#pretty sure I've written some prompts with these two in mind at some point

[write-it-motherfuckers]

FMK with Hades (Lore Olympus), Lotor (Voltron) and Meire Link (Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust).

Oof when I tell you there was absolutely zero competition here. Vampire Hunter D is one of my all time favourite films. And despite never having watched Voltron, due to some of the absolutely delicious writing of some of the people I follow, I am also very familiar with him😏. Unfortunately, as a fandom I'm unfamiliar with, Hades never stood a chance.

Fuck Lotor I adore this dramatic bitch, and I adore the people who write for him even more. I'm just going to pretend I don't know how that show ends, for my own mental stability 🙃

Marry Meier When I tell you I ugly cry every fucking time I watch that movie. They deserved happiness dammit 😭

Kill Hades Sorry handsome

🖤

(Couldn't find an image I was certain wasn't fanmade.)

Thank you so much for playing with me Darling!

[stevebabey]

hiii ruby !!! congrats on ur milestone i think ur so cool and funny and ofc so so deserving :D for ❤️‍🔥 can i request forehead against forehead from prompt list 5 bc i am a sucker for it <33 thank u ily !

ahhh!!! anna you are so lovely <3 thank u sm for picking this one it opened pandoras BOX in my brain and i think this is by far my absolute favourite i've written this whole damn celebration & its bcos its, of course, friends to lovers <3 - 1.7k+

The wish is far-fetched.

You knew that from the beginning and yet, like wishes were stackable, like wishing for something over and over would improve its odds of happening, you couldn’t help yourself. Every eyelash, every time the hands of the clock line up at 11.11, you wish desperately.

Eyes scrunched closed, you wish for Steve.

You have him, of course, just not quite as you want him.

It feels selfish, the hungry feeling that rises in your chest when you look at him too long, eyes drinking in every detail you adore. Long lashes, hazel eyes, lips so pink it wasn’t fair. You want him all to yourself. These are not the usual thoughts of a best friend.

Sometimes, the yearning seems to carve out every part of you til you feel hollow inside; because you’d offer it all out to him, every piece of yourself between your cupped hands, his if he only wanted it.

You want him to want it. To want you. Badly.

So, you wish. At this point, it feels more like a habit than anything — the clock hits eleven minutes past 11 and you send a little prayer out to the universe to give you this one thing. You don’t notice how Steve notices.

He can’t quite connect the dots in the beginning, can’t see the pattern that strings together all the things he’s noticed. How from time to time, you’ll close your eyes and squint just a bit— but then, quick as it happens, it’s gone. You’ll open your eyes, look over back at him, and continue on as if nothing has occurred.

Steve doesn’t pry, even though he really wants to — the first time you notice him watching you, he raises his brows, a silent what was that? with a hope you’ll clue him in. He wants in on all your secrets. But in an instant, he can see the embarrassment creep across your features, so he drops it, waving his hand, and resumes talking, eyes back on the road ahead of him.

After a month of subtlety catching the habit of yours that he's come to cherish, the sweet scrunch of your eyes and gentle clench of your fists at your side, Steve notices the clock.

You check the clock, most of the time, before your eyes flutter closed. It happens late in the morning and close to midnight. But then again also at random intervals, at times he’s not expecting. The frustrating pattern evades him even though he’s noticing. Noticing is, infuriatingly, not enough.

It takes another month for Steve to realise you’re wishing.

He’s enamored with the habit now — especially, now he knows you’re sending little hopes, blowing on eyelashes with the fervor of a little kid. The craving to know your secrets, to be trusted with your wishes, has grown ten-fold since he first noticed. Steve notices just about everything about you now.

It’s hard not to. What started as trying to comprehend your peculiar pattern, has become... something entirely different. Steve feels helpless to do anything but admire you now. His feelings for you have become startlingly fond, borderline sappy.

The sound of your laughter and how it threads gold into his days marvels him. The colour of your eyes in the morning light. How you curl up in his passenger seat like it’s the comfiest place you’ve ever known, like you could sit there all day with him. If he asked. 

He’s pretty sure his heart strayed from best friend territory the moment he figured out the wishes. Maybe, he’s fooling himself and it’s always been this way.

It’s on his mind, even as the two of you sit at the back of the Hawk theatre, some garbage Sci-Fi film flickering on the screen. Normally, the back of the cinema was unofficially reserved for couples that wanted to make-out — Steve had pulled that move on a dozen dates. Picked a cheesy romance and the cozy darkness of the back of the theatre.

This is not the same, he knows. It’s not a cheesy romance film, you’re not quite at the back, and most importantly, this is not a date.

Steve really wishes it was.

“Hey,” Your whisper shakes him from his thoughts. Steve’s gaze moves from boring into the back of the chair in front of him to your concerned face. “Y’okay?” 

You’ve turned towards him, shoulders hunched over like you might disturb other people in the cinema if you’re too big. It’s silly, there’s barely anyone else in here but you and Steve. A couple people a few rows forward.

Steve nods, throat dry. You don’t look convinced, eyes narrowing for a moment as if you’ll say something when your expression shifts. You focus on something below his eye.

“What?” Steve whispers, too aware of your fixed stare. His nerves creep up, feeling a bit flushed beneath your attention. Your hand comes up, reaching out to graze across his cheek and Steve forces himself to stay still. To not melt into the touch.

“S’just an eyelash.” You whisper, still focused. Thumb moving gently as you can, you sweep the eyelash beneath his eye off his cheek. It moves an inch but remains stubbornly on his skin. You huff silently, turn his way a little more, and lean in closer to try pinch it. It takes a moment as you try your best not to pinch Steve at the same time.

When you finally snag it between your fingertips, victory comes in the form of your pleased smile. It takes another moment to realise just how close you’ve gotten to Steve. Leaned over, his breath fans over your face and you can see the film reflected in his eyes, action sequences playing far, far away.

Faintly, you think that if you had your wish already, you could lean in a few inches further and steal a kiss. You think of the eyelash in your fingertips.

The thought knocks sense back into you, blinking hard, but just as you go to pull back Steve’s eyes flash down to your lips. He licks his own, then swallows, looks back up at you. A wretched thread of hopes keeps you from pulling back just yet — desperately praying you’re not reading into nothing.

Steve doesn’t pull back. His heart has hiked so far up his throat he’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all.

“What are you wishing for?” He croaks, too quiet. You hear it anyways.

Surprise shows on your face, lips parting and eyes widening just a moment. Steve wants you to give back the eyelash just so he can make his very own wish right now.

“How did you... know?” The last word is meek, only audible because Steve is so close. He wants to be closer. He moves an inch, recalling every single time he’s gotten the signals right in the past to keep him from losing his nerve. Tries not to think about what he might lose should he be wrong this time.

“You,” He huffs a little laugh, searching your eyes, trying to see if it’s the same hope he feels inside that he’s seeing in your eyes. “You close your eyes and wish on every 11.11. And— and eyelashes and dandelions too. You do this little squint, like you’re thinking real hard about what you want.”

Unable to help himself, Steve steals another glance at your lips as your tongue darts out to lick them nervously. His chest rises and falls a bit fast, nerves urging his pulse to run faster, faster. God, he’s nervous. Steve can’t remember ever being so nervous at the mere chance of just a kiss.

“So, what're you wishing for?” He asks again, in a whisper just for you two.

The film illuminates the side of your face, shadows dancing across the lines of your cheek. You’re beautiful, Steve thinks, achingly so. The silence twists his heart painfully. He doesn’t know you’re merely gathering your hopes to spit out the honest answer.

“You.”

You whisper the word quickly, knowing if you have a moment to think about it you’ll tuck it and all your selfish desires back away into your heart. But you ache for this moment — hunger devouring your insides with how much you want to kiss the boy before you. Enough that you’ll risk it.

It’s worth the risk.

The single word sets Steve off and he closes the distance between you in an instant, lips against yours. It’s gentle as he can manage while his heart works overtime pumping molten-hot affection into every part of his body. He feels giddy. He nearly forgets to memorise the curve of your lips, the warmth of this against his own, it feels so deliriously good to be kissing you. He thinks he’s been missing this his whole life.

You look a little dazed when Steve pulls back, lips with a sheen that catches the flashes of the cinema screen. You don’t speak, just blink and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, mind miles away. Your lack of a smile worries Steve; he feels like he could burst with how he wants to beam if this is what you want too.

He gathers his courage and presses forward again, til his forehead against yours. Tells you what he knows to be true, what you’ve been dying to hear. “You have me.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his and you give Steve a flood of relief, lips pulling into a smile. A small laugh of disbelief titters out of you, your smile transforming into a grin that betrays your utter happiness. This close, you let the want take over you and lean in to steal another kiss off his lips. He gives it to you sweetly and oh-so-willingly.

You stay this close, nose nuzzling against his, both your heads bowed to meet each other in the middle.

“I’ve been wishing on you for months,” You admit bashfully, your whisper wobbling in your embarrassment. You’re worried the enormity of your want for him will scare him off. Steve’s grin somehow gets wider, eyes somehow fonder. His voice comes out a bit scratchy, all sticky with affection.

“I think you’ve had me the whole time.”

It’s the honest truth. You’re not even mad about lost time because when he kisses you again like that, there’s no doubt that now? He’s all yours.

[yoongihan]

Soooo what I’d been meaning to ask for was Han + ✊🏼 from the second prompt list, I feel that that might show a different side of him and I’d be curious to see you tackle that 👀

pairing: coworkerjisung x fem character

genre: fluff (but with a rather mean boss), workplace au

rating: PG/T (man, these drabbles are so sfw)

word count: ~1800

warnings: some belittling from a supervisor, a lot of internal thoughts on part of the mc, adoration of jisung (as per my usual), probably too much talking (it's my default writing style). I think this is pretty safe honestly. both jisung and mc are in their mid to late twenties.

a/n: my dearest @candlewaxandp0lar0ids. it's only after I've written this that I'm not even sure if he's actually being protective. so I'm sorry if I completely got this wrong. i heart you, though, and our random conversations that include just rambling about jisung.

original request post here

It's Just a Crush

Having a workplace crush is, in your mind, stupid as hell. You know it’s more than likely just because of proximity, the drama of meeting deadlines, late-night scrambles of finishing that one important project, and realizing you haven’t been out on a proper date in almost two years.

So, you recognize that your crush on Han Jisung is more due to circumstances than him.

Not that he isn’t a great guy. He works as hard as anyone on your team. He goes out of his way to lighten the mood, even when it’s way too intense because of the pressure of your bosses practically breathing down your necks. He never remembers anyone’s coffee order, but still buys an assortment of concoctions when it’s his turn to get coffee so that hopefully everyone can find something they like. He’s wicked smart and quick with ideas, and even when he zones out during the more boring practical stuff, he never minds when you remind him to pay attention. 

He usually blushes when you say something, but his smile is always bright.

He’s not always on your team when you have a project, but you are sure that when he is, the project turns out better. Maybe you just feel better. 

But it’s just a workplace crush. Other than the team sometimes going out for drinks after the final presentation, you’ve never spent time with Jisung socially. Usually, you sit across from him at the bar, knowing that more proximity will just make you crush on him even more. Not that getting to see his expressions, how he listens to the others or when he occasionally glances at you make the crush any less. But surely, watching him is better than being near him?

You think you have this dumb af crush under control. Even when you have one too many drinks out, you haven’t said anything too revealing. Maybe you were a little flirty two weeks ago when you said something about his eyes. But everyone was talking about the best features on a person and though you have a long list for Jisung, you only mentioned his eyes. 

“How long have you worked here?”

You wish you were currently looking at Jisung and his pretty eyes instead of at your boss who doesn’t have pretty eyes, or a pretty smile, or any of the kindness that Jisung radiates. 

“Five years.” You state carefully. You aren’t stupid. You know by the tone of his voice that this is not going to be a fun conversation. 

“Five years. Five years and you do this?” He tosses the stack of reports at you. They land on your desk and the floor. The draft from the air conditioner picks up a few and scatters them. It’s going to be time-consuming to get it back in order. “It’s beyond subpar work.”

You aren’t sure how you are still looking him in the eyes even though you want to curl up and hide for a little while. Why does he have to chastise you in the middle of the office? Why is that public humiliation necessary? 

There’s a voice behind you, saying your boss’s name. 

“It was all of us, sir–”

You want to tell Jisung to hush. To not get into the line of fire. It’s not worth it. 

“She’s…” The boss points at you. “In charge. She’s lead.” He glares back at you. “Though I regret making that decision.”

It isn’t your first time in charge of a project, but you’re still relatively new as a team leader, and all the doubts you have when you’re named ‘in charge’ are justified with every word your boss says. 

“You always say that every team is as strong as the weakest link, sir. So if something is wrong, it’s all of us.” You don’t see Jisung, but you feel him. He’s left his desk (several yards away) and is standing next to you, his hand almost brushing yours. 

“Han…this conversation does not include you.”

“Sir. I looked over that project last, so if something is wrong, it’s on me.”

He’s lying. You glance at him then. He’s looking at your boss, so you only have his profile.

It’s a nice profile, nearly distracting you from why you turned to him originally. 

You delivered the statistics, the reports. You looked over them last. 

Why is he lying?

Your boss glares at both of you. “Just fix it. Before I have you delivering coffee instead.” And he turns and stalks off. 

It’s quiet for what feels like minutes, though it’s probably only seconds. Everyone eventually starts quietly talking and going back to work. The show is over. 

Jisung squats down to gather some of the papers. It jolts you (you were still staring at him) to do the same.

“You okay?” he asks softly. 

You swallow. Truthfully, and logically, you know this is not a big deal. This particular supervisor is more than often way too critical and dramatic. He’s not the ultimate boss, the one that decides your fate. You know that mistakes happen and mistakes aren’t life or death. 

You know all that, but you still kinda want to cry.

You don’t trust your voice so you nod.

He stacks the papers on your desk as you finish grabbing the last few sheets. You finally meet his gaze. 

The prettiest eyes, looking at you with concern. 

“Jisung, you didn’t have to–”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You lied.”

He shrugs, seeming content to stay in his squatted position. “So?”

You sigh before standing to set your stack of papers on top of his. He stands as well, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers. 

“If you get in trouble because you lied…”

He makes a face at you. “He doesn’t care. He just wanted to feel like he’s in charge, like he’s important.”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s still just a person.” Jisung taps the top of your hand that is still resting on the flawed project. “I’ll stay late with you so we can figure out what’s wrong and how to fix it.” He rolls his eyes. “Because pointing out what is wrong is too much for him.”

“You don’t have to. I’m lead and it’s my responsibility–” You carefully draw your hand away from his touch. Your crush does not need the encouragement.

“Too bad.” He grins at you. “Still gonna help.”

“It’s Friday. I’d hate for you to stay here–”

“And I hate you have to, so again…too bad.” He interrupts you again.

You huff. 

His smile grows. “I’ll finish up what I’m working on and join you in a bit.” He walks back to his desk, eyes finding yours over his computer and he winks at you.

Dammit.

It’s eight at night and you and Jisung are the only people left in the building, minus security and the cleaning staff, though neither are on your floor. 

“I don’t see anything.” You say before letting your head fall to your desk. You feel a pat pat on top of your head. “Are you patronizing me?”

He laughs. “Maybe a little.”

You lift your head, aware that you probably don’t look your best. It’s the end of a long week, a very long day and your hair tends to like to lose whatever style you forced it into by this time of evening. 

He is also reading through the reports carefully, eyes going left to right, line by line. You must be tired because you don’t look away. 

Which you don’t realize until he says your name.

“Sorry.”

He glances up. “What for?” His cheeks pinken. “You gonna say something about my eyes again?”

“Did I embarrass you?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I mean, a little, but that’s on me, not you being nice.”

“Okay. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, Jisung.”

He holds your gaze and you wonder if maybe you got it all wrong. Maybe workplace crushes are one thing and your crush on Jisung is something all its own. 

You’re pretty sure you’d like him if you met him in a bar, at a bookstore, on the subway; anywhere. 

“I’m beginning to think that he just made up that something was wrong so he’d have a reason to be an asshole,” Jisung says, setting the project down before resting his chin in his hand. “Or my brain and eyes no longer work.”

“Seems like the first is more likely.” You mirror him, propping your head up with your hand. “I know we should finish this tonight but I’m not sure we’re going to be able to.” You stretch your arms over your head. “I’ll come in Sunday to work on it. Maybe some time away will help.”

“You shouldn’t have to come in on the weekend.”

“According to bossman, I shouldn’t be in charge either, but what can you do?” You laugh, though it’s not enough to not sound sad. When your hand comes back down, he covers it with his.

“You’re a good leader.”

You look down at his hand on yours. 

“I–”

“Really. You always listen to everyone’s ideas. You never say any are dumb even when they totally are. You make everyone feel involved and invested. You’re a really good leader.” 

You can’t think of what to say.

“Did I embarrass you?”

You force your gaze from his hand to his face. He’s got that quiet smile, soft. 

“Yeah, but same as you. It’s more me trying to accept a compliment than you saying it.” You force a smile. “Thank you.”

He leans forward a little. “You’re welcome.” His eyes (you swear you’re not making this up) fall to your mouth before darting back up.

“Also, thank you for earlier.”

He cocks his head to the side in question. 

“Sticking up for me. Even though you shouldn’t have.” You barely notice that you’ve leaned closer as well. 

The blush darkens on his cheeks and the tops of his ears. 

“Wanna get a drink?”

You blink a few times. “What?”

He scratches the back of his head, eyes leaving yours. “I mean…now. Dinner and a drink. My treat.”

“Um…sure, but you don’t have to–”

“I want to.” He swallows nervously. “I want to stick up for you, help you out, take you out. And I really want to kiss you, but I feel like kissing you at work is kind of a gray area on professionalism.”

You really can’t think of what to say. 

He lets go of your hand, abruptly getting up. “Unless you’re not interested. Which is fine. Totally acceptable and I won’t ever mention it again–” He stops when you stand as well. 

“Dinner and a drink.” You reach out to straighten his tie. “And a kiss.”

You see his shoulders drop in relief, and those pretty eyes spark with mischief. “Just one?”

Later, when his mouth is on yours, his hands gripping your waist; you lose count of how many kisses. 

You decide a workplace crush turning into a workplace romance isn’t as stupid as you thought.

--

© yoongihan 2023. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[44-thehearteccentric-44]

Hey yall, fictionkin friends. Thought I'd give all of you character-y critters a little update on my kin journey.

So, I've been really going through the wringer with all of the fictionkin symptom suites. I actually just got a pair of shoes today that remind me of my hooves!

I've gotten several memories as of late, probably the most interesting being that I was sprayed down with cold water by Mind while bound to a vertical board and then not even two days later I have a memory of him bathing me like it's a good but generic whump prompt.

Probably the most interesting though is my relationship with chickens now.

You see, I'm a Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium kin. I'm Heart, Heart the Jash. In the flesh. Heart is not the one known for liking chicken, that's Soul. And chickens aren't even really a canon thing.

Some of you may know that in Fanon, there is a pet chicken named Darrell. Well, considering my source is quite literally an ask blog written by a tween on Tumblr (both of which literally does not even exist in this plane of mortal suffering), you may assume that Darrell exists here.

I have noematas of being more of a reptile kinda guy than a chicken kinda guy, as a matter of fact I'm quite sure I told Soul on several occasions that his chicken looked tasty. You can't blame me, when the munchies hit anything with blood cells and rippable skin looks pretty good.

But then I all of the sudden got a MASSIVE kinshift. Somehow, all of this kin-etic energy (ha) got transferred into just really, really wanting to see Darrell again. Like, really. Really, really, really. So many really's you could rewrite each religious scripture with them.

I kid you not I was tossing and turning over this chicken. Holy crumpets and British tears, I wanted this golddang chicken.

It got so bad to the point where I spent between half an hour and half of Hyperion's lifespan aimlessly scrolling through chicken merchandise on Etsy.

I ended up buying this little hen on Amazon, the sweet little gal's name is Henrietta but now under my evil, evil pencil and whiteout she will be Darrell and be a he/him, despite the fact that that is obviously a girl chicken. Just like my canon.

You see, my very clever plan is to use this chicken plush in a similar way to how they give parents with dementia dolls in order to simulate taking care of human children to boost morale and keep them stable. One must compromise in the eyes of "sudden affinity for chicken you once treated like DoorDash".

Also, the Amazon page came with an image of a young lady holding up the chicken plush, so naturally, I had to draw myself over her.

That is all. Please enjoy the shrill, rancorous shrieking of a bird on its last feather condensed in a box and then uploaded for Tumblr for you to read while eating processed junk food on your cot at three AM when you have somewhere to be in about four hours.

[nerdypanda3126]

The Triumph of Luka Couffaine

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Round Robin event! @trixxiephantomhive, @mrsmayday @rierse, and I took turns adding onto this story with "bike" and "just accept it" as our prompts. Also, go check out the art by Rierse, they did a fantastic job!!

Summary: Luka brings home a project that Marinette isn't entirely thrilled with, at least until he asks for her help.

Read on Ao3

Luka had a soft spot for outcasts. Marinette had known him for long enough that she'd noticed it was a quirk of his, and she loved it about him, even before they were together. Then when they had started dating, she'd learned to take it in stride when he brought home one-eyed goats and stray deaf dogs and other "projects" that "he couldn't just leave." 

But this had to be pushing it. 

"Luka." She tried not to scold, really she did. "What on earth is that supposed to be?" 

From where he was kneeling in front of what looked like a pile of twisted, rusted, metal junk, Luka grinned up at her from under his blue-tipped bangs. "My new bike. Great, right? And I got it for practically nothing. A few tweaks and she's golden." 

Golden would not have been the word she would've used. Did he not see the parts falling off and the missing pieces, and the rust? She was pretty sure that as far as motorized vehicles went, rust was a very bad thing. But if Luka did notice, he didn't seem to mind as he beamed at his prize.

She glanced at her own Vespa, which she'd kept well-maintained since it'd been given to her four years ago, and then back to the… "bike" Luka had bought. There was some resemblance, now that she was looking for it. There was a place for a seat, although the seat itself was long gone, and that ball of solid rust a little below it looked like it was meant to be an engine, and there were two axles and hubs where the wheels would go… 

"Well," Luka was saying, which brought her attention back to him. He was eyeing the bike more critically now, much like she had been. He wiped at his nose and it left a little smudge of dirt and grease behind that she had to admit was cute on him. It had no right bringing out the blue of his eyes like that. "Okay, so it needs a little more than tweaking. But the bones of this thing are rock solid. And underneath all of this is a Triumph Bonneville." 

"...A what?" 

"It's an old British brand, but super reliable. See the twin cylinders here?" He pointed to two rods on either side of what would be the seat, then grinned up at her again. "A classic Triumph, Marinette, can you imagine? Once I get it all fixed up it'll sing." 

She hummed in what she hoped was a noncommittal way. "How do you know all this stuff?" she asked instead of answering him. He stood and dusted his hands off on his ripped jeans, then dusted the seat of his pants off, too, which, even after all the years they'd known each other, was still just as distracting. Moreso, maybe, because now they were dating and she could look at him now with all the love and appreciation she felt for him. 

Luka shoved his hands in his back pockets as he smiled warmly at her, apparently thinking similar thoughts. "I picked up a few things, tinkering on my old bicycle down at the shop. I've always wanted a vintage motorcycle." 

"I didn't know that," she admitted. He chuckled back. 

"You never asked." 

A flush of heat crept across her cheeks as she realized he was right. "So… you know how to fix this, then?" She stepped forward into his space and put her hands in his back pockets, too, earning her a mischievous raised eyebrow. "Because I have to tell you… right now it's…" She dared a glance at him, then bit her lip as she winced. "It's really ugly." 

He laughed at that and wrapped his arms around her waist instead, holding her close to him. "Yeah, I know how to fix it." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I hope you've got your tetanus shot," she muttered, only half-meaning for him to hear her. She blushed again when he let out another one of those laughs, bright and open and beautiful, and nodded. 

"Thanks for worrying about me," he said, adding, "I know you always do." 

At the same time, she said, "I always do." They both smiled at the jinx and Luka glanced back at the bike with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"I was hoping…" he started, pulling his gaze back to hers, "that maybe we could work on it… together?" 

Together. Marinette ran the math in her head. This was at least months' worth of work, if not a year or two, and he wanted to do this. With her. She couldn't help the smile that lit up her face as she nodded. "I'd love you—to!" 

She blushed as she realized her slip, and she knew Luka had noticed it because he always noticed everything, but he only smiled back, pleased, and pulled her into a tight hug before continuing to point out the features that his new bike would have. 

She had to admit she was getting excited with him. 

***

The next morning Luka woke up bright and early. His plan was to set up his tools for starting on the bike. 'I just need the solution, a screwdriver, a hammer, and a crowbar,' he thought to himself while waiting for Marinette to arrive. 

She showed up around 20 minutes after their planned time and began profusely apologizing and flailing about. 

"I'm so sorry, Luka. I know I promised I would try to get better at being on time, but I didn't get much sleep last night and—" 

Luka placed a hand on her face and pulled her into a hug as he quietly chuckled.“I love you, Marinette. Can we get started?”

She returned the laughter and nodded. “Yep! Not entirely sure what you want me to do, I can barely ride my Vespa, let alone repair it.”

He stepped to the side and started looking intently at the bike. “Well, today we’re going to take all the rusted parts and soak them in a solution to see what’s just surface rust and what needs to be replaced or welded,” Luka explained in a soft voice, fully understanding and not judging her lack of knowledge. 

“So… do we just put the whole thing in?” she asked almost jokingly, looking at his "bike"  loveable scrap heap.

“Pretty much. Except we have to take it apart because some things like the engine and brake wires need to be unhooked and replaced.” 

Marinette nodded and pulled out five large containers as he pointed to them. Luka carried the gallons of solution and they worked together to slowly pour it in. 

They moved on to the next part of the day, which was getting the outside pieces of the bike loose.

“Thanks for helping Mar—” he said in a strained voice, struggling to loosen a siding panel of the bike while Marinette was standing above him using a crowbar to unwedge it from the top.

“No problem! This is difficult, but it's fun to work with you!”

Luka smiled, and began to lose himself in her beautiful blue eyes that sparkled like the sun—until BANG! The piece came loose and sent Luka to the ground with it. Marinette burst into giggles as she helped him up, and Luka squeaked out a quiet, "Ow—"

Luka knew at that moment that it wasn't going to be the only time an incident would send one of them into giggles. 

A few days later and just a day after the soaking had finished, Marinette jokingly pointed the sandblaster Luka was renting at him. He screamed and jumped to the ground, knowing if she hit the on switch it would hurt. 'The device was made for smoothing down the bike, not him.' She didn't actually turn it on, but Luka was still planning his revenge.

A revenge which came into play a few days later, when they'd finally gotten to the point of washing the metal sides of the bike to put them away and start on the next part of rebuilding the bike.

The couple filled up the soapy buckets and pulled out their sponges. They were old ones that Luka stole from the kitchen, one bright green with a sunglasses print, and the other red and black striped.

"There was a sale on decorative sponges a while back," Luka explained to a giggling Marinette. 

Not too long after the buckets were full and Luka was starting to rinse the bike, he smirked and whipped around, aiming the water stream straight at Marinette, causing her to scream and start laughing. 

"COLD! COLD! Luka, that's cold!"

***

Luka laughed and dropped the sprayer innocently to his side. "Truce?"

Marinette pouted and didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. "Truce," she agreed reluctantly.

"Great, now let's sort through the cleaned up pieces and take inventory of what we need. Can you help write things down as I count them off?" he asked with his hands held up in a pleading gesture. 

She knew he struggled to read his own writing at times and smiled. "Of course."

So they set about sorting through what they'd done so far. Some pieces were okay after a soak and quick clean up, which had shocked her. She was sure this was more scrap than salvage, but he had been right, there was a lot about this bike that was still quite solid.

They made a list of pieces that needed more work to be functional, and a list for the pieces that were missing or completely beyond redemption. Both lists were… not short. Luka eyed the final count critically but nodded in approval. "Honestly? This isn't that bad. It might take some time to track down some of these things, or afford some of them, but I have some ideas on that front."

Marinette watched with adoration as he spoke passionately and excitedly about restoration projects and how there were whole groups of people who picked these kinds of old vehicles up to try to make them look good again. He talked about auction sites where vintage or restoration pieces could be gotten fairly cheap through bidding or at special events. 

"I might even be able to get an in with some of the people I used to know from around the shop. So what do you think?" Luka looked at her expectantly, still enthusiastic and joyful.

She gave him a quick kiss. "I think you're amazing being able to see the beauty in this thing. I think this sounds like a lot of fun and I'm learning a lot. I'm so happy you asked me to help."

He beamed at her and suggested she change into dry clothes so they could go pick up some things. She pointed out that it was his fault she even needed to change but he didn't seem the least bit sorry. She rolled her eyes and went inside.

When she came back out in one of his shirts, his gaze lingered and she felt her face heat under his attention. "Well, where to? Do we take your truck or do you want to ride the Vespa?"

He laughed. "We probably need the truck, we don't want to carry that much on the scooter."

They took off for an automotive store and happily sang to the radio together, both passionately belting out the lyrics. Marinette found herself basking in the moment, warm and full of love.

When they arrived, Luka opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out but didn't let go as they walked in together.

Luka led her around the store excitedly, grabbing different things they needed for the next steps in restoring the bike. He asked her opinions or answered her questions where she chimed in.

"We might pick up paint if it's on sale. It'll be one of the last steps in putting the bike together but we can look." He smiled as her eyes lit up at the prospect of something more artistic to look at.

Marinette had been captivated by the different options for color and design. When she had found the metal flakes and pearl options, Luka had been reminded of Rose in the glitter section at the craft store. Marinette ended up grabbing a variety of swatches and samples to play around with colors and effects.

In addition to her samples, they ended up picking up polish, wax, sealant, some more solution, and a few smaller things that would help get the pieces they did have better assembled while they tracked down the bigger parts.

When they got back to his place, they set some of the stuff in the garage for later and went about replacing the few valves, screws, and wires they picked up. Doing that fastened different parts of the bike together or allowed them to make sure everything had a proper seal and connection.

"So this is a 1964, not the peak of the Bonneville bikes but still a really good model. We'll need to make sure we look at the right year when we're searching for parts since they aren't always interchangeable, though some might be." He pulled up some of the sites he was talking about before to show her some of the visual differences and why different models needed slightly different parts. 

Marinette was feeling pretty excited herself by the time the day ended and she said goodbye. While she rode home, she felt the familiar buzz of inspiration and decided she needed to do something with the energy.

The moment she got home and settled, she had her sketchbook in hand. As she sketched a few different stray thoughts, she had another idea. She pulled out her phone and clicked on a contact.

"Hey, Nona. Yeah, I'm great, thank you. Hey, do you know anything about Triumph Bonnevilles?" 

She smiled as her grandmother started off on an excited tangent. Maybe she could help get some more traction for finding the remaining parts, too. She was excited to run the idea by Luka and watch his face light up. If she could do something to make him happy and excited, it would only be fair.

***

Over the next couple months, they managed to fix up almost all of the remaining parts they had, and had even purchased several of the missing pieces. It was coming together nicely and it had been a great bonding project for them.

They were in the garage, Luka tinkering on the bike, Marinette sketching in her design book, when Luka asked, "Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?"

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Yeah, passenger at least. I've ridden with my Nona often enough. Why?"

Luka nodded "Good. I'm just thinking about the first ride on this thing."

"It's… not roadworthy? It's missing the seat and the tires still," she pointed out.

Luka gave her a secretive little smile and hummed noncommittally.

"Did you find them? Luka, is the bike almost done?" Marinette pressed, suddenly very eager to get an answer.

He just flashed that lazy boyish smile and leaned over to give her a quick peck. He could be awfully irritating when he wanted to be.

"Oh come on!" She grabbed his face in her hands and gave him a look but found herself losing her train of thought when he looked at her that softly.

"I might have a lead. We're getting close." He was speaking quietly, staring into her eyes like he was as lost as she was.

They were interrupted by the very loud ringing of her phone and Marinette sighed. She looked at the caller ID. Luka leaned over to see who had disrupted the moment. "Oh, Gina. Go ahead and answer her, tell her thank you for the last tip she gave me, it panned out really well." He waved his hand to shoo her to answer.

"Hey, Nona, what's up?" Marinette asked when she answered.

"Marinette, my fairy, how are you? How is your sweet blue boy?" Gina asked with affection.

"We're great. He said to thank you for the last tip you gave him, I guess whatever it was is going good so far."

"Ah! Marvelous! Benissimo! I knew my dear friend was reliable," Gina exclaimed.

Marinette smiled. "Did you need something? Are you calling for an update or is this a social call?"

***

Luka smiled as he worked, enjoying the sound of his girlfriend's animated voice as she chatted with her Nona. Gina had been an excellent reference for the project. And Marinette had been more enthusiastic than he'd anticipated, he really just wanted to spend time with her, working on something creative together, a project that could be both of theirs. She had design and he had music, but this would be theirs. 

“Really?” Luka looked up as Marinette’s background chatter grew more enthusiastic, “Thank you SO much Nona! That will be perfect! Talk to you later, love you!”

“Good news?” he asked.

“Very, can I take the seat base and padding home today? I need to get precise measurements for the cover.”

“Sure, of course, I’ll help you get them home. Do I get to see the plan?”

Marinette smiled mischievously at him. “Hmmm, not just yet… unless you’re willing to share your news?”

Luka smiled patiently. “I can wait.” The tires Gina had helped him locate were perfect; she had a contact with access to vintage surplus—he had scored a near perfect match that had never been used.

“Hmpf. Of course you can.”

“C’mere.” He grinned at her little pout; they both knew he was far more patient than she was—she could keep a secret, though, even when she wanted to share. He had no doubt that whatever she was planning would be perfect.

Marinette hop-skipped over the parts lined up on the ground until she reached him and he pulled her into his lap. “I think this next bit is gonna need a little luck.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Where do you plan on getting that?”

“I was kinda hoping you could spare a little.” He bopped her gently on the nose then let his finger trail to her lips. He swallowed hard as she kissed his fingertip.

“I think I could manage a little.” Her eyes danced as she leaned in for a kiss. Best project ever.

***

It was gorgeous. Marinette ran her hand over the material that had arrived in the mail while she was out. Nona had found just the leather she wanted and expressed it over from Italy. It was supple, yet very durable—and the colors were perfect. Deep black, antique white, cerulean blue, and a perfect "Sass" green, ironically called "Serpente Nell’erba" or "Snake in the Grass." She had been determined to keep the retro feel of the bike while giving it a little more personality. She hoped to find a way to showcase the depth of character she saw in Luka in the colors and lines of the bike. Nona had approved of her design and she couldn’t wait to see it in reality. Marinette stopped short as she pulled the last of the leather from the box, there was something more. She grinned at the note, Stay safe my Fairy, and have fun! ~Nona, on top of something black and bulky. It was a riding jacket. Black with hot pink accents, and it fit perfectly. She took a quick selfie and sent a thank you text along with the photo to Nona Gina. 

Marinette glanced at the seat frame in the corner and shrugged off the jacket. The frame had been sanded, cleaned, and painted, though it still needed a clear coat along with everything else, but it was ready enough to get her started. Getting the seat back to her place had been a little tricky; she and Luka had been reduced to gales of laughter as they tried out different configurations to get both of them and the seat and padding on her moped, and had finally found a functional, if awkward, arrangement that required her to drive rather slowly, but they had managed it. Now she had work to do.

***

They were getting close. Luka surveyed all the parts. Once the clear coat went on, it would be a matter of final assembly and fine tuning. Marinette had loved the painting side of things and had gotten really good with the automotive sprayer. The colors she had helped him choose were gorgeous and while the vibrancy was certainly more modern than the browns and tans of the '60s, the overall design looked good on the vintage bike. She had shooed him out of the tent, insisting that she wanted to paint the clear coat on the tank herself. He knew she was planning something, he just didn’t know what. It was the final piece to be clear-coated and he was trying to remember that he was the patient one. He worked at polishing and assembling everything that was ready. Reassembling all the spokes for the wheels was time-consuming and a little tedious. Marinette had gotten it into her head to create a pattern with the spokes, some classic chrome and some a glossy black—it was going to look amazing in motion, but was nearly akin to torture to get them all into the correct pattern. 

The flap of their makeshift spray tent flipped open and Marinette exited with a glowing smile. “It’s amazing how much a difference the clear gloss makes!” she announced excitedly. “Want some help with the spokes?” 

“Sure, Melody, this pattern is making me a little dizzy.” She dropped to the ground next to him and started laying them out in order so he could just grab and install. Huh, he should have thought about laying them out first. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, we do.” She nudged her shoulder into his arm with a grin and set to work.

They hummed as they worked, enjoying the time together while focusing on the task. And if their hands brushed and lingered as she handed him spokes, well, so much the better. He liked this, one goal between them. Even as they used their individual talents for different aspects of the project, it was thrilling to see it all come together cohesively.

***

Marinette tried to stay calm as she worked on the spokes. Luka was too observant to not know she was up to something, but she was trying her best to remain calm. They still had to assemble all the parts, it wasn’t as if she could keep it a secret till the end or anything, but she did want the glossy finish to dry so he could see the decal as it was meant to be. She had worked hard on the design, and searched all over to find a shop that could print it on the right material for an automotive decal. In the end the work was well worth it. She had gotten the decals to go on smoothly without any bumps or bubbles, despite how nervous she’d been of messing it up at the last minute. The decal featured a green cobra, perfectly matched to the leather on the seat, coiled around a branch of sakura blossoms and rearing as if it was about to strike, fangs bared. The blossoms were pretty, but the snake had just the right vintage flavor to pull the whole thing together. She was pretty sure Luka would love it. She hoped he would at least. 

The wheels were done, the spoke pattern was mesmerizing, and everything that could be put together before the tank went on was ready.

“Can I see what you’ve done now, Marinette?”

“Yes! Of course. Let me just make sure it's dry…”

“It's been hours, I'm sure it's ready.”

“Okay, okay…” Luka grabbed at her hand as she fidgeted nervously.

“I know I’ll love whatever you’ve done, I trust you, can you trust me?”

She stilled. He was right, her nervousness suggested she was worried about his reaction and of course she trusted him to be both honest and appreciative of her work. She relaxed and tugged him towards the tent. “Yeah, come see.”

They flipped the flap open, pinning it back to let in the light and stepped inside. “Oh wow, Marinette, this is incredible!” She bounced, biting her lip as he traced the coiled snake and tapped the blossoms gently. “It needed this, a little piece of us visible. Mari, I love it.” She squealed and threw herself into his arms for a hug, trying not to knock anything to the ground. He caught her in his arms and took a step or two away from the finished tank before spinning her around in a triumphant embrace.

He loved it. She knew he would, but it was good to hear. The hug was nice, too.

***

Marinette stood waiting in front of the bakery. She could feel it, today was the day! Her jacket was stowed in her Vespa and she had wrapped the seat—she had struggled with some of the seams, but was happy with the final result.

“Hey, Marinette, let me take that.” She handed over the awkwardly wrapped bundle—the finished seat—as Luka joined her at the bakery. Maman and Papa fussed over them a bit as they arranged themselves on her moped with the seat. It wasn’t quite so awkward now that it was all one piece, and they were soon off. 

Marinette gushed over the work he’d done after she left the night before and he was beyond thrilled when he unwrapped the seat. He was amazed at the quality of the leather, and the design was elegant and playful. “Marinette, you are a wonder.” She blushed furiously at his praise and pecked his cheek before nudging him to attach the seat to the bike. Once the seat was on, it was down to the last details, and those were quickly accomplished. 

“I learned so much, Luka, I might be able to handle my own repairs on the moped if I ever needed them now,” she said as they attached the last bolt and adjusted the mirrors.

***

Luka was flabbergasted at how quickly it all fell into place. Marinette was rubbing a clean cloth over the chrome to make it shine and it looked amazing. Her grasp of design and color was fully evident once the machine was put together. He might have eventually finished the bike on his own, but there was no way it would have looked nearly this good without the creative eye and dedication of his girlfriend.

He scanned the area for the next step, "Now we just need…" and cocked his head in confusion when he didn’t see any more spare parts. Surely there was more to work on, right? He ran through his mental checklist as he fidgeted with the torque wrench in his hands.

Marinette laughed at his floundering. "It's done Luka, just accept it."

"Yeah, I guess it is." He was surprised to find that he was feeling a little sad about the end of their work together. The plan had been about the journey—more so even than the end result, as perfect as it was.

"Luka.” Marinette slid her hand into his and forced him to look at her. “This is the part where you tell me to hold on tight and we ride into the sunset." 

Well, that sounded pretty good. He glanced around. "It's barely noon."

"Guess it'll have to be a long ride then." She pulled something out of her moped and pulled on a form-fitting leather motorcycle jacket. Damn, she looked good.

Luka smiled, and grabbed her so he could steal a kiss. Well, he tried to steal one, but she wasn’t resisting, so he gleefully took the kiss she offered him instead. Maybe the end of the project wasn’t so bad after all. "Wanna go for a ride?"

“I’d love you—to! I’d love to, and I love you, Luka.” Music to his ears.

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “I love you, too, Marinette.”

His heart swelled as she climbed up behind him and he reveled in the feel of her holding tightly to him. Time to chase a sunset.

[sineala]

Five fic self rec meme!

Tagged by @nostalgicatsea approximately two weeks ago. I am not entirely sure what the parameters of this meme are but I think it might just be reccing five fics of mine that I like. I currently have 302 stories on AO3, so sifting through the contenders here was challenging. I tried to stick to shorter work of mine. This is all Marvel fic because that's what I've written the most of, because I feel like I've become a better writer over the years, and because I decided that the PWP I wrote in The Eagle fandom in Latin might have, uh, limited appeal.

All-Time Low (Marvel 616, Steve/Tony, 12,000 words, Explicit.)

You know how sometimes you write a story that ends up being exactly the story you wanted to tell? You get it down on the page and somehow it's exactly the way you wanted it to be in your head? The words just come out of you easy and fast and you're in the zone the entire time? (Yes, I know the term is actually "flow state.") And, sure, maybe it still needs some editing, but writing it is just this extremely good experience where you don't ever stop and wonder how any of it should go and all the words are just there. You know the thing I mean? I only have a couple stories that happened like this, but this one is one of them. I don't have much memory of actually writing this one, which is how that goes; I remember that I got the prompt and I knew what I wanted to write and then somehow this entire thing happened.

It was actually written for one of Kiyaar's prompts, which was that Tony should be sleeping with men for money during the second drinking arc and Steve should find out and there should be "shame and humiliation and tears." I looked at it and I thought, oh, I got this. The element of Steve then sleeping with Tony after he finds this out, which is a big part of the story, was actually not part of the original prompt, which I don't think even occurred to me until after Ki read the story and said she liked that development that I'd come up with that part myself. My brain was just like, hey, I know exactly how this story goes. Never even crossed my mind to do anything else. 

I keep putting off writing the fix-it sequels -- I have Plans for how the blizzard goes in this universe -- because I am afraid I won't be able to make them as good as the original story.

The Libertine (Marvel Ultimates, Steve/Tony, 6,000 words, Explicit.)

One day, I was just sitting there minding my own business and I thought, "You know what? Ults began in the early 2000s and therefore early-canon Ults Tony would absolutely have self-identified as a metrosexual," and then I thought, "Goddammit, I guess I have to write this story now."

I know that this one is in most ways a pretty standard first-time getting-together story but I thought it would be delightful to make Steve and Tony's roles in it opposite from what the prototypical Ults Steve/Tony story would do. So Tony here is like "actually, no, I'm not gay, I'm just metrosexual... oh shit, wait, I think I'm actually pretty gay after all" and Steve is the guy who spent World War II sleeping with every guy he could find. In the story, neither of them expect this about the other one, and I think fandom doesn't either.

I am also weirdly proud of thinking up the title of this story because "libertine" is a word you would probably want to apply to Ults Tony and yet Steve, the Sentinel of Liberty, ends up claiming basically every other liberty-related word, for obvious reasons. And maybe here he gets this one too.

(Incidentally, reading through the See Also section of the Wikipedia entry on "libertine" is a trip I think you should all take. Wow.)

The Longing and Yearning (Bullet Points. Steve/Tony, 13,000 words, Explicit.)

This is also a pretty standard first-time story but it's also my attempt to make Bullet Points fandom happen, which I think pretty much worked, so I'm pretty happy about that. It's a very small continuity, but it's a Steve/Tony thing now!

Steve and Tony never actually meet in canon and also Steve dies halfway through the series, but I had a lot of fun imagining what they might be like together. It was interesting to get to write Tony hero-worshipping a much older Steve, who was Iron Man and had basically all the physical trauma Tony usually gets from being Iron Man, and Tony wanting to be Iron Man because of Steve being Iron Man. Which is, you know, not usually how Steve/Tony goes. I also had a lot of fun furnishing Steve's 1950s-1960s house for him (Gwyn helped me out a lot with this while betaing) and writing Steve and Tony into a world of slightly vintage US government employee homophobia in the age of the Red Scare, which I don't usually get to do in Avengers fic although it occurs to me now that I actually really could have been doing this all along in 616 early canon.

Look After Your Heart (Marvel 616, Steve/Tony, 19,000 words, Mature.)

Last week, I remembered I'd written this when someone was asking for recs of stories where Tony's loneliness plays a major role and I ended up describing this one as "loneliness is Tony's villain origin story." I hadn't thought about it in years and I reread it and was like, you know, this wasn't half-bad.

This has not been one of my most popular Steve/Tony works, I think because the tags and summary make it look like a real downer -- which, okay, yeah, it kind of is -- but I would like to point out that it actually has a happy ending. I wish to stress this. Happy Steve/Tony ending. I promise. You just take a trip through hell to get there.

So this is an AU where time bullets don't exist and when Steve gets shot at the end of Civil War, he dies and stays dead. Tony finds this out when he wakes up after World's Most Wanted, doesn't remember the past couple years of his life, and discovers that Steve is now dead. He experiences a lot of grief. So this is a canon-divergent AU running through the events of Avengers v4 and Hickmanvengers up through Superior Iron Man, in which we all get to find out exactly how far off the rails Tony can go when he continues not to have Steve around to keep him sane, functional, heroic, or sober.

This fic is also interesting as a historical document, because it's one of my earlier stories in the fandom. I actually wrote it when Hickmanvengers was still going, before Time Runs Out happened, and even before Superior Iron Man happened. The last thing in here that was based in canon is the Great Society incursion. At this point, we knew that Tony was going to be Superior but we didn't know how it was going to happen, what it was going to be like, or how Hickman's run was going to end. So I took a whole bunch of guesses, and I honestly like a few of them better than what we actually got.

Smell Like I Sound (Marvel Adventures: Avengers, Carol/Jess, 7,000 words, Explicit.)

This is a Carol/Jess fic with background Steve/Tony. Look, I didn't promise they were all going to be Steve/Tony. This is set in MA:A, mostly because I needed a canon fairly close to 616 where Carol and Jess hadn't canonically met, and Jess does exist in MA:IM. I wanted to tackle an issue I hadn't really seen explored much in Carol/Jess fic, which was "how do Carol and Jess actually get together if Jess's pheromones uncontrollably don't have good effects on women?" because that seems like it would be bad. (I mean, it would also be bad if Jess's pheromones did uncontrollably have good effects on women, but that would be a different story.)

(Because comics are gonna comics, I'm pretty sure that MA: IM Jess's pheromones do have negative effects on women. This is not necessarily the case in 616. We actually found out a couple years ago in 616 that Jess can in fact pheromone women in the fun way, which, yes, I do have a fic outlined based on this. You bet I do. I just have not yet written it yet.)

I don't write a whole lot of femslash, which in this fandom is partly due to The Carol/Jess Troll (thanks, dude) and it's partly because I have a femslash problem I've never figured out how to consistently solve, which is that I can't manage to write a whole lot of f/f that has the same kind of stakes and feelings and tropey idficcy goodness as the m/m that I like to write. I can't really even articulate the problem in a useful way; I just try writing f/f and then I read it back and mostly it's not the thing I like because what I end up writing just doesn't seem exciting to me. And I know it's possible for me to write the thing I like because this one is the thing I like! I did it here! It's just not a trick I can pull off consistently. But, anyway, this one was fun. I think I did this one right.

Not sure who has done this meme, but I'm gonna tag @blossomsinthemist and @isozyme.

[hueynomure]

top 5 fics you've written!!

Ooo, that's a tricky one! I'm only gonna consider finished Ao3 autonomous fics - there's so many WIPs in my folders, so many enticing ideas that haven't turned into real fics (yet)... I've also written quite a bit for the Magic: Expanded Multiverse project (Magic the Gathering fics, but keeping the worldbuilding roots and giving a wide berth to canon) and permutations of my own OCs there, but calling most of them - and especially my fave to write - fully autonomous fics would be a bit disingenuous, I feel. I'm still pretty proud of those, though.

So, without further ado and in no particular order, these are the 5 fics that come to mind right now when I think of being the best for me, in combined terms of quality and importance for myself and my growth as a writer:

Dragon's Blood: a classic fairy tale about princes, dragons and maidens fair... with a twist. I've had a lot of fun, experimenting with the narrative tone! The connection with the original media is practically nonexistent - a wink to a certain character of the aforementioned MtG fan project.

The Antlion's Den: A Naruto recursive fanfic. I have an undying appreciation for what @jumpingjacktrash did for me just by existing and posting his stories, so when I had the inspiration to make recursive fics of his work I jumped at the chance to... return the favor, in a sense? The Antlion's Den is the meatier of the two fic, featuring his OC being cute, my OC being a bastard and a bigass fight at the end... when he said it was the best recursive fic he had ever received it easily made my week - I still smile at the thought.

Farewell gifts: This is a shared spot with Breaking Point and Woven In, really - they are my first steps in the Miraculous "fanficdom", but while Breaking Point features one of my best tropes ever and it's my very first ML (and Loveybug!) fic, Farewell Gifts features the Mariwalker post-reveal scene I wrote in THREE DIFFERENT FICS (wtf) and most importantly it was the first time I tried to engage a sweet, adorable teenage romance on its terms - I'm way more used to write gritty fights, bitchy dialogue and angst.

Undercover: the first smut I publicly shared! It was so exciting, to explore this whole new genre, weaving fluff and smut with no further goal than indulging my writing itch! And the response was incredible, it gave me so much confidence to continue and eventually write Augmentation and its continuation, which I'm pretty sure I'll finish writing at some point. Speaking of long-awaited conclusions...

Are Hexagon Square Dances a Thing?: if you had asked me a few weeks ago, this wouldn't have made the cut. I was so excited to join in @asukiess's Valentine Week celebration of Loveybug, figuring out a way to use all the LoveyWeek prompts to build some sort of plot (with @mostmagical's amazing help) and daily posting was so much fun! ...until it came to a jarring stop. The very last chapter got stuck in my brain sideways, and it took me EIGHT MONTHS to get through it. It soured the whole memory of that delightful week for me, so I'm glad I was able to finish it. To keep with the First Times theme, this was the first fandom event I joined in my life! And except for that snag at the end, I had a grand time.

Thank you for the ask! It was cool, to look back at my work this way 💜

[shrinkthisviolet]

morgan and barry and/or thallen and/or westhallen for the prompts ❝ hey, don't laugh at me! ❞, ❝ you can't possibly have thought that was funny. ❞, and/or ❝ i'm laughing because you're laughing! ❞ :)

Hiii sorry I've had a crazy couple days, but here this is!

Under the cut (especially for the second one, since that got long):

Barry & Morgan [childhood friends au]

In the canon Morgan AU, Morgan comes out to Caitlin first. But in the childhood friends AU, it goes a little differently!

(And for a little background...I haven't written this fic yet, but Barry and Morgan reunite when she's 13, and this takes place shortly after that)

“Sometimes I just feel…” “Different?” “Weird.” Morgan sighed. “You and Iris look at people and go, “oh, that guy’s hot.” “That girl’s hot.” “Look at his muscles.” And so on. But…me? I look at guys…or even girls…and think well yeah, their eyes are pretty or their face sure is symmetrical.” Barry laughed. “Hey, don’t laugh at me!” Morgan protested. “Barry, I’m actually worried here!” “Sorry, sorry.” He sobered. “Look, Mo…you’re 13. You gotta give it another couple years before you say for sure…because having crushes and stuff…it only just starts around your age. Some people are—“ “Late bloomers?” She guessed flatly. “Sometimes. Not always.” He sighed. “A word does come to mind, I’ll admit.” She perked up. “What is it?” “Hold on,” he cautioned, “I wasn’t kidding about it still being too early to say. Just…tell you what. You give it another couple years, and if your feelings don’t change…I’ll tell you what the word is, and you can do some reading and figure out if it fits you. Okay?” “Okay.” She beamed, hugging him. “Thanks, Bar.” He smiled. “Anytime, Mo.”

Westhallen (in an AU where Eddie lives!)

I was trying to write Thallen, but uh...this sorta got away from me 😅

“What’s on your mind, Bar?” Barry blushed at that, as he usually did when Eddie called him that “I, um…nothing, really. I just…this is nice.” Eddie laughed. “Ouch. Here I thought we were getting along and everything.” “Not that!” Barry protested. “I just mean…you’re alive, we’re all sitting around, and we’re all happy.” “And?” Iris prompted, nudging him again. “And…what?” “And you’re hiding something, Bartholomew.” “Hey!” Barry protested, while Iris and Eddie set off into giggles. “Uncalled for!” “Bartholomew,” Eddie repeated, laughing again. “It suits you. Dorky and adorable, just like you are.” “That is not—wait.” Barry blushed. “Did…did you just say…?” He’d heard that wrong, hadn’t he? Or interpreted that wrong? “Eddie,” Iris scolded, but strangely, she was smiling too. What's going on? “Hey, I’m trying to ease into it!” Eddie protested. “Unless you wanna ask?” “Ask…what?” Barry asked, frowning. “Barry,” Iris said slowly, “um…don’t take this the wrong way, and feel free to say no, but—” “—we were thinking,” Eddie said, “or…really I was, and then Iris was, so then we both were—” “—after Eddie said there were three people in this relationship, neither of us could stop thinking about it, really—” “Are you guys starting a band or something?” Eddie and Iris froze, stared at him, and then burst out laughing again. “Wh—hey!” Barry protested, though he started laughing too. “It’s not that funny!” “Then why are you laughing?” Iris protested, still fighting her own giggles. “I’m laughing because you’re laughing!” As they stopped laughing, Barry managed to finally quell his own laughs, huffing. “You can’t possibly have thought that was funny.” “You laughed too, Bar,” Eddie pointed out. “Because you two have infectious laughter! That’s not my fault!” “Okay!” Iris clapped her hands. “Look, I’m just gonna say it. Barry, are you in love with me?” Barry blushed to the roots of his hair. “I, um, well, that is…maybe? Yes?” “And with Eddie?” Iris prompted. At his hesitation, she added gently, “It’s okay if you are, you know. In love with either or both of us. We just wanna know.” Barry exhaled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in love with both of you. But I…I know you two are together. I get it. I’m…I’m not gonna get in the way, I swear.” “Oh for crying out loud!” Iris rolled her eyes, then leaned in and kissed him. And it was…amazing, really. He remembered kissing her at the waterfront, remembered how amazing that was…but that was rushed, and this was slow, full of love and passion. Barry blinked, glancing from her to Eddie. Eddie, for his part, didn’t look angry or upset at all. “Uh…?” “Do you mind if I kiss you too?” Eddie asked slowly. “I, um, sure? But Iris—“ “It’s okay,” Iris assured. “Go on.” So, reluctant though he was, Barry leaned forward and kissed Eddie. And that was something else. Barry felt the sparks there too, and it was…amazing. He’d never thought it would actually happen…and yet… “So…what’s going on?” He asked slowly. “What is this?” “Barry,” Iris said, grinning, “Eddie and I were wondering if you’d like to be in a throuple with us.” A th—oh!” Barry felt stupid for not realizing it before. “Oh, no wonder…that makes sense now. No wonder you laughed.” Iris laughed again. “In fairness, it’s…kind of a strange request. That’s why we were kinda nervous to ask.” “And we don’t have much experience with it,” Eddie added, squeezing his hand, “but…we’d like to try. With you, if you’re willing.” Barry squeezed both of their hands with a bright smile. “More than willing.”

I don't usually write Westhallen, but somehow this scene just demanded a throuple ending 😅

Also I'm still taking requests for this list if anyone else wants to send them!

prompt list!

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @vexic929 @raith-way @thechaoticfanartist @ironverseocs

[temporalbystander]

Okay so. This blog is my AU. I've done prompts before asking for interactions to other characters so I could show that I know how they work. Hell I wrote a story centred around Adrien having no idea what a period is, and I thought I got the character well, and Faybon wasn't even in that one. I wrote two stories based around Marinette discovering Faybon writes fanfiction and I only had Faybon chime in at the end of the second one. My point? I know I can write them. The amount of works from their points of view that will never see the light of day seems pretty in line with all the works I praise. So now? Now we test my theory. Below the cut, I present to you, the first chapter of the AU I mentioned before. Written entirely from Marinette's perspective.

Marinette had barely managed to get herself out of bed today, had it not been for the worried look her parents gave when she finally entered the bakery she probably would have tried to act sick. Wouldn't be hard, the crushing weight of what another day of school would bring, the fear that one slip up could lead to her being akumatised, the loneliness that twisted her stomach and made it hard to keep any food down... All of it was hidden behind a fake smile as she put a croissant in her mouth and headed to school.

Despite the rush she was in as she left, and how close she actually lived to lycee, she still slowed and waited as she passed the school doors. Dark red jacket tightly wrapped around her as she took a deep breath to try and steady herself. Only when the bell rings did she move, rushing up the stairs and into her classroom just as it finished.

Marinette didn't acknowledge Ms Bustier as she started up towards her seat. She ignored all the looks she was sure she was getting as she walked passed her classmates. The smug grin from Lila as she clung to Adrien's arm, the anger from Chloe that simmered whenever the two of them were in the same room. She even ignored the looks of pity she got from Alya and the other girls, saddened at the loss of the ones who could have been her friends, before she finally took one of the few remaining empty seats.

It was always a strange moment when she sat down at the start of the day, barely holding back a sigh of relief once she got her books out. Here she felt safe, momentarily at least since that feeling never lasted while at school, next to one of the few, if not only, person who tolerated her presence.

Not looking at him, unwilling to risk the peace they had built since she had been forced to move to the back of the class, Marinette just flicked up her hood and waited for the inevitable. It didn't take long. As soon as class officially started the first spitball smacked into the side of her hood and fell on to her page. She honestly never expected Kim to be so childish but him, like everyone else, had been turned against her following the sheer hatred Chloe directed her way.

Pulling the strings to close her hood a little more, once again glad she'd spent the time on it and that she no longer kept her hair in pigtails that stuck out from the sides and made it so much easier for the wads of paper to stick, she had just brushed her page clear when the next one struck. The way it caught just on the edge and made spit fly into her face caused her to flinch slightly, Kim's aim was unfortunately improving.

Still, she would endure, she had before. Plus it's not like getting upset would change anything. Moving her paper she was startled by the sudden movement of her seatmate, not only had he moved his paper, his shoulders tensing for some unknown reason, but he actually moved closer to her. "Would you mind swapping with me? The sun glare is giving me a headache."

The whispered request almost sent Marinette into shock. Never, in all their time at the same school, had Faybon spoken to her. Sure he'd given her a sad smile when she initially moved next to him but that had been months ago. And yes, she'd always had this strange feeling, in the moments where she could observe him without him noticing, that he strived to be as invisible and unobtrusive as possible. That something was holding him back from interacting with the rest of the class. She never questioned it, never questioned him or the bland greys he wore every day. She was just thankful for the peace his presence provided.

Now, for the first time, he was offering her something more? Worried that he'd rescind the offer, and not knowing how long she'd been in shock for, Marinette started to frantically grab her stuff only to freeze at the confused look Faybon was giving her. Her mind instantly went to dread. Had she misunderstood him? Was he asking for something else? Before she could put any of those worries into words Faybon just picked up his things, stood up from the bench and gestured at her to slide over. Something she quickly did, praying that the embarrassment wasn't showing so clearly on her face.

Faybon sat down with a sigh and a smile. "Much better. Thanks." Unable to respond, not knowing how she could get her lips to form any words at the moment, Marinette just started writing down what was on the board, heart pounding as she waited for the other shoe to fall. For him to ask to switch back so Kim could torment her some more.

The request never came. Just like every other day the two of them just worked in silence but, unlike every other day, this silence was far from comfortable. Marinette was fully aware of every movement Faybon made, the sound of his pen against the paper echoed in her ear, the ruffling of his shirt as it brushed her jacket almost made her heart stop, so certain was she that anything she did would cause him to rescind this small bit of, dare she say it, friendship he was giving her. Eventually though the class ended and, her ability bolstered by all the 'interruptions' she had to deal with, her work was done to the standard it had always been, if a bit shaky here and there.

As the rest of the students shuffled out, she was once again shocked by how Faybon continued to sit there. Was he waiting for her to say something? Should she say something? Should she thank him for the seat swap or would that be too much? Once more she was unable to say anything and it wasn't until Faybon turned and seemed surprised that she was still there that allowed her to relax. Guess he'd just gotten lost in thought, that headache must be serious then. "Oh I'm sorry, was I blocking you in?" He asked sounding a little guilty. She wanted to say that it was no big deal, that she could have gone around him, but he didn't let her respond. "Sorry, I don't like rushing, I prefer to move at my own pace." Grabbing his stuff Faybon started walking down the stairs before Marinette could say anything. She was glad when he paused and turned back to her. "If it's not too much trouble could I ask you to stay swapped with me just in case? The sun's only just started bothering me recently so I may need to get glasses or something."

Guess that proved her right about the headache but, from the way he was looking at her so easily? She doubted glasses had anything to do with it. Still, Marinette had to answer him. "I don't mind…" Her voice was quieter than she had intended and she had no idea if Faybon could tell how relieved she was that he was actually being serious with her. That thought alone gave her enough courage to press further, to hope even being as scared as she was. "Umm… should we do the same for our other classes as well?" If he said yes then maybe, just maybe, she could relax.

There was a moment of hesitation as something flashed across his face, before his body relaxed and he smiled at her, a full, genuine, smile. "Thank you. I thought it would be rude to ask but I would greatly appreciate it." Faybon's voice was filled with its own relief and gratitude. Something that pushed Marinette beyond her limit to deal with.

"Great, gotta go, anytime." She rushed out, unsure if her voice even reached him as she left the class, determined to get to the safety of her room so she could figure out what was going on.

Her parents didn't like her coming home during breaks, they worried about what it meant for her at school and whether it would be better if she went somewhere else. Unable to disagree with how right they were, but unwilling to let Chloe win, Marinette instead kept to the excuse of having left something in her room. Given how prone she was to sleeping in, and how scattered she was at the best of times, it was an excuse that always seemed to work. And was only an excuse half the time anyways.

Grabbing something quickly from the kitchen, along with a groan of exasperation, that wasn't at all faked thanks to her current thoughts, Marinette moved passed her chuckling parents as she went to her room, closing the trapdoor and letting out an even louder groan as she collapsed into her computer chair. "What is going on?" She exclaimed as she placed her head on her arms.

"Well, he's being nice to you, that's a good thing right?" Came the sweet comforting voice of the only reason Marinette was still sane.

Turning to look at the cute flying bundle next to her, Marinette just let out another groan. "But why now Tikki? What's changed? Is this some big prank like with Kim or something else?" Tikki was a godsend for Marinette. She could deal with the stress of school, of being alone, of Chloe and Lila, as long as she had Tikki by her side.

"Do you really think Faybon would do something like that?" The red and black little ball asked as she flew closer to rest a caring hand on Marinette's cheek. "Even if he was, why would he wait so long?" She continued, antenna twitching in concern as she looked at the stressed teen.

"I don't know Tikki, I don't know anything right now." She said with a grumble, her elbow bumping her mouse and turning on her computer screen to the last page she had been looking at. Glancing up and seeing the ladyblog post on Titania and Chat Noir, Marinette's stomach twisted even more. Quickly turning the computer off she sat up and turned away, unwilling to look the theories proposed on why the two terrorists of Paris wanted her Miraculous so bad.

She supposed that was one downside to Tikki. Sure she loved her kwami dearly but dealing with the constant akuma's and fighting Chat Noir all the time took its toll. She honestly couldn't imagine how hard it would be keeping all that a secret from her friends.

Seeing her holder spiralling Tikki quickly flew in front of her face to get her attention again. "Well, what do you know about him?" She asked, hoping for it to be a big enough distraction. "You've sat next to him long enough, and you've said you saw him around school before that. So.... Think it through."

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Marinette closed her eyes and nodded. "Right. Just think of it like my lucky charm. What do I know?" Frowning she opened her eyes again. "Honestly? Not that much." Maybe that wasn't completely unexpected, given that today was the first time they'd spoken, but it still struck her as kind of... Sad. Especially given what she did know.

"Don't worry about that. Just go through what you do." Tikki prompted with a smile, as encouraging as always.

Taking another deep breath Marinette started again. "Well... Superficially? He's quiet, keeps to himself, and dresses as neutrally as possible." Hearing Tikki giggle at that brought a smile to her face as well.

"So not one for attention then."

"Well yes and know." She continued as she thought about it. "He doesn't go out of his way for the spotlight but it never seemed like he was uncomfortable about it." Marinette paused, thinking back on what Rose revealed about Faybon being an orphan back when prince Ali invited her along on his guide to Paris. The next day, after word had gotten around, he'd just shrugged at everyone who confronted him and said he was used to it. In fact...

"What is it Marinette?" Tikki asked after a moment of silence. She knew that look, it was the same look she always got when on the verge of solving a puzzle.

"I'm not sure..." She said hesitantly, scared of what this realisation might mean. "But I think he has a history with Chloe, quite possibly Adrien as well."

"In what way?" Now Tikki was confused. She had only been with Marinette since the start of the year, and had spent the majority of the schooling in her purse. If it weren't for school photos or the frequent Akuma's Tikki probably wouldn't even know what half the class looked like.

"Well for starters, neither Adrien or Chloe seemed shocked to find out Faybon was an orphan." Marinette explained, thinking back on that day. "I mean maybe Adrien's lack of reaction was because he was still new and really hadn't interacted with him much but Chloe? Chloe's the type to use that to her advantage should she need it and yet, not a word from her about it." That on its own was odd. "Then there's the fact that he was asked to check in on Zoe yesterday. And he agreed."

"So he's not scared of Chloe then? That's good right?" 6000 years old but Tikki still had trouble understanding humans some times.

"No. Whenever the two are forced to interact he definitely seems reluctant." Anyone would be reluctant to deal with Chloe but Faybon? "Normally he doesn't let anyone faze him. Today was probably the best read I've gotten on what he was feeling and that's because he's sick. If I were to put a word to it? Id say she terrifies him, yet when it comes to Zoe? He's all confident about her again." It didn't make sense. Why would he switch back and forth?

"Well..." Hearing the normally calm kwami hesitate caught Marinette's attention immediately. The way Tikki shifted under the intense observation cemented the thought. Whatever she'd come up with? It was serious. "You said Chloe was the type to use something like being an orphan against someone right?" Marinette nodded, waiting, even as her stomach started to sink. "Well... What if she has?"

The conversation ended there, neither of them wanting to consider just what Chloe was holding over Faybon's head and, whether or not it was responsible for his sudden change in personality. If it was, was it in favour of Marinette or against her?

Heading back to school once lunch was over, Marinette took her seat by the window of their science class, just like her and Faybon agreed, only to be slightly shocked when he didn't appear soon after. In fact, everyone else had arrived by the time Chloe stomped angrily into the room, ignoring Sabrina's concern as she huffed and glared at the door. Walking through it was Faybon, staring at Chloe almost coldly before turning towards their seats. When he saw Marinette near the window he smiled in a way that both warmed her heart and twisted her stomach. He was serious about being friendly, that was clear, but Tikki had been right. Chloe had something over him, what could he possibly be risking for her? And why her? Marinette didn't know. But, until she did, she would be keeping her guard up.

[forabeatofadrum]

WIP ASK ME GAME

Thanks @bitbybitwrites for the tag. Like many, I am always down to clown about my WIPs.

I just have so many of them, so I am only going to talk about the ones I am focusing on. RIP to the many others who are in the far away ward in my WIP Hospital.

Under the cut because I ramble:

Partially published WIPs:

February Friday Event 2024 - Radio Silence (Alice Oseman)

Only one chapter is up. This is just a collection of 4 short fics that are set in post-canon of Radio Silence. They're based on the prompts from the February Friday Event. 2 of the 3 remaining chapters are partially written, but not finished. One will be about Carys and her thoughts on Universe City. The other is about friendship, but Carys and Aled are once again reminded by how badly their childhood was for them.

Ljubili se - Glee

MY BABY. This is the sequel to Ljubim te, the fic where Kurt and Blaine meet in Ljubljana. Now they're back in America and long-distance, with Blaine being in LA and Kurt in NY. My main reason for being stuck is admittedly that it's getting too ambitious and I need to figure out how to tell a coherent sequel. It's quite difficult, because Ljubim te was written without a sequel in mind and without much space to do more, but I love this world I made so here I am anyway.

Dancin' on that bamboo ceiling - Glee

A series of standalone fic that explore Asian identity and casual racism in glee. I've been working on and off on it for years and I have published some. But I really want to finish more. Right now I have a story about traditional dress and feeling removed from your heritage in my mind.

The Sarah Jane Adventures Extended Universe (SJAEU) - The Sarah Jane Adventures

Yes, my SJAEU is back on my mind. It's a spin-off of the Sarah Jane Adventures (which is in itself a Doccy Whomst spin-off) and it focuses on Luke after he left Bannerman Road and well, my unofficial title is Luke's Big Gay Oxford Adventures. The thing I posted is an overview of the AU, but I have been cooking up actual fics that are set in this AU since 2017 and they're simmering again.

Not published WIPs:

Just Some Guy - Carry On

Also known as MCD! It's the seven years of Simon and Baz's rivalry (and eventual romance) from the perspective of an outsider who has absolutely nothing to do with it. After all, it must be fucking wild for Watford students to see this wacky enemy to lovers. Matty Chris D. is the blandest person you'll ever meet, which is also why I am stuck. Go Matt, give us nothing.

Untitled TOTK-inspired Snowbaz fic - Carry On

This was marinating in my brain recently. Not sure I will get back to it soon, but hey, it's on my mind! As the "title" suggests, it's a Tears of the Kingdom inspired Snowbaz fic, which takes place after Wayward Son. The gang is back from America to find floating islands in the sky of the World of Mages. 7 years after their return, and 7 years after Simon went missing, Baz decides to find a way to the sky islands in order to find Simon. I don't wanna brag, but this idea slaps and I should get back to it.

Glee x Sense8 crossover idea - Glee and Sense8

I came up with a Glee x Sense8 crossover years ago and this is also back again on my mind. Just like the SJAEU, it's more of a concept with some overall thoughts than an actual coherent fic. It's back in my 2024 vision because, hey, I posted the SJAEU, I could possible post my Glee x Sense8 AU on AO3, because I think it's pretty cool. And yes, it's a crossover, not an inspired by thing. The Glee part is entirely an AU, but the Sense8 part is post-canon where the BPO has reformed, so that the sensates can figure out their shit in peace. And also, Puck from Sense8 will show up at one point. Two Pucks in one fic (because Puck from Glee is one of the sensates).

Anyway I have many more WIPs, like the Zimbits time travel one, or the Glee x Carry On crossover (begone Klaine and Snowbaz, Blaz OTP!) and UGH so many WIPs. If you wanna send me an ask about any of these WIPs, feel free.

Also, I think @bitbybitwrites already spread this in the Glee world, so let me spread it to the Carry On world by tagging @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @wellbelesbian @martsonmars @larkral @nightimedreamersworld @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

[iamthewoowoo]

Something cool happened last night.

(Note: Wrote this three days ago and drafted. Decided to post it today.) Today is a boring day, and I need to write something. I need practice. So to pass the time I figured I'd share an anecdote on what I experienced last night. I need to put this in my records anyway. I also wanted to make an introductory post. So I figure I can wrap the two into one that way - a lot of what I write will be like the anecdote below. With that said here's a little bit of background. You can call me Vigil. I'm a polytheist and eclectic magician who really digs chaos magic.

To be honest, I'm not sure what else to put here? Saying anything else makes me feel weird. I'm going to be talking about myself enough.

I just want to say I've been at this for a while, and it's where I picked up how to do what follows. Anyway this anecdote is about an experience I had while I worked on visualization, bordering on full-on astral projection after inducing hypnagogia.

tw: description of death

First off I just want to say: I wasn't alone during all of this, I am a polytheist after all. Due to certain agreements however I'm not at liberty to really write about that. So while I won't be getting into it, I do want to point out I was under protection as I experienced all this. I may have been in the forest, but I had someone lurking in the canopy with a high powered rifle. If it got too far they would have intervened.

Keep that in mind as you read further.

So I was doing some visualization in bed last night, where I basically work on an internal temple through my imagination. Think something akin to a memory palace. However the goal of this practice in particular is to bring on a hypnagogic state, which I've noticed over the years helps with achieving lucidity, or just having more beneficial, occult-y dreams. However it's been a while since I've done this, I'm getting into my mid thirties. When I lay down these days I just want to sleep. But last night I was feeling inspired and wanted to work on the method a little.

So I laid down, got into the proper mindset, and 'awoke' in my temple.

There I worked on moving around and so on. Did some squats. Walked a bit. Tripped and smacked my head on the floor. The usual.

Once I felt good and ready, properly in-sync with the place I was occupying, I decided to check out this library/reading room I used to frequent. While I won't be getting into all that, it's a pretty neat place. Has this kind of Backrooms vibe to it. Very beige and brown and fuckin' weird. It's a circular place lined with shelves of books and a square workspace in the middle with a table and chair. It's like a collective archive of various grimoires, most of which I can't ever seem to read. But I still like to visit and check it out.

So I walk in, and the place was loud. Unusually loud. Typically in the past it's stone silent, but this time it was like a fully loaded cafeteria. Just a bunch of voices talking over one another. I looked around and noticed no one was there though. It was as if the books were talking - or rather repeating all of their contents. Reading themselves aloud in some weird telepathic cacophony. So I muted it. Cause y'know, fuck that. I don't need a cafeterias worth of noise echoing in my head. I took this as a good sign though, it meant I was really melting into that ~mindspace~ if things were reacting dynamically to my presence as opposed to being prompted. Anyway I checked out the desk in the middle, and to me it seemed like there was a grimoire currently in progress of being written. On the table there was an open book that had text scrawled within it, along with reference books strewn out in piles over the rest of the surface. I decided to take a look at the open book but only saw the flash of a sigil, before the text on the pages swirled into nothingness. I guess it didn't want me to read it. Then I decided to check the books on the table. There was one in particular that stuck out to me. It was bound in a red cover, with gold text on the side that was in some kind of imposing, gold font. It almost looked like Latin letters with the roman numeral for 1. followed by a title that was all jumbled. Naturally, I opened the book. Cause I mean - why not? It was right there. In it I saw more text that was mostly jumbled. And then like a train it hit me. Hypnagogia began to kick in. The image of the library in my imagination was kind of blacked out as I had a close-eyed hallucination. It was a bright light, that turned into the sun, and then the image of a humanoid corpse raising itself in front of the light, effectively eclipsing it with its narrow head. Its skin was dry and grey, like all of the moisture had been sucked out of its body. A kind of sickly smoldering light enveloped the space around it. But this thing didn't have human eyes, this ones were vertical slits with two holes underneath where it's nose used to be. Then I could feel it. The descent into sleep, a kind of brain zappy sinking feeling in my head. And I did not want to fall asleep while I was currently enmeshed in whatever business that was. So I refocused once more in that place, and quickly shut the book and threw it back on the pile. Whether it was some cursed bestiary or something else - I was having none of it. I quickly returned to my temple, banished, and then roused myself awake. Ate some food, went out for a smoke, y'know. Put this event to bed by touching grass. All in all I feel like that was a pretty productive session. It's definitely given me an avenue for further exploration, though next time I'd be going in better prepared. So yeah, that's it. I just felt like sharing a neat experience. :-) Anyway here's All My Exes Live In Texas by George Strait.

Stay safe out there.

[amberduan-ual]

Interim Crit Project B (4/5/23)

My concept art project idea pretty much started from one character design which I then developed a world around.

I've always loved birds, especially birds of prey like eagles, hawks, falcons, owls, etc so I wanted to design a character that was based on one. I took an image of a harpy eagle and incorporated characteristics of the bird with medieval fantasy armor. I wanted the armor to have pieces and flourishes resembling feathers, and the knight to have a cape like a feathered tail. The gauntlets are sharp to imitate the talons of an eagle and the overall silhouette is pointed. I kept shape language in mind and wanted the character to have a triangle shape to emphasize her dangerous nature as a warrior.

I think I ended up choosing a fantasy inspired genre because I've been reading a lot of fantasy books in the past few months. I used to be a really avid reader through elementary and middle school, and my favorite genre back then was anything to do with dragons and talking animals. One of my favorite franchises ever is How to Train Your Dragon, both the book series and movie trilogy. I fell off reading books when I started high school because the internet was much more accessible by then, but for 2023 I decided to get back into it!

So far my 2023 Goodreads challenge has had a pretty considerable ratio of fantasy books, specifically the Locked Tomb series starting from Gideon the Ninth. The Locked Tomb is a bit of a mix of fantasy and sci-fi, but knight cavaliers and necromancer sorcerers are pretty central to the story, which definitely led to the knight decision.

From the character design, I started thinking about what kind of world this knight could inhabit and why would her armor be so heavily inspired by birds. The two main influences that I combined to create the world this character design by Airi Pan and the Great Eagles from Lord of the Rings.

I love the idea of taking any animal and having it become a knight's trusty mount, and the Great Eagles already set precedent for large birds that can be ridden, so I decided to create a world based on the concept of eagle knights.

I started gathering references for the influences that I want to go into the world, from fantasy medieval knights to birds of prey, to treehouses and bird nests. I took notes on areas that could be fleshed out for worldbuilding purposes, thinking about different classes of knights and their different bird mounts.

Next, I also created a reference board of visual development art. I wanted to have a lot of different types of concept art to reference and prompt me to think of different aspects of worldbuilding. Two manga titles that really inspire me are Witch Hat Atelier by Kamome Shirahama and Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui. Both are manga series written and illustrated by women, and are set in incredibly lush fantasy worlds.

I was inspired to start reading Witch Hat Atelier after hearing that it has great representation of disability and darker skinned characters, which is really rare for both the fantasy genre and Japanese manga. The character designs in Witch Hat Atelier are gorgeous and fantastically diverse, yet cohesive in a way that I really appreciate.

I picked up Dungeon Meshi after watching this amazing breakdown video on character design in the series. Ryoko includes extras in some of the volumes which demonstrate her great attention to detail in character design. Her character portrait lineups show diversity in their facial features and physical makeup, and she also makes sure that even when her characters have swapped costumes, they're still distinguishable from each other. There's a large range in body shape and size in the cast, even for women, whom Ryoko isn't afraid to design outside of the typical beauty ideals.

Besides character art though, I also have environment designs and creature designs in my reference board. I think it's important to have sheets that describe the detail of specific environmental details in a technical way, but also more rendered paintings that establish the mood and atmosphere of a world.

[writeblrcafe]

Digital interview with @thewritersplace

Our editor & barista Kendra (@thewritersplace) puts the kettle on and makes herself a cup of tea, then pulls a chair up behind the counter. She is currently writing a book and is still writing fanfiction. Her favourite genres include fiction, romance, fantasy, mystery, historical fiction, and paranormal/supernatural.

What got you into writing?

It's been a long time since I started writing, so I don't recollect the first instance very well, but the most likely thing that got me into writing would probably be Nanowrimo's Young Writers Program that my 6th grade homeroom teacher suggested I look into, since I wrote a lot of what she thought were interesting stories for the English class writing prompts she gave us at the beginning of every class.

What inspires you to write?

Beyond the pettiness of I see something and think "I could do this better"? Probably just the excitement of exploring various ideas from various pieces of media that I like, or age-old tropes and concepts that I've seen in favorite books/movies.

Which are recurring themes in your writing?

You know, honestly, I'm not sure. You're probably better off asking my best friend that, since she's read pretty much everything I've ever written. I don't necessarily focus on themes when I write. So, I'd probably have to read all my stuff over again with 'themes' in mind and get back to you with an updated answer.

How would you describe your writing style?

Not to repeat myself, but what I said to the previous question also applies here. I don't know what the writing style would be since I don't really know what types/options there are. I guess I'd say mine is hopefully elegant but straight-forward and clear. I've never been a fan of flowery writing, because while it's very pretty, it's a total pain to read through. I'd have to ask my best friend what she thinks the style is because like I said in my answer to the previous question, she's read all my stuff and could probably figure out what the style is.

How do you deal with writer's block?

I don't really get writer's block, so this might be more like tips on how I avoid getting it, rather than how do I deal with it. I usually listen to music related to my WIP(s), or work on another story or fanfic, or talk with my best friend about whatever ideas and stuff I have, and where I might be getting a bit stuck. She's probably the real reason I don't get writer's block, honestly.

Do you have a wip? Tell us about it:

I do! Technically, I have six, but the main one I'm trying to focus on right now is my Dracula-inspired one, called The Road To Eternity Is Paved With Blood. I'm more or less pulling from the novel, with some other stuff being pulled from the movie Dracula Untold, and some inspiration from the anime Hellsing. The latter was actually the biggest inspiration for my novel, and I've written fanfic for it, but my story obviously is different not just for reasons like copyright, but also for the fact that I've always wanted to do a Dracula/vampire story and put my own spin on it.

Have you already published your writing? Include a link to your published work so we can share it.

When I did the Nanowrimo Young Writers Program in middle school, they published the two novels I did for the event (one for each year I did it), but I've never been able to find either version online at this point. I have hard copies of the second book, though they are lost to the abyss that is my parents' house at this point. The other two things I've published are an academic paper that was my senior thesis, and a poem to a lit magazine. Unfortunately, the lit magazine's website is currently protected by a WordPress login, so I don't have the ability to get that link to the poem, but for those interested in viewing it, here is the tumblr link (this is my main blog). You can find the academic paper here.

You can tell us more interesting stuff about you here:

I don't really have much that I deem 'interesting', but a few facts about me are that I have been writing for over a decade, and while most of that has been fanfic, I've worked on a few original works here and there, including my six current ones. Outside of writing, I'm a graduate student in her last term, and work as a part-time studio manager for a small yoga studio. For those interested in her because of the mentions I made in some of my answers, here is my best friend's tumblr @bwaldorf

Get interviewed by Writeblr Café!

Any writer can participate. Just fill in this form by clicking on the link below. Maybe we will host interviews in an audio format if you are more interested in listening to an interview than reading it.

[angelbaby-fics]

what would bucky do if he found reader in his room sniffing all his clothes after he left for a long mission

a/n: omg i love this idea!!! and the pic is so cute 🥺 🥺 i hope you don't mind, i varied slightly from the prompt & also i tried a new format but its the longest thing i've ever written so far so hopefully that makes up for it a little lol!! 💕 also i was watching tfatws as i was writing this hehe 💕💕

You missed him even when he went to the grocery store without you; it didn’t matter if it was a months-long mission or an overnight one, you hated it when your daddy had to leave.

As soon as Bucky got the call to action, the two of you sprang into your own little action plan at home.

He made sure the kitchen was stocked with your favorite easy to make food, although you knew if you asked to order delivery at any point while he was gone he’d say yes.

He made sure all your laundry was done and the house was clean so you wouldn’t have anything to stress about while he wasn’t there.

And while the name of the game was keeping you at a reasonable age while he wasn’t around to take care of you, he kept a box of your little things within reach, should you need them.

You had all these cautions in place, in addition to daily facetimes and text checkups every few hours, not to mention the thought of your daddy finally coming home to you to keep you going through these lonely days.

But this time it didn’t work

You didn’t know how, or why, but you just missed him more than ever

You NEEDED him more than ever

Bucky had been sent on lengthy missions before, but never quite this long, or quite this dangerous, or while you were quite this little, or maybe he had, but no matter what you knew you’d never missed him quite this much.

You tried as hard as you could, you really did!

First you tried going about your daily life, avoiding all urges to regress

But eventually you found yourself going towards the box with your pacis, thinking maybe you’ll just pop one in for a little bit while you did some big girl tasks, right?

But then the next thing you knew you were changing into your comfy pajamas

And gathering all your stuffies

Turning off the lights and flipping on your noise machine

And curling up on his side of the bed

But it still didn’t work

You could feel yourself spiraling towards a meltdown

All you could think was

I

Need

Daddy.

You pressed your face into his pillow, inhaling as hard as you could, desperate to fill your airways with him

But it was no use

Bucky had washed and changed all the bedding

The only thing you could smell was fresh linen and lavender soap

So you did the only thing you could think of

With you being his only priority in the time leading to his departure, his own laundry schedule had gotten pretty backed up

You scooped as many stuffies as you could fit into your arms and slid off the bed, nearly diving headfirst into Bucky’s laundry pile

You didn’t care if it was dirty

(most of it had only been worn around the house or out to the park anyways)

The scent still lingered in the fabric, unspoiled by the washing machine

The various products he used throughout the day, soaps, cologne, aftershave, shampoo, hair gel.

And of course his natural scent, the sweat & pheromones unique to James Buchanan Barnes.

You piled all the clothes up into a sort of nest, his t-shirts and sweatpants at the top for optimum sensory comfort.

Almost like a little puppy, you padded onto the clothing pile and curled up, clutching a shirt to your face in place of a stuffy.

Only then did you finally start to relax, did you finally feel the slightest relief to your building meltdown.

It was enough to make your eyes get heavy, your breathing finally slow and steady as you dozed off.

So cozy in your daddy’s clothes you weren’t aware of your phone vibrating, Bucky on the other end with a surprise for you.

So lost in dreamland by the time he came through the door, two days earlier than expected, and called out your name

When he didn’t get an answer, he was a little disappointed, a little more worried, but still had the sense to look through the house before he declared you missing

And that's how he found you, swaddled up in his miscellaneous clothes, tears dried on your cheeks, pacifier in your mouth

He didn’t want to startle you out of your sleep, but he knew that as long as you were little, you wouldn’t mind being woken up if it meant you could be with your daddy.

And that's exactly how you felt when his kisses began to poke into your dreams, slowly making them fade away

You smiled to yourself before opening your eyes

Bucky hovered above you, his eyes warm and glittering with excitement to see you, mirroring your smile

The scent of the clothes, the warmth, the essence or your Bucky amplified a thousand times as the real thing held you firm in his strong arms

“Hey babydoll, you miss me?”

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

"I read our kid a book about the things snowmen do at night and now we’re taking a walk at two in the morning to show them the actual snowmen don’t do anything"

Could you do this one with kaku? It seems very much up his alley 💛

-evilhorses

Welp, this resulted in the cutest fluffiest thing I've ever written, but maybe that's what we all need this Winter. I hope you enjoy! (and for the rest of you, you can request your own winter prompt here!)

Characters: Reader x Kaku (with a child of unspecified name/gender), mentions of assorted other One Piece characters.

Word Count: ~1300 words

Warnings: None. Though I know some of my followers aren't big on kidfic, so be ye warned that a child's about in this one.

A few hours ago, the entire situation seemed cute. Tonight's a rare night where both you and Kaku are home to put your little one to sleep, and Kaku had found a new picture book for the winter season. He'd read the book about snowmen and their nighttime activities, making sure to give all the snowmen voices that made your child giggle under the covers. You'd "assisted" by pantomiming the actions all the fictional snowmen took when the rest of the world was asleep, such as skiing and snowball fights. All good, innocuous fun. You'd both kissed your little one goodnight and spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other's company, and that should've been the end of things.

Except, your child always sees the world through a lens of youthful imagination and wonder. And why not? Daddy can run and parkour around the city like he's made of the wind itself (and sometimes he takes your child along for the ride, giving you a heart attack only whenever you catch them in the act). Every unofficial uncle and aunt has weird quirks that can seem magical, from Lucci's "talking" pigeon to the tricks Kalifa can pull off with bubbles. Because of this, even compared to other kids in the same age group, yours has a runaway imagination that can prove hard to stop.

Hence why, early in the morning when you get up to chase some racoons away from your garbage with a broom, you happen to spy a pair of wide doe-eyes (same as Daddy's) peering out from the window.

"What are you doing up so late?" you stage-whisper as you absently swatted at the racoons.

"Shh!" Your kiddo responds, with one finger raised to lips. "They've gotta' think I'm asleep."

"The raccoons?" Your brain is, admittedly, still a little sleep-addled thanks to being suddenly awoken by the racoons banging around in the garbage cans. You'd run out to deal with them before they could wake up your poor overworked husband too.

"No. Them." That tiny finger points to the carrot-nosed friends decorating your yard. Yours looks pretty plain ("traditional", you called it), with its branch arms and a partially chewed nose. Your child's contribution is more of a lump than anything, but it's a darn good-looking snow lump in your personal opinion. Kaku had made a snow giraffe. You're still convinced he built it around a wood frame or something, because how else could it remain so structurally sound?

Your sluggish mind limps back to a few hours prior and the book you'd all laughed over. "Oh honey, snowmen don't actually move around at night. That was just a story."

Lips purse and brows furrow. "But other things in stories are true. Like the zoo animals. And pigeons trying to eat hot dogs. And Grover!"

That...is a fair point. You'd just gone to the zoo a few weeks ago, and Hattori does frequently steal food from Jabra and Paulie, hot dogs included. And you aren't ready to explain that Sesame Street wasn't real either.

The door inside your child's room opens, and there's Kaku. Seems he woke up after all, and is already pulling a sweater on. "Honey, some things in books are real, and other are make-believe. But I know how we can check! Our snowmen might not be moving since we're awake...but everyone else on the block should be asleep. So how about we take a stroll around the neighborhood to see if any of them are up and about?"

Your child cheers, practically jumping into Daddy's arms to be bundled up in winter wear and then ride upon his shoulders. You mouth a silent "thank you" to your genius husband, and hope it won't take too long to convince your kid that the snowmen aren't going anywhere so everyone can get back to sleep. You shoot a glare at the bushes, mentally willing the racoons to stay out of trash and trouble in your absence, before you run inside to trade your slippers for some actual boots.

It's a clear night, and the moon casts a soft blue glow across the neighborhood. The light catches the snow and everything sparkles the way not even movies can replicate. Your boots crunch at the fresh layer of white on the sidewalks, and the cool night air gives you an excuse to hold Kaku's hand and huddle close to him, as your kid sits on his shoulders and peers across the blankets of white for any trace of cavorting snowmen.

Kaku reminds your child to be "quiet as a churchmouse" atop his shoulders, which only results in questions about what a churchmouse actually is and how it differs from a regular mouse. You gently rib Kaku for his old-timey turns of phrase as you interlock elbows and amend that "really, long as you're quieter than the racoons, I think we'll be okay. Last thing we want is any of our neighbors chasing us away with a broom." You'd fear running into Lucci at 2 AM with any sort of cleaning implements. Or that Mihawk guy, who you're pretty sure could fight off an army with his snow shovel alone.

Speaking of Mihawk, he's practically built cathedrals with his snow sculptures, carefully carved monuments that scream less "Christmas" and more "Catholic for the aesthetics" and "I incorporated my Halloween decorations instead of putting them away". This effect is only emphasized by the cutesy snow-ghosts interspersed across his yard, and one single snow lump wielding three cardboard tubes like swords. Your child giggles at the imaginative house, then suppresses a squeal at the house next door, full of lights and animatronics that only local inventor Franky could pull off. Past that is a yard full of snow deer surrounding a tree somehow still covered in pink flowers despite the season, an army of snowmen with a sign that reads "standing army of the brave Captain Usopp!", and a collection of giant snow ducks, among many other displays.

You stand there on the icy street for a long moment, taking in the sights as new snowfall slowly drifts down like stars forsaking the sky to rest upon your hair. Your child giggles as a particularly large flake lands on Kaku's nose and says, "Daddy, you've got a nose like a snowman!"

"Suppose I do! Sure hope no reindeer mistakes it for a carrot. Speaking of which..." He gestures to all the snowy beings across the neighborhood. "They don't seem to be moving much at all, are they?"

"...No," your kiddo admits, "but I wanna' watch a little longer."

"Okay. But not too long. Don't want you catching cold and becoming a popsicle!"

Lights twinkle green and red, blue and yellow. An animatronic Santa Claus waves at an otherwise unmoving world. Your child's eyes slowly flutter as excitement gives way to sleep. In the distance, the silence is briefly disturbed by rattling trashcans. The racoons are at it again. You internally sigh, but even the racoons can enjoy this wintry wonderland a moment more.

There are so many things you want to say. That you wish you could do this more often, though perhaps not at two A.M. That you're so happy to have a night home with your family, where you or Kaku haven't been dragged off to work. That's it's cheesy but something about the scene before you touches your heart in a way that reminds you of what you always truly cherished about holidays like these. But you don't want to break the silence of this wintry night.

You squeeze Kaku's hand, hoping that it can convey all the words in your head and love in your heart. He looks at you, smiling back with flushed cheeks from the cold, blinking holiday lights sparkling in his eyes, and the head of one sleepy child resting atop his. He's the picture of perfection as he squeezes your hand back, warm against the cold night air.

"Happy holidays, love."

"You help make them happy, Kaku."