😳

requests are always open, feel free to send ideas :) check my main @lessrthanthree for a list of fandoms ill write for!

[three-word-count]

Hey I'm Three and this is my writing sideblog!

I appreciate comments and shares so I can get out there more, it really keeps me going <3

I interact via my main, @lessrthanthree

Check there for a pinned post of all fandoms I'll write for!

And here's a masterpost with all the links to my fics if you don't wanna read them on ao3 :)

Feel free to send ideas/requests any time!

And my ao3 is always linked in my writing posts

[three-word-count]

Was gonna finish and post 2 chapters of the taste of home for the choi birthday but i got sick :(

[three-word-count]

The Taste of Home

Chapter Two: Delphinium

read Chapter One on tumblr here

Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

Word count: 1128

Read on Ao3 link with author notes

[ I love even the parts of you I cannot see. Everything related to you is lovely. ]

…

Saeran had no idea. 

The two of you often went thrifting. It was a wonderful way to spend time together in a different place, enraptured by all the curious little items filling up the shelves in droves. It was one of his favorite newly discovered hobbies. There was far more to be seen than inside a retail homestore. 

Often, you found hidden treasures in the forms of random knick knacks that now dotted across your shared dresser at home, or ornate picture frames that held your photos proudly on walls. Sometimes Ray found a garden chair that he just had to take home. Sometimes you didn't have to buy anything at all to have fun. You'd even goof off sometimes, sitting at a worn down dining room set having an idle chat over imaginary tea, or suddenly launching yourself into some puffy old recliner much to his startlement. 

And rarely, you'd find an old, forgotten instrument, hidden among the mess of it all. 

He hadn't expected anything out of the usual from you with it. Just the standard schedule of messing around for kicks. Perhaps a quick quip of, “Look, my love! I’m a star!” which he’d answer with a feigned profession of how much he admired your musical prowess, claiming to own all your vinyl albums (Some encased in frames, too, he may add! A divine complement!) as your absolute number one fan (this part of his fictional claim, however, was true). 

But he didn't know. 

Really. 

He stood with his arm crossed loosely, an amused grin on his face as he expected you to put on a messy show for a cute little memory that he could store away inside his mind. 

Until you sounded your first chord. 

Your face looked like that of home. A softened smile. Shining eyes that hid a shade of sadness for something you'd left behind and missed dearly. 

Your second chord. Slow and tentative as your fingers did exactly what they needed to do, a satisfied emotion adding to the pool within your eyes as you confirmed that you still remembered it after so many years. A single, shy laugh of content. 

You let the so-deeply ingrained muscle memory take control, bliss carrying you through the song you knew like the back of your hand. After years of being buried in your head’s dusty recesses, rust was sure to be expected. But any blemish in the twangs of an off-key strike were lost to Saeran’s ears as all he heard were the celestial chords of nothing less than perfection. It was music to his ears, in more ways than one. 

The notes melted in his ears like the honey in his morning green tea, rejuvenated him like a cool dawn breeze, woke him up like the sun. The taste of your happiness flowed through the air like syrup he poured over his sundaes, sweetening his heart at the sight of you so confidently sharing your art. He was proud. Proud to know someone like you, who felt safe enough to expose your hidden passions to him with no hesitation. Proud to be with someone like you, who allowed him to bask in your light and accept his place by your side. Proud to see you for you. He was also very much in love, as if he couldn't possibly fall any deeper with you already, but you proved him wrong time and time again as he tumbled harder for your every revealed facet even further than before. 

You hadn’t taken notice of his expression until you finished your short song. “Speechless, Ray…? Come on now, I'm not that good,” you laughed.

He stood, mouth agape, his cheeks dusted a shade of pink enough to rival his highlights. “I didn’t know you could play,” he gawked. 

“Ahh, it was just an old hobby. It's nothing special or anyth-”

“Yes it is!”

You were a bit taken aback by his interjection, a rather unusual event coming from Saeran. He was rarely ever vocally worked up, outside of displaying excitement for his latest  fresh-budding flowers, avidly defending “pesky” pollinators and misunderstood animals that were crucial to ecosystems, or of course during your commonly traded info-dump sessions. 

“That was… that was more than special! I didn’t know that you…!” He trailed off and instead gestured at you excitedly. 

“Ahh, well, you know…” you shrugged, “It’s not like I have any instruments here. It just wasn't important to mention before.”

“It’s important to me, now, though. It’s something you enjoy, isn’t it…?”

“Uh… Yeah… I guess. It’s just that I haven't had the access or ability since I’ve moved into Seoul. So I kinda just… left it behind. It’s alright though. It happens.”

Saeran only stared at you, a hurt look on his face. “But you looked so happy, just then,” he lamented. “I’d rather you enjoy yourself than give up something you loved just from moving on to a new way of life. I still enjoy gardening after… after everything. I want you to have something like that, too.” 

“I like gardening with you.”

“No, no, something different. Something just for you. You help me a lot with harvests and care, but you also let me have time just for myself when I need it. I’ve spent some days in the greenhouse alone with my thoughts, watching the clouds pass by above me through the glass. We all need things just for ourselves sometimes. I know you tend to neglect that.”

You thought about that statement. You had hobbies, didn’t you? Were you too lost in forging your new path nowadays and you just hadn’t noticed? You didn’t want to see that as the truth. You know how it hurts to lose parts of yourself. You already lost music when you left it behind for your move to Seoul. 

“I… make things sometimes,” you countered, using your arsenal of crafts and doodles scattered around the house as ammunition. 

“Not as often as you’d like. I know that. I’ve been there. I can see it.” He reached out to hold your hand, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I want you to be happy, my love. I want you to take advantage of the freedom you have in our shared home now. Like me.”

You felt a sting in your eyes. “You always know exactly what to say, don't you,” you resigned. 

He hummed. “Not always. It’s something I’ve learned. I only want the best for you.” 

You leaned into him, melting into a hug. “I love you,” you whispered into his ear.

“And I love you. Now,” he said, pulling back to look you in the eyes, “shall we buy it? I know exactly where it would look beautifully back home.” 

[corvidprompts]

The fae smiled, sharply: “Give me your name, child.”

“Uhhhhh. Stick.”

“What.”

“Does Leaf work better? I’m just kinda looking around this clearing. Look, I’m trans, I haven’t decided on one yet, I’m throwing some spaghetti at the wall, you know how it is.”

[shadeshadow234]

Fae are born with features sharp and narrow, yet this one seems to soften as Moss looks at it. Its grin— sharp, teeth gleaming, its eyes— cutting, searching, the jut and pull of its jaw enough to scratch glass. It does not blink. Branch does not blink. It softens.

“I said, give me your name, child.”

“I still haven’t picked one,” Grass defends, even now still hoping for a way out of a faeries deal.

“No. But your parents did. Give me your name, child, and it shall no longer be yours. The entity of your name shall no longer exist, and you will be free for whichever name you choose— Leaf, or Stick, or Lichen.”

“…oh.” says Petal, and in the next moment a name falls from their lips. It is not their name. It never has been. The fae is sharp and cutting and witty, that moment of softness an imagined slight.

“Very well, child. Be warned of mushroom circles, should you lose your name again.”

“Okay,” Mushroom smiles, and the Fae pulls itself away from their reality in a swirl of feathers and silk.

When they go home for the first time in two months, their mother frets over them in a way she had not since they were a child, and she calls them by no name at all.

[three-word-count]

The Taste of Home

Chapter One: Chamomile

Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

Word count: 1542

Read on Ao3 link

[ I wish we could take a nap together read together look at pretty flowers together and go see places we've never seen together… ] 

...

He slept like an angel.

You found him sprawled out across your brand new couch- a soft mauve color he had picked out for its shade alone. The ends of his hair blended seamlessly with the velvety fabric in the dim lighting. You couldn’t tell where it began and ended. Perhaps he was so tired that he began to melt into the furniture itself. It was a plausible thought, considering how hard he’d been working as of late.

It had been less than four months since… well, everything. Since the quick beginning and ending of your Mint Eye stay. Since Saeyoung's brutal kidnapping. Since the chaotic reveal and fallout of Rika and Jihyun's chaos. Since the twins' father… Saeran needed rest more than anything nowadays.

His bruised eye bags had slowly faded with time as you helped him develop a more normal sleep schedule, and his eye-strain lessened as he was weaned off of constant exposure to computer screens despite the remaining permanent damage when it came to reading up close. He still struggled with regular nightmares and episodic bouts of terror that left him awake and anxious for hours, but you never minded. You were both healing after all, and healing took time. There were noticeable improvements with every passing week.

You were also able to encourage a proper meal schedule, three meals per day that were, more often than not, cooked together due to his passion for the kitchen. He enjoyed the bonding time along with the fact that you could be involved in activities together. He hadn't been able to share hobbies and interests with anyone back at Magenta, and these new kinds of experiences and relationships were deeply important to him.

He remained trapped with his extreme people-pleasing issues, but you helped him see that destroying a recipe in accidents was more than okay, in fact it was fun sometimes, and a great thing to laugh over and learn from. Combined with his new self-made recipe books he'd been experimenting with, along with his always-oversized portions of pastry baking, you'd been glad to see his physicality improve as well. “No more skin-and-bones-Saeran” you had set as a goal, and his love for sweets guaranteed to help with that. The amount of time the two of you spend in the kitchen kept you both soft and healthy, a drastic improvement from his previous lifestyle.

He was determined and set to strive for any and all improvements despite his remaining reserved fears. His current project was constructing the house he had promised to you, though you suspected that in a way he had also promised it to himself. He had experience with the erection of towers and extensions of Mint Eye's main facility and the design of his beloved gardens, yet he hesitated at most decision making at the beginning of the project. He checked in with you for comments, worries, confirmations, and any and all opinions or concerns. He worried ceaselessly over little details and intricacies that could be altered later. Contrary to how Ray had furnished your old room fully on his own account, he regretted being so controlling of your environment there, and now wanted only what you wanted and nothing more.

And like always, you wanted nothing more than to help him find himself. You did what you knew best, and found that in this case, it was mostly a balanced art of praise and comfort.

He responded well to your steady encouragement, urging him slowly to come up with and settle on ideas of his own choosing. You were happiest when you could clearly see his progress; his most recent blueprint he had worked on with his brother, of a skylight he wanted in the bedroom ceiling that could be left open for starlight viewing and closed shut with a switch-activated sliding panel for proper darkness and sleeping. He excitedly introduced it to you with energetic gestures and a gentle blush dusted on his cheeks with occasional hesitation that gave away his nervousness. You had kissed his nose and told him you loved the idea.

Since then, he added a confident personal touch to almost everything.

Of course you were still highly involved, his dream garden wouldn't be perfect without your additions, he had claimed. He designed a walkway of cement stones of different shapes, ones you could design together. The largest one was in the shape of a heart, where other garden paths could branch off from it. It had both of your hand prints molded into the wet plaster, the permanent keystone of his new backyard paradise. A previous copy that the both of you had made had been squished from leaning too far into it while laughing. He placed it as the center stone of the patio he planned to build a wooden porch swing on.

He had plenty more things drafted on sheets and little sketches on sticky notes stamped along his laptop rim, but he had been so busy already with everything else that he needed to be coaxed into regular breaks still. It’s difficult to break workaholic tendencies, Jaehee had confirmed herself as you confided in her at your last cafe visit about his still-somewhat-spontaneous sleep schedule. He just wanted stability. No more change. No more construction. No more couch napping on half finished rooms, or staying over in Saeyoung’s labyrinth of a bunker with more spare rooms than he could count on his hands. He wanted his hard-earned independence and a proper safe haven for the two of you, and he was willing to do everything he could to achieve it as soon as possible.

But of course, this mentality caught up to him. You had returned from your errands to find him draped across the couch, a book on botany care splayed open across his chest, his thin, rose-gold reading glasses having slipped down his nose. His breath came in waves of deep sleep. You suspected he had been this way for a while. How cute…  

Best to let him rest. He deserved it. You placed your bags down beside the door. You could put them away later. You retrieved a gently folded fleece blanket, a soft mimic of a large gloriosum leaf you had bought as a surprise gift for him. He had teared up with excitement when you first presented the large heart-shaped sheet to him, wrapped caringly in floral paper that he almost didn’t want to tear apart. He used it so often that it now carried his gentle scent, seemingly woven into the fabric itself. You took the book from his chest and draped the fabric over him, securing him lovingly in its embrace so as to welcome him into a warm dream. He mumbled in his sleep. Your name, soft upon his lips.

He used to be a light sleeper, fueled by fear to remain awake for hours through the night. The lightest footsteps were once able to fling him into an alerted frenzy. But this new comfort had changed him. Your presence made him feel secure. Safe. Truly at home, for the first time in his life. You pet his hair, brushing his long bangs away from his eyes. Perhaps you would trim them for him soon.

But that thought could wait for now. You sat down on the floor, leaning slowly against the front of the couch so as to not disturb his rest, and opened his botany book to the page where he left off. You wanted to be a part of his greenhouse dream, and the best way to help is to learn it all the same way he did. You admired his intelligence and dedication to bookkeeping. The vast amount of shelves he had filled in the living room were proof of his adherence to the art.

You shifted your focus back to his book, calmly grounded by his steady breathing beside your head. You found his myosotis bookmark resting in the crevice of a chapter on tea, saving his spot on the page of flower care. Handwritten scribbles of notes filled in the margins, data and consideration of sunlight and water ratios, temperature changes, and the average seasonal shifts. He put a great amount of care into this project that did not even yet exist.

How sweet, how badly he wanted this self-sufficient garden. And how sweet that he could create exactly that with his life and freedom and very own choices. He deserved to yearn and dream, no matter how big or small. Because every little thing in life was important to Saeran.

His delicate chamomile buds, though not yet tangible, could almost be tasted on your tongue. The thought of your future, wrapped in his arms on a cold rainy morning, warmed by cups of herbal tea grown, raised, and brewed fully on his own… your heart softened at the possibility. Guided by the flowers, you felt sleep begin to pull on you as well. Perhaps, while reading the same book and thinking the same thoughts, Saeran had experienced the equivalent too. Maybe with this shared feeling in your chest, you both would share the same dream as well. You let the idea take you, and drifted off to rest, your heartbeat synced with his.

[three-word-count]

It's been a while. But I'm back on my saeran brainrot arc! I wanted to get back into writing by making a oneshot collection for saeran :3 please send requests or comments (I also have anon on) and I'll probably write some! I need all the inspo I can get for writing. Any version of the guy will do :3

I'm still making that rfa college au, but being in college myself I'm a bit too busy to put the full effort I wanted to in such a long project. But it's still slowly getting worked on.

Tldr- send prompts or requests for saeran oneshots

[three-word-count]

if i wrote an x saeran college au would anyone read it 😳👉👈?

listen im a sucker for college aus and i realized theres like. practically none for him, would anyone be interested? begging for a reason to write this akjshd-

[nostalgicmess]

sometimes i need to remind myself that i'm writing fanfiction for free and i'm allowed to have a shitty sentence or two

[captaingondolin]

so many of my fics have remained buried in my drafts because i wrote the cool scenes first and then didn’t have “connective tissue”. but i’m freeing myself from that and just adding shitty “and then a week passed” or “they got to their destination” connections and just posting them and it’s so! freeing! try it!

[shadowen]

I can't tell you how many times I've agonized over a scene transition, only to fill in the missing space with, like, a sentence.

[skriveting]

[three-word-count]

hehe hoho drafting things :3c

[three-word-count]

mhs2 headcanons for Leo: (1) His birth parents were ruthless hunters who abandoned him minutes when he was born. (2) Like Red in his adolescence, he goes barefoot everywhere. (3) He feels trapped on Mahana Village because he can't swim.

aww the first one makes me sad :( it does make sense why he is orphaned though... its so nice that hes a true part of mahana village though!

i really enjoy the second one! leo is a little village gremlin child after all haha, his feet are likely really calloused, as are his hands. he probably regularly climbs the palm trees and cliff faces surrounding the village and had gotten in trouble for it before lmao

third one is also sad but kinda funny ngl. an island town made of 90% boardwalk and living on a boat house has probably gotta be kinda scary if you cant swim lmaoo

[three-word-count]

guys send writing requests for ANY fandom i have listed on this post, i am SO bored and want stuff to do tonight

[three-word-count]

Masterpost

For all you guys who dont wanna use ao3 ;)

The Legend of Zelda

Bitter Thoughts and Drinks to Match (1881 words) The princess of Hyrule really hates galas

Maybe We’re Leaves (404 words) Short taking place during the Spring of Power scene, Link’s internal thoughts

Hollow Knight

Untitled. (245 words) The Pale King is judged at his passing

Mystic Messenger

The Taste of Home (1542 words) Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

[three-word-count]

Wanna write a few mhs2 oneshots, gimme ideas/requests :)

[headspace-hotel]

writing can’t be that hard. all it is is just putting words in front of each other, right?

[headspace-hotel]

update: the wrong words are in front of each other. This is the worst thing ever to happen.

[three-word-count]

Untitled.

Hi have some 1am garbage that I'm not bothering to edit at all!

Word count: 245

Ao3 link

Your time is up, wyrm.

"But I am not ready."

Your time has passed, wyrm. You have fallen as a shadow of your former self. No longer a great Lord shall you reign, nor in the whispers of afterlife's dreams.

No longer did I say?

It scoffed.

No such position to begin. Lay and bear witness to all your sin.

The cruel existence of your hands' own creations, the futile attempts at kingdom's salvation, the calamity you wrought through failed preservation.

Only to be met with your ultimate desolation.

And your successors, they stare at you with their hollowed eyes. Do you see them, Father? Does your mask reflect the pain in their blackened chests held so tightly? They may wonder if you had ever come to feel as they felt, pressured under your cruel control, fate dictated how by little their blades left their scabbards until you shattered each of them like cheap glass. Disposable. Imagine.

Now ask, King, shall you fall to the same fate? Shall you view their futile lives through your own eyes and come to see what you so blatantly ignored?

Come now, and witness your creation. Lay bare to their empty skulls and blaring thoughts. Listen deeply to their hollow chest as their hearts strongly pound. Your falsities of a failed creation shall haunt you one last time.

It is only fair.

Will you face it? Or will you once again hide from the echo of your own answer?

[englishmajorhumor]