#iris attempts to write

[galaxoshine]

hollanov | 10k | E | ao3 link

[galaxoshine]

a hollanov christmas

somewhere in your eyes | 5k | E

Canon Universe, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Sickfic, Bathtub Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Snowball Fight, Loverboys to Loverboys, Sleepy Cuddles, Grief/Mourning, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Happy Ending

[galaxoshine]

Thursday snippet

thanks for the tag @arviyya, @microdamage and @goneinsecondsxo !

And then, because Angel doesn't have an ounce of social skills, they blurt out, “I think I want to kiss you.” And, oh. Faster than a lightning strike, Aki’s cheeks bloom the loveliest pink shade, a color spreading to the tips of his ears. He looks so lovely, caught off guard. So handsome. He looks like he’s very warm, like if Angel were to touch him right now, their skin would fizzle underneath the heat, burn and sparkle like the caramelized apple slices Aki made them for breakfast last week that tasted of cinnamon under their tongue, as sweet as the sugary rush of his flushed cheeks when Angel moaned and asked for more. Something that made Angel feel like the closest thing to home.  “You think?” Aki asks, breathily, pupils blown. “I’d like it. I’m pretty sure.” Then, as plain as they can, they add, “I wouldn’t know.”  (Angel will never know, they'd rip their own heart out before they'd ever let Aki touch them again; this, they are sure of. Every minute spent with him is a lifetime worth of abstinence, and no touch could ever be worth being deprived of even a second of his—already shortened—time. Not even a kiss. But there is something bittersweet and childish about fantasizing, something invigorating about sharing such a futile, adolescent dream, like they are pretending they could if they wanted to, and pretending is akin to living off crumbs of what a kinder reality could be. Crumbs are better than nothing. They have to be enough, because they're all Angel's got.)

np tags <3 @lilacfiresoul @outofdaylight @apfelhalm @wolfpadx @the-invisibility-bloke @hoko-onchi-writes @bluedahlia912 & whoever wants to do it!!

[galaxoshine]

eruri (new year's edition) fic | 20k | E

a gift for the lovely @mikanseinic ♡

canon divergence, levi pov, war, trauma, healing, hurt/comfort, slice of life, relationship study, explicit sexual content, happy ending

[galaxoshine]

seven sentences monday

thanks for the tag @microdamage and @xjustkay <3

“I’m perfectly reasonable.” “That look in your eyes tells me you aren’t.” “That look in your eyes tells me you like it.” Sirius grins, won’t deny his boy the truth. “If I can’t flaunt my heritage once in a while, what’s it good for?” “Not your money I’m after,” Harry replies easily, propping himself up on his elbow to rest his head on his palm, a lazy smile stretching over his face. Dangerous territory.

np tags @arviyya @sircimirci @lilacfiresoul @the-invisibility-bloke @hoko-onchi-writes @starsworth @wolfpants @bluedahlia912 @wolfpadx and whoever wants to do this/hasn't been tagged!!

[galaxoshine]

thursday snippet ❁

• ty for the tag @goneinsecondsxo ! •

“You manage to stop sometimes,” Shane replied defensively. “You have… long periods without—” me, he wanted to spit bitterly. Long periods without me where you bring other men and women into your bed. Long periods of time in which it’s easy not to crave Shane, easy to replace him. “—cigarettes.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “You find replacements.” (Girls. Lots of girls that Shane couldn’t help but internally seethe at.) Ilya shrugged lightly. “Not like real thing.” “Boring?” Shane asked, heart in his throat. The wet thumb on his chin stroked his bottom lip lightly, almost reverently, and Shane tried not to feel too light-headed from that simple touch. “No,” Ilya finally replied quietly, his gaze melting into something unbearably warm as it took Shane apart. “Boring is better.”

no pressure tags : @arviyya @hoko-onchi-writes @the-invisibility-bloke @mikanseinic @wolfpadx @wolfpants @timsaxon @bluedahlia912 @lilacfiresoul @outofdaylight @thecouchsofa & whoever hasn't done this/been tagged yet!

[galaxoshine]

hellooooo i am requesting kevriko + “No one’s going to hurt you” pretty please <3

hello <3 excited for this one as well!! (for this drabble game)

“No one’s going to hurt you” + kevriko | 1175 words | ao3 longer version

Kevin has nightmares. They start after his mom dies.

The first time it happens, he wakes up crying, and heaving against his pillow, body curled protectively in the shape of a coma, with an emptiness in the middle he can’t seem to fill. A warmth seeps inside it, though. It dries his tears, cups his swollen, painful heart, and kisses it.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Riko whispers in his hair, holding him tighter against his chest. “You’re safe here. I’m here.” 

Kevin drifts off again, soothed by the rhythm of fingers drumming along his ribs, and thumbing at his back dimples. 

Safe, he thinks, absorbing the heat that thaws the ice in his chest. 

Safe, as he burrows into the crook of that neck and inhales the familiar scent of smoked pine, mint, and fresh leather.

It’s an unspoken pact that slowly turns into a ritual. 

Kevin wakes up, feverish and disoriented, and Riko always rushes to his side, muttering words like I’ve got you, and you’re mine so no one will ever hurt you, while Kevin allows himself to be held. To be weak.

It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever made him feel as cherished as Riko does in those moments. Like the world could crumble and Riko would be all around him, an unbreakable force protecting him from the ruins, a shield.

But just like his nightmares, those moments never last. And in the light of day, with the growing distance between them widened by the competitive edge seeping inside Riko’s blood like poison, it’s hard to believe this man, so cruel, so easy with violence, can be capable of tenderness. 

Yet, every night in which it happens again, Kevin forgets about it all. The darkness. The abuse. He starts craving those moments like an addict chasing a high that won’t ever feel as good as the first hit, that will come with a steeper crashdown each time. 

The tragedy is precisely this. How good it feels to receive such gentleness from hands that only know how to be violent anymore. The contrast is a headrush, the way it makes him feel special is bliss unlike any other.

Kevin doesn’t learn to bite the hand that feeds him, instead, he learns to love the hand that hits him.

A ritual turns into an excuse, and as Kevin finds himself clinging to this ghost of a brother he loves, he seizes the opportunity one night to chase him.

His Riko.

The one who would laugh with him, big and bright, who’d listen to him ramble about history with wide starry eyes, smile at him like no one else mattered, the one who would giggle like a kid every time Kevin drew the numbers over their cheeks with a marker, and who would eat Kevin’s peas off his plate because he knew Kevin hated them. The one with whom he shared dreams, glory, and a secret handshake they’d invented as kids.

So one night, when Kevin wakes to find Riko already coiled around him like a snake, limbs entangled, ready to soothe him back to sleep if need be, he acts.

Derails the moment, first. He stares at him, at this man he loves and hates, looking so peaceful and gentle in slumber, so pure and innocent, this man he’s being robbed of as the days go on, and he wants the moment to last forever. This instant in which the moon paints him softly, so warm and human. 

He traces the inked number one over that cutting cheekbone until dark eyelashes flutter open, and piercing eyes meet his.

Time halts.

They remain there, breathing softly, looking into each other’s abysses. Kevin leans in, pulse racing in his throat, so utterly lost, and so eager to kill himself in his bad habit—the one he’s too weak to kick. And Riko meets him halfways, drawn to him like a magnet, his lips slotting in so nicely against Kevin’s, so tenderly Kevin thinks he’s imagining it.

“You tell someone about this, and you’ll regret it all your life,” Riko whispers against his humid skin, his voice cut harshly by the blade of a real threat.

Kevin’s heart does a painful twinge, but he doesn’t answer, nods imperceptibly, and chases that kiss again with a whine. And this, this what undoes him. The way Riko melts into it, the way he lets Kevin takes the reins for once, opens up, and allows him to push him on his back so Kevin can lick at the inside of his mouth, can taste the desire on his tongue, and the way he hums and moans into it, letting his hands roam over Kevin’s body like it’s a precious thing.

His own personal victory.

Nights and years blend together, and this ritual strengthens the more the gap between them widens.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Riko always says as he kisses those dreams away, eyes half crazed as they rake over Kevin’s body. It doesn’t feel so much like worship anymore, but like ownership. “No one.”

Except you, Kevin thinks as Riko traces the outline of a bruise he inflicted a few hours earlier.

But he knows by then, that Riko can’t love him without feeling like he owns him, and that he can’t own Kevin if other people can too, if other people can take, and hurt, and maim Kevin, so he has to take control. Has to be on top. Has to be the only one to do it, mark his territory over Kevin like a dog.

But the more he does so, the more Kevin suffocates, like grass stepped over repeatedly that hasn’t been given the space to grow and turn green.

It all comes to a stop one day, though. 

Because one day, Kevin stops having nightmares. 

He stops waking up abruptly in the middle of the night, he stops needing Riko. He stops longing for those stolen moments between them, because fragile as they were, they haven’t been able to withstand the wretched storm that is Riko. And now they’ve got cracks made of kisses with blood, love with teeth, and sex turned into a power play—another way for Riko to own him.

Kevin doesn’t have nightmares anymore, but his worst one has come to life, and this time, he knows there’s no waking up from it.

On that day, Kevin packs his things, leaves, and never looks back. 

As he drives away, numbly holding the broken bones of his left hand, all he can hear above the loud thunder of his heartbeat, is Riko’s voice. So soft in the beginning, and then so cold, so manic towards the end. 

No one’s going to hurt you.

It rings like a threat with each mile away from him.

[galaxoshine]

31 Zolu from one peice pretty please!!!! :)))

hiiii murph <3 was SO excited to write this one and I can't believe I got so inspired even tho the prompt seemed so simple!! (for this drabble game)

ao3 longer version

31. “Can I kiss you?” + zolu | 1500 words

Zoro’s favorite thing in the world?

Luffy’s smile.

So bright and loud it's a head rush. Luffy’s smile is the most powerful thing in the world. It mends hearts, and rebuilds souls. It’s liquid sunshine in his veins, a bubbling, sparkling burst of adrenaline that has his heart swelling in his chest and his lungs bloom with oxygen. 

Luffy has a lot of different smiles, and Zoro has categorized each one in his mind, with precision and devotion. There's the carefree one. The playful one. The daring one. The dangerous one. The excited one. The relieved one.

And then, there's another. One that's meant for Zoro and Zoro only, one he cherishes with as much care as his swords. A secretive one, shy at the edges, daring and comfortable at its very core.

It’s one of those smiles that tipped him over the edge one day, that blinded him harder than the sun ever could, enough to knock his braincells together and make him a realize, oh. 

That’s what it is. That’s what this was, all along. This fierce loyalty thumping in his blood, this undying worship that only seems to grow stronger by the days, the searing bond between them that runs deeper than friendship, higher than captain and first mate.

Zoro’s in love with Luffy. 

And then, just as quickly, the thought that followed, after all, how could he not? 

Loving Luffy is the easiest and most natural thing in the world. It feels like an extension of him, of his body, his mind. Like the powerful thunder of his devotion could only end in this. Something groundbreaking and worldbuilding. He doesn’t remember loving life as much as he did with Luffy by his side. 

Now that they're back, Zoro isn't so sure he wants to spring this on Luffy, on his Luffy, his captain that had to lose his brother, alone, without Zoro being there for him, and the guilt nearly eats him alive, the yearning to be there for him, to be the steady pillar Luffy can lean on overpowering anything else.

Two whole years. 

Two years in which Zoro trained relentlessly, with the promise of seeing his crew, his captain again. Two years in which he fulfilled his promise of becoming stronger, stronger than ever so he could do his job. Protect them. Be worthy of the title of first man. One step closer to his dream, and one step closer to Luffy’s dream.

Two years that felt unbearably long and yet so short, but two years too many because now that he’s back, he feels like he’s been having Luffy withdrawals and getting all time with him is almost too much too soon.

It’s overwhelming. His body comes back to life like a parched flower under the rain, he nearly buzzes out of his skin with the need for more everytime he’s near Luffy. So he drinks and drinks, as if any amount of sake could ever satiate his bone deep hunger for Luffy. 

It drives him crazy. Because on top of that, it seems that Luffy has missed him too. He hasn’t said as much but it’s clear as day. 

It’s in the way he’ll constantly bother Zoro when he’s lifting weights, the way he’ll always look for him before going anywhere, the way he’ll jump more frequently into the ocean just so Zoro can dive in and catch him, in the way he’ll try harder to make Zoro laugh and smile, tell more stories to get his attention, in the casual touches here and there, the more frequent hugs and smooches. It's in the way he’ll get distracted even while eating meat—which has their whole crew staring at their captain like he's grown two heads—all because he’s too busy staring at Zoro. 

Staring like it’s a job.

Or more like, studying him. Drinking in each new scar, new earring, the way his muscles have grown, and his hair has too, each proof of all that time spent apart.

And it's also in the way he’s taking to falling asleep with Zoro during his naps, like right now. It's a blessing for the pitiful thump in Zoro's heart that begs for proximity, but it's going to become a problem soon as the heat that always simmers when Zoro's near Luffy seems to make itself known.

If Luffy shifts in his lap, slides just a smidge down, he's going to know just how much Zoro has missed him. And honestly? Zoro doesn’t know if he’d survive the embarrassment. He’s just too easy for his captain.

"Hey Zoro."

"Mhm."

A beat. Luffy traces Zoro's scar over his eye with a carefulness and tenderness so unlike his clumsy, forceful nature that it plucks at something deep within Zoro. Makes hope, and longing pang like a melody he can’t tune off.

Zoro cracks open his other eye and stares him. Even though he’s looked, and looked his fill, stared at him so many times he could probably draw Luffy in his sleep, he's still so gorgeous it makes his heart stop each time.

"What is it?"

Luffy bites his bottom lip, gazes at Zoro’s lips, back to his eyes, then ducks and settles back down on Zoro’s chest. "Nothing."

"Oi." Zoro flicks his nose. There’s a delicious flush rising to his captain’s cheeks, and Zoro distantly wonders if it tastes like raspberries. Softer, he adds, "it's just me."

Luffy stares back up at him, looking so terribly shy and yet brave, and it's in that determination pulling at his eyebrows, in the harsh set of his lips, that Zoro knows what's coming. He knows it before it even comes, because he knows Luffy so intimately, he knows it the way he knows where and when a blade will strike before it can so he can dodge the hit—but this time, he won't.

This is a hit he wants to receive with his head high, and his mouth curled up into a smile, he wants to welcome the sharpness of it in the emptiness between his ribs—he spot made for Luffy, and Luffy only—and wear the wound proudly. 

“Can I kiss you?” Luffy asks, voice strong, strong like he is. Like he wants this.

Zoro’s breath catches in his throat. Yes, he wants to scream. But because Zoro's heart is a stupid, loyal thing, what comes out instead is, “You can take everything from me.” 

He means my life is yours, my death is yours, I am a loyal dog at your feet, worshipping the ground you walk, and eager to be moulded by your hands. There is nothing you can't do to me. There is nothing you can do that I wouldn't love, because it's you.

Luffy frowns, shifts in Zoro’s lap. Strong arms wrap around his small waist to steady him, the weight comforting, steadying. “I don’t want to take from you. That feels wrong.”

“Why?” 

"Because." Luffy makes a frustrated noise. “I think,” stronger now, eyes burning with the fire that licks at Zoro’s spine, makes heat coil in his guts, “that I want you to kiss me. I want you to want to kiss me.”

Fuck, if only he knew.

Zoro loves him so much he wants to take out his heart and squeeze it dry. Loves him so badly he’d wrench out his ribs if he could and let Luffy devour them, like an offering to a God, he’d willingly sacrifice himself, over and over, without a heartbeat’s hesitation. 

"You can be really dumb sometimes, you know," Zoro murmurs gently as he thumbs at Luffy's cheeks. 

Cheekily, with a dimpled grin that makes his heart race, "Yeah, but Zoro still loves me."

Understatement of the century. "Exactly," Zoro replies simply, sitting up and leaning in so he can nuzzle Luffy’s nose with his own. He feels a bit like an animal, close to purring from the electricity fizzling in his veins. "So stop thinking and come get your kiss, captain."

Luffy’s eyes lighten up in a second, and then he strikes, surging up in Zoro’s arms like he’s been waiting for this reunion for decades. And this, this feels so right. This makes life worth it.

They crash together like undeniable forces of gravity, a trapped groan delivered from Zoro’s throat, freed by Luffy possessing him so suddenly, so intently. This is where he belongs. This is where he lies. Between Luffy’s lips, devoured by his unfiltered want.

Luffy kisses like he is, brightly, without restraint or shame, a force to be reckoned with, but one Zoro knows like the back of his hand, and is prepared to face, is excited about it, even. He licks back at those bruising lips, slides in the crease between them to taste his victory.

It’s a kiss that seals them together. It’s hands gripping at each other viciously, and noses bumping, it’s heaved breaths, and swollen mouths because they can’t stop, and need to get closer, and closer still. It’s Luffy moaning as he scratches at Zoro’s back, limbs tightening around his body in a childish and greedy way.

When they pull back, Luffy blinks, his pupils black as coals, a few brown speckles caught in the sunlight’s rays, and Zoro’s heart thinks, I’m yours.