the line. From that alone, Cassian knew Rhys was in his office on campus. Cassian had to share an office that was roughly the size of a fucking postage stamp with another member of the modern history department, but Rhys— oh, Rhys had a sprawling office on the top floor, with a sash window that looked out over the green, and ceilings so high that his voice tended to echo. 

Bastard.

“There’s a manuscript I need you to call up from the stacks for me,” he said, his voice growing distant, like he’d left his phone on speaker on his desk as he paced around his palatial office. “The archivist is dragging her feet and says there’s a ten-day wait for scans of the pages I need. I can’t wait that long, Cass, and I won’t get chance to get down there myself and see the thing in person.”

Cassian sighed. “So?”

“So I need you to request the manuscript and take some photos of it for me.”

“Can’t you just promise a big donation to help speed things along?”

Rhys snorted. “I tried. She wasn’t having it.” A brief pause followed— one where Rhys’ footsteps sounded, growing closer to the phone, and when he next spoke his voice was clearer, louder, like he’d taken it off speaker. “Would it help if I said please?”

Cassian let out a laugh of his own, equally as dry and echoing on the smooth floor of the hallway outside the locker room. “It might be a start, yeah.”

“Look, I’ll send you all the details. All you’ll need to do is take the manuscript out, and take some photos of like, ten pages for me.”

Cassian sighed, pinching his brow as he thought of all the work he had to get through himself, and any hopes he’d had of an early finish dried up like an abandoned well. 

“That means I’ll have to go to Manuscripts, Rhys. Fucking Manuscripts.”

It was, truly, Cassian’s worst nightmare. 

Manuscripts was the reading room tucked into a corner on the top floor, a mezzanine that stuck out two levels above the ordinary reading room, like the scholars using it quite literally enjoyed looking down upon the rest. Reserved for those consulting the oldest and rarest of texts, it was far smaller than the other reading rooms below it, with a low ceiling that gave the place a feeling of closeness that was ludicrous considering the size of the building. It made him shudder just to think about it. He’d been there only once before, when Rhys had dragged him in as part of a joint research trip, and Cassian had suddenly understood why Rhys was so damned stuffy. 

It was like a fucking advertisement for tweed, in there. 

He huffed heavily, and Rhys laughed again, his voice distant once more.

Bastard.

“Mhm,” he answered, clearly distracted already. Cassian heard typing, and knew that Rhys had already started working again, his phone likely discarded on his desk as he waited for Cassian to agree. With a scowl, Cassian headed for his locker and punched in the code, slamming the door when he’d fished his water bottle from his bag. 

“You owe me,” Cassian hissed. “You won that favour in a bet and this is way beyond—“

“I’ll send you the details,” Rhys cut in breezily, his voice practically fucking melodic with victory. “Oh and Cass? Tell the archivist I said hi.”

***

As soon as Rhys sent over the manuscript’s details, Cassian put in the damned request.

Back at his desk, he didn’t bother to read the brief description of the manuscript on the archive catalogue before submitting, but he glimpsed the words tenth-century and groaned so loudly it earned him a scowl from the library’s patrons on either side of him. 

Already he’d begun to pray that the request might be rejected— after all, even though his reader’s card granted him access to the collection - and the letter of introduction he’d provided years ago extended his access even further - there was still no guarantee he’d be cleared to work with a document that old without the archivist asking questions. It was older than anything else he’d ever touched by a solid nine centuries, and even though his account no doubt listed his status as a professional historian, well…

For once, Cassian thought, Rhys might just have to be disappointed.

He flicked his eyes up to the mezzanine jutting out over the reading room, suppressing a sigh before turning back to his own work instead of focusing on Rhys’. 

It was three hours before he checked the request status, crossing his fingers beneath the desk as the page loaded. Rejected, he thought. Please be rejected.

He’d have time to kill before his train home. Could swing by a nice cafe, or grab a beer at Coal Drops Yard before catching a train at King’s Cross. Hell, if he walked the other way, he could even call to the British Museum for an hour, given that it was open late on Fridays. He could relax after a day spent reading harrowing accounts of twentieth century battlefields, and—

Ready to collect.

There, right in the status bar; three little words that derailed what had, for a moment, promised to be fucking lovely evening. 

Cassian scowled. 

Around him the library was entirely silent apart from the soft clacking of keyboards and the rustle of turning pages and as the afternoon neared four-thirty, most of the patrons began to pack up and think about going home. But before Cassian could so much as glare at that mezzanine for a hundredth time—

His phone screen lit up with a text from Rhys.

Don’t forget my manuscript, he’d written.

Prick, Cassian answered. 

***

“I have a request,” he said ten minutes later, standing at the desk on that mezzanine floor.

He’d already had to sanitise his hands before entering - once he’d asked Rhys why they didn’t wear gloves like they do on TV, and he’d received a ten-minute lecture about the fragility of vellum and the friction created by gloves - and flash his pass at the security guard sitting by the door, watching like a hawk.

Dragons, Cassian thought. The fucking lot of them— like dragons hoarding treasure up here.

But the woman behind the desk had her arms full with a bound manuscript that was easily two feet long, and for a moment she ignored him entirely as her fingers curled gracefully around the navy-blue binding. She carried it like it was nothing, held it like something precious close to her chest, and for a moment Cassian simply watched her, tilting his head at the way the overhead lights turned her golden-brown hair to muted bronze. It was braided in a coronet that framed her face, and when her eyes flicked up, they were a blue so stunning that for a moment Cassian completely forgot why he was there. 

She raised a single eyebrow, placing the tall manuscript down in the pile to be sent back to the stacks, and Cassian had to clear his throat.

Right— Rhys.

A favour for Rhys.

“Name?” she asked, holding out one elegant hand for his readers card.

“Cassian,” he answered, handing it over, wondering if this was the woman who’d given Rhys so much trouble.

God, he hoped it was.

He flashed her a smile. “Just the one manuscript on order.”

She hummed, lifting her eyes to study him. She scanned him head to toe, taking in the tattoos that peeked from the neckline of his shirt, curling at the base of his neck, before tracking her eyes down, over the muscles that corded his arms to the ink on his knuckles. He’d gotten vita and mors tattooed on his knuckles after finishing his PhD— life and death in Latin, a fitting tribute to the fact that he spent his life with the dead.

There was something about the way she looked at him— something that said she was trying to piece him together, puzzle out the man that towered over the collections desk half an hour before closing on a Friday. And when her eyes flicked up to his once more, Cassian let himself smirk just a little, lifting his chin as he watched her slide his card back towards him over the counter. 

Maybe he should have said something, asked for her name. 

But before he could so much as remember what words were, she turned sharply on her heel and headed for the shelves behind her, where one single, small manuscript sat alone in the collections pile. 

“Here,” she said, sliding it slowly across the desk.

It was bound in black leather, with the gilt numbering on the spine its only identifier. A nineteenth-century binding Cassian would guess, though it was far from his area of expertise. He merely took the manuscript in hand, waiting for the questions— waiting for her to ask why on earth he’d turned up and requested this manuscript in particular.

But she had already turned away, tracing a hand along the spine of another manuscript as she tucked a request card beneath the cover. A stray piece of hair from her braid crossed into her eyes, and without breaking her focus she tucked it back behind her ear. Looking down, her eyelashes almost brushed her cheek, and as she began to scribble away at something in pencil, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth in concentration.

Cassian couldn’t stop watching her— was entranced, and only with effort did he pull himself away and turn for the four rows of mostly-empty desks that stretched behind him. It was a world away from the countless rows of desks downstairs, and as he made his way across the muted olive-green carpet and picked a desk at random, he’d honestly forgotten why he’d been so unwilling to come up here in the first place.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

God, he wished he’d gotten her name.

Sighing softly, Cassian plunked the manuscript down on the desk, sinking into the chair and taking a single breath as he stretched his neck, easing the stiffness that had worked its way into his muscles after an entire day spent with his head bent over old books. He plucked at the manuscript’s cover, fingers lingering on the leather.

Not as old as this, he thought dryly.

His phone buzzed once in his pocket, breaking him from his thoughts. It was Rhys— sending yet another text to check that Cassian had actually managed to take out the manuscript with no issues. Rolling his eyes, Cassian snapped a photo of the manuscript, still closed, on the desk.

Happy?

Rhys sent him back a simple thumbs-up. 

With an indulgent shake of his head - and a silent promise that he’d make Rhys pay through the fucking nose for this, perhaps in the form of a very expensive bottle of whiskey - Cassian pulled the manuscript towards him, opening the front cover with one hand whilst with the other he pulled up the list of page numbers Rhys had messaged him over. 

The leather creaked as he cracked it open, and inside he was met immediately with stiff vellum pages, yellowed with age. It smelled of ink and dust and aged parchment, that curious combination that was musky and thick and far from unpleasant— like somebody had taken the smell of a library and distilled it down to its most concentrated form. He breathed it in, running a hand along the edge of the pages that were soft, worn from centuries of handling. 

No, this wasn’t his period, and he’d never call up something like this from the stacks himself but…

The historian in him saw the age of the thing in his hands and couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. 

The ink inside was still a bright black, as if it had been penned yesterday, and each line was straight as an arrow, the script perfectly uniform and precise, meticulous. Cassian inhaled, breathing in the utterly unique scent of age-old craftsmanship, but even as he scanned the first line, trying and failing to find any word or, hell, any letter he could recognise, he felt the frown creasing his brow. 

Is this even English? he asked Rhys, thumbs flying over the keys. 

Yes, Rhys replied instantly.

Cassian snorted quietly to himself, barely suppressing the roll of his eyes as he glanced up, flicking his attention towards the one other scholar still in Manuscripts at quarter to five— fifteen minutes before closing. How the fuck do you even read this shit?

He could practically hear Rhys’ dry tone when his brother responded. It’s called palaeography, Cass. Those of us interested in real history learn it.

Cassian snorted again.

Rhys was firmly under the impression that anything that had happened less than a hundred years ago barely even counted as history. He’d almost had an aneurism when Cassian told him one of his colleagues had a student writing their dissertation on the pop culture of the 1980s and 1990s. “That’s not history,” Rhys had said as he’d spat out his drink in the pub. “That’s sociology at best, and at worst— it’s our fucking childhood. It doesn’t count.”

With a wry smile, Cassian turned his attention back to the manuscript in his hand, flipping through the pages to find the ones Rhys needed. On each, the script ran edge to edge in flowing black, in a hand Cassian couldn’t even begin to decipher. The initials were grand though, decorated with swirling vines and small figures, as though some monk in the 900s had poured his heart and soul into the writing of this volume. Something about that tugged at Cassian, at the part of him that longed to uncover every version of the past there was to find, and as he brushed a finger over the ink once more, he almost wished he was able to read the text; almost wished he could find out what, exactly, that monk had deemed so important he’d immortalised it with his pen. 

There was something wondrous in it— something that called out to him and made him feel like a child again, staring up at the walls of a castle in ruins, embers of insatiable curiosity igniting like a wildfire he’d never been able to extinguish. The manuscript in his hands had survived centuries— war and plague and famine and fire, it had weathered them all. It had witnessed the breadth of human history and arrived here, to sit beneath his fingertips and give Rhys the means to write his article. 

Not that he’d ever admit any of that out loud, of course. Rhys would have a field day.

Rolling his eyes, Cassian flipped another page over, finally finding the first of the ones Rhys wanted photographed. Using one hand to splay the pages wide open, he picked up his phone in the other and lifted it up to take the picture—

“What on earth are you doing?”

Cassian startled, and looked up to find the woman from the desk - the archivist, surely - standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest as disbelief flitted across that beautiful face. Something like horror flared in those magnificent eyes, and her lips were parted in an expression of abject shock. Cassian’s brow furrowed.

“A favour for a friend,” he said slowly, confused. For a moment he wondered if Rhys had gotten it wrong— if this was one of the manuscripts not permitted to be photographed. But the archivist shook her head sharply.

“Are you an imbecile?” she asked bluntly. “Or have you just never been inside an archive before?”

Cassian bristled. “Of course I’ve been inside an archive before.” 

Just not to examine documents…. quite this old.

He’d admit that he was perhaps a little bit clueless when it came to this— handling things that predated anything else he’d ever worked with by almost a fucking millennia.

And yet… he wasn’t about to let her know that.

He pushed away from the chair, rising to his feet as the carpet hissed beneath his boots. God— she barely came up to his shoulders, but she didn’t back away. No, instead she lifted her chin to fix him with that encompassing stare, her glare almost enough to melt the flesh from his bones.

“I find that difficult to believe,” she hissed, nodding at the desk. “No book rest. No snake weights. And no historian would ever open a manuscript the way you just did.” She scowled as she nodded to the vellum pages he’d just had his hands all over. “The pages in that manuscript are a thousand years old.”

Suddenly there was a fire rising in his chest, some kind of beckoning interest flaring to life as he looked down into eyes brimming with so much ire they threatened to tear him apart. Every inch of her was lined with hauteur, her jaw tight as he canted his head and looked down at her, folding his arms over his chest in a stubborn gesture that said he wasn’t going to be the one to back down. She met him stroke for stroke, catching his gaze and refusing to step back, standing so close that he could smell her perfume. Something in Cassian relished it, revelled in the way she was forced to tilt her head back as he took a step closer, eliminating the distance between them until barely an inch separated his folded arms from hers. 

“I’m a modern historian, sweetheart. I’m just here to take some pictures for a colleague of mine and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Oh— oh,” she said, inhaling sharply, and Cassian saw the moment she made the connection. Her eyes darkened, her brows rising, and if he’d thought she was pissed before… Christ, he hadn’t known the meaning of the word. “You’re here for that prick who somehow found my office phone number and called me to demand that I rush his request through.”

Cassian bit back a grin. He had no idea how Rhys had managed to find her number. Azriel, probably. 

“Does the word no mean anything to either of you?”

“No,” he answered easily, letting a feral smile loose across his lips. Indignation flared in her eyes, and Cassian could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat or several. “Look, just let me take these photos and I’ll be gone. You can have your decrepit old book back then.”

Her scowl deepened, those sharp eyes growing somehow - impossibly - sharper. Like she’d taken offence on behalf of the manuscript he’d just called decrepit. 

Fucking hell, she was stunning. She reminded him of a blade— shining as bright and as pure as silver, and yet sharp enough to have him bleeding if he so much as breathed wrong in her direction. And that scowl… 

It was enough to have him simpering after her like a fucking teenager.

She said nothing, only huffed forcefully before turning on her heel and marching briskly back towards the desk. Cassian nodded once before turning back to the manuscript, but before he could so much as raise his phone for another photo, the archivist had returned, slamming down a thin string of weights onto the desk beside him. With her other hand she reached around him to pull forward the foam book rest that sat at the back of his desk.

“Move,” she said sharply.

Cassian could only hold up his hands in surrender as he backed off. 

With perfect and practised care, gently she lifted the manuscript from its spot on the surface of the desk. The thing wasn’t inherently fragile, but still she checked the spine for damage - aiming a pointed glare over her shoulder as she did so - before setting it down on the book rest, letting the foam cradle it. 

“You open bound manuscripts from the centre, not the front cover,” she said, like it was the most fundamental thing in the entire world. “Otherwise you’ll strain the binding.”

Slowly, she teased the pages apart, starting right in the middle and working her way back to the page Cassian had been photographing only a handful of minutes ago. Then, she draped the thin string of weights across the pages to keep them spread.

“These are used to keep the pages open— not your hands.”

She took a step back away from the desk, folding her arms back over her chest as she studied the new set up. For a heartbeat, her eyes dropped to his hands, lingering once more on the tattoos decorating his knuckles. Once it might have been considered a professional hindrance, to have so much ink on display, but historians with tattoos were far from rare these days. And he didn’t think that the woman before him looked with disdain, either. 

“What would I do without you?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. 

She rolled those devastating eyes of hers, and when she shook her head, Cassian caught a hint of her perfume. It was delicate, something floral with just a hint of spice— like rose and honey, and it had him drawing her deep into his lungs, savouring it and throwing her a wink that he knew might end up with her throwing him off the ledge of the mezzanine altogether. 

“Be banned from ever entering my reading room ever again,” she muttered, her voice low and bitter. She shook her head again, sending her small silver earrings glinting beneath the bright white lights. Harsh lights, not flattering for anybody, and yet— she was beautiful. When Rhys had called, Cassian hadn’t really known what to expect, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the archivist to be… well. Like this.

As he snapped another photo for Rhys and nodded for her to gently turn the page - parchment rustling, binding creaking, weights whispering as she arranged them carefully on the edges of the vellum - his eyes fixed on her hands, elegant and sure.

No ring there, he noticed.

He didn’t know why he’d looked, or why he’d even bothered to note it. Just because she wasn’t married didn’t mean there wasn’t somebody in her life, and besides, whether she did or did not, it didn’t necessarily mean that he had any real interest anyway, did it?

Or perhaps he was just kidding himself— practically tripping over that empty space on her finger in case it meant he might have a chance.

His mind was entirely somewhere else as he took the remaining few photos Rhys had requested, barely seeing the script on the pages anymore and too caught up with the way she stood silent by his side, her eyes occasionally flicking his way when she thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t have missed it, though. Her attention was like a match dragged along his skin, setting fire to him with a spark and a hiss and a perfectly lethal glare.

And when he was done, when the last photo was safe in his camera roll, Cassian drew fully away from the desk. Glancing up and taking in his surroundings for the first time since she’d stormed over, he noticed that the last scholar had left, leaving them almost entirely alone save for the security guard by the door. 

A breathless kind of anticipation crept up his spine, pricked his skin as he lingered by that desk. 

There was only one thing he wanted to ask now— one thing he’d been dying to know ever since he’d walked through that fucking door.

“What’s your name?” he asked, drawing closer as she lifted the weights from the pages and let them pool on the desk. 

She paused, not turning to look at him as she lifted the manuscript from its cradle and eased it closed. “Why should I tell you that?”

Cassian shrugged. “Because.” When she glanced over her shoulder, he flashed her a grin that could have been called cocky, could have been called boyish in its charm. “I’m a historian. Curiosity’s part of the job.”

“Historian of what, exactly?” she demanded, turning around sharply, in a tone so much like Rhys’ that Cassian couldn’t help but let his grin spread wider, unfettered. “I’ve never met a historian who can’t handle a manuscript before.”

“I told you. I’m a modernist, sweetheart.”

She ran her eyes up and down, lingering on his chest, his broad shoulders. Then her eyes flicked to his face, his long hair pulled back to reveal the earring studded through one lobe. 

“So you really haven’t been in archive before.”

“Of course I have,” he countered. 

“Not a real one,” she muttered and God— she sounded so fucking much like Rhys that Cassian thought they might even get along, if ever they met. If they could detach themselves from one another’s throats for more than five seconds. 

He let out a laugh that echoed through the vaulting space, something inside him igniting when her eyes widened, the hush breaking like glass beneath his feet. She blinked again, muttering something about how he clearly hadn’t ever been in a library before either, before gathering the manuscript in her hands and turning sharply on her heel, pushing past him to heard towards the collections desk. 

And like Theseus following Ariadne’s string, Cassian followed her.

Somewhat more earnest, he leaned against the counter, curling his tattooed knuckles loosely into his palm. “I do appreciate it, you know. You coming over to help.”

“I did it for the manuscript, not you,” she pointed out dryly.

He grinned. “Come on. Give me your name at least— so I know who to address the thank you note to.”

“Only a note?” she fired back, raising her eyebrows. 

Cassian felt a thrill skip through him, tripping along his veins until it reached his chest and made him feel slightly breathless. He liked this— the banter, the back and forth that was so remarkably easy it felt like falling into step with someone he’d known all his life. This stranger - this beautiful stranger - glared at him as he leaned over the counter, his chest pressing into the wood as he brought his face hardly an inch from hers, and he’d already figured out that her eyes sparked when she was irritated, that she huffed in exasperation often, and that the small tilt at the corner of her lips was the only outward sign she’d allow that she was entertaining him and his cocksure posturing. 

This close, he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. His eyes dropped to her lips again, unable to look away.

“What else would you like, sweetheart?” he murmured, offering her a crooked smile. “Shall I get on my knees and extol your virtues to all of London?”

She hummed. “It might be a start.”

Cassian laughed again, easy and free. She had no idea how willing he already was to get down on his knees. He half thought he might break his kneecaps in the rush to prostrate himself before her, and as he watched her standing there beneath the white lights, precious manuscript in her hands, something stirred in him. A kind of interest he’d not had in someone in, well… years.

The archivist drew back, putting space between them that left Cassian blinking like a fool as she took the manuscript back to the shelves, ready to be returned back down below to the stacks. He could only watch her stride purposefully away, his eyes straying to her hips and down, all the way to her heeled boots, and God, that couldn’t be it, could it? He couldn’t let that be it. Could he?

Suddenly, there was only one thought in his head.

Fuck it.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said suddenly, the words leaving him in a rush that was far too loud in the silence of the reading room. 

With a gentle thud, the archivist set the manuscript down. Her silver-blue eyes flicked up so sharply that Cassian honestly wondered if one day she’d manage to cut a man and make him bleed with those eyes alone. 

“In what world do you think I’d want to get a drink with you?”

Cassian grinned. “Oh, come on, sweetheart.” He leaned back casually, tilted away from the desk when only a moment before he’d been a breath away from vaulting over it and falling at her feet.  “Consider it an apology for Rhys’… stubbornness.”

She straightened, her face turning contemplative as, slowly, she made her way back towards him. Imperious, she lifted one perfect eyebrow. “If I said yes, would you promise never to come into my archive again?”

Cassian let out a low, rumbling laugh as he lifted his shoulders in an idle shrug. He didn’t think he could promise her that. Suddenly he was wondering just how different the first world war and the eleventh-century were really, and whether he could pull off a drastic change in his field of study, just so he had an excuse to see her again. To come up here and have her lecture him some more on how rough he was with some ancient books. 

God, if he was lucky - exceptionally lucky - maybe he’d even get the chance someday to show her how rough he could be with other things, too. What else he could do with the hands she kept glancing at. 

He cleared his throat again. Now was not the time to be turned on, and yet. 

And fucking yet.

“I’ll even throw in dinner,” he said with a wink.

The archivist rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

Cassian leaned forwards over the counter again. “So tell me.”

She paused, and the silence grew so weighted that Cassian could feel it. But it wasn’t oppressive or suffocating— it was electric. He could feel the air thrumming between them, dancing with tension that was so thick it was making him dizzy. Her eyes dropped to his lips— his to her neck, that expanse of bare skin that he was fairly sure he’d be begging to taste before the night was out. 

“Nesta,” she answered at last. “My name is Nesta.”

Already he wanted to know how it would feel to whisper her name in her ear, to feel it on his tongue. To shape it with his lips until there was nothing else left. 

“Well then, Nesta.” He offered up another winning smile, just a breath shy of rakish. “Dinner?”

She paused, assessing him like he was just another one of her manuscripts. He flourished beneath that attention, tilting his chin up like a fucking peacock, and if anyone else were here, he might have reined it in, might have kept himself in check. But apart from the security guard standing at the other end of the room, they were alone, and when Nesta looked at him with nothing but blatant interest in her eyes, Cassian felt his blood begin to hammer through his veins and knew that he had one more card to play— an ace hidden up his sleeve.

“You know,” he began slowly, tracing an idle finger in circles on the desk, “the British Museum is open till half six on a Friday.”

He cast a glance to his watch. 4:55pm. In twenty minutes they could be standing in the sculptures gallery, marvelling at beauty crafted by ancient hands. In the grey light, surrounded by the gleaming white marble, Cassian had no doubt he’d be falling over himself to impress this woman. 

“A bottle of wine and a couple of ancient artefacts. You do know how to charm a girl,” Nesta quipped. She laid a hand down, splayed on the desk between them, and as she raised her eyes to his, Cassian swore time stopped altogether. 

Her voice was dry, acerbic, but Cassian grinned, damn near feverish. 

“I know how to charm you, princess. Aren’t ancient artefacts your thing?”

“Well, they’re certainly not yours. Planning on breaking into a display case and shattering the Sutton Hoo helmet?”

Cassian grinned, feral in his delight as he shrugged. “Who knows what might happen if you’re not there to stop me.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but she didn’t draw back. With every breath she seemed to shift a half inch closer, and Cassian’s heart was a war-drum in his chest, beating so fast, so loud, it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t breathing— wasn’t sure he even remembered how. 

“Is that all I am? Your chaperone?”

He couldn’t think of anything witty, couldn’t find some cutting remark to send her way. She was so maddeningly close, all it would take would be a slight shift on his part to bring him crashing into her, and as his eyes fell to her mouth, all he could think about was her sharp tongue, her soft lips, how much he wanted her.

He wanted to kiss her so badly he thought he might die if he didn’t get the chance. 

Nesta said nothing, only stared at him in a way that said she knew exactly how undone he was. 

She was close, now. So close, and as his eyes roved across her face, he couldn’t think beyond the desire that was building in his chest, lining his throat and making him desperate to touch her. He wanted to reach out. Wanted to brush a thumb across her cheek, graze his knuckles across her jaw until he reached her lips. All he had to do was lift his hand—

The moment shattered when the security guard slammed a mug down on his desk at the other end of the room, looking pointedly in their direction as he plucked up his coat and prepared to leave.

Cassian reared back, clearing his throat, suppressing the laugh in his chest. A blush stole across Nesta’s cheeks, so perfectly pretty he wanted to reach out and brush it with his fingers. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he said as he cleared his throat again. “Is that a yes?”

Nesta took a moment, but when she huffed, there was a small smile at the corner of her lips, a glint in her eyes. She shook her head like she couldn’t quite believe she was about to agree to an immediate date with a total stranger, and Cassian’s grin was feral as she bit back that smile and walked away from the collection’s desk, into the back rooms of the library reserved for staff alone. But she looked back, glanced at him over her shoulder and said,

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

Taglist: @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome

[cacodaemonia]

Waxer/Boil rec list

I'm just copying this from a post I made in the Waxer*Boil community about a month ago:

Here are some recs from my recent(ish) bookmarks on AO3. I've listed eight of them, so I'm putting them all under a cut:

"Far Into the Night" by @lizardberries, rated T, Force-sensitive clones and hurt/comfort!

Summary: Putting his hands on either side of Boil’s face, Waxer leans their foreheads together, closes his eyes, and opens their connection even more. The emptiness flows into him, and Waxer braces himself against it, calling out for Boil through their link as loudly as he dares.

Boil doesn’t answer.

---

"dropstone" by @theproblemwithstardust, rated T, huddling for warmth!

Summary: Boil is adjusting the wrap on his hiking pole when something hits his back with a soft fwump. He tenses, half expecting one of the planet’s large predators to break through the tree line. But instead of growling and heavy footfalls, there’s a quiet snicker and the telltale squeak of snowshoes.

Or, Waxer and Boil visit an ice planet

---

"Friends Don't Set You On Fire" by @elismor, rated T, Corrie!Waxer and Boil!

Summary: Five times the massifs brought Corrie Waxer and Boil together (and one they did not)

---

Everything Sings" by @aerjnn, rated M, meet-cute!

Summary: Boil lets himself into the room where a clone—not Wooley—is passed out fully clothed in Wooley’s bed and snoring like a ronto. This’ll be the sharpshooter's roommate, he guesses. Must’ve come back with the first wave. Boil sighs, tosses his jacket on the narrow bed, and heads back out onto the third floor landing. Leaning out over the little balcony to the courtyard, he breathes in deeply, filling his lungs with air that’s still warm in spite of the rain earlier. And still filled with possibility.

---

"'Til the Sky Falls Down on Us" by @lizardberries, rated M, mission fic with a love confession!

Summary: This is a terrible time for this—they’re both cold and hurt and miserable, they’re fairly certain no rescue is coming for them, and they could be discovered by the enemy at any time. But when Boil thinks of the few moments after the grenade blast when Waxer wasn’t moving, when he couldn’t tell yet whether Waxer still had a pulse, it suddenly feels incredibly important—he doesn’t want to go out with anything unsaid between them. He doesn’t want to die without letting Waxer know how much he means to him.

---

"Table Manners" by @petrifiedforests, rated T, vampires!

Summary: “Ah,” Waxer says, startled. “Uh hi! Are you Boil?” Boil nods and kind of awkwardly gestures to his comm. “If you have a bit, you signed up for, you know…” “Ohhhh, snack time. You’re hungry?” Waxer realizes, grinning when he sees Boil’s instinctual grimace at his phrasing.

---

"Horticulture" by @valkeakuulas, rated E, tentacle smut!

Summary: Despite this having been his idea, Boil couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as he stared at the large, slowly swaying plant.

---

"Three Long Summers Went By" by @bilbosmom-belladonna, rated G, flashbacks to the war and post-war happy ending!

Summary: At the table, Waxer was hovering over a pile of small tooka dolls. As Boil approached he picked one up and held it out. “Look at this!” he cried as he shook the purple and yellow doll. “It looks just like it!”

“Just like what?” Boil asked, glancing warily at the vendor who was eyeing them suspiciously, their head-tendrils waving in a menacing cloud around their head.

“Numa’s toy!” Waxer replied excitedly. “The one she had at her house. She had to leave it behind when the gutkurrs found us.” He gave the doll a little squeeze and it squeaked, just like Numa’s had. Waxer locked eyes with Boil, his face eager. “We have to get it.”

Boil raised an eyebrow. “Why would we do that?”

---

Enjoy! :D

[chromatic-lamina]

2024 Writing Roundup

I think I deleted my round up on the AO3-looking template, so, at the nnntthhhh hour, using it in text form, tagged by @hyperions-light . Thank you very much! I'm taking this from AO3. I've had a few meta on tumblr, but not many. I've got five fics outstanding for 2024, that I guess we'll see in 2025. I also didn't do any secret santas this year (I told myself I was too busy). It was a bit strange! Anyway--

words posted: 28,656 on main, and 12,362 on anon

additional words written: not sure what this means. I didn't have too many meta, so I'd say about 500? Ooh, wait, unpublished zine pieces: about 8000.

fandoms: One Piece

highest kudos: It's been a quiet year (no Bioluminescent Hearts this year!) so Heart Pirates' Week at 47 kudos. 72 on anon, and cumulatively, Dark like the North Blue Sea (aka The Sea-Hill you Die On) drew in 336 kudos. valuta , which was published in late December 2023, 92 kudos.

highest hit one-shot: Decomposers, my fic for the LawZo zine, has 586 hits. Fic on anon, 5,500 hits (but it's not a one-shot!).

new things I tried: I did the Davy Back Fight <- fic here, written with 3 others, and the remix project <- fic here. I was happy to try both!

fic I spent the most time on: Probably Welding, which was written for the KidLaw zine, just because the timeline/schedule on preparation for that zine stretched across almost two years. Also, it had a higher word count, and I really wanted to do it right (as with most pieces!).

fic I spent the least time on: Probably Sunk Cost Fallacy, which is a Heart Pirates fic written for the Davy Back Fight. Mostly because it was written between four people, and we wanted to keep a fairly low word limit. The ficlets I wrote for the Heart Pirates' Week took longer, but not that long.

favourite thing I wrote: It's a draw between three: Welding (6,767 words), my KidLaw fic; Decomposers (3,006 words), my LawZo fic; and water fills the shape of the holder (2,125 words), Law reflection fic, remixing one of @purplehairedwonder's fic.

I also had fun with the Kaidou, Queen, King and Black Maria piece (Remedy for Errors) I wrote for @crowbarsolo in support of Palestine, and Widi's Waddle (about Penguin's penguin), written for the OP Friend-Shaped Zine.

favourite thing(s) I read: Aw, a ton of stuff. I always like @anarchycox's LawZoLaw (also a great SmoLaw, but I'm not sure if it was this year), and all of the stories for the LawZo and KidLaw zines. I especially liked @alpha-hydra's Liminal Space (KidLaw), beautiful story by @/gammacavy from 2022 (The Caravel who Dared the Tempest) about Going Merry, but I just read it this year, and anything @crowbarsolo wrote, but especially the Cavendish/Nico Robin piece The Special Guests. ALSO! must mention home (the gilded lily remix) by @gladdecease who wrote a beautiful story springboarding from an older story of mine (house / yorishiro). Also loved Only You And I Remain (KidLaw) by @betsib and Give it to me, show me what you're feeling (show me that you need me) (LawZo) by @/CursedHoneyB. Maybe just check out my bookmarks (watch out for the kink!). Have been reading the multi-chap Warsong about my favourite rarepair, MarcoLaw, but it might've just gone beyond my word count limit (it's about 100K beyond my limit. Haha). It is beautifully written, though.

Give @hyperions-light's The Road(trip) to Hell Is Paved with Questionable Decision Making a read! It's a lot of fun, but all of their work is good (paying back, but also true!) They write under @flyiing-giraffe

Two more!

I'm really enjoying the Going Merry: A Poor Substitute for Romance series by Springtime4Persephone. Focus is ZoSan, and I'm not a ZoSan shipper, but I enjoy it, and what I enjoy even more is the LawBin, and side servings of ZoLaw and LawSan. Very empathetic, fun and also a good serving of angst. Also, @/TerrifiedAristocat's Somebody Write Down the Recipe (LawSan, vampire and creatures of wonder in a modern day setting) is very good. Ongoing. Last two are E ratings.

Also, there are a dozen things I've read and loved and haven't mentioned here. I read a lot less this year though. All of the stuff for the Heart Pirates' Week was great, and I really enjoyed the beginning of ghosts speak in whispers and lies; can't know what's real 'til you're the one who's died (E rated, LawBin) by @nehswritesstuffs (Nehszriah) on AO3.

writing goals for 2025: None so far. Maybe return to my own work (rather than fanfic). BUT, who knows :D

new works: Again, nothing lined up at the moment. I do have a story in the gorgeous Pigment of Imagination (ophuezine). Pre-sales open now (closing soon). And four ficlets for the upcoming Fate and Fortune, one piece anthology digital zine. Stay-tuned for both! OH, also, I have a piece for the Baltigo Manifesto zine (about one piece revs). Due for publication in 2025.

tagging: only do it if you want to! (and I know there's not much time, and I know you might've already finished!). @purplehairedwonder , @ninhaoma-ya , @anarchycox , @kookoofufu (even if you don't play on tumblr anymore :D), @fowlfics @starlightbelle and anyone, anyone who'd like to play.

[haztobegood]

⭐️ Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2024 ⭐️

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 16

2. Word count posted for the year: 43,087

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, BBC Radio 1 RPF, Music RPF (The Snuts)

4. Pairings: so many!

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson

Louis Tomlinson/Jack Cochrane

OT5 girl direction

Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson

Niall Horan/Greg James & Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson & Zayn Malik/Liam Payne

Zayn Malik/Harry Styles

5. Story with the most: Kudos: Figure This Out Bookmarks: Figure This Out Comments: Louis and the no good, very bad day

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Stronger Than the Tide was written for the @1daroaceficfest this year. I started writing a different fic but that one got to be much longer than I had time to write, so I quickly changed course, found new inspiration, and wrote this one so fast. This one proved to me that my fics don't have to be long and complicated to be very meaningful.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): I am honestly super proud of everything I posted this year. I feel more confident in my abilities and enjoyed writing so much that I couldn't single any out.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: This year I took a writing course and practiced what I'd learned while writing a horror story. Sisterhood is so different than anything I've posted before, so I was a bit nervous to post it. The comments were really great, especially this one from @disgruntledkittenface, "Jinny, I'm so impressed! Your prose is so evocative, and the story gave me chills. You gave such a full, rounded picture of the setting and all of the girls' relationships that I felt like I was there. I admit, I hesitated when I saw the cannibalism tag, but I'm really glad I read this!"

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: This spring was difficult. March and April are always busy and stressful, and then I broke my ankle, had two surgeries, and moved back in with my parents while I healed. Toward the end of May I really wanted to write for @wankersday so I forced myself to try despite some severe writer's block. I drafted Louis and the no good, very bad day entirely on my phone while lying on a couch.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: The ace of clubs in Stronger Than the Tide was my favorite surprise. This wasn't a part of the original draft at all, but while editing it felt like something was missing to indicate that the cave was siren!Harry's home, so I added Harry's collection of human objects. Because this was an ace/aro fic it felt right to put an ace card in. I found out after that the ace of clubs can represent growth and tending to relationships, which fit the theme perfectly.

Louis looked around the empty cave awkwardly. The bright sunlight illuminated some shiny objects laid out on natural ledges in the stone walls that he hadn’t noticed the last time. He slid his hands into the pockets of his red trackies and wandered closer. Shiny agates, broken seashells, smooth sea glass. A fork with a bent tine, dried wildflowers, a bobbin of old thread. A collection of jewelry. A large scallop shell filled with coins from all over the world. A corked bottle with a piece of paper rolled inside. Louis reached out and picked up a single red playing card. He turned it over: the ace of clubs. “That’s my collection. When I find something unique I save it.” Louis had been so intrigued by the items he hadn’t heard Harry come out of the cave. He set the card down carefully where he'd found it. “You keep your collection here in a cave?” “The cave is my home.”

More under the cut.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: Niall naming Louis' soulmate goose after Bruce Springsteen in Louis and the no good, very bad day will always make me laugh

Niall and Louis walk down the pavement, with the goose strutting a few feet behind Louis, beak held high. “Did you name him?” Niall asks. “What?” “The goose. Did you name him?” “Why would I do that? He’s not a pet.” “Because he’ll be with you for an unknown amount of time. Seems like he should have a name. Like Horace. Or Lionel. Or Bruce! Bruce the Goose.” The goose lets out a short burst of little honks in what Louis can only describe as a happy goose noise. Louis shakes his head. “No. I’m not naming my Soulmate Goose. He’ll hopefully be gone in a few days and then I can get on with my life.” Honk! Niall says, “Maybe. But I’ve heard that some people are stuck with their Soulmate Goose for almost a year.”

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: This year I took a writing course because I wanted to intentionally work on writing as a craft. I learned a lot from the course and enjoyed dedicating time to practicing and improving my skill.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I am working on a Pride and Prejudice adaptation and learning a lot from studying the source material. Taking a deep dive into such an iconic novel is teaching me a great deal about what makes that story and its characters so compelling.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): @lululawrence's @wordplayfics was a huge inspiration. I wrote 5 fics, 3 of which had been sitting in my drafts folder for years. I had so much fun seeing where each random word would take me each week.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Greg twisting his ankle in The Grundy County Corn Maze Incident was inspired by breaking my own ankle. Unfortunately the strong Irish man that helped me get to a car was not Niall . And The Kiss of Sleep that I wrote for @1dtrickortreatfest was inspired by the one and only time I tried melatonin.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Keep all your unfinished drafts, even if it seems unlikely you will ever finish them. You never know when the inspiration will strike.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I signed up as an author for @onedirectionbigbang for the first time this year! I am also an artist for two others and can't wait to see what these collaborations will bring

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I tag @disgruntledkittenface @lululawrence @allwaswell16 @voulezloux @red-pandaaa @reminiscingintherain @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @homosociallyyours @justanothershadeofblue @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and anyone else that wants to do this!

Past years (2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023)

[zarvasace]

Fic Rec List

AO3 is holding a Feedback Fest for International Fanworks Day! So, in no particular order, here are 10 fics from my bookmarks that I recommend. :) Most of these fics are by stellar authors, but the list is for individual fics. I recommend checking out the authors as well.

EDIT: fandom code. LU = Linked Universe. FS = Four Swords

Dawn of the Fourth by @lazuliquetzal - (LU, complete) A fic that's on plenty of rec lists, I'm sure! The mastery of plot, character, and language itself is top-tier. This has a mystery-ish plot filled with twists and turns that hold up very very well on rereads! The tension remains taut the whole time, but it isn't too stressful. There are some particular images from this one that have stuck with me since I read it.

Threats and Theatrics by htruona - (LU, complete) This one makes me laugh. A lot. Vio is too dramatic for his own good, and I adore the idea that they might just keep fake blood on them for stuff like this.

A Guide to Living (Again) by @cerame (LU, complete) - Also one that I'm sure is not unfamiliar to a lot of people! It's no secret that I'm a big fan of Shadow, and it was so so much fun to see these other opposite-Links coming around, too. This is just overall a very good time.

Awake, Sweet Prince by @vagueandominousvibes - (FS, complete) There's a lot by Kahl I adore, she's an excellent writer with a wonderful handle on world and words, and this one in particular is one of my favorites. I love slightly spooky fae and this is definitely high on my list.

Count to Nine by @tess-aka-fishy (LU, complete) - One of my top fluff and humor fics. Everyone is in-character in the best way possible, being chaotic but not necessarily on purpose. It's awesome.

It's Dangerous to Go Alone by @hey-adora (FS, complete) - Among the many standout works by Sam, this one is an excellent one to recommend thanks to the showcase of her particular brand of humor, the fun, adventure-y plot, canon-extension worldbuilding, and of course the focus on Vio and Shadow being awful as always.

Keep Your Face to the Sun by Ageofavalon (LU, complete) - This one is a wonderful little fic with, surprise surprise, a focus on Shadow. This one just feels cozy, and I've reread it a lot. I particularly enjoy the way that they adopt him into the LU Chain :)

Take a Number, Any Number by @cluelessmoose (LU, complete) - An outstanding Four whump fic that recently got a very satisfying second chapter. It uses a lot of my favorite whump tropes. The imagery and particular use of words makes this a delight to read.

Soft Glows by @youmixxx (FS, incomplete) - Breaking my hesitant rule of "only complete fics allowed" to rec this fantastic Green/Blue modern college AU story. The attention to detail in this fic is unbelievable—and I mean detail in-text in descriptions and narrative, as well as behind-the-scenes details like consistent schedules. It's beautiful. Don't let the word count intimidate you because it flies by in a haze of glory.

Draw a Circle Around Your Grief by @lattewritesthings (LU, complete) - Dramatic, horrific, bitter, hurt-no-comfort—BUT in a way that doesn't leave you hanging on a thread. It's tragic but the resolution is satisfying anyway. The images are striking and the emotions are potent.