#//And would likewise trust them to back off when he needs them too

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya deffo loves possessive partners, send tweet-

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - nonconsensual drug use, kidnapping/imprisonment, nonconsensual touching, and obsessive behavior.

One of them put something in your tea.

You think it was Alhaitham – smug, scheming Alhaitham, who never greeted you with anything more than a dead-eyed stare and never kept you for anything less than an hour when he called you aside for a one-sided conversation in his rarely used office nestled in among the highest alcoves of the Akademiya. You didn’t trust him, didn’t like how willing he was to abandon his duties in favor of chasing whatever his fickle curiosity latched onto, didn’t feel comfortable with the way his eyes pried into you when you were alone together. He’d been the one to invite you over to the apartments he and Kaveh shared, too, to ignore your requests to see the artifacts he claimed to have found during his latest expedition in favor of forcing one of Kaveh's well-love clay mugs into your hands. It’d probably been him. It’d make sense, to both your rational mind and the sentimental creature inside of you, if it’d been him.

Which is exactly why the scholar constantly gnawing at the back of your mind – ever-doubtful, ever-distrusting – screamed that it had to have been Kaveh. You liked him more than you liked Alhaitham, trusted him more than you could ever trust Alhaitham, and he’d had just as much time with the drink that’d just barely touched your lips, muttering about Alhaitham’s nonexistent sense of taste as he shoveled sugar into your mug by the spoonful. You admired him, too; unlike Alhaitham, Kaveh threw himself wholly and entirely into his work, his research, and he’d never had to corner you to have your full attention. That was why it was so easy to tell yourself that you should’ve been more careful, that you should’ve been more wary of the threat that presented itself as aid than the one who wore its true colors proudly. It was definitely Kaveh. Or, it was definitely Alhaitham.

Or, it didn’t matter which one of them put something in your tea, because one of them had put something in your tea and neither of them seemed to care.

You could already feel some of the more pronounced effects setting in; your hands limp and numb where they’d fallen into your lap, your tongue dry and swollen in your mouth, your vision already beginning to blur around the edges. You were still sitting at their claustrophobic kitchen table, Kaveh less than arm’s length to your right and Alhaitham far enough to stare you down from a careful distance, but you had to strain to listen to their conversation. “You’re never home,” Kaveh droned, in the tone he only seemed to use when talking to Alhaitham. “The poor thing would die of neglect in the first week. You couldn’t take care of a houseplant, much less a person.”

“Houseplants require a great deal of research and intuition. People tend to be much louder about their wants and needs.” Likewise, Alhaitham was using the tone he saved exclusively for Kaveh; one of self-gratifying neutrality, as if the pedestal he’d put himself on was too tall to let him notice something as insignificant as Kaveh’s frustration. “And it's not as if you can be trusted with this kind of responsibility. Not for any longer than a few hours, at least.”

There was a beat of silence. When Alhaitham failed to go on, Kaveh let out an exasperated groan. “What’s that supposed to mean, scribe?”

“Oh, only that an architect as passionate as you are tends to be easily distracted. I’d give it...” He quirked his head to the side, gaze shifting to something purposefully distant. “…three days before a new proposal catches your eye, and I know how difficult it can be for you to balance more than one project at a time.”

“See, that’s your problem. You think of them as an object that must be dusted off once or twice a week, whereas I see them as my beautiful and beloved lover who I want nothing more than to spend time with.” Something about Alhaitham’s frown quirked, and Kaveh hastily corrected himself. “Alright, my soon-to-be lover. It doesn’t matter – even if I don’t take the first turn, they’ll be in my loving arms eventually, and once they are, they'll never want to go back to yours. I’d tell you to save yourself a heartbreak, but I’m still not sure if you have a heart.”

Now it was Alhaitham’s turn to put on a façade of mock-exasperation, letting out a breathy exhale as he leaned onto the tabletop. “Timing can be very important. Whatever we do, whoever gets to do it – they’re going to set a precedent. Since I don’t want to have another brat under my roof, we have to be careful.”

To his credit, Kaveh didn’t try to deny it, merely leveling the accusation back at Alhaitham. “You? Careful? Which one of us thought he could take the General Mahamatra in a fight?”

And, to Alhaitham’s credit, he didn’t waste his breath trying to fight for his innocence, either. Rather, he turned to you, sharp eyes immediately piercing the very depths of your soul. “(Y/n),” and then, in a voice slightly softer than the one he’d addressed Kaveh with, “What do you think? You’re rational enough to know who’d take better care of you.”

You managed to open your mouth, to pry your lips apart and start to spit out something halfway coherent.

Then, without making a sound, you collapsed onto their table, knocking your mug to its side and spilling Alhaitham's awful tea onto their tiled floor.

Kaveh reacted first, gasping as he gathered you in his arms. You were dead weight, barely able to hold your own head up, but he made an effort to keep you upright, to pretend you were in any way acting of your own will as he pulled you against his chest and raked his calloused fingers against your damp hair. “Aw, look at the poor thing! I told you to use a smaller dose.”

The gratification was minimal, dampened by panic and exhaustion too ebbing to be natural. Something seemed to light behind Alhaitham’s dull eyes, and in turn, something jagged turned in your stomach. “I still need an answer,” he reiterated. You did your best to glare, to thrash Kaveh’s hold, but you could barely twitch, barely keep yourself conscious, and Alhaitham went on undeterred. “We’ll have to ask again once your head’s started to clear. The effect should only last for a few days – a week, at most, to give you time to adjust.”

Kaveh’s attention drifted downward, his lips brushing against the side of your throat. You felt his hair ghost over your shoulder as his head dipped lower, as his heart beat just a little faster against your back. Your eyes found Alhaitham, and for the first time since you’d first met him, his scowl broke to reveal a small, sharp smile.

“Until then, there should be enough of you to share.”

[naffeclipse]

Out of curiosity, would Sun or Moon have a place in the naga SJ Eclipse au?

Yes! Naga Sun and Moon balance out Naga Eclipse by giving Y/N someone they can run to for safety and help after everything Eclipse inflicts on them.

Unfortunately for the two snake boys, Y/N meets Eclipse first. That taints their view on nagas so that when they unwittingly stumble upon Sun and Moon, they expect twice as worse as Eclipse.

Sun and Moon are caught off guard by a human so far in the jungle--they should know of the dangers. They get close to Y/N and take note of how they tremble in their presence, but it's Moon who spies the bruises on their wrist. Sun reaches out to inspect the marks but Y/N flinches away. It takes some soft coaxing for Y/N to finally let Sun and Moon see the proof of Eclipse’s "intrigue" before telling Y/N they will help them stay a few steps ahead of their older brother.

Y/N isn't sure if they can trust the nagas but they want to, they need to, for their own sanity.

Sun finds the photographer lovely and for too sweet to be in a situation like this (catching Eclipse's attention) and wants to help them. It makes his heart ache to see Y/N hurt.

Moon thinks Y/N is a bit naive to be out here without expecting trouble, but he's drawn to their appreciation for the natural beauty of the jungle. He doesn't want to see them be punished by Eclipse's cruelty.

Sun and Moon help Y/N navigate the jungle and shield them from Eclipse. They can't stay with Y/N 24/7 but they offer themselves as often as possible. Sun crafts and gives Y/N natural salves and gently ribs it into their brushes. Likewise, Moon spends nights with Y/N when they insist on nocturnal photo shoots and endured they make it back to base safely.

[mostlyghostlyy]

Thinking about soft domestic moments with kobble too… waking up next to him (on his stupid sheets). He’s been awake for hours laying there with you in his arms trying not to disturb you. Showering with him and he would be so distracted by you the hot water would be gone before you can even wash your hair. Running errands with him and singing in the car! Relishing in the awful looks you’d get from anyone in public.

Oh my god i am so soft for him.

He's lying awake for hours, just gazing at you. There's not much light in the basement, but that's okay. His eyes can adjust. Dale might purposefully try to get up before you, just so he can lay next to you and observe your sleeping frame. It fills him with a warm sensation, something one could only equate to love. Gently ghosting his hands over your face, over the arc of your nose, and grazing over your lips.

Dale loves lying there with you when you're awake, too. The morning and night chats before starting and ending the day are some of his most cherished. All tucked in and huddled together. Nights, he enjoys listening to you reading aloud (if that's something you do), and likewise, he will sing you his version of a lullaby to end the night. He loves late night conversations with you. Seemingly, the more raw subject matter is acknowledged in the later hours. Morning hours are lazy and groggy cuddling before he reluctantly lets you out of his grip, ready to start the day.

Late night routines with Dale would be chaotic, but would soon fall into a comfortable rhythm. He has his routine, and you have yours, but occasionally the two overlap. He insists on you brushing his hair every night, and might pout if you forget. First time you ask to brush his hair, he pounces on the chance. Sitting, oh-so sweetly on the edge of the bed, eyes shut and head leaned back while you gently work out the snarls and tangles. Compliment how soft and pretty his hair is afterwards, and he’s tackling you on the bed and giving you kisses as gratitude.

Cook him food!!! He would cry!! It's so domestic and soft, something he’s just not used to. Dale will cling to you while you’re cooking, rubbing his face against your hair, quiet words of appreciation purred into your ear. It is extremely difficult to cook with a needy man latched onto you. Give him things to do to offset some of his energy, and he is happy to help! Dale might occasionally make you breakfast in bed. Super basic meal of eggs, toast, and coffee. It's his way of trying to add domestic bliss through a sweet gesture. A sincere smile is all the thanks he’d need.

Running errands with him would be so much fun istg. Trust him to create the shopping list, and it would be pretty much impossible to follow. I can not see this man running a successful grocery shopping operation. Once the list is made, it's almost like a scavenger hunt to Dale. He would be bringing back the items to you, displaying them proudly, and expecting a reward for his hard work. This man has no social anxiety, so if there was something you were looking for and couldn't find, he is locating the nearest employee for help or to complain. I just feel like he would have so many random stories and things to say, I would love to take him shopping. Loves going to any appointments you schedule, waiting in the lobby of a doctor's office or dentist for you to finish. Staring off into space like a weirdo. You might get a lot of weird looks from receptionists, but he doesn't care. He is there to support you! (he hates leaving you alone anywhere)

Anytime you step foot in Dale's car I can guarantee there is music playing, and he is singing to it. If you know the lyrics and join in, he would be ecstatic. His smile wide and genuine while you both scream the words, his eyes glancing between the road and you're nodding head. I think he would feel the most loved here, secure and connected in the relationship. He feels adequate for your devotion, nothing but deep fondness for these moments. He might not even sing, occasionally enjoying listening to you. Etching your sound into his mind, so he can freely recall it whenever he wishes.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: I got in a freak accident where in hs where I was in theatre rehearsal and basically a 4x4 fell directly onto my head and I was severely concussed for the Next month. Can you write this happening to Reader and Yves cannot prevent it in time? and he's very upset and angry at himself and Reader is just absolutely fucked up and nearly helpless.

tw: injury, yandere themes

(2632 words)

He oversaw your entire hospital residency. Yves didn't trust the doctors and nurses that were there, he would be the one to administer any treatment. Yves would also be the one to give you bed baths and clean any messes you may have made due to losing some control over your bladder or bowels. Yves had seen all of you.

All he needed to do was talk to a few people, pull some strings, forge a few signatures, and erase a handful of records.

You were in deep throbbing pain, only made manageable by the painkillers you were made to eat. But you couldn't think straight either, everything is just too hazy and foggy. The slightest bit of light bothers you to no end, luckily you were vaguely aware Yves was around to be with you. He knew what to do, he always knew what to do.

You could make out your boyfriend's hushed voice as he spoke through the phone. Squinting your eyes, you could discern a blurry image of Yves holding his smartphone in one hand, and the other typing away on his laptop. You had always found his voice soothing, but it sounded like he was upset, it didn't help that you were barely registering the words he was saying.

Noticing that your drugs are slowly wearing off, Yves quickly ended the call and walked over to you in large strides. You closed your eyes and he didn't say anything, only the shuffling and rustling of what you think came from the medical equipment reached your ears. Occasionally, you open your eyes only to close them again, catching glimpses of Yves toggling with your cannula and a filled syringe.

You were too concussed to question why Yves is doing the nurses' or doctors' job, or if he was even qualified to do so. You were just glad that he was by your side.

Soon, you felt the relief and newfound wooziness from the freshly administered IV painkillers and something else. You were sent to your own world when Yves pulled himself away to clean up and put everything back in place.

You felt him caress your cheek and kiss you on the forehead. After that, you felt the mattress of your hospital bed dip as Yves got on, he tucked himself under your blanket and spooned you from behind.

It was baffling how that wooden plank dislodged itself from somewhere and hit you. Just you, out of all the people present there. He does routine checks on the places where you frequent, the theatre didn't appear to be dilapidated, nor did his numerous tests yield any conclusions that could help him predict this outcome. That damned building passed all his safety checks, likewise, your coworkers weren't a threat to your life.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. Yves was deep in thought while he tenderly rubbed the palm of your hands, it's not foul play. If it was, he already knew from the footage from a few dozen cameras he hid around the theatre. Moreover, he did his research on every single one you knew or knew you. The idea of someone trying to end your life is possible, but not plausible.

Yves had replayed that one video over and over again to try and discern the cause of the wooden plank falling from the top. It seemingly... isn't caused by anything. No matter how he digitally enhanced it, no matter how many times he watched it until it was positively seared into his brain, Yves found nothing of note. It just detached from the ceiling and fell. He frowned each time he had to remember the instant it slammed right into your head.

He even paid the theatre a visit just to investigate the site of impact itself. Bewilderingly, he could discern advanced signs of weakness in the surrounding areas that weren't there a day before but would have taken a few months to form through natural means. He swabbed everything and all his tests came out nothing. Yves was undetected by the owners of that building or the authorities because he broke in during the dead of night and scaled the beams quietly and skillfully. He balanced himself on a taut rope while he snapped pictures of the sites.

He called up people who he thought could give him advice and more information about the matter, but to no avail. It's almost like this was caused by something paranormal, there were no conceivable reasons as to how or why this happened. Even if there was, it defied the laws of physics in this reality.

Regardless of how strange and unexpected this event was, Yves was upset that he didn't think of a failsafe for this. He thought of everything but not this, because it was just so implausible.

You groan in discomfort, nothing feels right and you want your mind back now. However, there really isn't anything Yves could do and all the other relatively instantaneous healing methods he knew of would cause more significant harm than good. So, for now, you're stuck like this.

He sighed, murmuring that he was here to assure you. Well, at least this has given him a new set of data that he otherwise wouldn't go out of his way to induce and collect; there is at least that silver lining.

Yves frowned as he parted away from you, despising the cold nipping at him without you as his soft heater. But he has a lot to do, he has to maintain the life that you built for yourself while you're out of commission for at least a month.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead once more, ensuring that you were completely passed out from the drugs before taking out his phone again to make a few more important calls.

-

He transferred you to his humble abode a few days later, after determining that you were stable enough for him to resume your care outside of the hospital. You could barely walk, talk, or open your eyes, you were entirely helpless. Mumbling semi-incoherent words to try and communicate your needs and wants. Luckily for you, Yves clearly knew what you wanted just by your body language alone, so you were never too angry or frustrated that he couldn't understand you.

Unfortunately for your friends and family who would visit you from time to time, you were babbling in a language from another planet. They're either too loud, too panicky, or too pungent-smelling to be around with. It's as if the air was ruined by their presence. Your poor, concussed mind thought everyone else was just idiots and Yves is the only intelligent lifeform there.

Such an attentive man, he is. Yves would politely shoo them out of your shared bedroom when they got too much, he would then spend a few more minutes entertaining them with small talk downstairs before ultimately making them leave the property. The ones who truly care about you are glad you are under Yves's supervision.

However, if you were just lucid enough, you would question how Yves knew that you wanted a blanket from your heavy slurring, how he knew that you wanted to be hugged at that very moment by just watching you blink, how he knew what hurts by an incomprehensible grumble.

A few times, you did catch yourself realizing that you may have been completely unintelligible in verbalizing your wants. Still, he gave you exactly what you needed before you could correct yourself.

You always look forward to meal times, as he would never fail to whip up something delicious yet nutritious enough; packed chock full of vitamins, and minerals to your healing process. The best part was that he would spoon-feed you while sitting on his lap, it's ridiculously comfortable and you felt like absolute royalty. Strangely and fortunately for you, it never once felt degrading or patronizing. At most, you felt heavily nostalgic and had a strong sense of sadness that you couldn't conjure up an idea as to why. But it would all ebb away with every spoonful Yves fed you or every kiss he gave to show his appreciation for your cooperation.

Yves wouldn't allow you to use your phone or watch the television, he wouldn't allow anything in his house to emit too bright of a light. Which you were grateful for since it reduces the pain dramatically, and he would keep you fully engaged by reading stories from his library. They're always so exhilarating to hear as the protagonists always possess a wonderful personality that closely matches yours, allowing you to immerse yourself in whatever whimsical and fantastical world of his storybook. His smooth, baritone voice lulled you to sleep more times than you can count, letting you continue the story in your dreams.

Sometimes, you want to experience that particular story again, so you would pick up the book Yves read from. Only to find that its' pages are seemingly filled with illegible graphite chicken scratch. Asking him about it will lead him to tell you he wrote each and every single one of those pieces, they're all based on your proudest achievements and your life journey.

When Yves promised that he would take care of you to the fullest, he meant it. He wouldn't allow you to shower on your own, nor did he let you stand too long. He prepared a stool for you to sit on as streams of warm water washed over your nude body, Yves would roll his sleeves up and clean you up while you merely remained there in a daze; you didn't have to do anything, Yves would work up a lather on your hair and massage your scalp, he would gently scrub your skin with his smooth hands and apply an impossibly long list of skincare products that leaves your skin happy and glowing.

Yves is rarely apart away from you when you're this needy. And he enjoys it, savoring every second he spends with you. Yves would take his time styling your hair, stroking it, and collecting any strands you may have shed for data. Applying hair oil and caring for your body, he wouldn't have had the chance to do this when you're perfectly healthy, as you would either get too uncomfortable, bored, or too busy for him to do this for you.

In many ways, this accident was a blessing in disguise. For you to make up for all the missed bonding times with him; it's not that Yves is elated with you being severely concussed, but he isn't too upset over it either.

"Is this the color you want for your base?" He asked, ensuring his voice wasn't above the volume threshold. Yves brought up a bottle of nail polish in your favorite color.

You gave him a thumbs up, as nodding can cause you pain.

"What design would you like?" Yves continued asking, putting the polish away so he could begin to prep your fingernails. He had your hand limply resting on a towel draped over his thigh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but it was gibberish and garbled. But you were so used to talking like this and your brain is still healing from the damage, that you couldn't tell something was wrong.

Yves merely hummed in response while he skillfully pushed your cuticles in, they were softened by some cuticle oil he applied earlier. He needed no extra enlightenment even though you spoke in a tongue that no human could ever comprehend easily, Yves already knew what you wanted. He only asked that to give you an illusion of control.

You relaxed to the soothing music playing in the background while Yves continued with his manicure on you, skillfully using his tools to create intricate works of art on your nails. It's amazing how he could do that with laser precision in dim light.

Perhaps you tried holding a conversation with him, and you did. Albeit one-sided, Yves seemingly responds to your words normally as if he truly understood. But he was actually doing some very complex "guesswork" that was apparently accurate all the time. However, if there is one thing for certain, he memorizes all the sounds that left your mouth and movements you made no matter how random or unnecessary.

If thinks that you're getting too under-stimulated, he will recite one of the many stories he wrote for you to listen to and immerse yourself in. Yet, he wouldn't get distracted, continuing his work with elegance and expertise.

You were mesmerized by how he would hold his brush, how he would administer a graceful stroke, and how he would do the details of such an impossibly beautiful masterpiece.

You smiled and cheered when you saw your nails, all that there was left for you to do was wait for the polish to dry. The corners of his lips were also pulled up into a pleased grin, feeling absolutely delighted to see you beaming like that. He couldn't resist pecking you on the apples of your cheeks, as he might accidentally squeeze you out of his cuteness aggression if he didn't at least expel some of it.

He cleaned up after himself and put the items away. You were still giddy over your nails and he was in joy too. Yves then sat right next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and letting his silky, jet-black hair tickle you in the nose.

Yves closed his eyes and relaxed at the sound of your heavenly giggles, nuzzling his head further into the side of your neck to keep the playfulness alive. He would occasionally litter your shoulder with kisses too.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms back down to a gentle lull, where you would be lying on his lap as Yves runs his fingers through your hair. A soft smile graced his face as he watched you stare at his artwork, feeling flattered and honored that you liked it.

Yves always knew the potential of himself enjoying the aftermath of such a tragedy happening to you was there. But he didn't anticipate that he loved it this much. As bad as it sounds, Yves is unwilling to think about the time when you will inevitably heal and leave him alone all over again to live your life.

His smile faltered a bit thinking how you're most likely going to go back to that theatre to work again, cutting the time that he's used to have with you short by a drastic amount. He is going to miss tender moments like these so awfully...

Yves paused when he noticed that you drifted into slumberland, softly breathing as your lips were slightly parted and drool running down the sides of your mouth. Yves chuckled a bit as he wiped them away with his thumb.

He blinked as he thought about the situation at hand even more.

You are such a strong, resilient person, who endured far worse than a measly headache. And it seems like your recovery process isn't too agonizing for you to bear, you're fine.

And, you would definitely be fine if Yves extended that duration for a few more weeks; he needs to make sure that you're fully healed before allowing you to go back into the real world. You would also be fine to consume a bit more sugar than usual, he knows you better than yourself.

Yves brought your hands and grazed his fingertips against your nails to see if it was fully dried. They were, and he gave them each a kiss.

The next few hours were spent with Yves watching you sleep, his green eyes were unblinkingly trained on you.

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

NSFW Alphabet - Lionel Shabandar

Alright, buckle up. This is the dirtiest one yet. Time for some fun with Lionel "Sexy bastard" Shabandar.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Although he has a cold reputation, with you he’s actually very affectionate and caring. Your play can get quite kinky and he's very attentive to your aftercare. He'll run you a bath, make sure you eat and drink something, hold you as you fall asleep to make sure you feel safe and secure.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, he likes his legs. Years of horseback riding have given him quite strong, solid legs, which he's happy about. On you, he really likes your back and shoulders. The way you stand, the confident way you hold your shoulders and the line and curve of your spine really does something for him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's more the cum inside you kind, but he'll also come on your breasts or back if he's feeling particularly possessive.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He fantasises about having you on the desk in his office.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Handsome, successful, confident man like him? He's had plenty of experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggie style. And he likes being able to hold onto your hips and pull your hair a bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Foreplay can be playful, but when you get to actual sex he's much more intense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his personal grooming but isn't overly fussed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's not overly romantic in the mushy sense, but he has a way about him that makes you feel adored and special.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When you can't be with him, and he needs to take the edge off.

K = Kink

He's very much a dom. He loves taking control, edging or overstimulating you till you’re a wrung out mess. Some light pet play. You surprised him once by wearing cats ears and a cat tail plug and he basically devoured you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed, where he can really take his time. He also has a thing for taking you against the wall or on the floor of his private gallery. Also the back of his car.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your confidence. Like when you go with him to an event, dressed so beautifully and standing proudly beside him, his lioness. He could watch you work the room all evening and then pull you into his arms the moment you get into the car.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won't do anything that would permanently mark your skin. He's not about to damage his favourite artwork. Also, he's a good dom, so he won't cross your limits or make you uncomfortable. You have safe words, and he would never do anything to hurt or upset you or harm your trust.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving and receiving. Back to those dom tendencies. Having you on your knees between his thighs with his hand tangled in your hair. Likewise, eating you out is a perfect way to keep you on edge and make you beg.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It's a mix. A quickie will be rough and fast, but most times he'll start off slow until you're good and needy and begging to cum.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You both have your careers to attend to, sometimes you have to make the most of the time you have.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's confident and experienced, so he knows what he likes. But he's willing to experiment if it's something you're interested in too.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go a couple of rounds a night. He usually likes to draw out the pleasure for both of you and it leaves you both tired and satiated.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He's got a far selection of toys and items. His favourites being a set of padded wrist and ankle cuffs, and a remote-control vibrator so he can tease you from a distance.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease and drive you crazy. One time, before going to a gala with him, he slid that vibrator inside you and kept the remote in his pocket, so he could keep you on edge all night. You held yourself together until you got home and begged him to let you come.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Pretty vocal. Moans, grunts, growls and curses.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

For all his life is rich and extravagant, with you he finds even the simplest things attractive and appealing. Like the first time he spent the night at your place and in the morning, he saw you making coffee, wearing just your panties and his button up shirt. And he thought you were the most gorgeous, enticing being he'd ever seen, and you ended up making out on the kitchen counter.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His BDE is there for a reason. He's hung like a horse.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you as often as he can have you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's awake for a while afterwards. He's got to take care of you first and make sure you're cared for properly. And after you've fallen asleep in his arms, he'll listen to your breathing and the feel of your heartbeat. It helps his mind clear before he starts to fall asleep himself.

[evilhasnever]

xiyao Pacific Rim au?

Hell yes. I have been thinking about this for about 3 years, but never wrote any of it. I just opened a doc and jotted down this snippet for you! Hopefully someday I can turn this into a whole fic.

I give you 500 words of stranded/traumatized Jaeger pilot Lan Xichen in post-apocalyptic Yunping:

~*~

“Meng Yao… what are you doing?"

“The Kaiju won’t wait for us to run,” Meng Yao replies without taking his eyes off his work, “according to my scanner it is only 160 minutes out, unless it changes course.” The scanner in question looks like it was salvaged from parts, but it is beeping in a very believable, alarming manner.  “We cannot evacuate the town in time, and we are unlikely to save ourselves even if we start running very, very fast. We must fight back.” He dives back elbows-deep in the cockpit with feverish focus, ripping and soldering cords like he knows what each of them does. Lan Xichen is once again overtaken by awe and instinctual faith in this small, brilliant human being.

When Lan Xichen had washed ashore near the refugee encampment, banged up and near-catatonic from the loss of his brother, he had never imagined someone with Jaeger training would be hiding in these backwater ruins. His savior was one Meng Yao of Yunping, a wiry young man in ripped overalls, with too many tools hanging off his belt and too-hard eyes in a gentle round face. As it turned out, his clever mind could rival Lan Xichen’s own AI navigator - he’d taken only a few days to assess the damage to his Jaeger and write up a repair plan.

Twin Jade was stretched out on the beach, looking like a sleeping giant half-covered in brine. She was not in a bad state overall, save for the smashed cockpit - but she was down one co-pilot, so Lan Xichen had given up on resurrecting her altogether. Meng Yao had not.

While Lan Xichen consumed himself with worries over Wangji’s fate and his lack of communications, his savior worked day and night to get both pilot and Jaeger back to some semblance of functionality. (Lan Xichen paused to chuckle over the mental comparison of hot soup for himself and scrapyard parts for Twin Jade, both sourced by Meng Yao with unfailing efficiency).

“The repairs are only temporary," Meng Yao's voice brings him back to the present emergency. "But I can essentially jumpstart her for long enough to keep it running in emergency mode for a couple of hours. I’ll need you to do most of the fighting while I keep an eye on the systems.” 

“You want to pilot with me?” Lan Xichen’s eyes widen.

“Well, you can’t pilot by yourself, can you?” Meng Yao chuckled nervously, without looking back from the console. “And even if you could, your leg is broken.” 

“Drifting can be very dangerous if you have never…”

“I have trained before,” Meng Yao interrupts him. “I can pilot, Lan Xichen. I can,” he swears, pushing his bangs out of his eyes frantically. “I know I am asking a lot, but–”

“I trust you,” Lan Xichen says unthinkingly, reaching out to wipe a smear of grease from his cheek. “I only… wish to apologize for what you may see in the drift.”

Meng Yao only laughs, shaking his head. His eyes are avoidant. “Likewise.”

Neither of them paused to doubt whether they'd be compatible. That much was a given.

Lan Xichen enters the repaired cockpit, leaning all of his weight on Meng Yao. He plugs in with slightly-shaking hands.

It is terrifying to let Meng Yao see all of what you are. But he is scared, too. He is, you realize, more afraid than you are. As if his secrets could be any worse than the monstrosity inside yourself. You smile at him with all the warmth you can muster, smiling past the fears in your head. You suddenly want to see him more than anything.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

So I use a text-to-speech site to let me spot mistakes more easily (when the robot actually says it, I find it way easier), and that leads to this robot lady saying "fuck" in the calmest way possible.

For this chapter, it decided 'Phil.' stands for 'Philosophy'. So Graves' full name is now "Philosophy Graves". Almost died laughing.

Anyways...

The following day brought a lot of meetings with it. They would need extensive planning for their upcoming mission, if they want to catch what they dubbed ‘The PMC Revenant��.

Ghost has been on edge the entire day. Something about Graves has been pissing him off (well, something besides his personality and entire existence). The American has been avoiding everyone since his little chat with Shepherd, and Ghost doesn’t trust either of them not to plan anything behind their backs.

He knows, given the choice between glory and power, and saving lives, the Americans would go for the former every single time.

In that, they’re not so different from the enemies Ghost erases for them.

The sun is setting, and the Vaquero base is winding down for the day. The bright yellows and oranges remind him of the second thing that’s been bothering him - Johnny.

Well, not the man himself. The amount of secrets hidden beneath that easygoing smile. Ghost has been racking his brain for days trying to figure the Konchar riddle out, and he still is no closer to solving it.

His feet take him to the shooting range. He needs something to let his frustrations out on, and he rather not deal with the screams of Limbo right about now.

To his dismay, there’s someone else there already. Ghost can see the shots coming from one of the sniper nests. Whoever is it, they know their way around a rifle.

His feet are silent when he walks to the farthest nest, and settles down in front of an M24 SWS. He automatically goes through checking the rifle, before setting his scope on a target.

A quick inhale and the target falls, Ghost instantly moving onto another, when his companion shoots it down.

Annoyed, he takes a farther one, downing it perfectly. From then on, him and the other sniper enter an unspoken competition, each of them shooting farther and farther, until they both hit the last one together, the mannequin falling off the track and flying a few meters back.

Ghost huffs. He can appreciate the skills required to match him, no matter how irked he was when they started shooting his targets. He hears footsteps behind him and raises up to meet his new rival in sniping.

From the corner pops out Commander Karim, and she raises her brows, before smirking, “good shots, Lieutenant.”

Ghost nods, “likewise, Commander. Where did you get your training?” he can’t help the professional curiosity.

Farah’s face darkens, something defiant in her expression, “the streets of Urzikstan. We’re not an army - we’re a resistance. No… fancy bases and training programs.” She looks around, at the vast training fields, “my soldiers are people who want freedom, who are sick of seeing their family die for the crime of being born in their own country.”

He hums. Having to face such a great enemy with practically no support, the punishment being death and consequences equal your entire world… no wonder they so readily accepted the PMC revenant.

“I didn’t know that revenant deals in such… vile business.” Farah spits after a while.

Something in him believes her, “be careful who you trust.” 

She huffs, “I learned that lesson the hard way. But I trust the Captain, and so I trust you.” she turns to him, “I will help you hunt him. My soldiers are not safe until he’s out of the game - he knows too much about our operations.”

Ghost crosses his arms, “you got any other skills? Besides being a good shot.”

Farah smiles, walking towards the gunnery behind them. She inspects the weapons hanging on the wall, taking one revolver, opening the chamber to reveal one bullet.

She gives the gun to Ghost, and walks a step back. “Go ahead, shoot me.” she lifts her head up.

He looks from her to the revolver in his hands, thinking about it for a moment, before lining up and shooting her in the head half a second later.

Ghost tilts his head when Farah is completely unaffected, the bullet clinking on the floor. “They call it Ironskin. Shoot me, and the bullet falls to the ground, stab me, and the knife breaks.”

“How’d you get captured?” He returns the revolver to the wall, turning to lean on the table next to it.

“Gas. Not immune to that.” Farah snarls, and he gets the feeling there’s something more to that vulnerability than she lets on. She meets his stare head on, “I’ve heard rumors about you, Ghost. About your powers. Is Limbo truly as powerful as they say?”

“No”, he sighs, pushing off the table to leave, “It’s stronger.”

As he walks by her, Farah nods, silently analyzing him. She would make a powerful ally when Ghost deems her trustworthy. He’ll find out soon enough, on the field.

Price and Ghost are currently scoping out a potential location for the PMC revenant’s deal. The building is a small bar in a dark corner of Las Almas, with a back exit that leads to a car park, where intel suggests a truck housing the ‘goods’ will be.

The Captain has started irritating him about 5 minutes ago, when their very professional conversation about the best way to kill a man with a spoon has taken a sharp turn of topic to become about… Soap of all things.

“So… you and Soap, huh?” Price smirks, his voice filling his mind with his new most hated conversation starter. Seriously, when are they gonna learn there’s nothing interesting to gossip about him and Johnny?

The Captain side eyes him, “I beg to differ, I think it’s quite exciting, what you two got there.”

“What we got is a professional friendship between soldiers, Captain.” Ghost booms in return.

Price nudges his shoulder, cackling in his brain, “that so? Let me take a look…”

Ghost stiffens, “don’t you fucking dare-!”

“Don’t think about Soap MacTavish then, Simon.” He can practically hear the singsong way Price burrows into his memories.

Oh, now this is low, even for Price. Pulling out the ‘don’t think about the red balloon’ trick? Alright. Ghost won’t think about Johnny on principle.

He will not think about how Johnny smiles at him at mess, or how he claps his shoulder before leaving. He won’t think about all the nights he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, falling asleep to the memory of Johnny’s warmth on his skin. He certainly won’t think about how, when their eyes meet, he’s filled with this sudden urge to wrap his arms around him, how he wishes he could just do it one more time, how he’s going insane just thinking about it-

Ghost turns his head slowly, taking in Price’s gaping mouth and wide eyes.

…fuck.

He hears Price inhale to react, and drags a hand over his mask, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it. I know it’s a problem. I won’t act on that, I swear on it Captain.”

Price returns to look at the bar, processing the information. Ghost starts to feel antsy when he finally pipes up, “as long as you keep it quiet, I don’t care what you do. We break a lot of rules, Simon. You really think I give a damn if you two start fucki-”

“We’re not fucking!” he says out loud, glaring at Price, and instantly turns away, unable to hold the Captain’s gaze, “and it’s not… it’s not exactly what I want.”

“What do you want, son?”

What does he want? Scratch that, it doesn’t matter what it is, he won’t get it. Not when it’s…

Price hums, “maybe something like this?” he projects a scene into Ghost’s head - two men, their faces flickering and undefined for a few moments before solidifying into Ghost and Soap. They’re sitting on a couch, in a small living room of sorts. Not talking, not doing anything really, just… cuddling. Trailing hands, flames warming skin, tracing scars, soothing. 

It feels safe. It feels… complete.

Ghost snarls and shakes his head to rid himself of the image, “stop.”

The Captain has a somber look that Ghost catches in the peripheral of his vision, “you want this, Simon. I could feel just how much. Question is, why do you think you don’t deserve it?”

Dead men don’t get to deserve, a memory whispers to him.

“We’re all dead. Doesn’t stop me from wanting, and deserving. Since when has that stopped you?”

Since he couldn’t even vocalise it. Couldn’t even form the words, his wants, in his scarred mouth. 

“Actions speak louder than words, son. I’m sure Soap will understand, he’s smart enough.”

Ghost sighs, “since when are you a relationship counselor, Captain?”

“Comes with the fuckin’ job, apparently.”

They huff a laugh, and return to their actual job, watching this extremely boring bar, and judging silently the people deciding 4 pm on a Tuesday is the time to get fuckin’ wasted.

Intel is slowly being pieced together, Farah and Alex joining on the efforts to plan for every possible outcome of the mission.

The two of them have been quite useful, providing details on the PMC revenant they couldn’t have gathered beforehand. 

The revenant is able to see from the eyes of all their soldiers, the puppets working as a hive mind. They’re not reanimated corpses, or replications of the revenant themselves, but a conjured creation, controlled like a robot from afar.

They can’t actually die, but destroy enough of their body, and the revenant will deem them useless, opting to melt the creature and focus their efforts on the rest.

Alex suggested attacking from multiple fronts, as the revenant’s greatest weakness is their own brain - they’re limited with how much they can divide their attention.

Optimally, they would go after the revenant themselves, but as Farah told them before, they’re likely not even in Mexico. For this mission, they aim to threaten, to scare the revenant into hiding, following his tracks to the snake den.

The two new revenants introduce the rest to their powers. Ghost already saw Farah’s, but he gets to see how knives just bend and refuse to pierce her. He reckons, if her powers are kept a secret, she can be practically unbeatable, if the enemy doesn’t prepare gas.

Alex’s showcase, while less shocking than Farah’s, is no less impressive. One moment, the man stands in front of him, the next he’s gone. 

Invisibility. Not hard to guess how he died. Ghost morbidly wonders if he lost his leg in the same incident.

Gaz volunteers to have a go at Farah’s Ironskin, and proceeds to throw whole tanks at the woman, who just stands there unamused. Soap is about to join in when Price blocks him, shaking his head. He informs Ghost the muppets had the bright idea of detonating trucks to use as rockets.

Ghost doesn’t even want to imagine how that would’ve turned out.

As he makes his way back to his barrack for the night, Ghost overhears two familiar voices arguing.

He sneaks closer, interest piqued.

“-playing at games you don’t understand, Phil.”

A barking laugh grates his teeth, “you’re always thinking so small, no wonder you’re still a Captain after all this time. You had potential, but you threw it all away to play with your little special soldiers.”

“At least I have soldiers, you two faced bastard.” Price growls, more anger than Ghost has heard in a while in his tone.

What does he mean by that?

“You can’t tell anyone, Captain” Graves mockingly enunciates, “higher brass got you tongue-tied, don’t it?” he chuckles cruelly, “this is what fucking annoys me about the military - so many damn rules!”

Footsteps echo, walking away, “you’ll learn one day, John. Sometimes you gotta step over red tape to get anywhere.”

The Captain is silent as Graves leaves. Eventually, he tells Ghost in his mind, “I know you���re there, son. Come out.”

Price is wearing a tired expression when Ghost slinks out of his hiding spot. “I suppose you have questions”, the Captain sighs.

“Not if the answers will get you in trouble.” he nods at the way Graves went, “is he going to be a problem?”

Price readjusts his hat, overlooking the horizon with contempt, replying honestly, “I don’t know. Keep a safe distance from him, and let Soap and Gaz know to not trust him. He won’t do anything while being tied to Shepherd, but the moment Graves will see an opportunity, I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his loyalties in check.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of the Sergeants. If Graves lays his hands on either one of them…

Limbo will be a mercy on him.

Can you tell I hate the military yet

[frankenjoly]

By chance

- for fukumori week 2024's day 1: jealousy - no-powers au, mori & elise are childhood besties

In theory, Fukuzawa could handle himself in almost every social situation. In practice, these kinds of parties weren’t exactly his forté.

He  had only attended because Gen’ichirô (the one actually invited there from the two of them) had somehow convinced him (one of his arguments being how he needed to hang out with more people than either him and his own coworkers/trainees). So every time he went on to greet someone he knew, Fukuzawa mainly stood there, waiting for his friend to come back.

At least until he introduced him to the party’s hosts, when saying he got awestruck wouldn’t exactly be an understatement.

The pair were a blond blue-eyed woman who looked like and was dressed like a porcelain doll, which couldn’t be anyone else but the main reason the event had gotten to take place in the first place, and the man who instantly took Fukuzawa’s breath away. Way more tangible-looking than his companion but not in any way less gorgeous because of that, with black hair tied into a low ponytail and purple eyes so enticing he couldn’t help but stare. And the man in question, instead of acting coy, responded by staring back.

“Yukichi, this is the birthday girl in the flesh, our esteemed–” His focus only came back when Gen’ichirô started making introductions, until being interrupted by the woman herself. 

Or it would be more accurate to state he simply let her take the reins instead.

“You can just call me Elise.” She instantly said, smiling wide and not bothering to hide a giggle at his confusion. And he had all the right to be confused; the idea of addressing someone he had just met so casually felt odd. “And this is–” She smiled mischievously, poking her companion with her index finger. “Rintarô, are you with us?” Even when he started to react, she went on and repeated the gesture a couple of times more, each one more insistent than the previous one.

“Of course, Elise-chan, dear.” The man blinked, directing his gaze towards Elise and away from Fukuzawa, also taking her hand as if to plead for forgiveness. “I would never dare to ignore you, less so at your birthday party.”

“Pfft, whatever you say, dum-dum.”

The way they addressed each other, informal and affectionate, as well as the very little to no single qualms they had when it came to physical touch, obviously meant a great deal of closeness between the two. And shouldn’t be like that, especially not when it involved a man he had just met, but the mere fact stirred something uncomfortable in Fukuzawa’s insides.

“You won’t believe me? After all we’ve been through?” After Elise answered with a scoff, he moved his attention back to Fukuzawa. “Pardon me.” Were his next words, accompanied by a slight bow. “Mori Ôgai, pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Fukuzawa instantly said, mirroring his gesture. 

--------------------------------------

“Also, sorry for the indiscretion, but I must ask. Have you two been a couple for too long?”

Both Mori and Elise’s reactions were similar in nature, but different in intensity. He let out a brief laugh, waving a hand to dismiss the idea, while she straight up bursted into laughter with no trace of shame nor making any attempt at avoiding attracting attention. That obviously caused several heads to turn in their direction, and Fukuzawa silently prayed to be rescued by Gen’ichirô, who had gone away for a while upon recognizing his most trusted work colleague at her arrival.

“Please–” It took Elise a few minutes and a ton of laughing more to calm down enough to answer; so, at said point, her eyes were filled with tears of amusement and her make-up hadn’t been ruined by sheer power of will. “One may think I’d be used to this by now, but it’s hilarious nonetheless.”

“No need to worry, Fukuzawa-dono. It tends to be a common mistake.” Mori added, smiling in a way that caught him absolutely off guard.

“My apologies, still.”

“We’ve been thick as thieves since forever, we’ll give you that. But it’s not romantic, please. In fact…” Elise also smiled, partly as a remnant of her cackling and partly with a mischievous undertone. “Rintarô’s single.”

The uncomfortable feeling setting inside him while making the incorrect assumption not only dissipated the moment she said so, but also Fukuzawa’s chest got instantly struck by a warm and bubbly feeling.

(Also on ao3.)

[edenesth]

Undying Bonds (Part 5)

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader, Seonghwa x fem!reader

AU: zombie apocalypse au

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: What could be worse than being separated from the love of your life in a zombie apocalypse? Hongjoong was forced to leave you behind with his friend, Seonghwa, as he ventures out alone to search for the rest of his missing group members. Will Hongjoong be successful in his solo mission to find his members? Will he be able to return to you unscathed? And what happens when you're stuck with his caring best friend, who is hopelessly in love with you, for too long?

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

"You miss her, don't you?"

Hongjoong snapped out of his trance at Soyeon's voice, smiling briefly at her before nodding slightly, "I do. In fact, I don't think there has ever been a single moment where I don't miss her," The female stared at him in awe, "Huh, I guess you must really love her. Can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you to leave her behind."

Hongjoong swallowed the lump forming in his throat as the last memory of you once again flashed through his mind, "God, you have no idea. She was crying so much too, walking away from her was the hardest thing I had to do."

The heaviness in his tone rendered Soyeon speechless, especially since she has never seen a man be this affected and cared so much for a woman he loved. After all, her experiences with men both pre and post-apocalypse have only ever taught her that they absolutely cannot be trusted. Besides that, she personally could not relate to how he was feeling as she has never once been in love and probably never will at this point.

But one thing was for sure, she definitely felt immense respect for the faithfulness that Hongjoong displayed.

After much contemplation, Soyeon comes to the conclusion that it would probably be in her group's best interest to have an ally now that she has finally met another group that was trustworthy.

There was silence between them while Hongjoong worked on keeping his emotions in control, he couldn't afford to be a mess right now. Not when he was about to embark on another journey to locate Yunho and San next.

He told himself over and over again that you were safe with Seonghwa and that he should really be more concerned about his missing friends instead. To his utter dismay, he couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he's been getting whenever his thoughts drift to you and Seonghwa.

Please be alright, both of you. Just hold on for a bit more, I'll be back as soon as I can. We'll all be together again, just like old times.

The pair of leaders watched as Yeosang and Wooyoung busily equipped themselves with armour and weapons that Yuqi and Shuhua brought over first thing in the morning while Miyeon prepared some food for them to bring along.

Everyone moved about systematically in completing their tasks quickly to ensure Hongjoong and his boys could be well prepared and begin their journey by the golden hour when the least amount of zombies was predicted to be out and about.

When the boys were all set and ready to go, both groups stood around to bid each other goodbye as a form of courtesy.

Soyeon patted the male leader on the shoulder, "Look Hongjoong, I know we got off on the wrong foot but I understand now that your intentions are pure. So, if you ever find yourself in a situation where you require assistance or even a place to seek refuge, I want you to know that you can always come to me and my girls for that."

Hongjoong's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he reached to accept her outstretched hand in a firm shake.

The simple action solidified their alliance.

"Thank you, Soyeon, for everything. I really appreciate it. We may not be able to provide a safe sanctuary but likewise, you can also come to me and my group if you ever need any help as well."

Yeosang and Wooyoung nodded along to their group leader's words, they were beyond thankful for all the help they have received from Soyeon and her friends thus far despite the initial misunderstanding.

The duo may or may not have wished death upon Soyeon at first but that much was to be expected when they were literally being held captive by her, not knowing if they were even going to have the opportunity to see the light of day again. The terror they were put through from being captured to witnessing their precious Hongjoong hyung held at gunpoint and nearly exchanging his life for their safety, those experiences were not something Yeosang and Wooyoung could simply forget overnight.

But then again, they wouldn't dismiss the fact that Soyeon and her friends have indeed made up for all that trauma by providing them with a place to stay when she could have just let them go the day before without giving a shit about their well-being. What's more, the girls went the extra mile to help prepare them for their trip ahead.

They definitely didn't see that coming but they weren't about to complain.

It was safe to say that Soyeon and her friends have fully redeemed themselves through their efforts. The boys were overall just really glad to have more allies than enemies. Whatever it is, they only hoped that they never have to cross paths with Stray Kids at all.

"All the best, my friend. You must go back to her at all costs."

Hongjoong didn't need anyone to remind him that but he smiled gratefully back at Soyeon regardless.

Meanwhile, you watched in horror as Seonghwa struggled tiredly against the zombie above him. You wondered what had happened out there, you had no doubt he could've taken them all out effortlessly since he has handled twice more than this amount of zombies before and he's never had a problem doing so.

Something else must have caused him to tire out so quickly, you were sure of it.

You didn't realise you were holding your breath until Mingi successfully takes out the zombie, wasting no time in rescuing Seonghwa. Not wanting to stand around helplessly, you rushed to open the door while Mingi helped Seonghwa up before staggering their way back into the store.

Felix and Jeongin huddled around in a corner to make way for the two tall males.

After making sure the door was locked and secured, you immediately made your way towards your friends only to feel your heart drop at the sight of blood staining most of Seonghwa's shirt. It scared you to death when you saw how pale he looked from the loss of blood, "That darn zombie… pushed me against some concrete debris, it cut my side…" He muttered breathlessly, explaining like he just read your mind.

Mingi seemed lost after setting his friend down, not quite knowing how to deal with the situation since he had little to no experience with first aid. He looked to you for help and you blinked rapidly before stepping in to take the lead instead, "Alright uhh… M-Mingi, I'm going to need you to get me the first aid kit from the b-back of the store."

Your hands trembled as you tried to take Seonghwa's jacket off of him as gently as you could, you couldn't hurt him any more than he already was.

Your actions come to a halt when he enclosed a frail hand around your shaky one, "Don't cry, I… I-I'm okay," You bit onto your bottom lip to stifle your sobs, your vision blurring from the tears forming, "N-no, you're not and t-this is all my fault. God, if only I didn't make you go out there… Seonghwa, I-I'm so sorry!"

He chuckled lightly before croaking, "Gee, I don't know if I sh-should be happy, y-you're finally crying over me for a change," Even at the brink of death, he still tries to put your emotions first. You desperately tightened your hold on his shirt, glaring tearfully at him, "Save your energy if you're only going to talk nonsense."

Seonghwa smiled weakly at you before his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his hands falling limp by his sides.

No words could describe the exact emotions that ran through you at that moment, "Yah, don't you dare leave me! You hear me, Park Seonghwa?!" You were a complete mess by the time Mingi returned with what you asked, his face falling when he realised that his friend had passed out and you were visibly panicking.

He knew he had to do something because you were obviously not in the right state to treat anyone. Not like this.

Placing the kit down beside you, Mingi gripped your shoulders firmly in an attempt to ground you, making you look at him, "Listen to me, noona. Seonghwa hyung needs you, I need you too! So, please pull yourself together. Only you can save him now," You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded quickly, "Right. I'll save him, Mingi."

With a newfound determination, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and made quick work to tend to the large gash on Seonghwa's side with Mingi's assistance. The younger male handed you everything you needed while you thoroughly cleaned the wound before sewing it up neatly and wrapping him up with bandages. You sighed in relief once you were done with the final step.

Who knew your hobby of watching surgery videos for fun could ever come in handy someday. Your boyfriend and his friends used to judge you for your bizarre interest in such gory content but you were just glad you could finally put those skills to good use. What you were certain of is that no one was ever going to make fun of you for that again.

With Mingi's help, the two of you moved your unconscious friend to his sleeping bag before you carefully removed his bloodied shirt to replace it with a clean one instead.

For a moment, you completely forgot about the two new boys as you settled down beside Seonghwa, moving to grasp one of his hands in yours. You stroked your thumbs softly over his skin, this was the hand that had protected and comforted you countless times. The warmth in it brought you so much relief, it meant he was still with you.

I almost lost you today, Hwa. I'm never losing you again.

The tears you tried so hard to hold back earlier finally spilt out freely now as you pressed your forehead against the back of his hand that was still in your hold, "I won't forgive you if you leave me, Park Seonghwa. Don't you even think about it, I won't allow it."

Mingi stood behind you quietly, wiping his own tears away.

Sometimes Mingi wondered if you ever noticed how Seonghwa has already so clearly become a pillar of support for you.

He may be an idiot but even he could see the way Seonghwa looked at you, the way he was constantly there for you, always ensuring your safety and doing his best to protect you whether or not there were any dangers around.

Mingi had his suspicions before from observing the way Seonghwa treated you. It was different compared to how the rest of the boys, including himself, did. Whatever theories he had in his mind were confirmed with the start of the zombie apocalypse, Seonghwa's non-platonic feelings for you became clear as day.

He shuddered to think of the possibility that Hongjoong was also aware of this. That would complicate things and the thought made him uncomfortable, he couldn't afford to lose Hongjoong, Seonghwa or you. You have all become one big family at this point and he can only hope that Seonghwa's feelings for you do not create any problems for the group.

Happy that his friend's condition was finally stable, Mingi excused himself from the back room to check on the two newcomers instead.

Now that you weren't there to baby those kids, Mingi was determined to feel them out. He wasn't going to let them off the hook easily if he finds anything even remotely suspicious at all. Especially after how his friend almost lost his life rescuing them.

Seeing Seonghwa in that state filled Mingi with guilt. After all, he was the one who got the elder into this situation. This was all his fault, he vowed to never go against Seonghwa again. He should've known his hyung's judgement was rarely ever wrong.

There better not be any funny business here or I swear to god, I don't know what I'd do to these boys.

"Hyung, I see it! The high school is just over there!"

Wooyoung yelled enthusiastically from a distance, excitedly waving the other two over.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't eager to see his best friend again, Wooyoung was aware that he himself was also a coward but everyone knew San was the one who needed most protection. He's been worried sick about his friend ever since they got separated but it did at least comfort him to know that the other was with Yunho.

"Shh, not so loud! Do you want us to die before we even find Yunho and Sannie?" Hongjoong hissed, hurriedly closing the distance between them to smack a hand over the younger male's head.

Yeosang snickered when Wooyoung pouted, muttering an apology and rubbing the back of his head as they trudged after the leader who was now taking charge of leading the way now that they have finally arrived at their destination.

It didn't take the three of them too long to locate the high school and to get there at all. There were inevitably some of the undead loitering about here and there along the way but it was nothing they couldn't handle.

Yeosang and Wooyoung got slightly better at holding in their loud shrieks whenever coming face to face with a zombie. Perhaps it was the survival instincts or perhaps it was Hongjoong's deadly glares shooting their way at every little sound they make, whatever it was, the leader was just thankful for the major improvement because it surely made the journey much smoother than he had anticipated.

He supposed he could only expect so much silence from Wooyoung until his excitement kicks in like the child he was. Sighing to himself in guilt for telling the younger off so bluntly, he moved to ruffle said member's hair playfully. His heart warming when Wooyoung beamed adorably at him, further strengthening his will to protect his fellow group members.

Hongjoong instructed his friends to secure their weapons upon reaching the school gates, "Remember, don't let your guard down easily and stay close to each other at all times. We can never be too sure if we're truly safe." The two nodded and did as they were told.

"We're ready, hyung. Let's find them." Yeosang says, he was set on getting all of his friends back. This was the first time that their group was broken apart and he wishes it would also be the last, he wasn't sure he could take being away from them without knowing if they were alright like this again.

Without wasting another minute, the three entered the school grounds vigilantly in search of their friends.

Floor after floor they looked meticulously, eliminating a few zombies they spotted wandering around. The harsh reality hit them when they had to kill these particular zombies because they were literally kids, their torn school uniforms made that clear. Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair to avoid thinking about the fact that these kids didn't even get to see their parents before turning.

The trio made the decision to lay the few bodies respectfully in a classroom instead, they figured the last thing they wanted to see was dead kids lying around. Wooyoung sniffled, shaky hands hovering over the eyes of one of the kids to gently close them before working with Yeosang to pull a large cloth over their bodies.

Rest in peace, kids. I hope you're all in a better place, I'm sure anywhere is better than here right now.

Once that was done, they continued on with the search by moving up to the highest floor. The first few classrooms were disappointingly empty, the boys were beginning to grow antsy with Yunho and San being nowhere in sight. Only a few more classrooms left to search and that would be all, Hongjoong was afraid because he had no idea where else those two could have gone if they weren't here.

The leader reached for the door to the following classroom, pulling it open slowly only to jump back in shock when he was faced with the barrel of a shotgun.

"Stay back if you know what's good for you, I will not hesitate to shoot."

That voice. It was Yunho.

Hongjoong raised his arms to signal they meant no harm and to avoid further provoking his friend, the ends of his lips tugging up slightly, "Will you really shoot us, Yunho-yah?"

They watched in amusement as the tall male's eyes rounded in recognition, "Hyung! Yeosang, Wooyoung! Oh my god, you're here!" He immediately put his weapon aside to hug his friends. Wooyoung, being the impatient person he was, frowned and pulled away quickly to ask where his best friend was.

Yunho visibly froze at the question, "A-about that… Guys, there's something I need to tell you." Hongjoong did not like where this was going one bit.

Dread filled his being as his eyes darted around the classroom that his friend took refuge in before they landed on a hunched figure that was barricaded by some tables and chairs in a corner.

Nothing could have prepared the three of them for the words that were about to leave Yunho's mouth.

"Sannie… H-he's infected."

Thank you for reading! Do let me know your thoughts on this part and also if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @aurasblue @tmtxtf @park-simphwa

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

BRAMBLES CONGRATS ON 500 THATS AMAZINGGG. For my request how about Zelda taking care of a sick Link (any zelink, maybe even shink👀)

No Expectations

An Ocarina of Time one-shot, Shink, rated T, ~3000 words, whump, hurt/comfort though perhaps not in the usual sense, also on ao3.

Sheik stared down at the Hero of Idiocy.

His entire body was one massive, inflamed bruise, his eyes swollen shut, lips split from repeated impacts. He had at least three broken ribs—and a concussion, obviously. If Sheik hadn’t pulled him out of there, he’d have become yet another skeleton adorning the depths of the ancient Shadow Temple, his bones pounded into the earth by hands too cursed to be seen.

He clearly hadn’t seen it – not until the last minute, when he’d almost run out of fight.

Irritating as his fairy was, she should have screamed louder.

‘Hey! Listen!’

Hey, fairy—fly in his pouch and hand him the damn lens if he’s too busy getting pummeled to think of it himself.

Now, Navi flitted nervously about Link’s head.

“Off with you,” Sheik said.

The fairy tinkled.

“He’s bandaged as much as will help and I have the witch’s potions. You hovering won’t help.”

She tinkled again, wavering wildly up and down.

Sheik had the distinct impression he’d been told likewise. “I’m not hovering,” he said. “I’m tending. Now, out. Why don’t you go eat—whatever it is you normally eat.”

That was met with furious, high-pitched buzzing.

Sheik took out a bottle.

Navi spluttered fairy-dust as she whizzed out the open casement.

Sheik smirked. It was the only amusement he felt all day, before or after; getting the viscous red potion down Link’s unconscious throat proved non-trivial, and every time his breathing paused blood roared like forest-fire in Sheik’s ears.

He managed to keep Link’s bandages clean and, thankfully, free of any sign of festering. There was little to be done about the crushing injuries but wait for his body to heal itself—with a little help from water and the medicines, of course. Sheik turned the narrow table in the room into a miniature apothecary and requested broth from the innkeeper with each meal.  He’d be damned if he wouldn’t have something Link could eat the instant he woke.

More than 24 hours later, Sheik stood mincing herbs for a poultice, glowering at the green issuance from the leaves as it stained his fingers.

How could he trust Link to prevail after this? Sheik had held almost entirely back—the sword’s wielder needed to become a true master of his martial craft. He couldn’t be coddled.

Sheik slid the herbs into the mortar with the others and began grinding them into a thick paste with unnecessary viciousness. It smelled delicious, and he glowered harder as a sudden hunger pang hit him.

The pestle ground to a halt when a second, much louder stomach-growl occurred behind him.

Sheik turned to find Link watching with bleary eyes, dark between slits in puffy lids, his swollen lips parted, his expression confused if anything, though difficult to read amid all that distortion.

Anger roiled upward from Sheik’s abdomen and settled as a red heat in his head. It narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose, though his mask hid that part.

“So,” Sheik said. “You’re awake.”

Link licked his lips and winced.

Sheik set the mortar down with deliberate delicacy, held by its rim in his fingertips and released with an exaggerated opening of his full hand. He would not rage at Link. He would make it very very clear Link had screwed up.

“It’s you,” Link said, his voice a pale whisper.

Sheik’s brow pinched.

The hunger growl repeated itself.

Sheik grimaced and reached for the now-lukewarm chicken broth he’d kept lidded. He brought it over, slid an arm beneath Link’s shoulders, and began upward pressure.

Link groaned.

“It won’t be so bad once you’re propped,” Sheik said flatly.

A few groans, gasps, and winces later, Link was upright enough on pillows to sip from the cup. Sheik had been prepared to stop him from drinking too fast, but Link didn’t seem able, anyway. He took so long, Sheik’s shoulder got sore from holding the cup to his lips even though he only managed a quarter of it.

Link leaned his head fully back, neck craning toward the ceiling, his eyes moving as though reading words written there above them.  “Thank you,” he said

Shiek’s nose wrinkled invisibly once more. “You’re…” an idiot… “welcome.”

In two more days, Link could sit up briefly by himself. Sheik fed him and tended to his wounds, but spoke very little, and when he did it was all practicality. He kept catching little snatches of expressions on Link’s face—ones he wiped clear when Sheik would turn fully to face him: his brows pinched—a slight lifting of his cheeks, with no smile—a dusting of red visible despite his bruises—a swallow.

Nerves and confusion, it seemed.

“You’re angry with me,” Link said to Sheik’s back.

All movement in the room ceased.

“It took you this long to figure that out?” Sheik asked matter-of-factly, careful to keep any heat out of his voice.

“No,” Link said. “It took me this long to say it.”

Sheik found himself taking a long, deep breath and sighing, slow, his eyes shut, a stinging sensation beginning in them he tried to crush right out of existence. That would give the game away entirely. He knew what he sounded like when he cried, and it wasn’t what people expected to hear. Even the tears—those weren’t Sheik enough. Impa would be furious with him.

His eyes squeezed further shut.  He shook his head and leaned, both palms flat on the edge of the table.

“Sheik?” Link asked on a quiet, high pitch.

He just shook his damn head.

“I was so glad to see you,” Link said. “When I woke up.”

Sheik turned just enough to side-eye him.

He was still reclining on the pillows, his head turned to face Sheik but resting. “The last thing I thought before I went out was…”

Link’s mouth kept opening, just a little, with no sound.

Sheik huffed. “That you should’ve taken the damn lens out of your pocket?”

Link blinked rapidly for a solid three seconds. Then he broke into a smile he was clearly trying to fight, the left side of his mouth twitching insistently while his lower lip rose as if to clamp the top one in place. His face kept turning redder, and the tiny snort of laughter which escaped Link twitched a corner of Sheik’s mouth upward despite himself.

Link’s laughter burst out, mixed with painful wheezes as he held his battered ribs, and Sheik’s gut insisted on shaking with impossible, ridiculous, unwise laughter. It was madness to take Link’s life-threatening error lightly. Insane. It did take him too long to figure things out.

“Y- you-“ Sheik said, trying to break through his own laughter and failing, tears now streaming freely down his eyelids to his face mask, excusable as hilarity, though the shuddering in his abdomen insisted on being more than that.

Link calmed before Sheik did.

He did try to stop it. He splayed a hand over the top half of his face, his eyes shut.

Link had been breathing softly, then caught his breath a few times. “Hey,” Link said.

He said it like that.

Sheik fought not to curl in on himself.  His his muscles tautened like harpstrings.

“Come here,” Link said. “Please.”

Sheik tapped his foot.

“Please?” Link asked. His voice was far too gentle. Sheik removed his hand in time to see Link pat the edge of the bed.

Sheik ground his teeth.

But the feet beneath him took him there.

He sat, the mattress denting more than it seemed like it should for a person his size.  His muscles trembled with the effort of remaining together.

Link held his hand out, palm open. Sheik stared at it, then at Link, who nodded. Sheik held his own hand out, confused until Link clasped it in his own, his grip firm despite his off-color skin.

Sheik did not gasp.

“There’s something else I took a long time to say,” Link said, his words very soft. They stopped Sheik’s breath entirely. He watched, transfixed—horrified—elated—as Link’s other hand approached his mask.

“This okay?” Link asked.

The shape Sheik’s head drew was a circular war between a nod and a shake.  Link’s hand flinched back a hair.

“If it’s not, I- I’ll-“

A tiny sound escaped Sheik and mortified him instantly: high, soft, and pleading. He felt as though his skin had become the shade of his irises.

“Does that mean you want me to?”

Sheik shut his eyes in frustration with himself. He leaned a fraction closer to Link’s hand.

His fingers sent shivers down Sheik’s tense nerves as he gently eased the cloth down.

Sheik spent long moments just breathing.

“It is you,” Link whispered.

When Sheik finally opened his eyes, the smile on Link’s face was the most breathtaking he’d ever seen on him, even with his split lips and mottled skin.

“I almost took too long,” Link said. “I thought…” his smile turned sad as his free hand hovered between himself and Sheik. “I thought I would die without telling you.”

An unsteady puff of air left Sheik’s mouth. “That I’m Zelda? I already knew that.”

Link laughed, too, a calm huff. “Kind of. But, no… that’s… not it. At least, it’s not all.” Suddenly Link was struggling to sit upright. Sheik helped him on instinct, his clasped hand anchoring Link’s and pulling him upward. Link grunted his pain, but he stayed up, now much closer to Sheik.

“I was surprised at first, and confused,” Link said, his voice now shaking.

Sheik shook, too. “About what?”

A small smile touched Link’s face. “By how attracted I was to you,” he said.

All that red drained from Sheik’s face. He wouldn’t be surprised to look in the mirror and find his eyes had de-reddened too.

“I was always hoping to see you,” Link said. “Around every corner. You seemed to always know where I was or- at least where I would be, but I could never find you when I tried.” He laughed, its flutters nervous. “I was hoping you’d still be in Kakariko when I left the temple, but then…”

Link seemed to deflate. His head hung, shaking side to side, his shoulders slumped. “I failed you.”

Sheik wanted to say he hadn’t, but it just wasn’t true. It was part of his anger.

“Impa…didn’t come out either, did she?”

Sheik’s lips quivered.

“I- am so sorry,” Link said, his chin weak.

“Everything has its time,” Sheik said.

A few puffs of halfhearted laughter left Link. “Except me,” he said.

“You nearly did,” Sheik hissed.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I did. I shouldn’t’ve joked about that.” He gave Sheik a sheepish look.  “I wasn’t smart. I rushed in. I was trying to catch up to Impa. I didn’t prepare anywhere near as well as I should have and I was trying to make up for lost- lost time- finding the lens. I don’t know why I didn’t even think to look through it when I got smashed into the ground repeatedly.”

“Probably because you were too busy getting smashed into the ground repeatedly,” Sheik said.

“But…you found me.”

“I followed as soon as the village wasn’t burning.”

“Why this time and not the others?”

Sheik gave him a long look.

“…Do you always follow me?”

“Yes,” he said, very quietly.

Link leaned closer and closer. Their bangs met first—then their foreheads. “So…if I turn around…why don’t I see you.”

“I’m good at hiding.”

“Why hide from me?”

“To stay strong.”

“You can’t be strong with me?”

“I can’t be seen to be-“ Sheik bit his lip, taking a calming breath. “You must understand. No one knows who I am. I can’t seem to be interested in you.”

Link raised on eyebrow. Sheik’s cheeks flushed at the same rate as Link’s mouth curling upward. “So…you’re interested in me.”

“Of course I am,” Sheik hissed. “You and I are the keys to ending Ganondorf’s evil reign!”

“Oh, I see. So you can’t seem to care about how I’m doing.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? Because you teaching me all those teleportation songs sure seems like you care about how I’m doing. In the battle for Hyrule, I mean.”

“No one saw me teach you those.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if no one sees.”

“Of course.”

Link was smiling so slyly at him. He could think of one (unwise) way to wipe that smirk right off his face, and it made him grip Link’s still-clasped hand much harder.

“Ouch,” Link said.

Sheik did not apologize. “You yourself said you were- confused. Surprised. You can’t have immediately known who I was.”

Link reached up to brush a strand of hair from his eye. “No. Not right away.”

“But you were attracted.”

Link nodded.

Sheik registered those eyes of his wandering all over his face. His heart sped when they lingered longer on his lips than they should have. “You are not the only person who would think it odd.”

Link snorted. “There’s a difference between me coming to terms with things about myself and some jerk being judgy.”

“It isn’t about judgement. It’s about expectations. I am a man.”  Sheik stared hard at him, eyebrows shot way up, daring Link to challenge him.  “And if I behave in a way contrary to people’s expectations, it will be noticed. I can’t afford a doubt which would whisper in Ganondorf’s ear.”

Link chuckled. “You think that’s more likely to tip him off than the music lessons?”

Sheik shoved his face right up to Link’s, eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose, glaring. “I had to do that. No getting around it. Riskier to try and pass it off to someone else.”

Something changed in Link’s expression, then. It reminded Sheik of something, but he couldn’t place what.

“Okay,” Link said. “If- you think it’s a bad idea, I won’t push you.”

Sheik’s eyes stung again.

“I just- wanted to make sure I told you.” Link huffed again, half a laugh but also sad. “Before my time actually comes.” He reached for Sheik’s hand and unclasped it from him—and placed an extremely gentle, chaste kiss to its heel.

Sheik didn’t let any sound out.

His hands came to rest in his lap, but Link’s went to the bed on either side of him. He was trembling hard.

“You…shouldn’t sit up so long,” Sheik said, annoyed with himself.

“I’m alright.” Link said.

Sheik watched the wielder of the Master Sword shake—not out of fear: out of pain. More than one kind.

It occurred to Sheik that he, on occasion, could also be an idiot.

“I didn’t realize,” he found himself saying, “the mistake I was making when I threw you the ocarina.”

Link looked back up.

“I should’ve taken it with me. Impa and I could’ve taken it with us to the ends of the earth. Maybe we could’ve destroyed it. Ganondorf might eventually have found another way in, but he also may have grown old and died before he did. It would’ve spared Hyrule. It would’ve spared you. I…” Sheik swallowed, and he just let it happen this time—Link already knew. Whatever expectations he might’ve had didn’t matter.

And if Sheik was honest with himself, Link not having figured it out had been part of his anger, too. How could he not have known Sheik was Zelda?

And yet how could Sheik expect him to figure out something kept so tight to his chest?

It turns out he had, anyway.

Maybe it didn’t take Link all that long to figure things out. Maybe the problem was the time it took to choose.

The back of Link’s finger brushed first one tear, then another, from Sheik’s cheeks.

“I made the same mistake,” Link said. “I opened the door for him.” Link’s hand came to rest on Sheik’s cheek, and it changed something in Sheik’s entire body. His back wanted to arch, his breath begged to speed, and something warm and hazy seemed to enclose his thoughts, encouraging him to discount everything he’d said to Link in the past ten minutes.

“Neither of us is perfect,” Link said, his thumb caressing Sheik’s cheek, “but I love you just the way you are. No exceptions, and-“ Link smiled softly- “no expectations.”

Sheik found himself holding Link’s hand to his face, his arm pressing Link’s to his side, and realizing expectations had, in fact, been his problem. He’d expected Link to do all this alone—thought he needed to, to prepare for what was coming. Ganondorf was far more deadly than any of the creatures inhabiting the corrupted temples, and Link needed to be ready. Sheik was already ready, wasn’t he?  He hadn’t spent 7 years sealed in the Sacred Realm asleep. He’d trained and fought and grown and lived for nothing but the moment he could free Hyrule from its tyrant.

Yet neither he nor Link would succeed in that final endeavor alone. They would need both parts of the Triforce to overcome Ganondorf—as well as Sheik’s innate magic and Link’s truly extrarordinary strength and prowess.

Even Impa had been overcome by the evil spirit of shadows alone.

“Maybe,” Sheik said, astonished at the fluctuations in his own voice, “I should’ve- stepped in. A lot earlier than I did.”

“It’s okay,” Link said.

Sheik knew he meant it. He swept the tip of his nose against Link’s, a soft touch.

Then, they were kissing.

Sheik didn’t quite understand how it began, but Link’s mouth was on his, his hand still on Sheik’s cheek while the other slid against the small of Sheik’s back. Sheik buried his fingers in Link’s hair and curled an arm around Link’s shoulders, pressing him closer, the two of them making sounds of mingled relief, desire, and-

Pain?

Sheik gasped, inwardly cursing himself as he released the pressure on Link, who was chuckling.

“Ouch,” Link said.

“Maybe you’d better lay down-“

“Yeaaaah.”

Sheik helped him ease back down to the pillows and Link grasped his hand, kissing the backs of each knuckle. Sheik huffed flushed laughs at each one, eventually extracting himself while Link smiled at him.

“You,” Sheik said, “need rest.”

Link shrugged, then winced.

“Ha. See?”

“Yeah, I know.” Link adjusted himself lower on the pillows. “Are you still mad at me?”

Sheik studied him a long moment. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I was to begin with, truly.”

Sheik waved a hand at Link’s confused face. “Rest. I’ll ponder my inner workings. Don’t worry about it.”

He went back to preparing a salve for Link’s eyes and lips. This time, he smiled at the smooth concoction, imagining the look on Link’s face when he applied it—an incredible relief from the near-constant scowl he’d worn these past three days…and seven years.

--

[Thanks for the ask, Ace! This just kept getting longer 😂].

[zukkaoru]

do you have any thoughts on time skipped knkdz? ada president kunikida has my heart so much i need content of him. also parent kunikidazai has my heart they’re girl dads to me :,)

(not a fic request just a thought)

sorry anon i am a firm believer in dazai not wanting kids 🙏 however i do enjoy ada president kunikida and will happily offer you some other time skip kunidazai thoughts:

kunikida.. struggles at first when he takes over as president. he wants so badly to make sure he's living up to fukuzawa's legacy and doing everything perfect - but exactly how fukuzawa did it instead of doing what works best for him.

all of the ada tries their best to help kunikida realize that they like him as he is and they don't need him to be fukuzawa 2.0; they just want him to be kunikida. but dazai especially, because they all know dazai is the one kunikida will listen to and believe most

they do have a Talk about kids at one point. dazai is convinced that him not wanting them will be a dealbreaker so he avoids that conversation like the plague until he literally can't anymore. but kunikida would rather have dazai, even if that means their family doesn't look like the Ideal Family he planned out

aya stays over sometimes, which dazai likes better as she gets older

aya and dazai had a.. strained relationship at first. because dazai doesn't know how to interact with kids and doesn't trust himself around them. but eventually, once he got over himself and actually had one normal conversation with her, he realized that she's actually okay

when aya is in high school, she comes over to visit and gossips with dazai while kunikida makes dinner

and kunikida helps her with her math homework ofc

back to the ada.. as president, kunikida finds himself turning to dazai for advice and help quite a bit. at first, dazai is put off by this because he does Not want to be the leader himself. he didn't want that with the mafia and he doesn't want it with the ada either

after a few months of dazai pulling away and telling kunikida to go ask ranpo instead, kunikida confronts him about it. and dazai realizes kunikida goes to him for help first because they're partners, not because he's expecting dazai to help him lead

dazai is more than happy to help when needed after that. but kunikida also tries to go to ranpo and yosano for advice when it's something that fits their expertise more than dazai's

of course of courseeee we still have canezai. by this point, dazai has grown used to his cane but he still has bad pain days - especially on days when it rains. kunikida is always more lenient towards him on those days

likewise, kunikida has bad days with his hand tremors, and dazai will force him to take breaks or go home if it's really bad

they're both good at telling when the other is having a bad day with just one look

i absolutely love the idea of them adopting a cat as well,, i've lowkey adopted lena's hc of them finding a cat that is blind in one eye and missing a leg to reflect dazai's disabilities

dazai and the cat take naps in the sun together <3 (kunikida has a photo album on his phone full of pictures of them napping together)

kunikida & dazai's apartment is always always a safe place for any of the agency members to come if they ever need anything. dazai doesn't like having other people in his space but after kyouka comes to them on the brink of a panic attack after being chased by a dog, dazai remembers he does actually like helping the people he cares about. and he accepts kunikida's "always open door" policy

they can't get married and dazai is too wary of commitment for that anyway, so instead of rings they get complementary necklaces. they both typically tuck the necklaces beneath their shirts so few people know they're their and even fewer realize what they mean, but it's less of a "showing off that i'm in a relationship" thing and more of a private agreement between them. they don't need anyone else to know

i'll stop there bc this is longer than i expected but. yeah <3 they <3

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt #3

Title: Visitors to the Tempest

Wordcount: 823

Spoilers through: Shadowbringers

Relationships & Characters: Ryne/Gaia, Hythlodaeus

Summary: The illusory Hythlodaeus welcomes Ryne and Gaia to Amaurot.

(First time writing all three of these characters, but it seemed fitting for the prompt!)

The illusory Amaurot did not often receive visitors. And of the visitors it did receive, they were wayward creatures that wandered in from the sea. Certainly not a pair of teenage girls doubled over and panting from exertion, having just materialized in the middle of the aetheryte plaza.

“Are… Are you sure you… you’re alright? This is the farthest you’ve ever teleported before.” Ah, the first girl was familiar, her soul shimmering in harmony with pure light. “We… we can find the Bureau of the Architect, there are ben… benches there so you can rest.”

“Don’t be rid… ridiculous. You’re in wor… worse shape than I am. Besides, if I’m ever going to learn to cross the ri… rift with these abilities, I need to practice going places I haven’t been.” The other girl, dark haired and possessing a curiously familiar soul, straightened up and gazed around her. “Wicked white, you weren’t kidding about the city. I can’t believe all of this has been underneath the Tempest for moons.”

The first girl - Ryne, that was her name - nodded awkwardly as she struggled to catch her breath. But after a moment, she too straightened. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I was so scared the first time I was here that I couldn’t really appreciate it. But thinking about it afterwards, I could see why Emet-Selch loved this place.”

The dark-souled girl - Loghrif? was that Loghrif? - made a soft noise of agreement. “I… think I might have loved it too.”

“Really? More memories!?”

Loghrif(?) hurriedly waved her hands. “Not exactly! Just… fragments, here and there. ‘Waking up from a dream’-type nonsense.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “Ugh, whatever I’m feeling would be less annoying if it was clearer!”

Ryne took her hand, an eager smile on her face. “Want to explore a bit? I can show you around, and maybe it would help.”

“Well, we’re definitely not teleporting back any time soon, so… sure.” Her tone sounded bored, but the smile she returned was anything but. “I don’t suppose you have a favorite bakery here of all places.”

“You know, I’m not sure if this place even has edible food.” Ryne looked thoughtful. “Let’s go find out!”

“I think I may be of assistance in that regard.” The tall, hooded figure that had been watching finally approached them. “Though, whether I wish to greet any new face, or whether my recreator intended me to welcome another familiar soul specifically, I cannot say.”

Ryne’s face lit up. “You must be Hythlodaeus!”

“The one but most assuredly not only.”

“Hythlodaeus…” The Loghrif-souled girl frowned, then shook her head. “Nope, it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue, but I’m drawing a blank.”

The shade of Hythlodaeus chuckled lightly. “As you should! If I am not mistaken, you are another old friend who has been born anew. In the past, I may have known your soul as Loghrif, but what am I to call you now?”

Ryne shot the new girl a worried look, but she stepped forward with confidence far beyond her diminutive stature. “Call me Gaia.”

“I see, I see…” It was curious indeed, to discover what did and did not change with the passing of both life and eons. “Gaia, then. I am pleased to re-make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise?” she replied, then shook off her uncertainty again. “Look, if you can find us a bite to eat down here, we’ll get along great. If not…” she shrugged. “I’d rather trust Ryne to be my tour guide. No offense.”

“None taken,” said Hythlodaeus, being a shade of questionable reality let alone reliability. “Now, I could take you to the Bureau of Nutrition, but the atmosphere there is hardly conducive to a nice…” He paused, taking in the shy warmth when the two girls glanced at each other.  Far be it from him to judge a reincarnation for finding a new love. “Date.”

The girls immediately blushed and Ryne began stammering. “It’s not - I mean, we are together, but we’re not here to - it was just supposed to be practice - ”

“Don’t just assume things, even if they’re true!” Gaia cut her off.

“Wait, we are on a date!?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!’ Gaia threw up her hands. “What even defines a date anyway?”

“Well, if you’d like to listen to a multi-session philosophical debate on that subject, I could instead show you to - “

“No thanks!” Both girls blurted in unison.

Hythlodaeus chuckled again. Young lovers were second only to stubborn friends in how simple they were to tease. “Then let us return to my initial plan. En route to the Capitol building is a small place that serves newly approved culinary creations. A favorite among the Convocation and visitors alike - or so the proprietor likes to boast.”

“So you do have food!” Ryne cheered. “Lead on!”

The illusory Amaurot did not often receive visitors, but until such time as it faded, it may as well make them welcome.

[dargorian]

This was completely unintentional, I swear. It all started with wondering why Rayla has white eyebrows but her parents both have brown eyebrows; what was dominant and what was recessive genetically. I very quickly lost control of the spreadsheet and before I knew it I’d figured Callum’s genetics out as well as Rayla, Lain and Tiadrin's. Rayllum kids quickly followed suit over an afternoon. This was ready to share but then the trailer dropped and I tweaked my version of adult Callum to have scarring on his face (I’m convinced the larger cut on his cheek at least will scar and he’ll mirror Amaya that way. He may even have trouble opening his right eye too later on given the swelling around it but I didn’t include that). Something else to note here; humans in TDP afaik don’t have wedding rings but I imagine the couple marrying would wear a matching item. Callum lacks horns so he can’t wear cuffs but then I thought, what about a piercing? I’d imagine a ring would probably get in the way of spells - where would it go with mage wings for starters? Would Fulminis backfire into the mage with a metal loop on their finger? Probably not but I also thought of Rayla and her blades; would a ring be more likely to get snagged in battle and risk her losing that finger? That thought process led to Rayla and Callum both having a piercing in their right earlobe to signify their marital status instead of a ring. I imagine they're both in their early 40's here. As for their kids, in order of eldest to youngest; Ivan (17), Sarai (15) and Amaris (10). All of them have horns of varying lengths. Sarai and Amaris both have four fingers, Ivan technically has five. Ivan was originally (but tentatively) called Ibis but the confusion it caused in the discord channel convinced me to change it sooner. He’s called Ivan now (I played a game called Golden Sun waaaay back in the day and a wind mage in that game is called Ivan. Ever since then, Ivan has always had an association with air/sky/wind to me). Ivan loves to prank Lujanne and Lujanne always ‘freaks his bean’ back in response without fail. His pinko is smaller than the size of a normal human’s so he says he has four-and-a-half fingers. He has central heterochromia too. Callum teaches him moon magic (when he’s not distracted by Rayla walking past that is - I have a pic planned for that). Sarai was easy to name and she loves magic like her dad. Whenever Ivan slings an arm around her shoulders, she knows he’s plotting something and he needs her magic to help. She learns the sky arcanum from Callum over time but she can’t summon mage wings. The family shadowpaw absolutely adores her and Sarai regularly takes her out for runs - or patrols as she calls them. Amaris was the hardest to name. He’s the youngest, quietest and is terrified of the dark. It got to the point where he couldn’t sleep unless someone he really trusted slept in the same room as him ‘to keep the night monsters away’. Having seen the trailer for S5, I think he overheard the tales of the creatures that came out at night around Lux Aurea which led to this fear. His parents soon found a creature called a lumindog (aka a glowy pomeranian), creatively called Lumin by Amaris, and he gives off a gentle glow whenever his fur moves. Lumin is essentially Amaris’ nightlight and he’s very protective of Amaris too, likewise Amaris towards him. Lumin’s method of glowing also means that whenever he sneezes the sudden movement causes him to flashbang the room.

[slytherinshua]

HAUNTS OF THE PAST, FEARS OF THE FUTURE

genre. comfort. set in the onf universe except i don't know too much about the lore lmao. warnings. mention of death, trauma, and nightmares. not proofread. pairing. yuto x fem!reader. wc. 1k. request. no. a/n. i love yuto if that wasn't already obvious

“Will it ever come off?” You asked, a tint of wonder in your voice as you traced a light finger over the black lines that marked Yuto’s neck. The dark barcode contrasted with his lighter skin, and though it was a sign of countless struggles he’s been through, you couldn’t help but think that it was beautiful.

“I don’t think so.” He mumbled. He was extremely tired, having just come back from a stressful mission with the team. You were right there with him from the moment he walked back into the base. It was hard for him to sleep without you— constant nightmares plagued him whenever his eyes closed.

“Did it… hurt?”

He let out a slight chuckle at your question, “I don’t remember. It was probably some other universe me that got it. Don’t you remember?” He looked back at you, fondness and love swirling in his dark irises. 

“I know that, but I don’t know, I just thought— Nevermind.” You laughed too, dismissing the question and drawing your hand back from his neck. “You should get some rest.” You told him, lovingly running a hand through his white hair, relaxing him as much as you could.

“I don’t want to sleep in that room again.” He whispered suddenly. One glance at his face told you everything you needed to know. Last time he had slept in his room, his nightmares had been so bad that he didn’t want to even attempt to sleep for weeks. You had finally gotten him to rest in your room a couple days ago— curled up in your arms, assuredly safe from everything he had been through; the past and the fear of what the future held for him.

Being part of the resistance group meant a life of constant uncertainty. Everything could go wrong in an instant. Lives were at stake, and the courage it took all of you to even keep going was remarkable. You were only able to do it because you had Yuto, and he was likewise. 

He had always been able to come to you to talk about anything he was struggling with, even when he was too scared to tell anyone else. He trusted you, even before anyone else had. The trust soon blossomed into something more, and now you could barely remember what your life was like without him. Only that it was dark and lonely.

“I’ll be right there with you, I promise. You’ll be okay.” You shushed him, hoping that the scared look in his eyes would fade away. It didn’t, and it was almost like a stab straight to your heart. You hated that he had been subjected to so much. 

Having the memory and feeling of dying, yet always finding yourself back again was a burden he carried with him— you all did. But you knew it was harder for Yuto. He always remembered and felt things so deeply. He was emotional and sensitive, which was something extremely rare and precious for the team to have. He was never one to jump to do something rash, though he was willing to take a risk (so long as those he loved were sure to be protected). He was the voice of reason more times than you could count. 

He wasn’t sure if it was reasonable to blame himself for all the times things had gone wrong, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like everything he tried to do backfired. Though the other boys always assured him that he was crucial to the team, he rarely wanted to believe them. 

“He’s always there in my dreams. Always in that room.” Yuto shuddered. You knew seeing that distorted face of one of his closest friends was one of the hardest parts about the nightmares. A face he had grown to love and trust for years suddenly turned so twisted. Hyojin’s clone had terrorised everyone— the real Hyojin sleeping in the other room the most. 

Yuto wasn’t quite sure how Hyojin could still sleep peacefully. He didn’t seem to be too affected by his evil likeness. Each day he only grew more eager to find his other self and end it. Wyatt, much like Yuto, had nightmares too. He had his own trusted person to help him through it. You were glad that the team stuck so tight together despite every hardship thrown at them. You were proud you were able to help, even just a little bit.

“I’ll hold you. I won’t let you go— not even for a second.” You assured him again, cupping his face and tilting it up a little until his eyes met yours. You hoped your sincerity showed through.

“Will you wake me up if you have to go? If I wake up without you next to me-” He started to stutter, panicking at just the thought of it.

“You’ll assume the worst.” You finished the sentence for him, knowing exactly his thoughts and feelings. You didn’t say anything else, but merely pulled him closer until he crumbled into your arms. Fatigue and weariness washed over him quickly, and you could tell he was already falling asleep in your arms just from how light his hold on you became.

You made sure he was on his bed before he could fully disappear to his dreams. Once he was tucked safely under the covers, you slid under them with him. Slowly and carefully, you silently told him all your promises again; even if he was half-asleep. One kiss to his forehead, and another to his cheek. Finally you reached his lips. Though he was too tired to kiss you back, you made sure the kiss lasted long enough to make him feel at ease. You held him tightly, making sure he was soundly asleep before you let yourself drift off as well.

Falling asleep every night was a struggle, but you were there every time to help him through it. There was simply nothing you wouldn’t do for him. He meant too much to you, and seeing him hurt in any type of way was infinitely more painful than death.

↳ onf taglist: @eternalgyu,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm

[mushangaa]

Hey you wonderful person. Calling you out because you are my favorite type of tagger a true godsend for any artist ever because not only do you make me do happy wiggles anytime I see you in my notifs but also you are the kind of person who engages and looks deeper and I appreciate this so damn much about you.

Especially since you also cottoned in on the whole thing with bismuth needing heat and pressure to form. This connection is so important because look. Frida is the oldest. She is the oldest oldest, Raph is second oldest in this story, they both share the oldest sibling title / responsibilities though, they both take care of their siblings, they both share that burden of sometimes being the adults in the house when their dad struggles with his mental health. They both sometimes feel the strain. And were is the heat connection there? Well... Raphs element is fire. He couldn't be anything else. A raging inferno that could devastate anything in his path if he let himself. Anger issues have always been a huge part of Raphaels characterization across the different versions of TMNT but Rise is precious to me specifically because of how different they play it, how he deals with it. How he reigns himself in very purporsefully because he is big and strong and he does not wanna hurt his siblings even on accident so he deals and learns and shit and this is so HHHH my jam. But Fire is not only destructive. It is also nurturing, a source of warmth, a source of safety out in the wilderness. A warm hearth to curl up in front of. Raph is both loving and caring and angry and impulsive but he will not let himself be consumed and become a danger to his family. But yeah okay so Frida and Raph are very close and play off each other and all that jazz... and if the pressure becomes to much for one, the other will step to their side and shoulder the load together and yeah... hence Bismuth (Metal) and Fire.

And yeah i know the interactions between fire and metal in the five element system are not exactly this wholesome but since I deal with 6 elements and play this a bitt more loose you can bet your ass i make Fire (Raph) and Metal (Frida) be fucking wholesome. Tho the whole fire could melt metal and metal weakens fire by conducting heat away from it could also be like.. them reigning each other in when their more destructive tendencies take hold. Frida might not be as buff as Raph but she can pin him down if she needs to, likewise he can subdue her as well. Nevermind this works too, but in a wholesome way of them checking each other if they go too far or loose control and that way they do not have to worry too much about their destructive aspects because they know they have each others back. The one person they can trust not to accidentally hurt because they are on the same level of strength, care deeply about their families and would never let harm come over their little siblings, even if that means catching an errant fist before it flies or what have you. I love them so much okay.

And I do love you as well, platonically of course, but you bring me joy and I feel seen and understood when you pick up on the little things I play around with, like the shawl thing in the picture with the younger future Leo were it is just a thin band that cannot protect him like... fuck yeah you got it knocked it out of the park your words are precious to me.

just thought i let you know