#this is not a drabble its like...a full length fic but anyway

[c0llisiion]

★Pairing: bang chan + f!reader

★genre: smut

★: drabble , shower sex , dom!chan , unprotected sex , name calling — lmk if i missed any!

★W/C: 442

A/N: like I promised a short drabble 🫶 quickly finished this up bcs i didn’t want to starve my pookies </3 i will try posting more fics like these during this month! Anyways enjoy!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Shower sex with bang chan would be one of the best experiences of your lifetime. This man doesn’t hold back.

He has your face smooshed against the shower wall. One of his strong hands is on your hip, and the other is tightly wrapped around the nape of your neck as he pounds into you from behind. Warm water flowed down his body. The bathroom was filled with the loud sounds of wet skin slapping together, along with your ungodly moans and the running shower. The way he held onto your hips was so tight that it definitely resulted in bruises.

“C-chan…! Its … too much!” You whined out. Chan slowed down , pulling out till the tip of his thick dick before slamming into you with great force, sending your body flat against the shower wall. “Take it.. Wanna be a whore? I will treat you like one..” His thrusts became harder and harder each time. You couldn’t think much.

The feeling of his big dick abusing your soft, warm walls was your only sense. Choked-out moans escaped your mouth with each thrust. His fingers found your sensitive clit. He flicked and drew rough circles on the bud, making you buckle your knees. “Fucking look at you… pussy, so fuckin good.. its made for me and me only ,got it?“ you nod incoherently at his words as the overstimulation was making you hazy.

He moaned at the sight of your ass rippling every time it made contact with his abdomen. A thick ring of your cream coated the base of his cock. “Fuck chan! Im so close…” you whimpered. “You wanna cum? My pretty little slut wants to cum?” Chan whispered in your ears, a harsh spank landed on your ass, sending shock waves of only pleasure throughout your body.

You gasped at the impact. Holding onto Chan's wrist that was on your swollen clit. His other hand grabbed a handful of your wet hair before increasing his pace, abusing your sloppy cunt over and over again. You clenched around his length as his fingers on your clit worked swiftly to help you reach your orgasm. “Fuck baby… gonna cum.. gonna cum in your sweet little pussy…” You shut your eyes tight as a loud moan left your mouth. You gasp and cum around his length. Chan threw his head back, and with a loud groan, he filled you up with his seed. Rope after rope of his creamy white cum filled your womb full. He pulled out with a shit eating smirk as he watched a gush of yours, and his mixed arousal dripped down your pussy and thighs.

A/N: thank you 4 readinggg <3 lmk who I should write for next!!!

[doyouevenshipbr0]

borderline illiterate gruvia think piece.

happy gruvia day i guess!

so like…… im a grown woman. so believe me when i say at this point i rly couldnt care to be genuinely bothered by antis. like i will literally just block them lmao. ok yes i did write a whole fic revolving around a comment by an anti KFHDKSJWJEDK but i rly wasnt mad i was just genuinely inspired by what they said.

ANYWAYS! nonsensical 294820381002 word rant incoming from the “unbothered” grown woman.

seeing people say how gray is out of character in 100 yq/has stockholm syndrome are literally missing the entireeeee point of his and juvia’s relationship and its crazy!!

*side note, i think for the sake of helping gray’s character and development, they sacrificed a lot of cool things about juvia and a lot of her individuality which i do not like. but thats a rant for another time. btw do notttt even come for me bc she is literally still by far my fav character lmao*

im probably gonna go on for too long about this but gray’s whole fucking character throughout the whole story from beginning to end is centered around the fact that hes cold and closed off and grumpy and “too cool” and listen im not saying this is fucking rocket science or any type of transcendent literature by any means but i HAVE to point out that hes a fucking ice wizard. like. duh. im sure his character/personality was meant to go along with abilities i mean look at literally EVERYONE else in fairy tail.

ANYWAYS the reason he is this way is because he’s so used to losing all of the people he loves and even worse, hes used to so many people sacrificing themselves for him.

and it traumatizes him!! so many people hes been close to have died and he ultimately always thinks its his fault! lord knows im rusty with ft knowledge but his parents died (cant remember if it was in any type of sacrificial way teehee), Ur sacrifices herself for gray, ultear sacrifices herself for gray, and his dad dies AGAIN (once again, not sure if this was in a sacrificial manner lmao. i kindaaa think it was? maybe? shrug.). but POINT IS! theres a common theme of loved ones dying and/or sacrificing themselves for him. there might even be more people lmao idfk.

so what happens when he meets a girl who has an overwhelming and unwavering and infinite love for him?! he is freaked the fuck out!!! for a couple reasons! 1. he is so used to losing the people that love him and 2. he doesn’t even think hes deserving of any love to this degree!

then what happens? he PUSHES HER AWAY! KEEPS HER AT A DISTANCE!!!! because THATS ALL HE KNOWS!!!!!!!!! yes he has his friends who love him but no one has ever loved him in the way and abundance that JUVIA DOES! so he has to react appropriately! lots of love = lots of keeping her at an arms length!

so when he thinks he loses juvia in their fight with invel, and she comes back, dont we think it would make sense that he finally realizes he should accept his feelings for her? i mean remember when he said he promised her an answer AFTER the war? once again, like gray, pushing things off. and then he almost LOSES HER without ever telling her how he feels! so gray realizes life is short! theres no use in trying to deny ur feelings! these are common themes in like 85% of my gruvia drabbles lmao.

im not even saying that it was love at first sight for him and that gray liked her from the jump. bc i dont think thats true. i think we can finally see outward romantic feelings for juvia right after the tartaros arc, when juvia visits gray at his parents’ grave. but before that, i think juvia was a friend (wellll i feel like after the tenrou island arc he liked her more than a friend, but he didnt really realize how much more) who he cared about, and truly didnt know what to make of her because like i said, hes never known a person to love him so much and actually not die LMAO.

but my point is, juvia is the perfect person to be gray’s romantic partner. she is a person so full of love and so happy to love and she doesnt care who knows it. she is unequivocally herself and she wears her heart on her sleeve to the upmost extent.

it literally only makes sense for his character to end up with her!

u could argue gray doesnt need to end up with anyone at all bc he has his friendsssss and likeeee. sureee. fine. but what fun is that? i personally want to see the scared-of-love grump to find his person. i think, again, thats kind of the point of gray’s character- learning u are worthy of love, accepting love, and learning to love openly.

im sorry but literally what better happy ending for him than to be with juvia?

so fast forward to 100 yq, where he is just sooooo out of character apparently. dont we think that may actually be…. character development?

the boy who probably couldn’t even fathom a romantic relationship is now finally accepting he’s in love. he’s done pushing it off, he’s done denying, he’s done depriving himself of feeling love. thats a step in the right direction! now what? in true gray fashion, he thinks hes still not good enough! and that’s where we are now. he’s not confident, he thinks he’s weak, and he thinks he cant protect her. why? he knows she loves him. he knows he’s objectively a strong wizard. so why does he feel inadequate? CIRCLE BACK!!! TO WHO GRAY IS AS A PERSON!!!! SINCE DAY ONE!!! constantly in fear of losing his loved ones! thinking he can’t protect them! SCARED TO LOVE!

like im sorry the proof is soooo in the pudding and i totally understand if gruvia isn’t ur cup of tea but to say things arent making sense is silly to me! they actually make perfect sense!

and yknow what. im gonna go from a romantic standpoint to a realist standpoint. years ago, mashima said he likes gray and juvias dynamic and didnt have anything serious in mind for them anytime soon. so he kept that going for literally the entire series. well. he ended fairy tail alluding to the fact that gray and juvia were kinda together at that point. or he at least ended it with the pretty obvious conclusion that gray does in fact have feelings for juvia. so then when ft 100 yq starts what was he supposed to do? act like all of their development in the last arc never happened? that would be kinda hard to do!

whatever i just hope at least like 3 of these sentences were coherent lmao u guys get my point

[simpjaes]

hi! its finals week and i keep getting distracted from my studies since the only thing I can think about is enha hyung line and nipple play :( especially my bb jakey :(( I just feel like he would be so into playing with them while he gives you backshots...

man, i just got over my finals week, i get it. it took me an entire 6 days just to get my feet back in real life because i was so busy for so many months that the sudden silence hit me like a fucking train and i didn't know what to do ; - ;

ANYWAY, There's gonna be a lot of nipple play in my next full-length fic :3 i might consider doing a drabble if you send another!!! idk, i wanna write about hyung line and how they like to play/abuse with tits.....*muffled screaming*

[moechies]

hellu :3 the anon who sent you the blackmail req, i js wanna say i luv it sm !!! it totally fits what i expected it to b and im so glad u did the favour i asked :333 and also plz call me 💦 anon !!!! anyways, i have a new req :O

imagine sukuna breaking up w reader (whos literally ok with it since reader is forced into that rs) and after a week of their breakup, sukuna finds out that reader and her ex are back talking and decided to invade her dorm and does the deed w her (forcefully) and suddenly, reader's phone started ringing and its her ex LIKE CALLINF READER DURING A BAD TIMING YK!!!!!! AAAAAAA I CANT WAIT i love ur writings sm plz 😣 (if can, pls do highschool jock bully sukuna)

- 💦

hi there!! tysm, i’m so glad you enjoyed my drabble haha:3

i would love to write your rq, however if i do i would plan to make it a bigger fic, probably a full length one instead of a drabble bc there’s a storyline! so it might take me some more time, and ofc i’d give u credit :33

[seijorhi]

Hi Rhi, happy Thursday (and Artemis's Thursday Rants and Raves of the Collection of Seijorhi's Works)

Today I want to talk about one of your drabbles, specifically "Kyoutani forcing you into a relationship"

Because it fits in so well with your characterisation of him in all of your fics - he's so insistent and soft, unless you upset him

Also no one bothering to help because they're so scared of him, just the icing on the cake

And the not so subtle way its illuded to that he steals stuff to gift to you, sort of like a crow lol (or maybe a cat bringing you a dead mouse or bird)

I feel like I don't mention your drabbles enough, and I love those just as much as your full length fics, they're all amazing

Anyway, happy Thursday :))

See you next week <33

Kyoutani's so fun to write because he's feral pretty lucid unlike a lot of other yandere's I write. He's not under the impression you're magically gonna feel for him a fraction of what he feels for you, he knows he scares you (and everyone else – but especially you) and he knows you've got a pretty good reason for that fear, too.

A lot of it comes from selfishness. If you were smart, and if he gave you half a chance, you'd leave him in the dust before he could stop you, and that would be a good thing. You deserve someone better, someone who you don't have to walk on eggshells around, someone who won't beat people bloody for pissing him off (not to mention what he'd do if they so much as looked at you wrong). Unfortunately, he's not all that motivated to be that sort of man, and he's not interested in being noble enough to let you have that happiness without him.

He needs to keep you safe.

So he tries to make up for it. Tries to be better.

[calumcest]

good morning :) loved the new drabbles and i was wondering if you'd write about 'actually.. i just miss you' and lashton again but like.. in the angel/devil au? i completely get it if not because you already wrote one with that prompt (and it was great) but i'm a sucker for this verse and the phrase just reminded me so much of them (oh and maybe alternatively for them if you don't want to use the prompt again: 'why do i love you?')

thank u so much!! omg i’m so glad you enjoyed the verse bc i am slyly living for it its very self-indulgent so any requests to write more in the angel/demon verse...how could i say no also forewarning this is not a drabble its 1.7k sdlkfjhsbdf 

Ashton, Michael prays, an edge of desperation to the word, and Ashton jerks up from the record of the soul he’s currently processing, focusing in on the prayer. Come down. I need you. 

What for? 

Luke. 

Ashton can’t help the butterflies in his stomach at that, and he swallows, pushing himself back from his desk. 

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t go. Michael’s more than capable of handling Lucifer - he’s proven that once before - and Ashton’s busy. He’s got at least three thousand more souls to process today. He doesn’t have the time to go down, doesn’t have the time to chase whatever stupid nonsense Lucifer’s up to now. He shouldn’t. 

Instead, he focuses in on Michael, lets his prayer swell in his heart, closes his eyes, and heads down. 

He turns up in the dark outside a restaurant, lit up by one feeble streetlight. He can feel that Lucifer’s in there, feel it in the burning, crawling sensation under his folded-in wings, so he takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. 

It’s nearly empty, save a table with Calum, dressed in all black, leather jacket catching the light as he gesticulates wildly, frowning. Michael’s opposite him, white shirt setting off his pale skin and blond hair, frowning right back at Calum, lips twisted in a way that Ashton knows firsthand means I know you’re right but I refuse to lose this argument. Lucifer’s sat next to Calum, looking incredibly bored with whatever’s happening, but, almost as though it were an instinct, his eyes are drawn to Ashton, north meeting south. 

Ashton swallows at the dark look in Lucifer’s eyes, and heads over to the table. 

“What?” he says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as hoarse to everyone else as it does to him. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Michael says, a look of relief spreading across his face. The curse rings loud and unholy in Ashton’s ears, and makes him wince slightly. Michael barely even notices. “Cal, let’s fucking go.” 

“Wait,” Ashton says, as both Calum and Michael scrape their chairs back, and Michael turns to look at him, faint annoyance etched in his features. 

“What?” he says. 

“What?” Ashton echoes, slightly incredulous. “You call me down here, and then you leave?” Michael shrugs. Ashton cannot believe him. “You said-” he cuts himself off, with a glance at Lucifer, who’s watching the exchange idly. Lucifer doesn’t miss the glance, and a lazy smile spreads across his face when he realises what the look means. 

“I just said I needed you,” Michael points out. 

“For Lucifer.” 

“Yeah, to keep him company,” Michael says, “while me and Cal go off and fuck.” Calum nods seriously at that. Ashton’s going to speak to Him about blanket banning consorting with demons. Michael’s getting worse by the day, and he was never good to begin with. 

“I think he can look after himself,” Ashton bites out, casting Lucifer another glance. Lucifer just looks back at him, amused smile playing on his lips. 

“No,” Michael says, placing a hand on Ashton’s shoulder, and Ashton feels it, feels the full weight of God’s love and holiness thrumming through his veins, heavy in Michael’s touch, stronger than any other angel. He kind of gets why Raphael hates Michael whenever he feels that. “I think you should be there with him.” He says it with the kind of gravity only an archangel can muster, and Ashton has no choice but to nod, because it’s an order. Michael grins at him, quick and easy, all seriousness gone, and pats him on the shoulder, right above his wing. Ashton winces, and falls into the seat Michael had been occupying. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Lucifer calls after Calum and Michael as they head for the door. 

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Calum shoots back, and Lucifer grins wickedly. 

“Exactly,” he says, and both Michael and Calum roll their eyes fondly - and, okay, when did Michael become fond of Lucifer? Something rolls uncomfortably in Ashton’s stomach at that, but he pushes it aside, focusing on the task at hand. Keep Lucifer entertained. Keep him company. Ashton can do that. 

“So,” Lucifer says, blue eyes flicking to Ashton, lit up and amused. “Just me and you now.” Ashton nods tightly. 

“Looks like it,” he says. That just seems to amuse Lucifer even more, small smile stretching to a full grin. He leans back, tilting his head like he’s scrutinising Ashton, and suddenly there’s a cheeseburger in front of Ashton. 

Okay. Ashton’s not a fan of human food, he really isn’t, but Michael had gone on and on about cheeseburgers for at least fifty years, begging Ashton to come down and try one, and Ashton had eventually relented and said he’d try one if Michael brought one back up, which he’d duly done. It’s been at least forty years since that happened, and Ashton had only managed about ten before he’d caved and started taking the odd secret trip down to Earth for a cheeseburger. Nobody, though, nobody, not even Michael, knows about that. 

“I don’t eat human food,” Ashton says primly, because he doesn’t. Ashton may not be able to lie, but all that’s done is make him very good at bending the truth. 

“You eat cheeseburgers,” Lucifer says, like this is a well-known fact, and not something Ashton’s sworn Michael to secrecy on. 

“I-” Ashton’s cut off with a wince, holy power seizing his tongue, caught in an almost-lie. Lucifer grins, recognising the telltale signs of an angel trying to lie all too well. Ashton clears his throat in a dignified manner, hoping Lucifer can’t see the flush on his cheeks, and tries a different tack. “How do you know that?” Lucifer shrugs. 

“Kept tabs on you,” he says, and then proceeds to reel off Ashton’s cheeseburger order. “Double cheeseburger, extra pickles, no mayo, two tomatoes.” Ashton stares at him. 

“You stalked me?” he says, and it comes out a little strangled. He’s not sure whether that’s the holiness or the fact that his stomach has done, like, a full Olympics gymnastics set at the idea that Lucifer’s been keeping up with him, been watching him from afar. 

“Well, now, stalking is a strong word,” Lucifer says, grinning, because he doesn’t care, he’s the Devil. That thought sends a strong wave of revulsion coursing through Ashton, top to toe, followed immediately with a wave of guilt. He really hopes Raphael’s not tuned in to him right now. The last thing Ashton needs is someone spreading the word that Ashton’s hanging out with Satan. 

“You-” Ashton cuts himself off, because he’s not really sure what he wants to say. Lucifer watches him, half-amused, half-interested. Ashton feels the full weight of something under his gaze, but he’s not sure what it is - holy, sacrilegious, Heaven, Hell - and drops his gaze to the cheeseburger. 

“You should eat it,” Lucifer says casually. Ashton eyes it warily. 

“Do I look like an idiot?” he says. Lucifer rolls his eyes. 

“What, you think I’ve carved a banishing sigil into the lettuce?” he says, like it’s the most ludicrous idea in the world, and then stops. “Hmm. That might be one to try on Michael, actually.” Ashton, because he’s a good friend and an even better angel, dutifully sends a prayer in Michael’s direction informing him as such. Michael doesn’t respond, and Ashton withdraws before he gets too close to the dark spikes of whatever it is that Michael’s currently giving off. 

“I don’t want your food,” Ashton says, because it’s true, he doesn’t want Lucifer’s food, and pushes the cheeseburger away from him childishly. Lucifer rolls his eyes, but pulls the cheeseburger towards himself, and takes a huge bite out of it, holding Ashton’s gaze as he does. Ashton prays for the strength not to watch the line of his throat as he swallows, but He doesn’t seem to be listening. 

“Have you always been this fucking boring?” Lucifer comments idly, licking his finger obscenely, and oh, oh, the repentance for the thoughts that just went through Ashton’s head hits him like a train. He visibly flinches, and Lucifer grins. “Man, you know shit’s a lot more fun when you don’t feel shitty about every thought you have.” 

“I don’t feel bad,” Ashton grits out, because he doesn’t. Repentance is a necessary consequence of sin, and he always feels good that he’s repented. Lucifer shrugs, and takes another bite of the burger. Ashton swallows, not entirely because he kind of wishes the burger were going down his throat instead of Lucifer’s. Like he knows what Ashton’s thinking, Lucifer quirks a brow at him. 

“You can still have some,” he offers. 

“I-” Ashton winces again, unable to say I don’t want any, because he does, he really does. Lucifer laughs, and pushes the burger back towards Ashton, but there’s something fond in his eyes, and it makes Ashton feel a little sick with something that he tries not to identify as guilt. 

“Eat,” he says, and it’s soft, it’s gentle, and it breaks Ashton’s heart into a million pieces. The Devil shouldn’t have it in him to care about anyone, least of all Ashton. 

Ashton can’t rid himself of that sneaking suspicion, though, staring at the burger in trepidation, and Lucifer sighs. 

“You really don’t trust me, huh?” he says, and there’s a note of bitterness in his voice. Ashton hates it, hates himself more for causing it, hates the guilt and confusion that washes over him as an immediate consequence of both of those thoughts. 

“You are the Devil,” Ashton points out, and Lucifer huffs out a laugh. 

“I’d never fuck with my second-favourite angel,” he says solemnly. 

“I’m glad Michael’s safe, then,” Ashton shoots back before he can stop himself, and Lucifer grins, shaking his head. 

“Why do I love you?” he says, and there’s something so raw and wistful in his tone that Ashton wants to cry, wants to reach out, wants to tell him I’m sorry, I’m wish I could make it better, I wish I could fix this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wish I’d never loved you, I wish I’d found a way to stop loving you. 

Instead of saying anything, because nothing would be enough, and anything would be too much, he reaches forwards, picks up the burger, and brings it to his lips.

The radiant smile Lucifer gives him is all angel, no Devil. 

[neonovember]

Pine trees and dark earth.

drabble/headcanon; In an alternative universe that is my wicked mind, where Steve stays and Bucky and Sam aren’t ruined. There absolutely will be Sunday dinners.

summary; the avengers didn’t have much, just loss and grief. There was no such thing as routine, but building tradition wasn’t always easy, it never had been. This is a universe in which it was, and there is.

things; full domestication of Steve, Sam and Bucky to the full extent, filling my sad heart, pure indulgence, platonic!reader with a hint of soulmate action?, friendship and love, a drabble that is way to long to be considered a drabble but I don’t care, fluff, winter & dinners.

authors note; yes or no; I’m writing drabbles to distract myself from the stack of fics that remains pending in my docs. I haven’t for the life of me to continue finished what I started, so why don’t start something and finish it at the same time? there isn’t any smut in this one, just friendship, laughter, and indulgence that cures my aching heart.

It would start out of convenience.

Taking time out of their hectic lives to break bread at the end of the week, converse with you, Sam, Bucky and Steve. Then it would turn into tradition; the leaves will bronze and caramelise, the breath of the first winter morning due, the heat of July would remain constant, and Sundays, Sundays were still marked on your calendar like gospel.

It would be hosted at anyone's home, though favourably at Steve’s expansive, cabin oak lodge, seated amongst sky scratching pine trees that made your nose itch and a lake Sam had convinced you to swim in.

Bucky is surprisingly a good cook, obsessing over cookbooks he’d find online, in library’s, passing boutiques. He’d try to follow them, but give up halfway, measuring proportions by feeling instead of direction.

Swatting away hands that tried to taste with wooden spoons or photo frames, or whatever would be lying around the countertop. Bucky was a sight if you’d ever seen one, any sane person walking in on a Sunday afternoon would be incredibly confused.

He’d wear one of those ridiculous aprons, frills on its side and red detailing it’s ends, his shoulder length hair would be pulled back into a bun, some flour or powder would be pressed into his cheek, or dusting his hair until it was white.

The meals he’d produce on skillets from ovens never particularly looked spectacular, but they were delicious. Always. They tasted like nostalgia and longing, like the smell of finally coming home. You couldn’t make that in a cookbook, you couldn’t measure that kind of thing out.

That’s not to say he wouldn’t force each one of you to help out, you’d all have respective roles, each done with surprising enthusiasm.

You’d set the table, but it wouldn’t just be clunking down silverware and putting down a tablecloth; no you took your job seriously. You’d have a theme, something that was favourable for the weather outside.

You found pleasure in it, soul in it, crafting a space where you all could be the fullest, where you could set down your hearts and just live, finally just live.

Candles lights would be placed through the wide table, around the house, you’d turn off the lights, so that it would create shadows and a syrup glow across the room. You’d diffuse rosemary and lavender from the corners of the house, build the atmosphere to suit whatever Bucky had decided to cook.

Some people would call a candlelit diner romantic, and perhaps it was, but what was friendship but romance? Romance in each other’s company, in conversation, in comfort.

Steve would be in charge of choosing the wine, whilst it didn’t have any effect on him whatsoever, and it was more for you and Sam anyway, he took unfiltered dedication in it.

You’d watch under your clouded glass, the hue of the candle lights providing the only lighting in the room, the snowed in valleys curving and bending into each other outside the frosted windows cloaking the view in a white immeasurable sheet of dust, watch as he’d sip on the dark liquor and spoke of it like it was poetry. Tint his lips red with it, as he told of it's story, it's cultivation, the lingering hints of this or that, the aftertaste of chestnuts or roasted oak you’d taste as burnt tobacco.

Sam, now Sam would be responsible for proving the entertainment for the night. You thought you loved cultivating and transitioning whatever dining room into a gorgeous ensemble, until you saw Sam think up what he’d force you all to do.

He’d spent a fair bit teaching Bucky and Steve what the new age brought, millennial trends, albums and records, historical movies that “everyone has to see once in their life”. He’d teach Steve and Bucky with your help, how to dance, how to move with music in a new way.

Ingrain in their muscles the dougie, the moonwalk, the culture that still held to you and Sam despite the entire other world you were in.

Sometimes he’d bring out ancient board games dusted with age and neglect, and you’d see the monster of competition take over Steve and Sam. Monopoly was formally banned after Sam had won for the third time in a row, the temperature of Steve’s pale skin turning bright red as he was taunted by Sam’s condescension. Accusations of cheating and board games flipped over in frustration left your stomach bending over in laughter and heart full.

You’d catch Bucky’s eyes every now and then, his hands rested on his chest as he looked on fondly, a glaze of something you couldn’t decipher falling over him.

He’d point to his outstretched arm under the oak table that sneaked bills into Sam's pile, a smirk covering his features at your opened mouth shock. If Bucky was anything, he was an instigator.

For a moment, in the air of comfort and rest, you could feel childhood, you could feel what could’ve been. If you’d all met in different circumstances, if you’d all grown up in stable lives, if you hadn’t been taken and tainted with the greed, pain, and manipulation that existed in society's underbelly.

There were a lot of things you didn’t trust in the world, a lot of things all of you couldn’t. Betrayal and grief, burnt out optimism and stolen trust taught you to be wary in the things you announce as ritual, in the things you trusted as yours.

Normalcy and routine can be swept from right under you, can be taken and destroyed. You wanted things to change, you hoped for it, decades of your life were left derelict to violence and rage and blood, your bones hadn’t fully creaked with the fullness and freedom of life.

You hadn’t developed crows feet, or the drooping lines around cheeks and mouths that hinted at years of love and laughter. Your skin hadn’t aged yet, your body hadn’t pained itself with the joyous movement of running and playing and everything else there was in being human. In the things other people hated, others tried to change or remove, you craved for.

There was so little you call your own, so much you lost to the fight, but this? This home, these dinners, were the one thing you admitted to the moon and the sun. It was the one thing you hoped with every part of you, remained exactly as it were.

Untainted, unmarked with blood or violence, undisturbed as the broad pine trees that stood atop mountains of ice and snow. That grew its branches into the dark earth, until it seated, until it rooted itself into where it always belonged, where it was destined.

You were destined here, you all were marked into the dark earth until your roots and memories sprang forth into the ground.

It was the one thing left in you that you believed.

[chromes-corner]

Hi, I love your writing! So I have an idea for some crk angst >:D So reader isn't originally from the cookie run universe, but they somehow managed to get there. Strawberry Crepe found them interesting and looks at them as an older sibling. One day they find out that reader might disappear without a trace (Not as in dying but as in [poof] and they're literally gone, a glitch in the system kind of thing) Can you make this an angst one shot? Thank you ^^

YES ANGST BACK TO MY ROOTS BABY!!!!!

took some creative liberties with this prompt, made it just a touch angst-ier too ;)

---

Ice

Strawberry Crepe & Reader

Notes: angst, not super intense angst, but angst nonetheless

Content Warnings: none

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble but it ended up being somewhere between a drabble and a full-length fic also just in case its unclear the dashes signify a jump in time :)

They found you lying on the floor, unconscious, born of the same frigid womb that had birthed them months prior. They kept their distance, halfway behind a cold metal wall, as they observed you shiver on the tile floor. The chilled fluorescent lights flickered and hummed in the basement space. Frozen figures, still nestled in their cryogenic pods, surrounded you like a silent jury, awaiting your judgement with cold regard.

You shuddered and lifted your head from the floor like a newborn fawn. You coughed and spat, excess water draining from your lungs and evicted through your burning throat. The room was bathed in a frosty blue glow. To your left, three pods clouded with ice. Another was at the far end, empty and cracked. To your right, a cart with tangled black wires running from one end of the room to the other, connected to a box with various switches and dials. The LEDs on the box blinked with a threatening red.

As you gained your bearings, still they watched. They watched your head snap from one direction to the other. They watched you look at your hands and recoil in horror. They watched you scramble backwards and scream. They watched you hold your head and sob against the pod from which you emerged. Still, they did not approach.

They did not approach for the several days that you remained in that room. You didn’t do much besides cry, anyway. They watched you day in and day out, sometimes in person, other times through a security console.

You did not question it when food and water were brought to you. Not that you paid it much mind, however. You only consumed enough to survive. Enough to satiate the claws that ripped through your throat and stomach.

Eventually, their boredom outweighed their fear. On the third day, they stepped into the doorway. You screamed again. That’s all it was with you, they had thought. Yelling and sobbing and curling up in the corner of the room like a trapped animal.

Maybe it was annoyance at your pathetic demeanor that made them approach. Maybe it was pity for you. Maybe it was their own undeniable feeling of kinship with you -- a sibling of the ice. Whatever the case, they tucked their ever-attentive Wafflebots away, and held their hand out to you.

---

“A— a cookie?!” you exclaim. “No, no no no, that’s not right… that’s not possible! Cookies don’t talk, they don’t— they don’t do anything!”

“Um, hello, have you looked in a mirror?” they respond, toying with some sort of remote. “Your weak legs and crumbly arms say otherwise. Your hair is dripping with frosting, too. Don’t even think about coming near my Wafflebots with that mess. Now stand still!”

They didn’t have to tell you twice. When the last of their calibrations were completed, they pointed the remote at you and pressed a button. The handheld device shook, then flashed with a surge of electricity. They yelped and dropped the device as a plume of smoke erupted from it.

“Ugh! Stupid thing!” they shouted and stomped on the remote. It crunched under their foot, bits of metal plating and electronic scrap flying outwards in all directions. “We’ll have to find another way to inspect your dough and see what you’re made of.”

“My dough. I’m made of dough,” you fret, running a flat hand through your sticky, gelatinous hair. “This can’t be happening.”

---

“Hmm, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Your hand, it… flickered. When you moved it around, transparent doubles trailed behind it. You couldn’t perceive any sensory information with it, either. There was only static in your palm as you rubbed it against various textured surfaces.

“It’s like it’s phasing out of our reality,” they take your hand and inspect it up and down, forwards and backwards. “I theorize your universe is trying to pull you back to where you came from.”

“Uh, would that… hurt?” You wouldn’t lie, being back in your world would sure be nice, but you weren’t entirely sure how that would happen. This solution seemed less than optimal.

“Probably,” they shrug as your appendage returned to its normal state. “But I calculate that it’ll take another few years, judging by the frequencies I’m picking up from your hand. Now come on, there’s more I want to teach you about this place and my Wafflebots. You might as well be useful while you’re here.”

“I don’t see why it’s useful for me to know your favorite spots in the castle…” you mumbled.

---

You found them in the dining room, curled up and hiding under a tablecloth.

“Hey.” You sat down and lifted the cloth, joining them under the table.

They pouted and turned so their back faced you. “Go away.”

“I saw what happened out there, with those other cookies. Are you okay?”

They didn’t respond, and you didn’t push it, however uncharacteristic it may have been. You shifted and pulled something out of your pocket, something that caught their attention. A bag of jellies, scavenged from where the group of cookies — the same group that was now infiltrating the castle — had their battle with the large Wafflebot. The group must have dropped them in the panic of the moment.

They turned back to you and eyed the bag. You dropped it into their hands, and they wasted no time in digging in, like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. You were content to sit with them as they ate, until they waved their hand in front of you. They held a jelly out to you, and you took it. Your eyes met for a moment before they went back to eating in silence.

The two of you remained there long after the bag was empty.

---

Strawberry Crepe creeps through the abandoned halls of the Vanilla Kingdom. The air is stale and deathly quiet, save for the occasional mechanical buzz of a Wafflebot making its rounds. They poke their head into rooms they’ve inspected a thousand times over. Everything within remains the same — ornate and untouched, and covered in a blanket of dust.

They call for you, quietly at first. Then louder, as they traverse deeper into the halls. The only voice that answers is their own echo, bouncing off ancient walls decorated with banners and paintings.

“Where are you?” they fume, crossing their arms and scowling. “Come out right now! I don’t want to play this game!”

Still, no response.

They’ve been down this hall three times in their search. Every bit of unturned decor mocks them. Old vases shatter in their wake. They rip tapestries from the wall. They storm through the halls and upstairs, knocking over tables and paintings with their crepe fists.

They wipe away the hot, salty drip that runs down their cheek, paying it no mind as they tear the door of their room off its hinges. It needed to be replaced, anyways. They approach their desk and the swamp of tools and mechanical parts that are strewn haphazardly across it. Picking up a prototype and a screwdriver, they begin to work through the blur of tears that threaten to spill at any given moment.

Strawberry Crepe has their tools. They have their bots. They have their genius. They have all the time in the world to tinker, and all the parts they need at their disposal. Everything they need is within these four walls.

Strawberry Crepe does not need you.

Strawberry Crepe does not need anyone.

[heleentje]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

(Sending on = optional.)

Oooh, it’s going to be really predictable if I talk about Moonlight, but I’m still going to talk about Moonlight. I cannot properly put into words how happy I am with the way it turned out (but let’s try anyway).

(Cut for spoilers and, in true Moonlight fashion, also length)

I’ve told this story here and there, but Moonlight originally came from three things: my refusal to accept the Champions’ deaths, my general melancholy upon defeating Ganon and leaving behind the freedom of botw’s Hyrule, and my amusement when the game resets to your last save upon beating the story.

That last part got me thinking about how terrifying it would be for Link to wake up after beating the Calamity and finding himself having to face it again. Originally Moonlight was just a few drabbles in my notebook (the scene in chapter 5 where Link seeks out Revali was actually a later reworking of one of the very first scenes I wrote for it). The story was on the backburner for several months, but all of a sudden I decided I wanted to write it anyway.

The idea that Zelda was also caught in the loops was an early one, but it was not part of the original outline. That little tidbit only came about when I’d already picked the title for the story, and so the whole song the title came from (Shalott, by Emilie Autumn) suddenly became weirdly prophetic (the full line that the title is part of is And there’s moonlight every single night/ as I’m locked in these towers).

Speaking of titles, the chapter titles are almost all from Vienna Teng songs, and picking them out was often a lot of fun! Thematically, I’d say the most important songs were Level Up and Enough To Go By. Enough To Go By provided the title for chapters 8 (If my love could keep you alive), 11 (praying you aren’t out of range), and also Ginneke’s This flooded sky, three parts of the overall story that are deeply connected when it comes to emotional beats. Chapter 11 is the logical consequence of the events that transpired in chapter 8, and this flooded sky of course takes place during chapter 11.

(If my love could keep you alive is also my proudest title achievement. It applies to just about every character in that chapter.)

Level Up, in turn, lent its lyrics to the final chapter (Day number one in the rest of forever, because it could never be anything else), but also chapter 5 (Dynamite the dam on the flow). Going back earlier, it was also the title inspiration for another fic of mine, Your own heart that matters. YOHTM was a large part of the foundation of that chapter, so it seemed only fitting.

It’s no secret that Moonlight got extremely out of hand, I’ve joked about it often enough. My original idea for the story truly was only 30k (final word count: > 170k). When my first chapter came in at 7k, I was still foolishly hopeful. The first chapter needed to do a lot of setup! Surely the next chapters would be shorter!

I think I was disabused of that notion partway through chapter 2.

But for all that it got out of hand, I am still very happy that it did. The intended cast was originally a lot smaller: Link and Zelda, with Revali having a marginally bigger role than the other Champions, and everyone who wasn’t one of those six only appearing towards the final chapter.

Fortunately for me and for the story, the characters did not agree with that.

And I am extremely happy that I got to give not only Link and Zelda, but also the Champions and even the successor Champions something like a distinct character arc. The most difficult characters in that regard were probably Daruk, Urbosa and Teba, because they generally have their shit together, so it’s not like they need any deep character conflict or development. But we adopted the adage of ‘stable, not static’ for them. They don’t need to change who they are as people, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have their own worries and concerns, and make decisions based on that.

(I think, in the end, Harth got a little more of an arc than Teba, especially since we set him up as an intentional mirror for Revali.)

Speaking of Daruk, there was a time where Ginneke and I feared that he’d be sidelined compared to the other Champions. And then chapter 8 happened and suddenly he became a big part of the story :D

So let me talk about Ginneke. (And yes love, I know you were the one to send me the ask, but let me gush about you anyway <3)

Moonlight wouldn’t be half of what it is today without her. We refined that very first outline through hours and hours of conversation and bouncing ideas off each other. She is almost single-handedly responsible for the role Purah ended up playing in this story, as well as Link being explicitly genderqueer and Yunobo’s entire plotline.

The latter two both found their origin in Carry Them Inside You, the first of the sidefics, so let me gush about those for a moment! They’re all explicitly canon to Moonlight, and while we tried to stay fairly light on the references in Moonlight proper, you will absolutely get the best reading experience if you read the sidefics alongside the main story!

Because Moonlight only has Link and Zelda as POV characters, the sidefics were our best way to show what went on when they weren’t around (or, in Carry Them Inside You’s case, what Link was doing that he didn’t want Zelda to know about). An attentive reader may have even caught a few reveals before they were shown in Moonlight proper: the Champions still being alive was all but stated in there’s no turning away, and a soft yellow moon gave more context to Mipha’s actions in chapter 9. Some of our biggest Revali knives were shown in This flooded sky before they made it into the main story (and one never made it into the main story at all, because Revali isn't talking).

(If you know Enough to go by, then the title of This flooded sky also carries a hint towards Revali’s final plan: I’m wanting your anger/ I only want to see if I can shake you out of sleep/ And bring you out under this flooded sky/ At any price)

And of course, Ginneke’s writing is absolutely spectacular in all of them!

Going forward, the POV will probably not remain limited to Link and Zelda alone. There’s a lot going on in Hyrule, and they definitely don’t know all of it.

I am extremely happy with how both of their stories came out. For Link in particular, I think I succeeded in creating the same sense of isolation that’s characteristic of early botw, before you really set out into the world. We debated heavily whether we wanted the first four loops to be so repetitive, but I’m glad we did in the end, because it really worsened Link’s state of mind and set up the events of loop 5 and onwards.

And by that same token, I’m glad that the world expanded after that, first with Revali and then the other Champions, and then the rest of Hyrule as well. Despite the somber tone of it, chapter 11 was one of my favorite chapters to write, because I finally got to put the rest of Hyrule front and center.

(And also because it’s where any chance of Zelda and Revali ever having a cordial relationship gets killed deader than the leviathans. Zelda and Revali each consider themselves responsible for Link’s death, and they are projecting that guilt onto each other.)

Zelda and Link’s relationship was another favorite part of mine. Sometimes I reread the earlier chapters and I’m struck by how distant they were, compared to their closeness in the final chapters. They really didn’t know how to act around each other, especially since Link had lost most of his memories and their relationship was always a bit fraught to begin with. But I’m glad they evolved past that.

And I’m firmly of the opinion that Link would always chafe at being confined to a formalized court environment again. He feared that possibility from the very start (and it was part of the reason why he put off fighting Ganon for so long), so it was very liberating when he finally got to say outright ‘no, I don’t want that’, and still find a way to support Zelda, if only from a distance.

And Revali, oh Revali… In early chapters, we often joked about Revali and Purah fighting for the tritagonist position. And while Purah eventually got the title when it came to plot developments, Revali definitely earned it for character developments.

He’s a mess of contradictions. He doesn’t want to move on, but he’s ready to sacrifice his life so that Link doesn’t lose his. He longs to be a part of Rito Village again, but he’s convinced that the Rito will either disdain him for failing to take down the Calamity or only see him for his title. He feels so much guilt about failing to save Link that he takes all of it out on Zelda. It should come as no surprise that his scenes were among my absolute favorites to write, even if they were often very difficult to get right and needed multiple rewrites to hit on the correct tone.

Mipha probably got the second-biggest role out of all the Champions. When she regained her Grace in chapter 8, we realized she would remember that loop according to the rules we’d established. And that made her a perfect person to both serve as a voice of reason to stop Zelda and Revali before things really got too bad, and also call out Link on some of his shit later on.

Daruk quickly became one of my favorite characters to write (best Champion). He was unceasingly supportive, even when Link didn’t particularly want to hear that, but Yunobo being so intimidated by him was always something that weighed on him, and he tried very hard to present himself as unthreathening. Perhaps he even went a little overboard there, but he genuinely is extremely proud of Yunobo and would have been no matter what Yunobo chose to do.

In the end, it was Urbosa who probably had the least involved plotline of all the Champions, but having her around was still a massive boon for Zelda, and eventually Riju. One of the things we really wanted to make clear was that Urbosa was not here to take the title of Chief back from Riju. If Riju asked her to, she might have accepted, but it needed to be very clear that she did not outrank Riju, nor did she want to. (And if Urbosa sees a lot of Zelda in Riju, well, obviously.)

I’d also be remiss in not mentioning some of the other characters: Purah, our plot tritagonist, who was instrumental in figuring out exactly what was going on and providing Link and Zelda with some much needed help in those first few loops. Riju, who among all the time shenanigans is one of the few people concerned with the political implications of a Hyrule without the Calamity, who is such a perfect mirror of Zelda: forced to bear a burden that by all rights should have been her mother. Sidon, so concerned for Link, so eager to fight by his side that he’s the one who finally hands Zelda the solution to their problem, so willing to defy his father (and Dorephan, still mourning the child he already lost and terrified that he’ll lose yet another one). And Yunobo, always casting himself in the shadow of his famed grandparent, but so much braver and smarter than he gives himself credit for, who probably did more to turn the tide in the final battle than any other character.

(Also Teba, who is in a constant state of ‘what are all these fucking children doing here?’)

Okay, so I’ve spent almost 2000 words talking about Moonlight already, and I can probably get in another 1000 if I really wanted to. But suffice to say, I’m extremely happy with how that story came out. It’s probably the best thing I’ve written to date, and I think I pulled off just about everything I set out to do.

Of course, absolutely none of that would have been possible without Ginneke, who helped refine this vague idea of a story into something actually worth reading. It was an absolutely wild ride, and while writer’s block hit me hard at several points, I’m really glad we got to the end of it.

There’s more to this universe, though it will probably involve a lot less time shenanigans! I think I’m quite solidly done with those for a little while.

[ellewords]

coffee conversations

summary : your roommate has a habit of coming home late from work. you have a habit of staying up late to finish yours.

word count : ~1.6k

fic notes : kuroo tetsurou x gn!reader, fluff, roommates au, lowercase intended

from elle ! this ended up being longer than i originally planned. it was supposed to be just a drabble then it ended up spiralling into whatever this is ;-; regardless, i had a lot of fun writing it bec my kuroo brainrot is pretty strong now sigh anyways, thank you for reading and i hope you have a lovely day ! <3

midnight.

it’s when the darkness finally settles in, but the city’s just bound to come alive; especially on a friday night, or was it saturday morning? but did that really matter? kuroo leans his head on the window, the cab ride home has always been a scenic root. multicolored lights from the buildings and billboards reflecting on his skin, the several bodies that crowded the sidewalks as they trudged their way to the nearest bar. if he asked the driver to turn down the radio, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the dull thumping of bass from each flashy establishment they passed. and he supposes he could be one of those people, an arm lazily slung around a stranger, ordering them their next drink, dancing with them until sweat covered every inch of their bare skin. he could be, and it wasn’t too long ago that he was. but recently, he’s found a reason to head straight home.    

kuroo knows exactly what he’s about to come home to, maybe that’s what excited him so much. why he nervously taps his foot on the tiled floors of the reception area, wondering if the elevator doors could open any quicker. why he speed walks his way along the carpeted hallways, the soles of his shoes barely making a sound as he made sure to keep his steps as light as possible. why his hands shake as he turns the key, opening the front door as quickly as his heart beats. all of that because he knows it’s you waiting for him.

you’re seated upright along the length of the sofa, typing away at your laptop. face illuminated by the screen’s glare, and he lets out a quiet tsk; he’s reminded you more times than he can count to turn down the brightness, you nod but never listen. your brows are furrowed and there’s a tiny crinkle in the space between them, kuroo wonders what it would be like to press a kiss right there. he shakes the thought away immediately, knowing that it would only do more harm than good to let his mind wander away like that. he watches the way your fingers move from one key to another, fast and precise, not leaving any room to breathe. you never notice when he comes home, gaze travelling from one end of the word document to the other, making sure each word is in its rightful place. kuroo knows you don’t really wait up for him, you’re just trying your best to finish the mountain of paperwork your boss had so graciously left you to do over the weekend. but for a brief moment, he lets his heart believe that you do. only for a little bit, never too long.

he has to cough to get your attention. it doesn’t get your attention the first time, having to cough maybe thrice before you remove the earphones that blasted at full volume. 

“i see you’re home from work.” you comment, already making a move to stand from the couch. but not before stretching your arms upwards; you had been sitting there typing for way too long.

kuroo smirks, stepping aside as you stood and made your way over to the kitchen. eyes glancing at the stack of paperwork you left on the coffee table, “and i see that you still haven’t escaped yours.”

“i know. how unfortunate. the usual?” you frown, placing your laptop on the kitchen counter.

he places his work bag on the couch, taking off his coat and loosening his tie, “do you even have to ask?” 

it’s like clockwork at this point. he sits on one of stools by the counter, elbows on the countertop and hands on his chin, watching you work. his eyes follow you around, mesmerized even by the simplest things: from the way you measured the coffee grounds to simply putting the coffee pot on the stove to brew. 

“why can’t we be normal and just have breakfast together or something?” you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning your body against the wall, finally making eye contact with kuroo — unaware of the fact that he had been watching you the entire time. 

he chuckles, there’s a light amusement that flashes across his features, “because i’m still asleep by the time you need to leave for work.”

“fair point,” you nod, closing your eyes in slight frustration as you’re reminded of all the things that you needed to accomplish by the time the sun rises. you have reports to write, presentations to prepare; wondering if any of this was even worth it. “why do i even need to work? is it not enough to lounge around the apartment all day watching tv?”

“you need to pay your half of the rent.” kuroo jokes, shaking his head. he waits for you to laugh, or at least come up with some clever retort. but you stay silent, finally opening your eyes to look at him, and he sees it. there’s tiredness, there’s stress — emotions he’s sure is evident in his own. “you alright?”

you shrug your shoulders before they return to their slumped position, gaze briefly flickering towards the coffee pot before placing them back on kuroo, “there’s nothing i can do.”

“you know you can quit, right, yn?” kuroo speaks before he thinks, eyes widening at his own question, “i don’t mind shouldering the rent for a little bit until you find something less exhausting.”

it’s your turn to laugh this time, “and have you working overtime even more? no thanks. you’re sweet though.”

sweet. kuroo notes, you think he’s sweet? heat rises to his cheeks, a faint flush coloring them in the process. never had he been more grateful for the dimness of the lights, the room just dark enough to not make it noticeable. “for your information, i work overtime because i actually like my job. and how else am i going to have these conversations with you?”

you raise a brow, he had a point there. despite sharing the same space, you and kuroo had a habit of missing each other for most of the day. you leave early in the mornings and he still hasn’t arrived by the time you get back in the afternoon.  

“didn’t expect that you look forward to these.” you smile, turning off the stove once you notice the dark liquid boiling, signalling that it was ready. the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as you grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard. “which one do you want?”

you hold two different mugs towards him. one you had gotten him as a souvenir from a business trip to kyoto, the other he had gotten you while on vacation in osaka. kuroo points to the one that you had gotten him, “of course, i look forward to these. it’s the highlight of my day.”

“your days must be terribly boring then.” you comment, placing the mugs on the counter and taking a seat on the stool beside his.

“no,” he protests almost immediately, a little too sudden actually. kuroo blinks back once he’s realized that he’s startled you, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, “i just like spending time with you.” 

a sigh leaves both of your lips at the first sip of coffee, the warmth spreading across the entirety of your bodies. it’s quiet for these few moments, where you and kuroo just sit back and take everything in. the chill in your apartment, the heat from the mugs, the distant sounds of city nightlife, the almost yellow glow of the light fixture that hung above you, the way your elbows accidentally brushed the other’s. there’s silence, but there’s a ringing in your ears that neither of you could avoid. your hearts beat uncontrollably fast. but that must be the caffeine. at least that’s what you try to convince yourself.

but kuroo liked to think that he knew himself better, that he was actually honest with himself. it isn’t the caffeine that made his heart race past midnight, when all you had to do was look at him in the way you usually do. head tilted to the side, hanging on to every word that left his lips, nodding along to whatever he ranted about, eyes travelling over his face like you were memorizing each and every feature, the corner of you lips flicked upward. it’s like looking in a mirror, he knows he looked at you like that too. and maybe, just maybe, he allows himself once more to believe that you could possibly like him back. 

“if it means anything,” you speak, cutting through the silence as you recalled the last thing he said before you took your first sips, “i like spending time with you too.”

and it does mean something to him. to kuroo, it meant the world. he’s aware that there are other ways he could be spending his time. he could be dancing it up in a club, on his seventh shot of whatever the bartender decides to hand him, arms around some stranger whose name he was going to forget when the day breaks. he could be in bed, asleep, finally letting exhaustion catch up to him as he crashed face first into the soft pillows. but no, he’s here with you. your arm accidentally grazing his every now and then, resting your head on his shoulder as you rant about the day you’ve had, or placing a hand there to steady yourself when you laugh just a little too hard at his jokes and stories, knowing that his attempts of making you feel better are slowly beginning to work. 

there’s nowhere else he’d rather be past midnight than in the kitchen of your shared apartment, complimenting you on making the best cup of coffee he’s ever had.

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join my hq taglist here. <3

[everything-withered]

Author update~

Real life has been A Time, but in a good way which is very strange because of how utterly wretched it was the year before that. I'm starting to understand that that is simply the nature of life and not to feel guilty for it or talk myself out of feeling good about it, so here I am writing this:

I don't have a plan yet in moving forward fandom wise outside of dedicating less time to it, though at minimum, I would still like to clear out my ask box which has a combination of winteriron and ichiruki so without further ado..

With winteriron: this ship and its fandom have such a special place in my heart for (no exaggeration) saving my life, and my journey with them won't feel complete until I hit 100 entries in the Who's Been Lovin' You Good series. At the time of writing this, I'm still 30 entries down which I think is more than enough time to keep exploring them individually and as a pair (occassionally more than lol).

As for ichiruki: they are my forever ship. Once upon a time, I was sixteen and in love with them, and here I am at almost twenty-six and still in love with them. Their ship and their fandom have been amazing to me from beginning to present, and I'm eternally grateful. I can't say that I could stop writing them even if I tried -- lord knows I'll see the sun and moon motif somewhere twenty years down the line and immediately think of them. Though, I will say that long chaptered fics are probably not in the cards if I have any hope of completing a draft for publication.

I do have ideas and 🎶concepts🎶 which I'd love to keep sharing even if there's no longer fic attached though so look out for that, and beyond the occasional drabble/prompt fill, I do have plans for longer one-shots as a compromise to the no-full-length projects so there is that.

ALSO.

I'm working on compiling the full scope of my winteriron and ichiruki fics into pdfs.

I've already done the first half of Who's Been Lovin' You Good for winteriron but its in need of edits and probably won't be fully ready until I hit 100.

For ichiruki, I'm thinking the full length fics will be individual pdfs, along with a collection for the one-shots of both AUs and Canon Divergent.

Wanting to create the pdfs for both ships is something important to me. Living in the time we are now where everything is virtual and where things can be deleted at a drop of a hat, I wanted to give you something you can keep, in a sense, and if you choose to.

When the pdfs are ready, I'll post the link here and it should be available on my wordpress -- which I still need to fix huhu, bear with me ya'll.

My replies on here and ao3 will still be pretty staggered, and because school and work has invaded, I had to set up a separate discord account so I'm not even using that, but please know I love and appreciate you all so much, and I carry your kind words with me everywhere.

Anyway. Yeah, that's it.

That's me.

[astrojoong]

Hongjoong - Migraine Comfort

Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Comfort, Fluff

Length: Bullet Pointed, sort of a Reaction

Warnings: Mentions of pain? nausea? 

AN: okay so this was originally going to be a full blown drabble, BUT I am very depressed and can’t seem to complete it, so I think I’m going to be posting them as bullet points/reactions for rn and then I’ll plan on fleshing them out and probably posting them to ao3. I say them bc this is part of a bunch of comfort fics that I’m writing, one prompt per member, one fic for each member! anyways lmk what ya’ll think! 

Ok so you and Joong have been dating for a while

They very recently ended promotions for a comeback and were BEAT

so when Joong texted you letting you know that they had their first free day in a while you were Excited to say the least

Work had been rough the past week and you really missed Joong during promotions 

and to a lesser extent, the boys

you arrive like a bit past one, just like you said you would, and were disappointed but not surprised, to find that half of the members were still asleep

At least Joong was up, that's all you could ask for tbh

Because you missed the boys as well as Your Boy, you and the awake members (read: Hwa, Yeo, and Jongho) decide to watch a movie together.

You all settle in the living room, getting all comfy and cuddly to watch a movie together 

It starts off calm. 

but

BUT

it is Ateez

even when the other members start to make their way into the living room around the end of the first movie and the start of the second, it doesn’t get crazy YET

but it was only a matter of time

you think it started with Wooyoung’s questions and commentary during the start of the second movie, but its hard to say how exactly you got to this point

u and joong are still on the couch, u leaning against him with his arms around your shoulder, holding you to him while he rests his chin gently on your head

yeo is on the other end of the couch and all three of you are watch the Shit Show go down

The innocent act of eating popcorn while watching a movie has devolved into a full blown battle of spitting kernels and flicking popcorn at one another

Its woosan on one side, yungi on the other

Seonghwa was in the middle, acting as both a shield and a target as he attempted to get the boys to ceasefire in the hopes of mitigating an already disastrous mess

jongho had abandoned the chaos in favor of napping in his room now that it was free of any distractions

as amusing as all this was, you were a little distracted.

you were getting a headache

well, at this point, you HAD a headache

you weren’t sure when exactly it had started but at this point you Certainly felt it

you hadn’t been too concerned, thinking it was probably just a tension headache since you had been all tensed up for the past month due to work

but now

now you were feeling nauseous 

which is a Bad sign

as nonchalantly as you can, you extract yourself from joong shooting him an apologetic look and make ur way to the bathroom

the farther u got from the cacophony, the less nauseous you became

which gave u a Theory

a theory that you tested when you entered the restroom and didn't turn on the light 

just as you suspected

your headache ebbed just a touch and the nausea lessened

it was a migraine

you had a little experience with migraines before, you knew yours didn’t present with an aura so you never got a warning before one hit 

you were thankful to have gotten yourself to a dark, quiet room before it hit full stride, which it was doing right now

all you could really do was curl up in a ball on the cool tiles and softly groan in pain 

which is exactly how joong found you 

when you had gotten up originally he noticed you seemed a little off but decided to say nothing and planning on seeing how you looked when you returned, maybe checking in then

after a couple minutes you could hear your phone chime, recognizing Hongjoong’s assigned text tone, but you were in far too much pain to do anything 

plus you knew how painful the light from your phone would be

so after a few more minutes, with his text remaining unseen, he came to check up on you himself

he knocks on the door and all you can really do is moan pitifully in response 

which does NOT comfort the poor boy

he was already worried before but now you sound like you’re in pain

when he opens the door you wince and retract from the light and now the faint sound of the rest of the boys’ distant antics

noticing your reaction, he crouches down to softly push some of your hair out of your face and stroke it lovingly

his voice gets really soft and he asks what's wrong 

you explain the best you can which is really just whimpering the word migraine at him 

he sighs and gives your head a few gentle pats before saying “wait here” in the same, soft tone, and standing up

he gently closes the door behind him 

through the door you can hear him use his “Leader Voice” as he speaks to the members

you aren’t really aware enough to catch any specific words, all u know is that you’re for sure glad that the noise had died down a considerable amount 

some time later

it could’ve been anywhere from 3 to 10 minutes, you aren’t really in a place to note the passage of time, joong returns.

as he slowly opens the door, you brace yourself, but it doesn’t hurt like it had before

he had the lights in the hall way turned off

joong helps you up off of the floor and guides you toward him and hwa’s shared room

there he has the lights off and the curtains drawn

on his bedside table there are two icepacks, a glass of water and a bottle of over the counter pain meds waiting for you

he helps you sit down and hands you the water and deposits two pills into your palm

you were getting ready to settle down when you heard wooyoung’s voice cut through the silence, yelling about something that mingi had done

you wince and the gentle expression falls from joongs face, morphing into “Leader Mode” as he quickly but quietly left the room to scold Wooyoung, but not before placing a gentle peck on your temple before disappearing 

He returns with a remorseful looking woo who softly apologizes from the door, you silently wave off his apology and in return shoot him a finger heart with as much playful energy as you can muster

he returns the gesture as Joong turns back from talking to Seonghwa, who also apparently had followed him back.

you shoot hongjoong the best questioning look you can and he whispers back that Hwa will be making sure the rest of the boys keep the dorm quiet until you feel better

he tucks you into bed, placing ice packs on your forehead and neck respectively 

he pulls up a chair next to his bed and softly strokes your hair and whispers soothing words to you until you are finally able to fall asleep

ok tbh this is my first time ever writing so like... hopefully it wasn’t Total Shit, im not Super happy w it but we all have to start somewhere so whatever. also! hopefully this is a somewhat accurate description of a migraine! I’ve only had about four in my life and they were all essentially the same as what the reader has. So I have limited experience and research to go off of but hopefully it was sufficient enough. Anyways pls let me know what you thought, or if you have a request (no promises tho lmao) or ideas. I’m pretty much open to anything.

thank you for reading!!

[botwstoriesandsuch]

[Image ID: A screenshot of an anon asking saying “I just wanna say that your tags whenever you rb art and fics are so cute 🥺 you reblogged something of mine the other day and the tags were just so nice and innocent??? It’s like watching a little kid at an aquarium 😝so as an artist I thank you, hope you don’t take it as cringy” End ID]

- - - - - 

Cringey?? nonononono I may be a young kid watching the pretty fish swim aimlessly in the aquarium but I will

recklessly enjoy other people’s content don’t test me

I try to keep it in the tags cause I don’t wanna take away from the op’s original work, plus it makes it easier for other people to rb it from me, but I will amp up the love and appreciation when the situation calls for it. You could straight up come into my inbox or messages and just ask me to give you a reblog and I will do it, I do not care I love you, content creators.

Cringe Culture is dead it’s time to gush plus if I do this often enough people might do it more for me so it’s a win win hehe

Legit, I got a super sweet comment on one of my fics quoting something I wrote and it made me so happy so I was like “huh, guess I’ll do that more often then” and now I’m doing that, that’s how impressionable I am asdfghjk

Also hello?? specifically *my* tags helped you out?? I am a nobody, CLEARLY not enough people are doing this smh, allow me to teach the masses for a sec here

How To Make A Content Creator Happy: the world’s simplest guide to spreading serotonin through a keyboard

Step fucking one) You reblog it. I mean, that’s a given. You’ve all seen those “reblogs help creators out and likes do nothing” posts so I won’t rant too much. Likes are good, but reblogs are like handing someone a stack of a hundred dollars and all it takes is one click! 

(PRO TIP: Hold down the button and swipe for mobile, and hold the left alt button and click once for computer [though it will only rb to your main blog. if you want it for a side-blog then you’re stuck with two clicks but HEY two clicks to help out a creator you like is nothing!])

You share it! Just share stuff. Share the ao3 like, please do it. Don’t repost, don’t just mention it, give the links especially when you’re just in conversation or talking about it around plz I swear it does wonders

Ok moving on to the super simple stuff for commenting and putting stuff in the tags because I guarantee that the op will read them

write A N Y T H I N G and I literally mean anything just fucking:

!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sdjflksdjfkjh

?!?!?!?!!?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghghhhhhhhhh

:OOOOOOOOO

prettyyy

<33333333333333333

just fucking go ham, go nuts, it doesn’t need to be coherent it just needs to EXIST the very existence of someone enjoying someone’s content gives so much serotonin so stop being silent cowards and give us a smiley face from time to time

uh what else what else....hmm [golden rule is treat others the way you want to be treated, so if you’re a creator yourself, just give whatever you would want seen in the comments of your stuff! I mean that’s how I came up with all this...]

Point out the details! I mentioned earlier about quoting stuff from fics (that stuff is just 👌👌👌 so delicious) but I’m pretty sure (I’m not an artist myself don’t quote me) that the exact same effect is present when you talk about details in art or something. So talk about that pretty snowflake in the background! Or that piece of dialogue that made you laugh. Just a simple nod to the details is a big difference between saying “I like this” versus “I like this thing that you took the time to make the effort you put into the details did not go unnoticed”

just ALL the feedback please and thank you

this might vary from person to person, though personally I love when people are like “The way you write imagery is so good please do more!!” so just give a little nod to someone like “The way you draw this character is amazing please do more” or something like that

I wouldn’t go as far as to give criticism (although personally I’m the type of person that loves the occasionally critique for future reference, cause it means that you care as much as I do about the quality of my work) 

But along the same lines as the details thing, a nice nod to a creator about what they’re doing right is sooooo good! makes the butterflies flutter

                ~~~~~~Did that post give you emotions?~~~~~~

   G   O   O   D

 ~~FUCKING TELL US~~

THE ACT OF SOMEONE WRITING A SET OF LETTERS, OR SOMEONE SKETCHING A BLOB MADE ANOTHER DISTANT HUMAN BEING DEVELOP CHEMICALS IN THEIR BRAIN?? SURE WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT BECAUSE WOW THAT’S AMAZING!?!??

just go “I’m so happy” or “I’m so sad” just “TT__TT” just fucking “:OO” or just “I hate this” [HUMOURISTICALLY] and “I can’t believe you’ve done” just give it yes tell us the emotion that you have felt we love it

I don’t think enough people understand how amazing that is???? You were once in a normal, neutral state, and then a piece of content that I created just made you smile or laugh or cry like WHAT that’s amazing omg

Ok so that’s pretty much the simple stuff right, that’s your elementary classwork right there

Just give something, literally anything and just go “I love this so much!!!!!” bam done, you just murdered the op with your love, great job

So yeah, that’s that. Pretty simple stuff, no?

...but you wanna graduate to master class?

You wanna fucking go ape shit

you wanna just

g o    t o    town?

I said this was gonna be a simple guide so don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell you that you have to write a full length essay on every post that you come across

[BUT IF YOU WANT TO DON’T LET ME STOP YOU THAT WOULD ACTUALLY BE AMAZING?? HELL WRITING OUT A PARAGRAPH OF A COMMENT IS ALREADY JUST *CHEFS KISS* MASTERCLASS OF MURDERING THE OP WITH LOVE JUST ANALYZING THE SHIT OUT OF THE COLORS AND SHADING AND FRAMING OR JUST POINTING OUT THE THEMES AND SUBTEXT AND CHARACTERIZATION --part of the reason I love betaing stuff so much because I can analyze shit and shower it with premature love while also helping fics to be even better than they were originally ugh so cleansing for my literature heart-- SO YEAH GIVE CREATORS A PARAGRAPH, DARE I DREAM OF PARAGRAPHS, BECAUSE WOW YES PLEASE YES]

...ahem anyway

the way to graduate from good to great as a receiver of content is

to do all this

any of this

any of this simple stupid amazing shit

and just

put it in an ask or message

that’s literally it

Let me tell you why that’s so amazing, it pumps up the already amazing dopamine dosage of these actions alone, and multiplies it by a hundred, let me tell you why

Let’s say you read a drabble. You loved it, you reblogged it, you gave it hearts and emojis and ranted for a few tags about how it made you drop your muffin on the ground. Fantastic work, you just made the op pass out.

Then you go about your day and that’s the end of that.

BUT

if you do all that

and then put it in an ASK

dare you even a direct message?? (probably not most of us on here are cowards I get that)

but an ASK, anon or otherwise?

The message you just sent to the op was “I interacted with the post you made, and I loved it so much that I went the extra mile of going to your blog to make extra extra sure you understand how much I liked your thing”

There’s a wordless wall with every post! You like and reblog the thing and move on with your day. 

But the fact that YOU sent a HEART a SINGLE sentence about how you liked a thing? the fact that you BREACHED that wall and just fucking keyboard smashed in the inbox? the fact that you did that is the most amazing thing in the world

you just ambush the op with good vibes. we were expecting the bare minimum in the comments and tags, but the fact you when out of your way to make it a message or ask???? superb, outstanding, the sheer SHOCK of it will shift tectonic plates

you’re my fucking hero if you do this. you’re a godsend. I would kill for you,👏people👏would👏kill👏for👏you.

AT LEAST THEY WOULD KILL FOR YOU IF THIS ACTION DIDN’T ALREADY MURDER THEM

BE A MURDERER, NAY, A SERIAL KILLER. MURDER CONTENT CREATORS WITH LOVE

BE RECKLESSLY KIND AND LOVING YOU PIECE OF SHIT, ITS IMPOSSIBLE TO BE CRINGY TO STARVING AND DYING WRITERS AND ARTISTS WE WILL TAKE IT ALL GOD DAMMIT

YOU ARE A CHILD STARING UP AT AN AQUARIUM IN WONDER.

MAKE YOUR HAPPINESS STIR THE TIDES, LET YOUR PRESCENCE BE KNOWN PAST THE REFLECTION OF THE GLASS.

THE FISH ARE LOOKING FOR YOUR SMILE. 

[magalidragon]

riding the waves | a Jonerys drabble

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. Perhaps it will be a bigger fic one day. Damn I miss the beach. And surfing. **cries**

The alarm was set to go off in the next fifteen minutes, but she beat it every single morning, body trained since she was twelve to be up before the sun. Hopping out of the tangled sheets, the windows and doors of the bungalow perpetually thrown open, she took in the morning breeze, salty and full of promise for the new day.  She grinned, hearing the cresting of the waves, the battering of them against the beach just beyond the scrub grass and the sandy stretch beyond the open doors.  Loose gauzy netting hung from the open doors and she pushed it back, to step onto the porch, and inhale those first few crisp breaths.  She exhaled, eyes closed, and did a few sun salutations, opening her lungs and body to the day.  

Kirimvose, she silently thanked Caraxes, Meraxes, and Gaelithox.  God of the sea, Goddess of the sky, and God of fire, moon, stars, sun and the dawn, respectively.  She bounced back up to her feet, hurrying into the bungalow.  All of three rooms, it suited their purposes nicely; they were only ever in there long enough to sleep and half the time they slept out on the porch, beneath the stars anyway.  Any other length of time spent inside was solely when it stormed or rained.  Sometimes rarely then.

She pulled off the t-shirt she’d been sleeping in, tossing it into a pile on the floor with others.  The house was a pigsty; she’d been meaning to clean but hadn’t gotten around to it.  Too much to do on the outside.  She tugged open the drawer of the single chest in their room and plucked out a pair of red bikini bottoms and one of her favorite rash guards, a black and red with her three-headed dragon symbol emblazoned on the back.  

Once changed, she ran out, pausing long enough in the third room of their house to select the board she’d use that morning.  Out of the corner of her eye, her feisty half-feral cat Drogon hissed at her, as she’d apparently chosen a board, he’d been planning on sleeping on.  “Hush,” she chided him, ruffling his head on her way out.  “Go find someone else to annoy.”  He hopped off a board that was stretched over the table and went off to do just that.

She drove in her battered Jeep with the board sticking out the back with a few others to the beach nearest their house, choosing this one this morning because judging from the breeze, the waves, they would be hitting nicely off the reef and give her some good rides that morning.  She grabbed the board and ran off, that first plunge into the sea waking her up, stinging her eyes and bringing her to her happy place.

In the ocean, a bit far from the shore, she sat on her board, lazily bobbing and glanced at the rising sun.  She thanked the gods and goddesses again and then flattened herself, glancing over her shoulder when she saw the beginnings of a good wave.  Here we go, she thought, excited for the first of the day.  She began to paddle and then rose up on it, springing nimbly up onto the board, her core tight, body hunched, as it lifted her clear above the reef, the water, and almost into the sky itself.  

It crested, several feet, and she rode it sideways, heart pumping against her ribs, laughing as she reached the end and rode the board lazily towards the beach.  “Perfect!” she shouted, to no one.  She rolled off into the water, grinning, and grabbed her board, paddling back out again.

An hour or so later, as she crashed off during a particularly nasty wave, she caught sight of another rider, annoyed.  My beach, she scowled.  Even though the beaches belonged to everyone.  She tossed her wet braids over her shoulder, swimming back out, and waited, when she saw the blinding white board, with its red fins in the back.  She smiled as he swam towards her.  “Sȳz tubis issa jorrāelagon,” she greeted.

“Morning,” he replied.  He sat up on his board.  In the glow from the rising sun, he seemed to shine, somehow his skin retaining a paleness to it despite living full time in the heat and sun of the south.  He’d pulled his dark curls into a bun at the nape of his neck, some tendrils free and stuck around his temples, sea water glistening on his dark beard.  He glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming waves, smirking.  “Race you?”

She scowled.  “You’re on.”

They grabbed a couple of waves together; she was pleased that she beat him more than he did her.  Even if she did wipe out on the last one, taking it too fast.  She walked up onto the beach, board under her arm, as he came in after her.  “Where’s Ghost?” she asked.  

“Where else?’

They looked to the water and saw the white wolf-dog bobbing around, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, as he body-surfed in.  She grinned.  “Ghost the amazing surfing wolf!” she shouted, as he ran up onto the beach with them, dancing in the sand.  

“I should get a few more pictures of him for that magazine.”

Ghost the Amazing Surfing Wolf, viral sensation for his videos and shots on a surfboard, who helped keep them in rent and surfboards.  She grinned, leaning towards him.  “The invitational is next week; I’m going to kick your arse.”

He nipped her lower lip.  “No way.”  He was considerably less competitive than her overall, very chill, but when it came to the both of them competing against each other, it could get downright vicious.  He sighed hard.  “Davos wants me to do the Ice Wave Challenge again.”

“You win that every year, it’s not so much a challenge.”

“No.”  Very few people even bothered to try to surf the terrifying waves up off the coast of the North in the Shivering Sea.  Mostly because it was so cold everyone ended up in the hospital with hypothermia, except him.  He’d started trying to do it without a wetsuit, just to see if he could.  He still won.  

They looked around as more people started to pop up on the beach.  A group of teenagers jumped out of a fancy Jeep with brand new surfboards and tags still on their wetsuits.  One of them caught sight of her and shouted.  “Are you Daenerys Targaryen?”

“No,” she lied.

“Yeah right!  I know your silver hair!  Ya’ know, you should have lost that last one, they only gave you high marks cause’ you’re a chick!” The kid had a punk face, sneering.  He snorted.  “I bet I can beat you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Joffrey!”

She glanced sideways at her boyfriend, who was hiding a smile behind his hand.  “Alright Joffrey.  Let’s go then.”  

Several minutes later, Joffrey was eating sand and probably calling his mother to cry about how she destroyed him, and she was arm and arm with her better half, walking up to their respective cars.  Ghost bounced along behind them, chasing lizards into the grass.  “That was fun,” she announced.  

A few other people saw them in the parking lot, locals and the like.  Someone called out asking if they were Daenerys and Jon Snow.  “Shouldn’t you be Jon Sand, living in Dorne?” someone asked him.

He chuckled.  “Nope.  Doesn’t work like that.”

They signed a couple autographs and then hopped in their Jeeps, heading back to the bungalow.  She grabbed her board and began to work on it, waxing and checking the edges, while he whistled along and fed the animals.  It was a good day, she figured, when she finished, and changed out of her suit into a pair of jean shorts and one of her favorite bikini tops, going to join him on the porch.  He had his laptop open, was looking at video of the last invitational.  She studied the video he was watching and pointed.  “You came up too early there, lost speed.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Thank you, you’re not my coach.”

“No, just better than you.”

“I mean, no comment,” he teased.  She nudged the laptop away and sank into his lap, smacking a kiss on his lips.  He sighed, cuddling her, and both looked out at the Sunset Sea stretching out before them.  He idly brushed her drying silver curls over her shoulder.  “You know you could always try the Ice Wave Challenge.  Might give me some competition.”

“You know you don’t care about that.”

He grinned.  “Nope.”  He surfed because it was peaceful to him, as it was for her.  Except she also did it because she liked to win.  He sighed, glancing at Drogon taunting a poor lizard before he ate it.  “We should get Drogon on a board.”

Ghost perked up at that, red eyes blinking curiously.  Drogon hissed, grabbed the lizard, and pranced off, poker brush tail in the air.  Dany laughed.  “I don’t think so.”

“Hmm, worth a shot.”

After an hour or so of relaxing together, Dany got up, patting his knee.  “Come on.  The waves don’t wait for anyone.”  She pulled off her shorts and jumped off the porch, deciding to hang around the house for a bit before they went to one of the bigger beaches, with an audience, and actually practiced.  

Eventually, she ended up letting her board coast to the beach, his floating nearby, as they tangled up with each other in the water, letting it wash over them, and she kissed him like she had that first day she met him when she was thirteen years old on a family vacation, and both of them arguing over who could surf better.  The kid from the North who had more sunscreen on him than was left in the bottle or the girl from Valyria who was born on the water.  

Years later, they agreed it was a draw.  

[pastelsandpining]

My AO3 | Commission Info

The Legend of Zelda:

multichapter:

wasteland, baby - Breath of the Wild 

Post game. Multichapter. Slow burn.  Ao3 only with snippets posted to Tumblr. Link and Zelda get to work trying to rebuild Hyrule, and themselves in the process.

In Calamity’s Grasp - Breath of the Wild/Age of Calamity

pre-calamity. collab with @fatefulfaerie​ 

Hyrule attempts to prepare for a calamity that always had the kingdom within its grasp. Read along as Zelda navigates a ruthlessly honest kingdom and a frustratingly silent goddess, as the knight attendant she once loathed becomes a confidant, a friend, and perhaps more. Find out what truly happened a hundred years before the events of Breath of the Wild.

collections:

Zelink-mas 2020 Prompt List

Song Fics and Touch Requests

Zelink Week 2021  Zelink Week 2022

Small Drabbles and 400 Requests

Zelink Wedding Week

whump (angst) prompts

Whumptober 2021 By Number | By Collections

Febuwhump: 

Who Are You? - Breath of the Wild (2k words)

Febuwhump Prompt: Day 12. Zelda finally gets to breathe fresh air, but Link has no idea who she is.

Memory Loss - Breath of the Wild (1k words)

Febuwhump Prompt: Day 24. Link suffers. A more accurate description of what it might be like to wake up from a century of sleep, rather than just *stands up and walks around just fine*

nsfw

as it was - Breath of the Wild (5k words) - hurt/comfort

“I wish I could stop mourning you,” she admits into the empty air and feels the guilt grip her throat like an icy hand when he stills against her.

“And I wish I knew how to love you,” he breathes in reply, and she knows what he means. He’s wishing, not for the first time, that he could love her in the way he did decades ago—be that same boy for her sake, but she can’t ask that of him. She doesn’t want that, anyway. What she really wants is to move on, to let the memory of him rest so that she could thrive with the Link she knows and loves now.

milk & honey - pre-TotK, post-BotW (9k words) - hurt/comfort

“You know I don’t mind,” she says, gliding feather soft fingertips down the length of his arms until she’s tracing a scar from his elbow to his wrist. “I think they’re-“

“They’re not.”

Zelda fixes him with a look that’s full of pity and something else he can’t place. He averts his eyes, drawing his arms to himself and out of her grasp. There’s a moment of thick, heavy silence between them before she slides off and to the side of him instead. Guilty, Link turns his body to face her and wraps her in his arms, murmuring an apology with lips pressed to her forehead.

general one shots

Belongings - Breath of the Wild (8k words) - hurt/comfort - post game

Zelda struggles to find her place in this time she doesn’t belong in, and she doesn’t understand how Link seems to adapt so easily.

Melancholy - Breath of the Wild (1k words) - angst; hurt/no comfort

They’re being hunted like wild animals by machines of the Calamity. In a moment of peace, Zelda confesses, because they’ll be dead soon anyway. 

Bittersweet - Breath of the Wild (2k words) - angst but not outright

Link takes a moment to sit with a friend and think about the princess fighting valiantly and endlessly--and wonders just how much she means to him. 

Mend - Breath of the Wild (1k words) - happy

Link reflects on the time he’s spent with Zelda now that everything is over. Final piece of the series, though they can all be read separately.

Spring of Wisdom - Breath of the Wild (1k words) - hurt/comfort

Zelda has a realization on Mount Lanayru, and they’re doomed.

The Master Sword - Breath of the Wild (2k words) - angst; hurt

A take on memory 18, because the game’s version was far too happy for me. Zelda’s trip to Korok Forest was no easy feat, but she knew the sacred blade needed to return lest they lose it too.

we’ll meet again - Ocarina of Time (2k words) - angst

rewriting/my take on the end of the game

Girl Talk - Age of Calamity (1k words) - happy; comfort piece

After Link’s heroic hand grab, Zelda and Impa can’t help but spend a while talking about it. You know, the way teenage girls do.

Sorrow - A Link Between Worlds (2k words) - hurt/comfort

Ravio and Hilda/Ravilda hurt/comfort one-shot. Post-game. After going to such extreme lengths for her kingdom, Hilda is left to face the consequences. And she can’t understand why they continue to be so kind to her.

warm - BotW post-calamity (700 words)

Link and Zelda make amends.

preference - BotW post-calamity

Link asks Zelda which version of him she prefers.

[mediawhorefics]

Hi marie! I am interested on how detailed tts is! And i love the fic generally. May i know how you wrote the fic?? Like do you find the info abt the place first or you are actually live there haha? Also do you plot first before you write a full fic?? How do you know abt this place?? SORRY IF IM ASKING TOO MUCH! YOU CAN IGNORE/ DONT ANSWER IT ITS OKAY! 😅

hiya :) 

so tts was kind of a weird one in terms of how it was made. i’m a huge researcher when it comes to writing in general & i write a lot of historical aus, so diving in and researching a lot is often the first step for me when it comes to writing. but tts was a little different in that it was a combination of my research for a different project, my lifelong love of lighthouses, a prompt sent to me by an anon & my own experiences in/love of scotland. i lived there for two years, though not on any of the islands. 

so a few years back, as i was finishing uni and preparing to move to scotland, i signed up for this exchange where the concept was you received a quote as a prompt and had to write a fic based on that. i can’t remember the quote i had but it was something a oscar wilde one and i got really interested in writing a murder mystery/dark fantasy story set somewhere remote and isolated. i wanted to write a story where a series of shocking & slightly supernatural murders take place on a remote island with a very small population and a journalist comes to the island to write a series of articles about it. i got to busy with real life and had to drop out of the challenge, but i had found & thoroughly researched fair isle as the perfect setting for this story. harry was going to be the journalist coming in from london to investigate and louis was a sculptor who lived in the lighthouse at the tip of the isle; a recluse and an outcast; everyone’s favourite suspect. i made the choice of him living in a lighthouse because i love them and it’s been a dream of mine to own one and live in one for literally decades haha.

obviously, this story didn’t end up happening. but many months later, after i’d already moved to scotland, i received an anon essentially saying ‘ i wish you would write a story where recovering alcoholic/addict harry shows up to louis’ little b&b to recover’. now i rarely take other people’s prompts mostly because i’m very picky & fussy with ideas, but this one really inspired me and i basically said ‘okay, but it would HAVE to be set in scotland and the b&b HAS to be in a lighthouse’ and i just wrote a mini drabble outlining the main plot of the fic. people got really excited about the mini-outline/ficlet; i had lots of messages asking me to make it a full-length fic and big bang season was starting and tbh.... the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. so i signed up to write it and the rest is history i guess! 

but because i had done all this research on fair isle already, it was the only place that made sense for me as a setting. i’ll be honest though, not all of it is accurate; i used inspiration from other scottish islands and my own imagination to create this fictional version of fair isle. and some info in the fic is no longer up to date; like the whole no power at night thing! that changed while i was writing it :) 

so yeah, i def. found the info about the place first and no i don’t live there. from what i know, it’s a very tiny very closed community. and unfortunately, even though i lived in scotland, i never had the chance to visit. it’s not thaaaat easily accessible haha 

and yeah i def def plot first before writing. i rarely have a fully detailed outline before i start writing, but i’ll normally have the ending (or the Big Emotional Catharsis moment) planned as well as all the big beats. i research, make decisions on vibe, atmosphere, aesthetic, first, then i outline and then i write. though i guess with historical stuff, the research lasts the entire time you’re writing more often than not haha. 

anyways hopefully that answers your question <3 thanks for reaching out and for reading the fic x