#ficlet requests

[magicfootballstuff]

would you write some cute fluff of alexia being cute nervous to ask reader to move in with her, even though she has no need at all to worry?

“Is it just me or is Alexia acting weird today?” you ask Lucy, as the two of you stretch together in the gym before training.

“Dunno,” Lucy shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But you know her better than I do.”

Alexia has been acting strangely around you for the last couple of days. You’ve managed to keep your romantic relationship and your professional lives pretty separate since you started dating a few months ago, but your teammates all know that you’re together and you never completely ignore each other at work. But Alexia has been weird the last couple of days, keeping more of a distance, being slightly jumpy around you, like she’s nervous by your presence. When you arrived at training this morning, she pretty much ran in the other direction when you tried to greet her with a kiss outside the dressing room, claiming that she had a meeting with Jonatan before training.

“There’s definitely something up,” you muse aloud, watching Alexia across the gym, where she’s loading plates onto the chest press machine with Mapi.

“Maybe she’s…” Lucy starts, but the cheeky grin slides off her face almost as quickly as it appears, and she adds, “Nah, I can’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“It’s nothing,” Lucy tries to dismiss it, folding her body almost in half against the yoga mat as she stretches.

“Lucy,” you warn her.

“Fine,” Lucy rolls her eyes as she sits upright again. “I was gonna make a joke that maybe she’s gonna break up with you, but then I realised that if she does break up with you it’s not a very funny joke.”

“She’s going to break up with me?” you ask, your eyes widening in panic. In all your consideration for the cause of Alexia’s weird behaviour over the last couple of days, you hadn’t paused to think that maybe it’s because she wants to end your relationship.

“No, I didn’t mean…” Lucy starts, in an attempt to fix what she’s said.

“But you said if she breaks up with me,” you point out. “Which means that you think there’s a chance she could.”

“Forget I said anything, it was just a silly joke. I don’t think she’s going to break up with you.”

But now that the idea is in your head, you can’t think of anything else. It all starts to make sense now, the distance, the jumpiness, the nerves. She wants to end the relationship, she’s just waiting for the right moment.

“Oh god, she is going to break up with me,” you say aloud, trying to do the maths in your head to work out when the last time one of you spent the night at the other’s apartment was. Four days, at least, maybe even five.

“I was just kidding,” Lucy tries to reason with you. “Alexia adores you.”

“Maybe not anymore. Not if she’s going to dump me.”

You glance over at Alexia again, only to find her eyes on you this time, and she quickly looks away, diving into a deep discussion with Mapi with their hands covering their mouths that can only be about you. Probably about wanting to break up with you.

“For fuck’s sake, she’s your girlfriend,” Lucy says, rolling her eyes. “Just go and talk to her.”

Lucy’s right, until Alexia actually tells you that she’s breaking up with you, she’s still your girlfriend and you have every right to want to talk to her in the gym. So you push yourself up to your feet and cross over, catching the end of Mapi’s sentence as you get close enough.

“… so talk to her and get it over with.”

“Yeah, Alexia,” you say, alerting your girlfriend to your presence behind her. “Get it over with. Break up with me, if that’s what you want.”

Alexia had seemed nervous when you arrived at her side, but when she hears what you have to say, the nerves disappear and her eyes almost bulge out of her skull in surprise.

“Break up with you?”

Mapi, you notice, is suddenly very interested in checking the weights on the nearby barbell, giving you and Alexia at least the pretence of some privacy.

“I don’t want to break up with you,” Alexia almost laughs.

“Wait, you don’t?”

“No!”

“But you …” you stammer, frowning as you try to remember why you thought she was about to end your relationship. “You’ve been weird the last couple of days. Distant. Nervous. Like you were trying to figure out the best time to end it.”

Alexia actually does laugh this time, tipping her head back, and you can’t help but feel like you’re missing the punchline of the joke.

“I haven’t been distant and nervous because I wanted to break up with you,” Alexia explains, taking your hand in hers and running her thumb over the back of your fingers. “It’s because I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you to move in with me.”

“Oh.” Your process Alexia’s words and it all starts to make sense. Relief floods through your body as you realise that your relationship isn’t coming to an end, but instead reaching an exciting new milestone. “You want me to live with you?”

“Yeah,” Alexia nods. “I know it’s soon. I know we’ve only been together for a few months, that you’ve been living in Barcelona for less than a year, but my life revolves around you. I want to go home with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning. And if you think we need more time then I’ll happily wait, but you’re it for me and I can’t imagine my life with anybody else.”

“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” you say, putting Alexia out of her misery as it’s her turn for relief to wash over her face.

“Thank god,” she says. “I was so worried you’d think I was moving too fast. But why did you think I was going to break up with you?”

“Well, I didn’t until Lucy said…”

As soon as you mention Lucy’s name, Alexia is looking around the gym for your English teammate.

“Lucia!” Alexia bellows across the gym.

You watch as Lucy scrambles to her feet, muttering something about hearing Jonatan calling her name as she practically sprints out of the gym to avoid facing the wrath of her captain.

“Note to self,” you say aloud, for your own amusement as much as Alexia’s. “Don’t take advice from Lucy.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Alexia hums in agreement.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #ficlet requests #alexia putellas x reader

[majorproblems77]

Might I request...Our sleepiest boy (Sky) enacting Sleep Jail (definitely not something I ran with from luwyv)

...Basically any boy not sleeping enough or depriving themselves goes in SLEEP JAIL (Sky sleeps on top of them until they have no choice but to also sleep because they are stuck in Sleep Jail)

You may! I love sleepy jail.

"Captain... You need to rest." A soft voice from behind him. A click to his right before a hand was placed gently on his right shoulder.

He sighed, "I'll rest when I know the sailor can stand again." His gaze remained locked on the sailor's still form. Bandages wrapped around his head and left leg. The gentle flicker of the remains of the fire gently flickered off the white and red of the bandages. Orange light danced through the captain's eyes as he remained focused on the boy. Who was laid gently in a small bedroll, blankets covering his torso.

"All we can do now. Is wait." Time stood tall as his hand pulled away from the captain's side. Pulling the captain's attention to him, the captain turned to him. "You need to sleep. I will watch over him."

"Time, I am perfectly Fine." He protested.

"No. go and get some rest Link." Time said. Sitting beside the sailor. .

He wouldn't rest anyway. So what was the point?

He walked over to his bedroll which had been placed by the others. Sky's was the closest to his. the skyloftian was snoring gently as he seemed to be resting soundly.

Lucky bastard.

Laying down did nothing to ease his anxiety as he lay staring up at the stars. The sailor took a hit for him. Him! If he'd have just seen the club coming at him. If he'd have just...

the sound of discomfort pulled his attention away.

"wind?"

He turned to its source.

Sky?

The Skyloftian's face flickered slightly before coming back to restful.

"Hey... Sky?" he tried the skyloftian. Shaking his arm slightly as he looked at him. "Sky?"

The skyloftian groaned in protest as his eyes flickered. He seemed on the verge of consciousness. He rolled over, flinging his arm and body to the right.

Right on top of him.

"Ah, Sky...."

The skyloftian made a noise as he lay on top of him. Resting his head on his shoulder the skyloftian had him in his grip. Snoring softly as he seemed to settle back down again.

He heard a chuckle from the fire.

"Well. Now you'll definitely get some rest. He won't let you go until you do."

"And you're not going to help me out?" The captain tried to move. But found himself restrained by a pair of arms.

Man, he knew Sky was strong but... This was ridiculous.

"Oh no. I've been caught in sleepy jail before. It's your turn."

The captain sighed. Trying to wrestle himself free. But Sky's grip was absolute.

"The more you fight the tighter his grip gets." Time chuckled softly.

"Why do you know that?!"

"Because he almost strangled me." Time laughed.

"I can...See how... Oh come on Sky let me go." The captain protested.

"Just relax. He'll let you go in the morning."

"How can I relax when he's holding me like he holds Zelda!"

He was pretty persuasive. When he wanted to be.

Sky mumbled slightly. As he loosened his grip slowly. Allowing the captain to breathe. The breath he took loosened his body.

Maybe he could just get a few hours...

#linked universe #lu sky #linkeduniverse #writing #lu warriors #lu time #lu wind #sorry wind i needed material and you are it #i love sleepy sky #anything to pursue my sleepy blorbo propaganda #Thanks anon #i loved this idea #:D #major writes #writing corner with major #corner answers with major #anon beloved #ficlet requests #beloved blorbo #i love him

[spoiledleaff]

leafy... the mental image you gave in that puppy rain ficlet of rain making dew play his guitar while they're breeding fucking him "six ways to fuckin' sunday" is haunting me just as much as subby puppy rain O_O /pos /so very fucking pos

would you consider writing a little something about that ? 👀

i can gift you flowers... 💐💐💐💚💐💐💍💐💐💙💐 :D

hehehehehehehheheheheehheheeheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeheheheheheheheheheheheeheheheheheheheehehehe— of course ùwú anything for flowers from you, my love! :> (also a massive thank you to @littlemoon-beam for dealing with my instrument inexperience, haha! :'D)

explicit ✿ he/him ftm dew + they/them intersex rain ✿ wc ; 598. terminology for dew includes ; clit + pussy/cunt + folds ✿ terminology for rain includes ; cock/dick.

"You stopped." Rain sighs, their nose nuzzling deeper into that clammy, sensitive spot behind Dewdrop's ear as the smaller ghoul whines. "Keep going, baby."

Rain is laid out underneath Dewdrop, relishing in the way the fire ghoul's body presses down against their own. Dewdrop is laid out on top; naked from the waist down, legs spread and held open with Rain's own scrawny limbs, and his signature white Fender Stratocaster held in his trembling fingers. The littler sin is laid bare above Rain: speared open, overstimulated, and still forced to play.

"Fuck-!" Dewdrop whines as Rain's balls slap loudly against his inner thighs; their pace is brutal and cutthroat as they fuck into Dewdrop's pussy with terrifying precision.

Their shaft rubs against every sensitive bundle of nerves hidden inside Dewdrop's inner walls, the copious amounts of cum that Rain has already pumped into Dewdrop's womb spilling from his stretched hole, growing tacky over their inner thighs. Dewdrop's clit stands proud against his foreskin; his labia is swollen and slick, and his entire core is flushed tomato red from how aroused and neglected his clit remains.

"Keep playing." Rain repeats, nipping at Dewdrop's earlobe. The slick sound of Rain's shaft mercilessly pounding in and out of Dewdrop's cunt echoes in his ears. The sound is embarrassing, but the fact that Rain still expects the fire's sin to play through his Respite solo flawlessly has Dewdrop's pussy gushing.

(And Rain knows; they both know. Hell, they both can fucking hear it.)

Dewdrop's fingers tremble over the strings, the edge of his guitar presses against his stomach and the weight of it rests terribly close against Dewdrop's pubic mound. Idly, the fire ghoul wonders if the thoughts racing through his mind are what Swiss thinks every time a 'practice session' of his gets derailed.

The rim is so fucking close. If Dewdrop ruts his hips up and drops his posture just a scant few inches, maybe he'd-

"Dew." Rain's voice is dark, their claws scrape dangerously against the bones of Dewdrop's hip. "Don't make me fucking repeat myself."

And the worst part of it all is Rain's voice is still so fucking steady. They're so goddamn deep in Dewdrop's cunt that he can feel the chill of Rain's slick, gushing like a waterfall just behind the weight of Rain's balls. Dewdrop can feel the way their cum and combined buckets of slick splatters against his burning skin, and he swears that he can hear the way the droplets sizzle and evaporate against his inner thighs.

With every inch of his vessel either trembling or spasming, Dewdrop's fingers slowly find the correct cords for Respite on the Spitalfields. The opening notes of his solo are quiet against the loud plapplapplapplap- of Rain's dick spearing him open. Every digit, every knuckle feels like it's rattling against his bones, and Dewdrop shudders as Rain's claws sink into his flesh.

"'M gonna cum-" He gasps, missing a note. "Rainy, Rainy, please- 'm gonna fucking cum-"

"I don't care." Rain whispers, forcibly rocking Dewdrop's body as the little sin struggles to hold his guitar. "You can cum as many times as it fucking takes for your stupid little brain to get this solo right."

Dewdrop sobs as Rain makes him start over, the embarrassing squelch of Dewdrop cumming for the fourth time that night rings louder in his ears than the fucking guitar laid over his stomach.

"Keep playing, Dew." Rain grunts, their pace somehow fucking quickens. "I'll pump my seed into that fucking cunt until your thighs are the same goddamn white as that guitar."

#spoiled writing #ficlet requests #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #rain ghoul #rain ghost #ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #raindrop #dewdrop/rain #fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul fanfic #ghost band fanfic

[blutopaz15]

May I request rayllum's first kiss sometime following their reunion? I know it might not be immediately after reuniting for the first time, they probably don't even know where their relationship stands right now (hell I don't even know T~T My hope is that maybe after their big feelings time there could be a kiss)

hi friend!! have a slightly silly post-reunion rayllum kiss, taking place after many, many big feelings time sessions!! <3

At first, Rayla had agreed.

Callum had been reluctant—and rightfully so—to even share the same space that first week, leaving her with Ez as soon as he could that first night, even electing to fly off on his own rather than being stuck with her on the Dragon Queen’s back the next day. Of course he wouldn’t have wanted to kiss her, and…she was in no position to push.

It’d still made sense—that midnight that he’d finally let the festering big feelings fly—when he’d whispered he wasn’t ready for more even though he’d let her sink into his arms, when she’d been contrite and patient and willing to do anything he said just to make him trust her again.

They’d been in agreement since, the specifics of their accord unspoken at first, but blaringly obviously now: they really shouldn’t kiss, not until amends are made.

Especially not the way she wants to kiss him. 

Especially when he still hasn’t forgiven her.

Everything else has been fair game for so long though, Rayla thinks, knowing Callum is saying some sweet, lovely thing to her, nevermind the fact that all she can do is watch his mouth move.

That first embrace—weeks ago at this point—had opened the floodgates as far as little touches like that went: his hand randomly on her elbow, his fingers unexpectedly twining together with hers, another hug before she’d even had the nerve to ask…but they were still keeping their lips to themselves—mostly, at least—until every big feeling was squared away.

Unfortunately.

Even he can’t resist, though, she thinks, frustrated and feeling for the warmth his lips had just left on her cheek.

She had agreed…but now he was just being cruel, kissing her and when she can’t kiss him.

And worse—

“Ah, ah, ah.”

—is that he has the nerve to tut at her like that, all playful and teasing, turning up his nose at her pouted lips with barely hidden amusement.

“Not yet,” he says, answering her attempt at a kiss, and she groans, plopping down from her knees into the grass behind her. 

She’d thought that last compliment had been the long-awaited go ahead…but apparently not. 

Rayla sighs in response, unconcerned with being flippant, both of them long past the point where all of this was anything other than flirtation: “What more could you possibly have to say?” 

And all he does is grin—a self-satisfied, frustrating little grin—and, oh, she just wants to grab him by his stupid handsome face and drag his stupid smiling lips to hers, and kiss him til he can’t manage that stupid smirk any more.

“Hmm,” he hums, eyes twinkling with that annoyingly attractive little sparkle that she can’t get enough of, and she rolls her eyes. “Did I already say that I love you? Because if not—”

“Yes,” she retorts.

He’d said it weeks ago. That wasn’t the hold-up, and he knew that. He knows she knows it too, otherwise he wouldn’t be toying with her like this, all faux sincerity and overdone smugness.

“Hmm, well, how about—”

“Sources, Callum, please,” she pleads with unabashedly yearning, uncrossing her arms to rock towards him again. “We’ve been over everything, over and over and over again. You’re being so—”

“Have I told you I forgive you?”

It surprises her, the way the words stun her. She’d known he’d say them eventually—and soon, she’d thought lately—but they take her breath away nonetheless. She should be kissing him now—like she’d been longing for and daydreaming about and staring at him over—but she can hardly even speak, looking at how he blinks at her, seeing how his smile has softened, watching how his eyes flicker just briefly to her lips…

“—oh,” she barely manages, her heart pounding with a sudden thrill of nerves and relief and love—so much love. “No.”

Callum reaches for her hand, and she almost gasps at the contact. “I forgive you, Rayla,” he repeats.

“Thank you,” she blunders, entranced by the way he’s slowly working his way into her space. His head tilts at that angle she’d envisioned over and over and over again, his lips part, and she’s lightheaded before he even kisses her.

…and then he doesn’t.

Callum grins instead, his lips turning upwards in another stupidly cute sideways smile and—sources—his eyes are sparkling again, all pretty and bright and green…and he thinks he’s so funny.

“Now, I mean, really, this is getting ridiculous,” he teases. Callum blinks briefly up towards the sky, shrugging, sweetness dissolving to unbearable silliness once more. “Can I kiss you now, or what? It’s been—”

It takes a moment for his lips to mold hers—his mouth having been so preoccupied with everything but kissing her—but Callum relaxes not long after her hand—fisted in that old scarf—opens. He finds that angle—the one she’d dreamed about—and tilts closer, letting this new first kiss deepen until she feels it deep in her belly and down every limb too. He’s soft and warm, of course, and it’s so comforting how it’s still just like she remembers, even if he is so much more sure now. Her heart flutters even faster, feeling how his fingertips slip delicately around her waist, tasting all the pent-up tenderness and care in his kiss, hearing the muffled little sigh he breathes against her mouth—

—and it’s over too soon, of course.

He chuckles as soon as they’re apart, and the sound is so soft and familiar and wonderful—

“Wow.”

Rayla agrees.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #ficlet requests #season 4 #fluff #<3 #this got so silly and lighthearted omg <3

[lanymme]

Oof, it’s been a busy couple weeks. Finally got a chance to keep pushing the ficlets.

This request is from my friend @clinik-case:

you know what actually I'm kinda interested in seeing how you would envision Kiara and King Hassan sitting at a table in the chaldea cafeteria

And really, how could I possibly say no to that? The table in question ended up somewhere else, but here it is.

— — — —

Tiny freshwater waves lap at the sandy shore. Occasionally, the smallest muffle of wind passes across the lake, carrying the scent of water and mountains. Early morning fog rises, obscuring the opposite shore, not yet burned off by the sun, much like the pall of death that hangs over the place, the instinctual fear of all living beings that struggle for life. Dissipating, yes–not yet gone.

In a cabin a few hundred feet away, Master and Servants sleep peacefully and hard, the sleep of victors. The reward of an upright heart that passes through adversity.

But on a small spit of land protruding out into that lake, a single tree stands alone, casting its shade toward the lake. There is nothing under it. But, perhaps, if one stares hard, listens to the hairs on the back of their neck, remembers the place in a dream–yes, perhaps then one would receive the vague impression of a shape, hulking and motionless: of coal-blue eyes dark burning, staring out over the water.

There is a bench there, next to it, where a group of campgoers talked and worried and laughed together. On this spit of land, they ate food carefully prepared by a college-age young man as an Incarnated Elemental griped angrily (jealously) about the two lovers kissing behind a tree; where one of of the few remaining humans of Proper Human History and the first novelist joined a bright young girl as she played in the sand for the first time.

Now, it’s empty. Everyone is at the cabin, packing to leave.

There is a certain feeling to the end of a summer well-lived. A special vibrance, an awareness that you are living in the tail end of a fond memory.

This place, with its unoccupied bench and its lone shady tree, are what remains.

There is something sacred to a well-loved space when the people have left. Something worth watching over.

The waves lap at the shore, and the wind blows through the tree.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Sitting at the edge of the bench, she looks out over the lake. The pearls, the shells, the flowers she wears are beautiful, showy, but there is something fleeting, too, in the way the bolt of cloth is tied at her waist. “It’s… compelling, to watching her struggle though the endless trials arrayed before her.” She smiles, private, fond.

She stands upright, graceful as if the laws of nature themselves bend to please her, and pads, barefoot, a few steps to the edge of the grass.

“I have had more than enough of observing for now, myself,” she says, bending down to rummage through the stones at the place where grass and beach meet, “but it is heartening to see you develop a taste for something beyond killing.”

She straightens, holding two perfectly flat rocks. She regards one before turning at the waist and throwing it, spun with perfect form to skip out across the lake in five distinct jumps.

She watches the ripples fade.

“That said,” she ponders, “I wonder if that little researcher girl knew how close she came to the immortal death she sought, when she threatened our Master’s life directly.”

She looks down at the other rock in her hand, before tossing it aside.

The wind gusts across the lake, darkening its surface with turbulence as is passes, sweeping through the hair not caught up in her braid, through the magenta cloth around her waist.

She smooths it under her as she sits on the bank of grass, feet settled with the small pebbles that trail off into sand. She leans back on her palms, letting her hair fall back, exposing the curve of her throat.

“And yet, not once this summer did a chill go up my own spine. Isn’t that strange? Here, in this place of death… Was it the blessing of the ningyo? The protection of Shen? Perhaps the good karma of my… recent sacrifice, guiding me through danger. I did defeat a Beast, after all, at… considerable personal expense. I’m a martyr too, now—does that make us equals in virtue.”

Then her voice changes. The sharpness in her eyes can be clearly felt, even from the back of her head.

“Surely it was not apathy on the part of the reaper.”

The water darkens all together, for a moment, the surface disturbed as if by one all-encompassing yet transient gust of wind.

But the wind does not change.

“A permissiveness, to the kind of grave threats our Master cannot fight herself.”

Her relaxed posture has become carefully relaxed. Coiled, almost—more subtle than that.

It passes, leaving no trace. The waters of the lake fade back to quiet calm, broken only by the play of mountain wind.

It’s quiet, again. It’s warm still, but with the slightest hint of the chill that signals summer’s end—a change in the taste of the air.

The sound of a door slamming open carries across the water, a playful scream as Ilya chases Ritsuka out of the cabin with her sprinkler.

Kiara smiles at them, wistfully.

“Thy poisonous words have been diluted by humanity. Passing wicked thou remainest, but thou art not the inveterate demon thou hast been.”

She starts, looking over at the tree where a pair of blue fires burn, finally visible. She smiles, ironic and slippery.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to believe I was only talking to myself.”

Unhurriedly, she turns away from him.

Far away, Master and Servant are flopped down on the grass. The door opens, and Shirou steps outside with towels, shaking his head.

“What did you think of the younger me? Adorable, isn’t she. So pious. So committed to the wellbeing of others.”

She sighs.

“Lighting a campfire. Watching movies with popcorn. Making curry. Spending time with others. Eating s’mores. All these things were new to her.”

The corners of her lips turn up, just the smallest of degrees.

“She is good with kids, our Master. But, well, the season was always going to come to an end. Such is the way of things, is it not? Fall always comes, and then winter. The time for play is over. Soon, she will return to weight and duty, too great for any person to bear.”

She stands, briskly. “Thankfully, I have never been one to shy away from overindulgence. I am still enjoying myself, so I think I’ll carry on like this.”

She steps back up onto the grass, starts walking back toward the picnic bench.

“Skipping stones isn’t what it’s cracked up to, but there are plenty of other firsts for me, out there for the taking. And I intend to savor them.”

She leans her hip against the bench. “And, I suppose… what’s a few good deeds, in the meantime?”

Pensive, indulgent, she closes her eyes.

“Like this, I can stand by her side, but I can’t be everywhere at once.”

Now she directs a piercing gaze toward the shade of a tree. “First Assassin. You did not answer my question.”

“I shall protect the Contractor. Those who would threaten her from the shadows will step out as corpses. When she calls, I shall answer.” Those eyes burn, blaze, bright enough to illuminate bone-white sockets. “And so, too, shall I cut away any degeneracy and depravity that clings to her heels or stains the path before her.”

Her eyes spark with passion. “Mmm. So confident. It seems, for all her travels, the tale of Yao Bikuni did not reach so far as Persia. Ahhh, I miss the wine of zealotry. You’re making me jealous.”

She pushes off the bench.

“I enjoy our little talks, Mister Shadow. It’s been too long. We work surprisingly well together, and you do amuse me. It’s almost a shame to think one of us will most likely kill the other when all is said and done.

“But who knows. Perhaps at the end of my journey I will have my fill of the world, and turn to stone. But,” she says, and she smiles then, sharp-toothed and terrible, “I sincerely doubt it.”

She starts off down the path that leads back to shore: back to the campgrounds where she has lived together with the others for the last month.

“For now, it seems we understand each other. And I have a room to pack. So I must bid you goodbye.” She looks back out at the picnic ground she will never return to. “Enjoy your vigil.”

As she passes the tree, the temperature drops.

“If thou wouldst speak in sincerity. Then deliver thine words in person.”

She stops, and turns to look at him, under the tree. There’s a sour expression on her beautiful face.

“Killjoy.” The illusion dissolves into golden bubbles, motes blown on the gentle lake wind.

“This,” a voice speaks, stirring the surface of the lake, resonating like music carried on the wind, “is why I’ll never like your type.”

#king hassan #kiara sessyoin #sessyoin kiara #fgo summer 5 #my writing #ficlet requests #ficlet

[moon-the-silly-evil]

Kinda wanna write a ghoul ficlet, but I don't have any ideas. :[

Any suggestions?

#the band ghost #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #ficlet requests #the askbox is always open for requests :3

[littlerainyghoul]

Quick reminder my inbox is open for ficlet requests / any thoughts that need airing ~

anon is on for those who prefer. Mean stuff will be blocked <3

Just keep in mind that things might take a while because uni but i'll try best <3

#agere #regressed ghouls #ficlet requests

[myckicade]

Ficlet Requests, Anyone?

I like to write while I watch football, but OFMD has me in a bit of a chokehold. (Fucking Witches is in editing, sooo). That said, if you've got prompts for the following, send 'em on!

BlackBonnet

Frenchie x Izzy

Izzy x Roach

Buttons x Izzy

* I'll entertain others, of course! These just happen to be my favorites.

I'll do most any genre, AUs included. Song prompts are encouraged.

Looking forward to hearing from you!

#Our Flag Means Death #OFMD #Fanfiction #Ficlet Requests #BlackBonnet #GentleBeard #Ouizzy #Frizzy #Rizzy #ButtHands #Lordy do I shudder at that ship name 🤣 #Bring It On Y'all!!!! #Im ready to write!!!!

[iamthecomet]

It's almost time for another dumb meeting.

*pockets matches* what? These? Don't worry about it.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

#comet comments #adult responsibilities #someone send me fun things to come back to #headcannons? #questions? #ficlet requests #literally anything #i will not commit arson i will not commit arson #i will not commit arson #i might commit arson #🔥🔥🔥🔥 #spotify wrapped top 100 asks? #ghoul pile!?

[gh0stbunnywriter]

request rules!

My requests/ submissions/ asks are open! Send me a funny little idea or whatever it is you ghoulies wanna see, and i'll write it! if i want. there are things i personally will or wont do, but i'm just going to list the big ones, and things that should be common sense.

✦ rules below the cut! ✦

✦ i will write: x!reader, smutty stuff, fluffy stuff, angsty stuff, violence-y stuff, creepy monsters, horror? ronance and steddie are my current faves! check out my fics for an idea of what i write!

✦ aged up is something im cautious of and is okay for some characters and situations (ex. all characters are aged up in my band fic, eddie is 26), but if you do not make it clear that it's in a post-highschool setting, i will not write that. speaking of-

✦ i will not write: underage anything! are you a sick freak? get outta here! :D i won't write non-con , i will not write irl people (e.x. joe quinn), and i will not write cheating fics.

✦ ✦ ✦

characters I write for (i can write for others if i know who they are, so it doesn't hurt to ask!):

✦ stranger things: eddie, steve, nancy, robin, gareth (may update)

✦ mha: keigo takami, touya todoroki, aizawa shouta

✦ haikyuu!: bokuto, kuroo, tsukishima (all after the timeskip)

any au is fine, I'm always up for something fun and funky.

✦ ✦ ✦

✦ general rules- be nice ✦ don't be a rac!st! ✦ no minors here, my page is full of expl!cit suff ✦ i won't post asks of people being rude or saying some dumb shit, so expect that if you send that stuff it'll just be deleted, and i don't have feelings to hurt. i'm a ghost. duh ✦ there's a lot of stuff i'll write, but if i don't feel comfortable, i just wont- i probably wont message you back and tell you that because i don't wanna make anyone feel bad for a k!nk they have.

✦ instant block for: racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, bullying others, telling me how to write/ criticizing without critiquing. there is a difference.

✦ everything on this list is subject to change ✦

#requests #request rules #request #rules #fanfic requests #fanfiction requests #ficlet requests #about me #general rules

[magicfootballstuff]

Can you do a fluffy one with alexia? Her reader go out and reader is used to the cold but alexia isn’t. So alexia keeps touching her hands and face on reader to keep them warm.

“It’s cold,” Alexia complains.

“It’s England in December,” you point out. “What did you expect?”

It’s not the first time you and Alexia have visited England together since you started dating, actually it’s the third. But the first barely counts because it was for a Champions League away game in London last season and the second was a brief visit to your parents at the beginning of the summer when the weather was nice. Spending most of your time in Barcelona, you and Alexia agreed you would spend Christmas in England with your family and this is the first time you’ve seen her experiencing the reality of British winter weather.

“I didn’t think it would be as cold as this.”

With just a few days to go until Christmas, you’ve decided to take Alexia from your childhood home where you’ve been staying with your parents, to show her around the town where you grew up. But Alexia’s right, it is pretty cold, and she’s not dressed for the weather. She’s wearing cargos and a comfy hoodie but the only thing over it is a padded gilet, meanwhile you’re dressed in your thickest coat, with two pairs of socks inside your trainers, as well as a hat, scarf and gloves.

“I warned you that you needed to pack layers and you said you’d be fine,” you point out, as you turn onto the main high street in your hometown, which is decorated with Christmas lights and busy with shoppers, linking your arm through Alexia’s in place of being able to hold her hand, which is buried deep in the front pocket of her hoodie.

“That was before I knew it would be this cold.”

“Do you want me to buy you a better coat while we’re out?” you ask. “Or a hat and some gloves at least?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Alexia tells you.

“Then stop moaning,” you tease her.

You drag Alexia into a nearby shop, partly to offer her some respite from the cold and partly because you still need to buy presents for your parents. It’s fun mooching around the shop together and you take particular delight in teasing Alexia in the accessory section of the shop.

“How about this?” you ask, taking a bobble hat off the rack and pulling it onto Alexia’s head without much warning. It’s a little outlandish, brightly coloured with flaps to cover the ears and two long woollen braids that hang down over Alexia’s shoulders, an oversized pompom adorning the top of it.

Alexia cries out as you force the hat onto her head and you stifle laughter as she peers at a reflection of herself in the nearest mirror, tearing it off her head and throwing it at you with a scowl when she sees how silly she looks.

“Idiota!”

“Just trying to make sure you stay warm, babe,” you tell her, as you return the hat to its original place on the shelf.

Once you’ve found a present for your dad, you leave the shop, hit by a chilly gust of wind as you step back out onto the high street. Alexia shudders and lets out a few expletives.

“It’s not too late to go back in for the hat,” you tease her.

“My head’s fine,” she says. “But my fingers might fall off.”

To emphasise her point, she presses her icy fingers against your face and you instinctively recoil at the cold.

“See!” Alexia exclaims.

“Good job you don’t need your fingers to play football then, isn’t it?”

“I need them for other things,” Alexia counters, with a smirk.

Embarrassingly, it takes you a few seconds to realise what she’s insinuating, but when you finally do, you make a big show of taking the gloves off your own hands offering them out to Alexia.

“Good point, wear these.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wear them,” you insist. “Only so it stops you complaining. And these while you’re at it.”

You strip out of your scarf too, winding it around Alexia’s neck before she can complain, then take your hat, a plain black beanie, and pull that down onto Alexia’s head. She looks cute, the scarf covering her mouth and the only thing visible between that and the hem of the hat being her pink nose and the disgruntled look in her eyes, but you’ll happily sacrifice some of your own comfort for Alexia’s.

She slides her fingers into the gloves, then takes one of your hands in hers as you start moving down the high street again.

“Is it like this every year?” she asks.

“Yup,” you nod, feeling the cold yourself more now that your head and neck are exposed to the elements. “Much colder, sometimes.”

“How do you cope?”

“Why do you think I like Barcelona so much?” 

Alexia squeezes your hand, then answers, “I thought that was because of me.”

“Meh, you’re a close third behind the weather and the food,” you tease her.

“Asshole,” she mutters.

You spot a couple of temporary wooden cabins that have been set up further down the street, a mini Christmas market selling gifts and festive food.

“How about a hot chocolate to warm you up?” you ask. “My treat?”

The scarf still half-covering her mouth hides the grin from view but you don’t miss the way that her eyes light up at the suggestion.

“Lead the way, mi amor.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #ficlet requests

[majorproblems77]

Hi!! I just wanna say taking mini fic requests has helped me with my writers block and getting back into the vibe of writing, and I hope it helps you too :)

Could you maybe do Wars and Twilight being stupid and silly? They deserve to have fun

-crazylittlejester :)

Thats the hope haha. Thanks for the request! I can confirm they are having fun.

"So, What is it you wanted to show me anyway?"

"Just wait. It'll be fun."

The pair continued their walk. Making their way to the far edges of the rancher's world. "We are looking for small tracks in the walls," Twilight said, as he looked around.

"Like these?" The captain pointed to a wall with a track in it. Leading further into the canyon. And up the walls.

"Yes!" The rancher smiled as he dug through his bag. Pulling out a large object. "This is the spinner. And you are gonna have some fun with me." He grabbed the captain around the waist. "Just hold on to me!"

"Rancher What do you... AH"

Pulling the captain with him onto the spinning device sent it in motion towards one of the walls. The captain's grip tightened on the rancher's tunic immediately. As the spinner clung to the tracks as the pair of them began their travels along it. The rancher exclaimed excitedly as he gripped the captain tightly. Forcing the machine forward as the pair balanced.

"hold on tight!" The rancher felt the captain's grip on him tighten.

"I'm already holding on tight!"

"Wooo!" The rancher exclaimed as he pressed his foot into the device, forcing the contraption to expand rapidly leaping away from the wall and landing on another track.

They lept from wall to wall around a maze of tracks each jump making the rancher laugh.

Eventually, even the captain begain to laugh. "Woo!"

Leaping from wall to wall and around corners for some time until the sun settled into the horizon. The pair of them eventually came to a stop on a ledge above the canyon. An old chest left abandoned in the space. the captain leaned on it.

"Time is gonna kill us." The captain breathed through laughter.

"he can't kill us if he can't catch us." The rancher did too. Leaning against his knees and pointing outward with one of his hands in no particular direction.

And that. Made the captain really laugh.

#jester beloved #linked universe #corner answers with major #lu warriors #lu twilight #we need more spinner stories its an amazing piece of tech #i love it sm #ficlet requests #:) #man i am out of practice #linkeduniverse #writing #creative writing #when i tell you i spent a solid hour in the arbiters grounds just playing with it #beloved item #major writes #writing corner with major

[spoiledleaff]

leaaaaffffyyy !! it’s taken me much too long to decide on a prompt to send you, but i think i’ve finally decided on one !!

so, if you’re still writing for the inexperienced smut prompts, may i please request a little something with prompts 24 and 29 for dew/mist ? (i’ve become borderline addicted to the way you write their dynamic)

-💙💍

feliiiiiiiiix, my little british texan beloved, haha!! >:3c oh my goodness, of course i'd love to write some more dew/mist?? i adore them also, it's always lovely to be reminded i'm not the only water ghoul slut, haha! 💚

explicit ✿ cw ; mentions of tentacle dicks ✿ ftm he/him dew + intersex she/her mist ✿ wc ; 1.3k. terminology for dew includes ; clit + pussy/cunt + folds ✿ terminology for mist is honestly just a little bit of everything. dewdrop has a pre-transition body.

Despite the way that Mist is circling his defenseless form — naked and chilled from where he's left kneeling on the slab of altar, the only thing protecting his most intimate parts from the unwanted eye being a thin black sheet: satin — Dewdrop doesn't feel like prey.

There's determination coursing through his veins, hot and heavy in a way that makes the younger ghoul break out into a cold sweat; he wants to see this through.

"Take my virginity," he had asked, steeling himself in an effort to seem strong and more confident than he felt, "make me yours. Please."

To his childish glee — to his deep surprise — Mist had agreed with a cock of her head, a sharp-toothed grin, and a comment about how polite the little sin was and how adorable he looks begging.

(And how much cuter he'd be dropped to his knees.)

Now, on his knees and bare on some older altar that Mist had cornered the smaller ghoul against Lucifer knows how long ago, Dewdrop still doesn't feel like prey. The sharp barbs that decorate Mist's long tail flutter as she continues to circle him.

They're poisonous, Dewdrop knows, but they also glow softly in the dim light of the godforsaken ritual room they've found themselves in; it's a softly yellow glow, reflecting orange against the red and darker red colored furniture and objects. Dewdrop thinks it's cute despite it all.

Mist pauses, cocks her head again and laughs. Dewdrop realizes he must've said that aloud.

(He's still getting used to these new human vocal chords. They chime in at the strangest of moments.)

"You're adorable," Mist purrs, choosing that moment to slink her way on to Dewdrop's little altar slab.

Dewdrop chirps as he watches the way Mist's fins and gills flutter against the force of invisible wind. They're a beautiful color: partially transparent and sheer from where the membranes are loosely stretched between those predatory barbs of her. Her short hair tickles Dewdrop's nose, moon kissed curls kissing the outer curves of Dewdrop's nostrils. He thinks he might sneeze, realizes how unsexy that must be, holds it in before sneezing anyways. The sound echoes loudly against the low ceiling, but Mist's eyes twinkle fondly at Dewdrop's look of sheer confusion as to how his vessel could betray him at such a time.

"Sorry." Dewdrop shrinks into himself, his own vibrantly colored fins shudder with his embarrassment.

"Don't be." Mist sighs, dipping her head to nuzzle her tall horns against Dewdrop's. They rub together harshly, but, unlike Dewdrop's sneeze, the sound doesn't grate against his ears. "I never knew you could make such cute little noises."

"Me neither." Dewdrop pouts, turns away but ends up knocking his horns against Mist's, keeping them close. "Do all human bodies make such weird noises?"

"Well..." Mist chuckles quietly underneath her breath, taking a moment to untangle the curves of their respective horns from each other. "Everyone sneezes, but it's all a different sound depending on the vessel. Your's just so happens to sound like a newborn kitten."

(Mist places her hand over the clammy meat of Dewdrop's thigh, and the younger sin has to suppress another equally embarrassing noise at the cold touch.)

"A-ah." Shit. That's not exactly the voice of a ghoul who's more than proud in their current levels of confidence.

Mist's purr grows deeper — more mischievous — as those painted nails trace symbols through Dewdrop's skin, growing closer and closer to where those thighs are squeezed together tight.

"My naïve little pearl," Mist smiles and Dewdrop's never noticed that charming yellow tint to her fangs before, "oh, how you make me feel young again."

The safety blanket that was once the thin satin draped across Dewdrop's lap is delicately tugged away by pretty hands. Dewdrop can smell the musk of Mist's arousal, wants to somehow tattoo it into his nostrils, his lungs. The older ghoul hoists herself forward, her naked form now lays beside him, and Dewdrop can see the heavy weight of her cock trapped between her beautifully slick thighs.

(Idly, Dewdrop wonders if her slick is poisonous — if her scent is an aphrodisiac — because he suddenly wants to drown in her presence and her love. And what water ghoul wishes to drown?)

He gulps, and Dewdrop wonders if that sound too echoes off the basement walls. Mist's eyelashes flutter against the high arches of her cheeks, small bioluminescent freckles decorating the dark skin. She's flowing — she's fucking glowing — and Dewdrop wonders if it's a sign of beloved blasphemy or deceiving divinity. Quickly, he decides he doesn't care.

"Can't wait to make you mine, little droplet." She sighs against his temple, the curves of her breasts brush against Dewdrop's clavicle. The weight of her palm pushes against his hipbone; her touch is cold, and Dewdrop would rather freeze than be apart from the sin laid bare before him.

Mist uncrosses her legs and moves to straddle Dewdrop's knees, her nipples brushing over his cheek as she moves. Her flushed erection bounces free from the confines of her thighs, and Dewdrop just barely manages to catch a glimpse of the meat of her folds from behind the sheath of her cock. It curves deliciously towards her pierced naval, the veins are engorged along the underside of the tentacle. Her cock is flushed a deep purple, the skin of her sheath wrinkles slightly around the opening, stretching to accommodate the sheer mass of her erection.

Dewdrop's drooling; he can feel the way his clit throbs at the sight of Mist's dick, the way his virgin pussy clenches around nothing.

"Is that for me?" He finds the courage to ask, wide eyes staring at the dark, sticky fluid leaking from the tip of Mist's tentacle. His thighs squeeze tighter, and Mist notices with a soft smile.

"Of course, sweetheart." She purrs, smooth as wine down Dewdrop's throat. Her free hand reaches up to grope gently at Dewdrop's breasts, squeezing at his nipples and pulling mercifully. The younger ghoul melts in her cold touch, keening softly at the way she loves him. "I'm going to slide my cock inside that tight, aching cunt of yours, and I'm going to love you thoroughly from the inside out."

Dewdrop shudders, his chest bouncing softly in Mist's palm. She finds it cute, she tells him with that charming smile.

"Oh, fuck." Dewdrop shifts his weight, parting his thighs just enough for Mist's hand to slip in, touches him.

"That's the plan, Dewey." Mist chirps, and Dewdrop finds enough sass in his brain to tap his forehead against hers; he watches as Mist's cock bounces against her stomach, inky black smearing over the aquamarine jewels of her piercing. "I'm going to ruin your vessel's virginity, and I'm not going to stop until I've ravaged you with my love and worship."

"W-worship?" Dewdrop mewls as Mist's fingers tug on his clit, spreading his folds despite the semi-awkward angle. She leans in, kisses his cheek.

"Worship." She repeats with another smile, and the younger sin can feel the grooves of her teeth against his skin. "There's a reason I trapped you against an altar, little pearl."

Dewdrop groans, leans away from Mist's touch before gently pushing his palms to her sternum and chest, pushing her and guiding her down. They switch positions — Mist allows it with half lidded eyes and a crooked grin — and Dewdrop wastes no time in straddling her lap, eyeing the sight of her flushed tentacle with glazed eyes. He leans forward, and Mist's reach up to gently grip at the little ghoul's waist. Dewdrop's pushing fingers into his own sopping wet cunt without much thought, his hand roughly sliding over Mist's sternum to grip at her breast. Her cock now trapped inside the junction of Dewdrop's thigh, the tapered head grazing Dewdrop's heavy shaft.

"Wanna- I wanna touch you too," he gasps, breathless as he drowns, "wanna show you how I worship, Mist."

#spoiled writing #ficlet requests #ficlet #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost band fanfiction #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul #mist ghost #mist ghoulette #dewdrop ghost #dewdrop ghoul #mist/dewdrop #ghost #the band ghost

[blutopaz15]

Visual ficlet request! Heal our hearts that Zuppi broke!

It was drawn as the follow-up reunion after that scene where he finds her blade, but in this fluffy-ish version, instead of being gravely injured, she’s just temporarily knocked out or taking a post-battle nap when frantic Callum finds her. But however you interpret the drawing is cool 🤗

Ahhhh, numpty this is SUCH gorgeous artwork!!! I'm so happy to write a little something based on it!! have some soft and thoroughly cheesy knocked out rayla/frantic callum <3

He’s shaking when she wakes.

It’s not new: he’s held her like this before—for dear life, his grip practically bruising, everything in him trembling with panic—and for good reason, too…but it’s never been this bad, she thinks, feeling his heart pound against her cheek. 

Not even at the Pinnacle.

Not even at the Nexus. 

Rayla blinks bleary eyes open, trying to make sense of the gray sky dappled with flickers of magic above them, the field under her fingertips that that same spell had flung her far away to, the familiar smell of his scarf in her nose, the words Callum’s chanting in her ear like a prayer…

It’s not just that he’s shaking, she realizes after a few uneven breaths. 

It’s that he’s shaking her.

It’s her name he’s saying, and it’s getting louder. 

It’d been just a whisper when she’d first stirred, but he’s shouting now, desperate to rouse her. He’s propped her upright, hands seizing her shoulders…and her jumbled head is wide-awake, at least, even if the rest of her is catching up.

“Please, Rayla.” he begs, exhausted, tears falling fast against her scalp.

It takes effort—she’d gone down hard—but, feebly, Rayla reaches and closes her fist in the scarf at his neck, wanting to pull herself up, wanting to hold him as close as he’s holding her, wanting to catch his lips, even, with hers...but all her tugging is for naught. The scarf slips off his neck and into her lap, and he’s oblivious, sobbing against her forehead.

His voice cracks as he draws her close against his chest, shaking subsiding to rock her back and forth instead. “I can’t—I can’t lose you again. Please, Rayla—you have to stay with me.”

Weakly, her throat ragged, breath still knocked from her chest, she manages:

“H-hey, Sad Prince.”

Her name is a choked sob this time—a question, like he doesn’t dare to believe it—and then it’s a gasp once he holds her away, his mouth hanging agape as her open eyes meet his. He beams, trembling still, but she barely even gets to see him smile like that—all teary-eyed and tender and so heartachingly soft that it takes her breath away all over again—before he’s burying kisses in her hair, his lips humming and warm on her scalp. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, frantic kisses becoming frantic hands, gripping hurriedly up and down each limb. “Are you hurt?”

“I think—” she blinks at him, waiting to wince, but the only thing that pains her is squinting up at the brightening sky. It’s just her head, it seems, and the sting of the cut on her face that Callum’s fingertips have found. “Hit my head, maybe? But I think—I think I’m okay.”

“You’re bleeding.” Callum’s thumb traces the gash on her cheek, frown deepening when he finds the blood fresh and flowing, and then he searches his collar—for the scarf, she thinks—blinking and confused when he comes up empty-handed.

“Needed this,” she breathes with a muted snicker, offering him the scarf strewn across her lap, “for the luck.”

“I thought—” His fingers shake still, as he lifts the edge of his scarf to dab at the wound, and more tears slip out too, even just at the subtle way the red darkens with blood. “—I thought I lost you. I…I just got you back, and I thought—”

She presses her fingertip to his lips, and he lets her cut him off, his lips puckering against her in response, eyes shut and breath warm.

“It’s okay, Callum,” Rayla says, her hand slipping across his cheek, catching a few stray tears, and he lets the scarf fall from his hand to copy her, cradling her face in his palm still. “You haven’t lost me. I’m okay, and—” Gently, she guides his lips to hers. “—and I’m here.”

“I love you, Rayla,” he responds, like it's the first time—which it is, in such a long while. His voice is soft, and his lips find her forehead, and he cradles her against his chest once more. 

The shaking starts to still, and sunlight streams down around the clearing clouds. 

“I really do.”

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #ficlet requests #season 4 ficlets #i could not resist the cheese #<3

[lanymme]

Alright, first fill here.

The prompt, from a friend: Doctor doing gardening with Perfumer and Myrrh.

It’s not 100% on prompt but:

— — — — —

“Oh, good. Thank you for being punctual.” Perfumer smiles at her: faintly, warm, in the way she has when she’s busy thinking about something else but spares some of her attention for kindness.

“Ah, um, of course. I got your message.” Myrrh places the rack of fragrance vials she’d been carrying on the table where her mentor is setting up the diffuser. After more than six months of working here, her natural awkward has been overcome, at least in this moment, by the familiarity of the task before her. They go through this routine nearly every other day, whenever someone has a medically scheduled trip to the Garden, and it’s been at least a month since Myrrh has dropped something during this part of her duties.

35 days, actually. But who’s counting.

They’re in one of the small, simple gazebos that dot the convalescence garden: pretty, fragrant cedar wood, its open top forming a kind of trellis that has long been home to a dense tangle of plants so that it fits seamlessly with the rest of the garden. Perfumer told her she designed it that way for a sense of continuity and to bring nature closer to the Garden’s guests, even as the enclosure provides some necessary security to those that need it.

“Is there… a large group today? … ah, here.” She hands the lavender to Perfumer, who places it into the device. No Originium in their diffusers—they’re mechanical, Victorian. She doesn’t allow Originium devices to be part of the garden.

“No. Just one this time.”

She appreciates that Perfumer sends her messages informing her ahead of time if something is going to deviate from the routine. It’s one of many things Perfumer does to put the nervous systems of the people around her at ease, and Myrrh admires it deeply.

Perfumer slots the rack with the aroma stone on it into the machine with a final click. With a ratcheting whirr, it readjusts itself before stopping. Satisfied, she turns to Myrrh.

“There we are. Our guest today will be the Doctor, so I thought I would let you know ahead of time.” She keeps her eyes on Myrrh’s chin—another little demonstration of care. “Myrrh, could you please take charge of this guest? I think this is an excellent opportunity for you.”

She feels a spike of anxiety shoot through her. Someone so high-ranking… her? A trainee? She starts to wring her fingers together. “Um, I think—”

Perfumer is looking at her—kind, soothing, but firm, a little bit of the unflinching steel that lies below her velvet bearing letting itself be known.

“Myrrh, I would really like you to try. I’ll be right here, and you can ask me to help with any part of the process. If it comes to it, and you need me to take over, I can do that too.”

They’ve talked about this kind of thing before. She needs help to push things outside of her comfort zone. And… she trusts Perfumer. Lena.

“…Okay. Yeah. I’ll… yeah, I’ll do it.”

They both sit around the table. The sun coming through the dome is golden in the late afternoon, and the sound of the birds, the cool moisture of plant life, slowly helps her ease her nerves.

Perfumer had once told her that people can only maintain the same emotional state for about twenty minutes before the body shifts into a new state, and she takes it as a comfort to her nerves. She checks her tablet, and sees there’s about fifteen minutes left until the appointment.

She looks at Perfumer, who winks at her, knowingly.

She’s… so blessed to work here.

— — —

Right on schedule, they both receive the little chime from their tablets that someone with an appointment has entered the garden, and Myrrh presses the start button on the diffuser.

She swallows. She feels less jittery than before but…

A minute later, motion through the trees, the sound of moving cloth, and then the person comes around the corner.

The Doctor wears the same large Rhodes Island coat they always wear, the same featureless visor underneath. No skin is exposed.

She’s heard so many whispers about them that she doesn’t really know what to believe. But she knows they’re a genius tactician and researcher, that Dr. Kal’tsit refuses to talk about, and most of all she knows they way, way outrank her.

She stand up abruptly. “Oh! Welcome to the, to the… Convalescence Garden,” she finishes, lamely. She takes a hesitant step forward, and then pushes herself past the point of hesitation to walk out and meet them.

She can hear her blood in her ears as she approaches. Her mouth is dry. She doesn’t want to be here.

“Hello,” they say, in a soft, dry voice. “You’re… Myrrh, right? Thank you for your hard work. We’ve been able to forage more for medical resources, which cuts down on expenses and… anyway, yes. It’s been very helpful.”

“Hi! I’m… oh, I mean, you already know that… thank you! Sorry, um, can I take your jacket for? Do you…” She trails off, uncertain what she was about to say. “Sorry…”

Alarm bells are going off in her head, she’s messing everything up, she’s just not cut out for working with patients—

The Doctor tilts their head, gently. “Thank you for being so considerate of me. I’ll keep it on, but I really do appreciate the offer.” She can’t see an expression through their mask, but their voice is kind.

“Oh, okay! So…” she gestures toward the gazebo, and the Doctor nods, and starts walking.

Flustered as she is, focused on her own self, it’s only when she follows alongside the Doctor that she notices how slowly they walk. One step at a time—trudging, almost. Not stuff or uneven with injury, but measured, heavy. Their voice… they’re not old, though.

They reach the gazebo together.

“Perfumer. It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Doctor. How have you been?”

“Ahhh,” they say. “That’s a good question.”

Myrrh offers a chair, and they thank her.

Then they start to sit down, and Myrrh understands.

A sharp breath in, and then they lower themself down and back, breath tight, into the seat. When they make contact, they lie their back gingerly against the seat, and with a shudder of breath let out a bone-deep sigh. The tension isn’t gone, but they’re… settled.

Pain. They’re in terrible pain, she realizes, all of a sudden.

“It’s been a difficult day,” they say, weary, “to keep up appearances.”

And then it clicks.

“You don’t have to do any of that kind of thing here,” Myrrh finds herself saying. “It’s important that you express how you’re feeling so we can help you better. Are you alright if I adjust the blend? A little more Bennien’s Breath?”

“Ah. That sounds… lovely.”

“Of course.”

She goes to the back of the machine to adjust the dials. And she feels bold enough to try something else.

“While you relax, would like to see some of the new plants I’m experimenting with? I can tell you about my research if you’re interested.

“I think I would like that very much.”

Myrrh smiles. She catches the eye of her mentor.

Perfumer smiles back at her, proud, and she feels warm inside, happy, tapping the back of her thumb rhythmically against her hip to help the feeling and the understanding suffuse through her. She gets it.

This is the Convalescence Garden. And anyone that enters, no matter who they are, is her patient.

#ficlet requests #ficlet #my writing #arknights #perfumer #myrrh #Doctor

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

#steddie #stranger things #wayne munson #modern au #wayne likes to play match maker but unlike dustin he is good at it #steve harrington #eddie munson #implied ronance #platonic stobin #nurse steve harrington #my writing #request game #steve x eddie #ficlet