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iamnotoriginalphil · 8 months ago

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Teacher's Pet (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Professor Harkness takes on so few students. You're determined to become on. A non-magic AU with professor!Agatha.

Words: 7.4k

Warnings: Praise kink, possessiveness, obsessiveness, drinking, teacher/student relationship, age gap (but all over 18+), smut, fingering (R receiving), oral sex (R receiving), biting, Dom!Agatha, sub!R, power imbalance, unhealthy dynamics

You’d heard the whispers around campus about Professor Harkness’s class. The rumours were passed around like a ghost story told under the cover of night at camp. You stored them, collected each one like a gem, richer for every word you were gifted by the rumour mill. Drunk students would try one up one another at house parties, wanting to share the worst of her and win the competition.

You were fascinated with the legend of her before you ever laid eyes on her.

It was at a faculty party, your history professor extending an invitation to all of his most promising students. You’d shown up, expecting nothing but other old men, ruing the day the students grew so rowdy, passing around stories about their own college days when they showed far more respect to their professors than your lot ever did.

Instead, you’d found her, nursing a glass of red wine in the library, a heavy book open in her palm. She glanced up, piercing blue eyes settling on you with disinterest, and yet you felt like you’d been struck by lightning. You took a deep breath as her eyes left you, going back to the book in her hand, and made your way further into the room.

Your finger trailed over the spines of the book, most leather bound and weighty, older than the mess of paperbacks in your dorm room. Scanning the titles, you realised each one was on World War I. You wrinkled your nose, continuing on.

You knew you should have been trying to network with some of the most eminent professors in the history department, but now you were finding it hard to break free from the woman’s gravity. So you stayed, looking over the books, trying to find something that would suggest your professor wasn’t as boring as you suspected he was. And if you kept sneaking glances at the other woman, then it was an added bonus to your evening. Dark hair and pale skin, red lips curling up at the corner, dressed in clothes that must have cost more than your entire wardrobe combined, she was the most wonderful thing to look at in that room.

She did not pay you any attention.

“Ah, there you are.”

You glanced up, your professor swaggering through the door, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingertips. In the corner of your eye, you saw the woman tilt her head in his direction.

“Oh good. I’m so glad the two of you found each other,” he said.

You looked over at the woman, finding her staring down your professor with a look of absolute disdain. Clasping your hands in front of oyur body, you waited for some kind of explanation. Your professor drew closer, the bounce in his step seemingly suggesting he hadn’t noticed the way the woman was looking at him.

“Agatha, let me introduce you to my best student.”

He scooped you up on his way, the hand on the small of your back directing you towards her. You’d done your best to keep your distance from her, not sure she’d appreciate you interrupting her. Now, propelled towards her, a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety curdled in your stomach into something you didn’t like.

When he said your name, those blue eyes focused on you. You wouldn’t say there was interest there, but it certainly was something more than the disdain she’d shown him.

“Agatha’s interests lie more in historical folklore surrounding witchcraft,” he told you.

“Oh,” you said, “I was hoping to look at that for my senior thesis.”

“Agatha Harkness,” she said, eyebrow raising, holding a hand out to you.

You grasped it in yours, her warm skin soft where it met your palm. It was like an electric shock went through you from her touch while you tried to fit this view of a woman with the figure of legend you’d been collecting stories on for the last few years at college.

“Don’t you go trying to poach my best student, Agatha,” you professor tutted, “I’m still trying to convince her to instead look at something more modern and practical.”

“You believe another World War I scholar is practical?” she asked, the drawl of her voice letting you know exactly what she thought of that opinion.

“I would say there’s more need for them in the workforce than witches,” he replied, still good-naturedly, but his gaze had hardened.

“We should talk,” she said to you, turning her head back to you, blocking your professor out of the conversation.

“I’d like that,” you said, knowing you sounded breathless and probably too eager, but you weren’t about to miss this opportunity.

She finally let your hand go, fingers stroking softly along the length of your palm. Your lips parted and for just a moment her gaze lingered there before looking back to your professor.

“You may go now,” she told him, not bothering to keep it behind the cover of polite respectability.

He sputtered out some argument. She rolled her eye, placing a hand on the small of your back, so different from when his hand had been there, and led you out of the door. Eyes followed the two of you, most focused on her, a ripple of something going through the rest of the party. She pushed the front door open, leading you into the cool air of the night.

“So,” she said, leaning back against the railing of the porch, “you’re interested in witchcraft, are you?”

“Yes,” you replied, softly, almost embarrassed, and yet certain in your conviction.

“You should know that oaf is taking such an interest in you because you’re such a pretty young thing,” she said, “his last favourite is now positioned somewhere nice like Yale or Cambridge and he keeps taking the credit for putting her there.”

“I have no interest in World War I,” you said, hoping that was answer enough.

“Clever girl.”

The thrill of her praise would sustain you long after the party was over.

“If you’re serious about pursuing witchcraft for your senior thesis, come by my office tomorrow morning with a proposal,” she said.

She maintained eye contact as she took a long sip from her wine, her lipstick leaving a mark on the glass. You couldn’t stop yourself watching her, already under her spell. She passed the glass to you, half drunk, and turned to walked down the steps.

“Don’t disappoint me,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing in the night.

You drained the last of the wine from her glass and left it there on the wooden floor of the porch. You returned home without bothering to take your leave of your professor, knowing he wouldn’t matter by that time tomorrow. You were going to give her the best proposal she’d ever seen, of that you were determined.

She agreed to oversee your senior thesis on historical folklore of witchcraft.

You learnt very quickly that Professor Harness’s demanding nature wasn’t an overblown rumour. She expected excellence from you. Late nights and early mornings, you spent so much time with you nose in your books the outside world stopped feeling real. Your fingers had grown ink stained and your eyes ached from the strain of reading such small type.

Every meeting, she sent you home with a new stack of books, expecting you to be there again in a few days having read them all, ready to discuss every little detail in her office for hours on end. She took up most of your waking hours, and when you did manage to snatch some sleep, she haunted your dreams.

You hadn’t gotten over the way lightning had struck at your first meeting.

Her office had turned into a sanctuary for you. You’d rush in, an armful of books almost tumbling to the floor before you threw them down into one of her chairs and curling up on the sofa she kept flush to the wall under the window. Some days you were there from the moment she arrived until long after the sun set, just reading and taking notes.

The office itself was warm, sometimes overly so, the sun coming through the window at just the right angle to heat the air. Her desk was large, imposing, the perfect symbol for the woman who had become legend around campus. Bookshelves were overflowing with all kinds of books. Cheap paperbacks, hardcovers, leather-bound, in pristine condition and falling apart. Some she’d let you pour over but leave behind at the end of the night, others she sent you off with. All you knew was you wanted the chance to read every single one.

Sharing the space with her was just as nerve inducing as it was the first time. You became so aware of yourself, wanting to impress her. When she’d sit beside you, the sofa cushions dipping until you felt yourself slip towards her, you’d grow so still, trying to not touch her, scared of what that would do to you. Sometimes, she lent forward to look at the page you were reading and her dark hair would brush your skin.

There were times when you thought she might know what you were thinking. The way you felt out of control around her. Your need to impress her. Her gaze would linger just a fraction of a moment longer than was appropriate, assessing every inch of you. Sometimes her fingertips would graze over the skin of your cheek, or she’d grasp your chin, or she’d gently move your hair out of your face. Hours spent together, and you could never tell how she felt about you or your work.

It only made you try harder.

It wasn’t until two months in that your friends decided to take matters into their own hands. You’d just returned from a full day studying in her office when a knock sounded on your door. Stifling a yawn, you pulled the door open.

“Oh, so you are still alive,” you friend said, shoving past you into your tiny dorm room.

“Hello to you too,” you said.

“There’s a party tonight. You’re coming. Don’t even bother arguing. No one has seen you since you started studying with the witch,” she said, picking up a banana on your desk that had begun to turn brown, “seriously, does she keep you chained up or something?”

You weren’t about to dignify that with an answer. Not that the thought of being bound by Professor Harkness was one that you hated. It just wasn’t worth the time explaining that.

“I have so much work I still need to do,” you said.

“You’ve been working too hard. Come on, it’ll be fun. You still remember what fun is like, right?”

In the end, you let her drag you to the party after raiding your wardrobe for something more party appropriate. Standing, clutching the red solo cup full of something that burnt as it went down, you watched the game of ping pong going on.

“I’d be terrified if I had to spend all that time with her,” some guy was saying to you.

“She’s not that scary,” you said, already regretting your decision to come.

“Nah. I heard she made some guy piss himself with just a look,” he said, swaying closer to you.

“She’s not like that,” you said, shaking your head, “sounds like that guy just has poor bladder control.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he said, leaning closer until his sour breath washed over your face, “wanna come upstairs so you can tell me what she’s really like?”

“No thank you,” you said, shoving him away form you.

“Whatever,” he spat, “frigid bitch.”

“So what’s she actually like?” your friend said, taking the drunk guy’s place when he swung away from you.

“Quiet, exacting, demanding,” you replied, “she expects excellence.”

“Sounds exhausting,” she said.

“No, no, it’s great. I love it. She’s… great,” you said, looking down into your cup, swirling the liquid in it, “she’s kind of brilliant.”

“Careful. You sound like you’re in love with her,” your friend laughed.

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped.

“Maybe she’s done a spell on you. You know everyone says she’s an actual witch? She’s certainly mean enough,” she said.

“She’s not,” you snapped, “seriously, all those rumours are made up by sad little people who feel inferior whenever they see a smart woman because they know they can’t ever live up to her.”

“She growled like a dog at some guy who cut her off as she was walking,” she said.

“People make up such stupid lies,” you said.

“Someone has video of her insulting some students. It went viral on TikTok,” she said.

“They probably deserved it. She has standards,” you said.

“I’m just saying, be careful with her. Maybe she’s trying to recruit you to her coven, or maybe she’s hoping to sacrifice you in some ritual to get more power,” she said.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Downing the last of your drink, you crumpled the cup and flung it aside.

“I’m going home. I have too much work to be getting on with for this,” you said.

“Hey, no, come on. I’ll stop talking about her,” she said.

You shook her hand off you.

“I’ll see you around.”

You ignored her as she shouted after you, letting yourself out through the back gate. Curling your arms around your body, you strode off down the sidewalk. The night air held a chill to it, the slow drip of autumn beginning to give way to winter. You tipped your head back to look at the night sky, so dark, the moon just beginning to wax.

You let your feet lead you back towards your dorm building, wandering through the night and the shadows. The air was crisp in your lungs and you let yourself breath in deeply. You should have been home, reading up on the intersect of witch trails with gynophobia in the Renaissance, but instead you had wasted time on a bunch of drunk idiots for nothing.

“You’re out late.”

You startled, whirling around, heart thumping in your chest. Stepping out of the shadows, hands in her pockets, Professor Harkness looked like the devil come to collect your soul. You’d give it willingly if only she asked for it.

“I was at a party,” you said.

“You should be careful,” she said, taking slow steps towards you, “pretty young thing like you all alone at night. Anything could happen.”

The way she smiled made you feel as if she was the wolf and you the sheep, the prey to her predator. You were desperate to let her sink her teeth deeply into you.

“Nothing that interesting happens to me,” you said, voice quiet.

“Come, pet,” she said, hand landing on the small of your back, “I’ll walk you home. Can’t have something happen to you. I’ll feel so much guilt.”

You let her lead you back towards campus, the bright lights beckoning you home. You didn’t ask how she knew where to take you, so focused on the feeling of her hand splayed over your back, the warmth of her skin seeping through your thin shirt and into your skin.

“I suppose I’ve forgotten what it is to be young. I assumed you’d be curled up in bed, reading the texts I gave you,” she said, “of course you’d be out on a Friday night at a party.”

“My friend dragged me with her. Apparently I’ve been missing in action since I started working with you. She said I needed to have fun,” you said.

“I thought we were having fun,” she said, voice a low rumbled against your ear.

“We are. I am,” you said, so quick it brought a smirk to her lips when you turned your face towards her, “I shouldn’t have gone tonight. It was a waste of time.”

“Have you been drinking?” she asked. When you didn’t answer, she lent closer, “I won’t tell anyone if you have.”

“I’m over 21,” you whispered.

“Such a grown up girl,” she said, “I can smell the cheap vodka on you.”

She paused in front of your dorm building, warm light spilling out the entrance. Both hands came up to cup your cheeks, calloused skin scraping against yours, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. She lent forward again, right into your personal space. Her fingertips stroked over your soft skin as she pulled them away before her index finger gently tugged on your lower lip.

“Sweet dreams, kitten,” she whispered before disappearing back into the shadows of the night. If not for your racing heart you might have thought you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

She didn’t mention it when you slunk into her office on Monday, passing you a cup of coffee without a single word, but a raised eyebrow. You took it with grace, curling up on her sofa, opening the book in your lap. When she settled beside you, feet kicked up on her coffee table, you didn’t even look at her out of the corner of your eyes.

Her fingers were soft as they brushed your hair over your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. Lingering on the curve of your jaw, you shivered, dragging your gaze over to her. The corner of her lips pulled up for a fleeting moment.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You did, the words spilling over your words like secrets, softly spoken in the confessional of her office. You lent back, watching you, legs spread, interest in her blue eyes. Her finger ran along the length of her lip, intent as she watched you talk yourself out. Once you were done, her hand came to cradle the back of your head, nails scraping over your scalp.

“It appears as if your weekend wasn’t totally wasted,” she said.

“No,” you said.

“Good.” Her lips pressed together to repress her smile, “keep reading.”

Her long fingers tapped the book in your lap and she left you alone to your reading. You snuck a glance at her before bowing your head and trying not to think about what this meant.

Nor the way you yearned for more.

From that day, you noticed a change. Her hands would linger on you, her touch growing familiar and yet no less exciting. You stayed later and later, curling up on her sofa, growing comfortable as you waded through history with her. She guided you, shaping your research into something you could be proud of as you poured over books and wrote long paragraphs for her to read. Shared meals and shared drinks, you’d sit on the floor of her office, take out containers scattered over the coffee table. You shrunk further away from your friends, finding their conversations inane and childish, drunken antics no longer fun but puerile as you worked on something far more important. You lost yourself in that room, an addict who needed their fix every day or else you were given over to malaise.

She indulged your need for her attention, her open door policy lasting 24 hours a day. She seemed to enjoy how much you wanted to share the same air as her. Every time you said something, your eyes would turn to her, desperate for her approval which she freely gave. You spent time watching the way her fingers traced over words on the page in front of you, trying not to think about how much you wanted her to do the same thing across your bare skin. Her praise became greater, more frequent, each one hard won for, and each one treasured like the most precious of gifts, hoarding them to revisit every night before you fell asleep.

You hadn’t realised how comfortable you’d grown in her presence until the afternoon you realised you’d fallen asleep on the sofa as you tried to craft the perfect sentence. Your eyelashes fluttered and you were slow to blink your eyes open. Draped in a soft blanket, the warm air heated from the small space heater Professor Harkness had dragged into the office, you glanced around the room. It was darker than you’d remembered, the window showing a night sky while the lamps offered a soft refuge against the dark.

Something tightened around your ankle. You turned your attention towards it. Professor Harkness was sitting on the other end of the sofa, your bare feet resting in her lap. The book in her hand was left unattended as she stared down at you, a confusing expression on her face. Her grip on your ankle tightened again and you offered a lazy smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop off,” you said, voice rough with sleep.

“I’ve been wearing you out,” she said.

With the softness of sleep making it difficult to school your features, your cheeks heated at the implication. Not that you would have minded. In fact, you wished that was the reason you were so tired.

Her finger trailed along the arch of your foot. You shifted, the touch a tickle. She did it again, smiling down at you before she let you go.

“Sleep, if you have to. You’re no use to me if you’re too tired to function,” she said.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling around you.

The thought that she’d placed it over you for your comfort made your head spin. To then sit by you, to welcome any part of you into her personal space as you slept was even worse. Your chest ached and your heart clenched and you wanted to crawl into her lap.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should take a break. I’ve been working you too hard,” she said.

You would let her work you harder if it meant more moments like this.

“Come, pet. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You were helpless as you followed her. She drove, the car feeling so close with the dark night pressing in against the windows. You tried not to watch her, the hands you’d been fantasising about controlling the machine with such power.

The restaurant was nice. Intimate. Small tables and soft lamps offering pools of light, plenty of shadows to hide in. The maître d' seemed to recognise her, leading her to a table at the back. You lowered into your seat, taking note of the candle on the table between the two of you. The entire thing felt like a dream.

“Um, I’m not sure I can afford this place,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving off your worry, “I’m paying.”

“Oh.” You clasped your hands in your lap, “thank you, Professor.”

“Why do you always call me that?” she asked.

“Call you what?” you asked.

“Professor,” she replied, “I have a name.”

“Sorry. Do you not like it? I was trying to be respectful,” you said, anxiety taking hold of you.

“Agatha is fine,” she said.

“Okay,” you replied, “Agatha.”

Her smile was self satisfied and she lent back in her chair, eyes sweeping over you. You let her drink her fill of you, not sure what she was looking for, but wanting to give it to her. You’d give her anything she asked for.

“I must admit, I wasn’t sure about taking on a student. I usually don’t. But I’m glad I did. You’ve been quite the diligent student,” she said.

“I’m glad you did too,” you said.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said.

Before you could say anything else, the waiter paused by the side of the table. She ordered for you, glancing over as she did so as if ensure you didn’t argue. You weren’t about to. You’d do whatever she wanted as long as it pleased her.

The wine was expensive, full bodied, better than any other you’d had. It stained her lips and you wanted to lick it free from where it clung to her skin. The discussion over dinner was about the things you’d read that day, listening to the way she so easily connected one story to another. Her mastery was awe inspiring. It was easy to ignore the romantic setting and the wine that kept being poured for you as she spoke, her husky voice doing something delicious to you.

It wasn’t until dessert that it all came crashing back into you. The creme brûlée in front of her was beautiful. The spoon cracked the top and she took a bite, slowly pulling the spoon from between her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a low moan reverberated through her chest. Your cheeks heated, thighs pressing together, turning breathless. A slow smile spread over her face and when her eyes opened again they were smouldering.

“You must try this. No other place does one as good,” she said.

“Oh, uh…” You looked down at the tiramisu in front of you.

“Come here, pet.”

She held out a spoon of the creme brûlée towards you. You lent forward, not quite able to believe what was happening. She placed it in your mouth, blue eyes holding yours over the top of the candle’s flame. It felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as she drew the spoon back.

The small noise of pleasure that came from you had her gaze lowering to your lips. Your tongue darted out, chasing the sugar on your lips. Her eyes darkened and she lent closer over the table.

“How’s that, pet?” she asked, husky, a rasp of a voice.

“It’s delicious,” you said, breathless and high pitched, a perfect opposite to her.

“It is, isn’t it?”

You watched in fascination as she scooped up some more, her tongue licking the spoon clean. Your breath hitched. Under the table, her foot gently brushed against your shin. Her blue eyes twinkled with something you wanted to drown in.

“Eat your dessert, kitten,” she said, “then I’ll take you home.”

You did as you were told, not even tasting coffee and cream of your own dessert. You were so focused on watching her devour her’s, indecent in how much pleasure she took from it. You were squirming in your seat as she finished, feeling on fire.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. You wanted her so much and she was just… making it worse.

She seemed not to realise the exact effect she was having on you as she led you out of the restaurant and back into her car. You stared out the window, not needing to be caught staring any more than you already had. It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine cut off that you realised something.

“This isn’t my home,” you said, staring up at the large two story house in front of you.

“No, it’s mine,” she said.

“What?”

You whipped around to stare at her. She wasn’t even looking back, the door open as she stepped out of the car.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked.

You scrambled to follow her, almost tripping over yourself in your haste. You weren’t sure what you expected, reproach for following her into her house or to be welcomed in with warmth. What you weren’t expecting was to follow her into the back where the kitchen was.

“Do you want tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, “what am I doing here?”

“Having tea,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“And then?” you asked.

“Going to sleep. I can’t trust you to do that on your own,” she replied, “clearly.”

“I really am sorry about that,” you said.

“Stop apologising,” she snapped.

Your lips formed the word sorry again before you stopped yourself. Instead, you watched her boil the water for the tea. Your confusion was mixing with your yearning, leaving you unable to do anything but wait for her to tell you what was going on. Pouring the water into two mugs, the strings from the teabags resting against the sides, she looked over her shoulder at you again.

“Come on then.”

You followed her with the two mugs of tea into her living room. It was comfortable, almost like a more lived in version of her office. Sitting beside her on the couch, comfortable and well loved, you watched her lean forward and place one mug on the coffee table. She passed the other to you, fingers brushing together, looking at you from under her eyelashes.

“There you go, kitten,” she murmured.

“Thanks.”

You looked down into the cup, steam rising from the surface of the steeping tea. Your fingers fiddled with the string of the teabag. Her hand landed on your thigh, startling you.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she said.

“I don’t know what I’m going here,” you said, dragging your eyes up to her.

“Do you not want to be here?” she asked.

“No, no I do,” you said, rushing through the words, “it’s just…”

Her hands were gentle as they took the cup from your hands, placing it down beside hers. You could only watch as she swung her leg over yours, settling herself in your lap. Both hands cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking along your cheekbone.

“Agatha,” you whispered.

“Yes, pet?” she asked.

“I want you,” you confessed.

“I know.”

Her lips pressed against yours, scorching as she consumed your very soul. Your hands hovered above her waist, scared that to touch her was to break the moment, that it would make her come to her senses. She kissed you deeper, nails digging into the skin of your cheeks as she tipped your head back. Her tongue swept into your mouth. She was so warm when your hands made contact with her body.

She moaned into your mouth, filthy and hot, making you claw at her. She tasted of the burnt sugar of the creme brûlée and the wine you’d split with her. She kissed deeper still, stealing your breath. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of her pants. Shoving your hands up, you felt the soft skin of her bare back against your palms, your fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of her.

Her hands slipped into your hair, shoving it out of the way, tugging on it in a way that had you mewling into her mouth. You felt her grin against your lips before she lent back, staring down at you. Her eyes had darkened, her lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

You shook your head before surging up to capture her lips in another kiss. Her fingers tightened in your hair and she made a small noise as your nails ran down her spine. You felt out of control, wanting more from her, the way you always did. There was something about her that drove you crazy, that had always driven you crazy. Even before you’d met her she’d consumed you.

She sat back again, hands slipping from your hair. You watched as her hands crossed over her body, slowly peeling her shirt off her body. You were dumbstruck, watching her with wide eyes and heaving breath. She flung the shirt aside, shaking her hair back from her face.

“Are you going to touch me, pet?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Your hands slid around her ribcage, feeling the way her skin moved as she inhaled. She was so warm against your palms, real and there with you. You were slow as you trailed your fingers up, brushing the underside of one cloth covered breast. Your eyes darted up to her face, finding her watching you instead of your hands.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

You cupped them, feeling the weight of them in your hands. Leaning forward, your lips brushed over the curve of one then the other, vulnerable skin soft. Your tongue dragged over it, tasting her. She made a small noise, a rumbling in her chest, hands coming up to curl around the back your neck. She pressed you closer.

Reaching around, you released her from her bra, tugging the straps down her arm. Your mouth was on her again, exploring, until your lips wrapped around a nipple. The noise she made was one of approval, back arching towards your mouth. When you sucked, gentle at first, testing the waters, she pressed you closer again. You wanted to please her so badly.

With your hand, you rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your name sounded so sweet on her lips, urging you to continue. Her soft sighs and the way her hips rolled against you only made you want more. You wanted to worship at the alter of her body, to take communion from between her legs, to whisper your confessions into her skin. You wanted to drown in her.

Fingers tilted your chin up, your mouth popping free with an indecent noise. She chuckled, pressing her lips to yours again, teeth sinking in to your lower lip until you tasted the coppery tang of blood. You whined, surprised at how much you enjoyed the sensation of the pain mixed with the pleasure.

You made a pained noise as she climbed off your lap, standing half naked in front of you. Your fingertips skated over her skin. Without a word, she pulled you up off the couch and tugged you towards the stairs. You followed, willing to go wherever she wanted, as long as you could keep touching her.

She paused halfway up, turning to grasp your face in her hands, kissing you again like she couldn’t stop herself. You whimpered into her mouth, hands on her bare waist. She dragged you the rest of the way up, pinning you to the wall at the top of the stairs. You groaned, pressing her closer, wanting her everywhere. One leg slotted between yours and the noise you made would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so lost in her. Her thigh pressed against you, just enough pressure to have you grinding down, seeking out more.

“So needy, pet,” she murmured against your lips.

“Want you,” you managed to choke out before her tongue was in your mouth again and you were rolling your hips against her thigh.

“When I fuck you, it won’t be against the wall,” she said.

She tugged you further down the hall, slamming open a door to what you hoped would be your final destination. Her lips were on yours again, possessing you, guiding you where she wanted you. She paused, just long enough to tear your t-shirt from your body, flinging it aside.

Her lips trailed down your neck, latching on at your pulse point. You whined, tipping your head back to give her more access. You felt on fire. Her hands were skating over your bare skin, nails dragging in a delicious way, making you gasp out her name in a plea for more.

Rather than give in and give you instant gratification, she took her time with you. Her hands were slow but sure as she peeled your clothes from your body. It was the same level of precision she used in her work, getting exactly what she wanted. Only this time, you were the thing she wanted.

When she lowered you onto the bed, you were bare before her. Your usual self consciousness was washed away in the tide of your longing for her. Her eyes swept over you, lingering, taking their time to drink you in in your entirety. Her fingers played with your nipples, watching with an academic interest as you arched up, your small whines doing nothing to spur her on.

Holding your eyes, she pressed kisses to your skin, soft and slow, making her way down your body, lingering the closer she got to the apex of your thighs. You trembled, fingers clenching in the comforter.

“You keep your hands right there, pet,” she said, staring up your body.

You nodded, willing to agree to anything she asked of you in that moment.

“Good girl,” she said before her lips pressed to the crease where your hip met your thigh. You inhaled sharply and she grinned. Her teeth sunk in, leaving a dark bruise on your skin as she sucked on it.

She hovered for a moment, her breath ghosting over where you wanted her the most. You pulsed, suspended in the moment before her mouth made contact with you. Her hands curled around your thighs, holding you open for her as her tongue ran through your folds. You cried out, hips bucking up into her mouth.

She chuckled, the vibrations going through you in a way that made you feel like you were being undone. Her tongue teased you again before pressing against your bundle of nerves. You whined, fingers clenching, her name a prayer on your lips. She pinned your hips to the bed, giving your clit a harsh suck. The feeling ricocheted through you, fire curling in your veins, your muscles tightening.

She feasted on you. Relentless, unforgiving, refusing to give you a chance to breathe. She was like a woman possessed, singular in her intent, putting everything into her goal. She was taking you apart, slowly and surely, and all you could hope was that she’d put you back together again when she was done.

Her fingers slid inside of you, so easily it would be embarrassing under other circumstances. They were slow at first, teasing and never giving you quite enough. But then she curled them, pressing into the special place no one but you had managed to find. Your legs trembled.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“No you don’t, pet,” she said, “you don’t come until I say so.”

“But-“ you tried to argue.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” she asked, cutting you off, thumb running in slow circles over your clit.

“Yes,” you replied, whiney and desperate.

“Then don’t you dare come without my permission,” she said, face lowering back to your throbbing core.

Her tongue was back on your clit as her fingers continued to stroke inside of you. You trembled, shaking, trying so hard to stave off your oncoming orgasm. Tears pricked in your eyes, fingers clenching tightly on the hold you had on the sheets until it hurt. She kept going, ruthless in what she wanted. She had complete control over you.

It was so close, you could practically taste it. You were straining, doing everything you could not to tip over the edge. She was a master of your body, able to play it to perfection. Her tongue kept dragging over your clit, sucking on it, fingers twisting and curling, dragging out every iota of pleasure your body held.

“Agatha,” you sobbed, “please.”

Blue eyes stared up at you, dark and dangerous.

“Please,” you begged.

Her fingers gave another slow stroke. You whimpered, your entire body on fire, wound tight as you did what you were told. You always did what she told you to do.

“Go on, pet,” she said, “keep your eyes on me and you can come.”

You let out a relieved breath. When you let yourself go, the wave of pleasure crashed into you, wave after wave. She held your gaze the entire time, drinking in the way pleasure contorted your body. The way you cried out her name felt holy, a cry of worship as you stared into her eyes.

When she drew back, she held her hand up, tongue running up her fingers. You reached out, grasping her wrist. She let you pull her hand towards you, your lips sliding down her fingers, lapping your arousal from her skin. Her eyes smouldered as she watched you, a pleased smirk on her lips.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you pet,” she murmured, gently stroking you hair with her other hand. The pulse of pleasure that went through you was bright and intense. You liked being her good girl.

Your tongue swirled over each digit, cleaning her up as best you could. A flicker of fondness passed over her face before she pulled it away from you. Leaning forward, her lips pressed against yours, rough and intense, passionate in ways you hadn’t experienced with anyone else. It made you feel wanted, desired, the way you always felt wanted with her. After all, she’d agreed to take you on for your senior thesis when she so rarely took people on.

“Alright, kitten,” she whispered against your lips, “let’s see how many times I can make you come tonight before you beg me to stop.”

When you awoke in the morning, deliciously sore and definitely sated, you rolled over in the large bed, hands reaching for the warm body you were expecting to find beside you. All you found was cool sheets. Squinting your eyes open, the light was still kept at bay from the drawn curtains, but the room was empty of another person. You sat up, rumpled and unsure.

You slipped out of the bed, tugging your clothes back on but your feet bare. You were slow as you eased the door open, padding out onto the landing you’d paid no attention to the night before. On silent feet, you descended to the lower level of the house, following the sound you could just hear.

Agatha was in the kitchen, her back to you, encased in a flowing silk robe. You blinked, pausing as you drank her in. Her hair, wild and out of control, long fingers tapping on the counter, legs bare where they peeked out the bottom of the robe. She was breathtaking in the morning light.

“You’re staring, kitten,” she said, voice still rough from sleep.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping into the kitchen proper.

She turned her head, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyebrows drew together and the corner of her lips turned down.

“Why are you dressed?” she asked, stepping away from the counter, “were you planning on sneaking out in the morning?”

“No, I… I wasn’t sure what was appropriate,” you said.

“Please tell me this wasn’t your first time,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said, “although I suppose it is my first time with my professor,”

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Anxiety was seeping into your body now.

“I thought you might want me to leave.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, displeasure painting her features.

“Come here.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going to ask again, pet,” she said, voice hardened, “come. Here.”

On soft feet you approached her. With sure hands she caught you, fingers pressing into your hips as she held you tightly. Your eyes darted around her face before dragging down. Bare skin met your eyes until the shadow of the robe obscured her from your vision. She was naked under the robe and there was still a part of you that wanted to unwrap her like a present.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, gaining your attention again.

Your eyes snapped up to hers and you shook your head.

“I thought I’d made it obvious that the only place I want you is with me,” she said, “the only person I want you thinking about is me. The only person I want touching you is me.”

You trembled.

“Do you want that too, kitten?” she asked, drawing closer.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Then you’re mine, pet,” she said, her nose skimming along the curve of your jaw.

Her hand squeezed your hips and her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw before she pulled away. Your breath caught and you felt lightheaded. You ached to pull her back to you, to lose yourself in the feeling of her body and her skin and her mouth. Would you ever stop feeling this way with her? You didn’t think so.

“Now, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been pushing you too hard lately. You can have the weekend off,” she said.

“Oh.” You were still trembling from the brush of her lips and her words, “thanks.”

“So you won’t be needing those clothes,” she said, flippant and dismissive, “you certainly won’t be in them long.”

You flushed, cheeks heating. There was a twist to her lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes. You slipped closer to her again, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Whatever you want, Agatha,” you whispered.

“All I want is you, pet,” she replied.

Turns out, all you wanted was her too.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness #agatha all along

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ktownshizzle · 3 months ago

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k's MYG masterlist

for the yoongi lovers, the yoongi missers... stories about our honey boy.

Legend: [ 𐙚 ] fluff [ ♡ ] smut [ ☁ ] angst [ ✿ ] suggestive [ シ ] comedy [ 🜲 ] personal favorite [ ☆ ] reader favorite

IDOL AUs

Wild & Free 🜲 - [completed two-shot] BF2L, coworkers. permission to dance era. revolves around the infamous "Yoongi Marry Me" catchphrase. Jimin thinks he is cupid. 𐙚♡☁

Terms & Conditions 🜲 - [ongoing series] office romance set during yoongi’s alternative military service. slowburn and suddenly they fuck a lot. glimpse into what it could be like as an idol's gf. Jungkook is into MC's army bestie. 𐙚♡☁

Love & Lullabies ☆ - [ongoing series] DILF Yoongi. MC is Namjoon's BFF who enlists her help to be the nanny of yoongi's son with lee sung kyung. mental health themes. yoongi is down baddd and attempts to rizz up MC many times before she gives in. 𐙚♡☁

Honey & Citrus ☆ - [ongoing series] strangers to lovers. coffee shop meet-cute. for all my corporate girlies. basically revolves around a caffeine-induced war of who pays first. valentine's day first date. 𐙚

Watermelon & Suga - [completed one-shot] Boat Sex! Inspired by the d-day tour in phuket vlog, yoongi meets, you the island girl of his dreams. Did I mention Boat sex? Filthiest thing on this masterlist, but also surprisingly sweet. 𐙚♡

NON-IDOL AUs

Friends & Fools ☆ - [completed one-shot] BFF idiots to lovers. set all in the night of their HS reunion. everyone knows they're perfect for each other, except them apparently. 𐙚✿

A Christmas Encore - [completed two-shot] estranged friends almost lovers to lovers. hobi as MC's fuck buddy. super hallmark movie inspired. small snow covered town + a concert to save the cultural center! 𐙚♡☁

That Trickey Hickey - [completed one-shot] F2L. yoongi gets drunk and gives MC a hickey. honestly that's it. oh yeah, cameo from the maknaes who are literal clowns. 𐙚✿シ

CROSSOVER

Nerd & Nerdier 🜲 - [completed series] love triangle situation with MC + jeon wonwoo of SVT. roommates who both decide they want you. there's a rap battle. plus lots of cute dates. self-indulgent to the max. if you love both these dudes, you just found your fic and you're welcome. 𐙚♡シ☁

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lmnrrtt · 3 months ago

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explaining why hashirama killing himself makes perfect sense to me, using all the plot holes to my advantage. let's start with the fact that no one talks about how hashirama died.

neither about a happy death in old age, nor about a heroic tragic tearful death for the sake of the village like they all love in konoha. there are no legends about someone who was able to kill that same legendary Hashirama or a mystery that everyone has been racking their brains over for many generations, no one just mentions his death. for me personally, there is only one conclusion here - his death is too shameful for someone who was deified and elevated to some unattainable god-like being. of course smth like disease can be considered shameful as well in the shinobi world, so let's move on to the reasons that could push hashirama to the decision to kill himself. the incessant war, the loss of loved ones, misunderstanding from those around him, as if it were normal for everyone to endlessly slay each other. with the only person who understands his desire to change the established system in which constant murders and war are considered the norm, they try to kill each other, despite their shared dream. but in the end, the dream came true and immediately ended with a nuclear bomb on hashirama’s mental health. defending the village, he killed his closest friend, the very person who understood him like no one else. dying, madara said that hashirama has changed and it's true, he is no longer the person he was in childhood. the dream of creating a village was so mixed up with the idea of peace that konoha seemed to have become a guarantor of the absence of war, as if its very existence could protect from the horrors that the children of the founders generation went through. thus, the idea of protecting the village rose above the idea of protecting the loved ones, which hashirama clearly confirms both by killing madara and by saying that if someone else were in madara's place, he would have killed them too. he wanted to change the system, but became part of it. Here we can only imagine the backlash of the realization. deceased loved ones, constant wars, guilt, attempts to convince himself that he made the right decision, a feeling of helplessness from the impossibility of changing the world around him, because no matter how hard he try, cruelty will not go away. not to mention his habit of "suddenly falling into depression", which is presented as a joke and the fact that he already tried to stab himself, of course for the sake of peace and well madara, but not everyone will agree to this anyway. together with zero mention of the cause of Hashirama's death, despite the fact that the body is in the village and literally everyone has already dug it up for cells, the whole picture is sad. despite the idealization and deification by others, the unattainable half-god could not protect himself from the consequences of his own actions, thoughts and the influence of reality. as if it is even logical that the only one who can kill the god of shinobi is himself.

#my art #hashirama senju #naruto #naruto founders #naruto shippuden #digital illustration #artists on tumblr #illustration #naruto fanart #drawing #artwork

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edenesth · 25 days ago

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ATEEZ as Anime Leads

Pairing(s): anime lead!ateez x female!reader

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Y'all, I'm so sorry for going MIA for so long. As you may or may not already know, work has been wearing me down, and I just cannot find the energy to work on By Order of the Black Pirates at the moment, but here's a little something I managed to put together to make up for my prolonged absence for now. (Not tumblr labelling this as potentially mature content before I even posted it lol.)

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Levi Ackerman (Attack on Titan)

A legend within the Survey Corps, Captain Hongjoong is ruthlessly efficient, intimidatingly skilled, and always ahead of his enemies. His squad respects him, fears him, and secretly admires the way he silently cares for them despite his harsh words. Off the battlefield, he's a perfectionist who despises messes but has a surprising appreciation for art and music (though he'd never admit it).

He's sharp, disciplined, and highly respected, commanding attention despite his height. But beneath the icy exterior lies a hidden soft spot—a long-time female comrade who's been fighting beside him for nearly as long as he's worn the Wings of Freedom: you. You understand his silences, steady him when the world feels too heavy, and are one of the few people who can challenge him without fear. You're his anchor—the reason he hasn't lost himself to the war.

Like him, you had once been cold and unforgiving, having lost everything—and everyone—you loved to the Titans. Grief turned to rage, and rage into resolve. You rose through the ranks not out of hope, but out of sheer will to survive and destroy what had destroyed you. And yet, somewhere between brutal training sessions and blood-soaked battles, a quiet bond formed between you and him. It was never loud or obvious—but in shared glances, covered flanks, and unspoken understanding, it was undeniable.

Even now, though nothing has ever been said aloud, your feelings for each other linger in the spaces between orders and footsteps, in the way his gaze lingers just a moment too long, or how your voice softens when speaking only to him. More than comrades. More than friends. Something steady. Something real.

He fights not just for victory, but for a world where his people—and you—can finally live freely. It's a dream he clings to more tightly than he'll ever admit.

But even dreams must be set aside when reality demands action.

The air was thick with shouts and smoke as the news spread like wildfire—Titans had breached within Wall Rose. Panic surged through the streets while soldiers scrambled into formation. At the heart of it all stood the Captain—unshaken, sharp, lethal in focus—barking orders with steely precision, coordinating with the Military Police, the Garrison, and scattered Scout units to hold the defence line. His voice was calm, but his eyes never stopped moving—scanning, calculating, already thinking three steps ahead.

Then came the second report. The Royal Family was still within the inner district. Vulnerable. Exposed.

You didn't wait. You tightened your gear with practised hands, stepping forward without hesitation. "I'll protect the Royal Family. You focus on the defence," you said, your voice steady, your gaze locked with his.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Hongjoong hesitated.

His hand shot out, curling gently around your wrist. Not to stop you, but to hold you. A plea lingered there, unspoken. His sharp, storm-hardened eyes locked onto yours, and in them was a flicker of something rare—fear. Not for the city. For you.

"We can do it together," he said softly, but his voice lacked its usual command. It sounded almost… vulnerable.

In that fleeting moment, a thousand words passed between you. All the years spent side by side. Every mission, every loss, every quiet glance when words failed. You reached over with your free hand and rubbed your thumb gently over his skin, a simple, grounding gesture—one that somehow spoke louder than anything you could've said.

"I'll be okay, Joong," you assured him, gently. "This is what we've been training for."

And something in him shifted.

Because in that moment, Hongjoong realised that what scared him more than losing the battle… was losing you. But he let you go slowly, reluctantly. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to trust you, just as you'd always trusted him.

"Stay alive. That's an order," he said, slipping on the stoic expression you knew so well—one you'd always admired, even if you could see the storm brewing behind it.

You smirked. "I will, Cap. After all, it's my turn for cleaning duties next, right? Wouldn't dare miss it for the world."

As you vanished across the rooftops, racing toward the inner gates, he didn't call after you. He didn't try to stop you. But his eyes followed your silhouette until it disappeared into smoke and sky.

And for the rest of that long, brutal day—through blood, through fire, through crumbling walls and falling Titans—he fought not just for Wall Rose's survival… but for yours.

And somewhere deep within, a vow was made: Whatever it took, he would make sure you came back. Because the world he was fighting for meant nothing without you in it.

Seonghwa ↠ Miyamura Izumi (Horimiya)

By day, Seonghwa is the quiet, polite, and well-mannered student—the kind others admire from a distance but rarely approach. But behind that calm exterior is a side he shows only to those closest to him: a cool, rebellious heart with quiet fire. With his hidden piercings, long hair, and effortless confidence, he's full of surprises—but the biggest surprise, even to him, is you.

You, his girlfriend. You, whom he once believed was far beyond his reach. He used to admire you in passing, quietly captivated by your determination, your strength, and the way you carried your heavy responsibilities without ever faltering. Back then, he never imagined you'd even notice him, let alone choose him.

And yet, here you are—his, and only his.

Around you, he softens in ways no one else gets to see. He makes bento lunches just the way you like, hugs you from behind without a word when he knows you're tired, and leaves thoughtful little gifts or notes in your bag—quiet reminders that you're always on his mind. He doesn't always speak his feelings out loud, but when he does, his words land with precision and sincerity, like an arrow to the heart.

…A soft heart wrapped in ink and silver—a contradiction only you get to understand.

Even now, sometimes, he still couldn't quite believe it. That someone like you—so bright, so admired, so far from the quiet corner he once kept to himself—had chosen him.

He remembered the first time he truly saw you, not the flawless girl everyone admired from afar, but the real you. Barefoot in oversized clothes, hair tied up messily, gently scolding your little brother as you wiped a nosebleed from his face. Seonghwa had only meant to walk the kid home after a minor scuffle, but instead, he found himself standing awkwardly in your living room, watching as you moved about—washing dishes, sweeping the floor, smiling in a way that felt… unguarded. Unfiltered. Real.

You, the top student. The girl everyone thought had it all together. And him, the quiet loner with piercings and tattoos no one saw under his uniform, always by the window, always apart.

But in that moment, something shifted. The distance between your worlds blurred. And instead of turning away, you chose to let each other in. You kept each other's secrets.

And he kept coming back—not because of obligation, but because of the comfort he found in your brother's cartoons, your overly salty popcorn, and your presence.

One visit became two. Then three. Then too many to count.

Through shared silences, quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and more than a few chaotic turns… here you were. His.

The memory drew a soft, almost dreamy smile to Seonghwa's lips.

Still drifting somewhere between thought and the warmth of the present, he instinctively tightened his hold around you. His eyes roamed over your peaceful face—your lashes fanned gently against your cheeks, lips parted ever so slightly, your breathing slow and steady in rhythm with his own. Your head rose and fell lightly on his chest, your body curled perfectly against his side, as if you were made to fit there.

These quiet afternoons, tucked beneath soft blankets after a long school day, had become his favourite part of the day. Moments like this, where time felt suspended—just you, him, and the quiet hum of comfort in the space you'd built together.

Unable to help himself, he leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to your forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin. And still, even now, a part of him couldn't quite believe it. That you were real. That you were his.

He could stay like this forever.

His heart fluttered when you shifted closer, still half-asleep, your lips brushing lightly against the curve of his neck. He bit his lip, fighting the urge to smile like a lovesick fool, and gently tugged the blanket higher to shield you from the world a little longer.

Just a little longer— "Hyung! You've slept long enough! Come play with me!"

Seonghwa stiffened, eyes widening in quiet panic as your little brother's voice echoed through the hallway, followed by the soft creak of your bedroom door swinging open. He turned toward the sound, only to see the boy peeking in, scanning the room to check if you were awake.

"Shh! You'll wake your sister—" he began to whisper, but it was already too late.

You stirred with a sleepy groan, nose scrunching as your hand landed lazily on your boyfriend's chest. "Just go, Hwa," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Or he won't leave us alone."

He let out a quiet laugh, his palm moving soothingly along your back. "Alright, baby," he said softly, beginning to shift.

But just as he started to rise, your fingers curled around his, holding him back. Still half-asleep, you mumbled under your breath—just loud enough for him to hear, "Just remember… you'll have to make it up to me later."

Heat rushed to his cheeks. His ears flushed pink as he looked down at you with a flustered grin, heart flipping at how effortlessly you made him fall all over again.

"I will," he whispered, squeezing your hand in return. And in his mind, he was already counting the minutes.

Yunho ↠ Suoh Tamaki (Ouran High School Host Club)

As the king of the Ouran Host Club, Yunho is charming, dramatic, and effortlessly lovable. He sweeps people off their feet with his playful nature and signature over-the-top romantic lines, always knowing just how to make someone feel special. But for as long as he could remember, it was all part of the act—attentive, courteous, and dazzling, because it was his job to be.

Until you.

The person he once thought was just an interesting addition to the club—someone bold, odd, and refreshingly unbothered by his theatrics—turned out to be so much more. He still remembers the day he discovered the truth, when the "boy" he'd thought he was mentoring turned out to be a girl with fire in her eyes and a heart just as chaotic and kind as his. At first, it shook him.

Then, it changed him.

Because falling for you wasn't dramatic. It was quiet, unexpected… real.

Now, his attention isn't something he switches on for guests. With you, it's effortless. Natural. Constant. He notices your moods before you say a word. He brings you your favourite tea without being asked. His flirtation, once a performance, becomes a tender language reserved only for you.

The boy who once cared so much about his reputation now finds himself caring only about your happiness.

He still fills a room with laughter, still makes a fool of himself just to lift others' spirits. But when he looks at you, there's no act. No audience. Just him and the girl who changed everything.

It was just another day at the Host Club, or at least that's what it looked like on the surface. Music Room 3 buzzed with its usual golden glow—teacups clinking, girls giggling, soft piano music floating through the air. Yunho smiled on cue, laughed in perfect timing, and delivered another outrageously corny pickup line with the same dazzling confidence that made him the club's beloved king.

But something was off.

He bit his lip behind another charming smile, careful not to let his internal unease show. His patrons swooned at every word, completely unaware that while he played the role flawlessly, his mind was elsewhere, searching.

His eyes swept across the room instinctively, scanning for one specific person. You weren't at your usual spot by the corner table arranging flowers, nor were you behind the curtain where you sometimes read during sessions. In fact… now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen you since this morning.

You'd greeted everyone in passing, your voice cheerful but quick—before slipping away during the chaos of setup. He hadn't even gotten his usual forehead kiss, the tiny daily ritual that kept him grounded more than he liked to admit.

Still, it was a full Friday. The club was at capacity, and Yunho knew he couldn't abandon his post just to chase after a hunch. So he smiled through the growing tightness in his chest, telling himself he'd find you the second this session ended.

But then—mid-sentence, his eyes flickered past his patron to the ceiling-high window behind her… and his heart dropped.

The sky outside had turned a murky slate grey, the glass streaked with raindrops. A flash of lightning blinked across the sky, followed by a low rumble that made the chandeliers tremble ever so slightly.

Crap.

His smile faltered just for a second, barely noticeable.

She's afraid of thunder.

"Would you ladies excuse me for just a moment?" Yunho said smoothly, flashing a disarming grin as he set down his teacup. "I've just remembered we're running low on the special blend. It wouldn't be right to serve you anything less than perfection, now would it?"

The girls giggled, nodding in agreement, utterly charmed. "Of course, King Yunho~!"

With one last practised wink, he turned on his heel and strode briskly away—his expression dropping the second his back was to them.

His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way out of the room and into the hallway, the soft sounds of the host club fading behind him. Guilt gnawed at him.

The skies had been gloomy since morning. Why hadn't he paid closer attention? You had barely spoken to anyone today, and he should've known. Had he been thinking, really thinking, he would've cancelled the entire session. No smiles, no rose petals, no silver trays—just him holding you close, whispering nonsense until the storm passed.

But he hadn't. And now you were nowhere to be seen.

He checked every possible spot—the storage cabinet, the back hallway, even the balcony where you sometimes went for air. Nothing.

"Come on, think," he muttered, brushing his hair back in frustration. Where would she go?

Then it hit him.

The changing room.

Just as another thunderclap cracked across the sky. He broke into a sprint, nearly sliding around the corner before throwing open the door to the old backstage changing room—dimly lit and quiet, the hum of the storm muffled by thick walls.

And there you were.

Curled into yourself in the corner, knees pulled tight to your chest, trembling beneath the soft folds of your cardigan. Your face was turned away, but he could see your shoulders trembling, your breathing uneven.

His heart clenched at the sight. He didn't call your name, didn't want to startle you. Instead, he stepped inside quietly, kneeling beside you with the gentlest touch to your arm. "Hey… It's me," he whispered, voice softer than it had been all day.

Your head turned slowly, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "Yunho…?"

He gave a faint, guilty smile. "Yeah. I'm here. I'm so sorry—I should've noticed sooner."

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you tightly in his embrace. You didn't resist. You melted into him, burying your face into his chest as another low rumble rolled through the sky.

"I've got you," he murmured into your hair, pressing a kiss there like a silent vow. "I'm not going anywhere."

And this time, he meant it more than ever.

He held you close, his arms firm yet gentle, his heart still racing from the sprint—and from the guilt twisting inside him like a vice. "I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, his voice cracking slightly. "I should've known. I should've been paying more attention to you today."

You shook your head from where you were tucked against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself even closer to him.

"This is why I didn't say anything," you muttered, your voice muffled but clear with emotion. "I know you, Yuyu. You would've thrown everything aside… and I didn't want to be selfish."

He let out a soft huff, cradling the back of your head as he kissed your temple, lingering there. "You have the right to be," he murmured.

You started to protest, "But those girls—"

But before you could finish, he tilted your chin up and silenced you with a kiss—gentle, warm, and firm, the kind that held both comfort and promise. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath soft against your lips. "They can wait," he whispered. "You're my only priority."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let his words sink in, and for the first time all day, the storm outside didn't seem quite so loud. Because in his arms, you were safe.

And to him, you were everything.

Yeosang ↠ Tuxedo Mask (Sailor Moon)

By day, Yeosang is calm and enigmatic—every bit the poised gentleman who draws curious glances without trying. But by night, he becomes Tuxedo Mask, the elusive, rose-wielding guardian who appears just in time with quiet grace and unwavering resolve. His elegance and composure mask a heart full of silent emotion, a past steeped in forgotten promises and lost love.

Ever since regaining the memories of his past life, everything has changed.

The dreams, the visions—it all made sense. You were his Princess Serenity. The one he'd sworn to protect. The one he'd loved across lifetimes. And the one he'd unknowingly pushed away in this one, back when he was still lost in confusion, detached and cold.

The guilt haunted him—how he'd once kept you at a distance, not understanding the pull in his chest every time you looked his way. But now that he remembered, now that he knew who you were, he carried the weight of that regret every day.

And in its place bloomed a fierce, unwavering devotion.

Now, everything he does—every rose he throws, every enemy he faces in the shadows—is to shield you. To make up for lost time. To ensure that in this life, you'll never have to fight alone again.

Because to him, you weren't just someone he watched over.

You were his beginning, his end—his forever.

No matter how many times you insisted that you could handle yourself—and he knew you could—Yeosang couldn't bear the thought of standing idly by while you faced danger. Not anymore. Not after everything.

As much as he respected your strength and the unshakable bond you shared with your fellow Sailor Guardians, he was always nearby. Always in the shadows. Always protecting you, whether you asked him to or not.

Because what kind of man—what kind of Prince—would he be to let the woman he loved throw herself into danger without him at her side? Especially when he knew the truth better than anyone: that your powers resonated more fiercely, more beautifully, when you were together.

Your Sailor Crystals were tied, always meant to work in harmony.

And tonight was no exception—another night under a starless sky, another battle sparked by Queen Beryl's dark ambitions. As the darkness spread and your transformation light burst into the air, he was already moving. Already there.

Because he'd sworn long ago—across time, across lifetimes—he would always fight beside you.

The clash ignited like thunder through the streets, the Sailor Guardians surging forward in formation, your powers weaving together in a brilliant, unified force. Together, you pushed back the tide of shadow, cornering one of the evil queen's generals beneath the shattered remains of an old monument.

The battle was nearing its end.

Sparks of light clashed against crackling shadows in the ruined city square, and for a moment, it felt like victory was yours.

"We've got him!" Sailor Mars shouted, fire crackling at her fingertips. You stood at the front, tiara glinting under the moonlight, heart pounding with adrenaline and pride. "One final blast—together!" The Guardians prepared their strike, light surging in a vibrant crescendo.

But in that single heartbeat, just as your focus narrowed, a low chuckle slid from the battered general's lips.

Too late, you saw the glint of energy in his palm. A dagger of dark magic, hurled not at your teammates, not even in desperation to escape, but at you. Straight at your heart.

Your body locked in shock.

There wasn't enough time to summon your shield. You couldn't move.

But he did.

A blur of black and crimson. The whisper of a rose on the wind.

"No."

Yeosang.

He crashed into you just as the bolt struck, arms tightening protectively around you. The impact seared across his back, his coat burning at the edges—but you were safe, cushioned against his chest, wide-eyed as you realised what had happened.

He didn't even flinch. Only breathed out your name, shakily, as if making sure you were still here.

You clutched his coat, voice trembling, "Yeo…"

He glanced down at you, the pain in his eyes overshadowed by something deeper. "You didn't think I'd let anything touch you, did you?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but he pressed his forehead to yours. "Not again. Never again."

Behind him, the Guardians finished the final strike, the general disintegrating into dust.

But in that moment, the only thing you could see was him—your guardian, your prince, your Yeosang—holding you like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

Because to him, you were.

San ↠ Nanami Kento (Jujutsu Kaisen)

In the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, San is calm, composed, and exudes pure authority. He prefers logic over recklessness, making him one of the most reliable fighters in battle. While he claims to hate overtime and unnecessary stress, he always ends up taking care of others, offering wise advice and silently protecting them from harm. His cold exterior is just a front—he deeply cares, though he shows it through quiet gestures more than words.

Though many assume he remains connected to Jujutsu High out of loyalty to Gojo, the real reason is a little more complicated—and a lot more personal.

It was you.

You, the brilliant alumna who somehow made chaos look graceful. You, who challenged him just by existing, who made him feel something close to warmth, even in a world riddled with curses and blood.

You, a fellow alumna and now a teacher in your own right, were the real reason he never fully walked away. Maybe he didn't mind helping train the next generation… if it meant catching glimpses of you between lessons. Maybe he didn't complain about overtime quite as much when it meant late-night patrols with you.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

Unbothered king… unless it's you. Then he notices everything.

So when reports of another Jujutsu terrorist attack came in—Geto's name scrawled across the chaos once more—San didn't hesitate. He scanned the mission details and found yours almost immediately.

He knew the curse you were assigned to. Knew it was a special grade. Knew what that meant.

And suddenly, overtime didn't matter.

He was already moving before anyone could stop him, before anyone could question why someone so notoriously strict about his hours was volunteering to stay behind. But he didn't care. He'd assessed the curse, gauged its strength, and the answer was clear.

You could win—but you wouldn't walk away unscathed.

And that wasn't something he could live with.

So when you turned, surprised to find him there as you prepared for battle, irritation lining your voice—"What are you still doing here, Choi? I'm not one of the kids. You don't have to worry about me. It's past your working hours, just go. I'll be fine."—he only scoffed, fingers already at his collar as he loosened his tie.

"I'm not about to set a bad example to your students," he said smoothly, though the flicker in his gaze betrayed deeper concern. "Besides, it wouldn't be very responsible of me to leave a fellow colleague to finish this off on her own."

The battle ended quicker than either of you had anticipated. You'd already worn the special-grade curse down, but with San joining in—precise, ruthless, and composed as ever—it tipped the scale completely in your favour. A flash of his cursed technique cleaved through the creature's core, and with one final strike from you, its form disintegrated into black mist.

Silence settled in the aftermath, broken only by the faint hum of cursed energy dissipating. The Curtain flickered once… twice… then dissolved around you, revealing the moonlit city beyond.

Both of you stood there, catching your breath. Bruised, scraped, but victorious. "You know I could've handled that on my own," you muttered with a tired smirk.

San exhaled slowly, pretending to fix his watch, though his hand lingered longer than necessary. "I know… just wanted to help."

He didn't meet your eyes, unsure what he'd see—disapproval, amusement, or worse, understanding. But instead, you stepped closer. Close enough for him to feel your presence settle warmly into the space between you. Your hand reached up, and before he could process it, your thumb gently wiped a streak of blood from the corner of his chin.

"You had something," you said softly, fingers lingering for the briefest second longer than necessary.

The touch froze him.

His breath caught, his usual composure faltering just enough to let the fluster creep in. His mind raced—did you feel it too? The pull? The quiet gravity that had been gnawing at him every time you walked into the room?

You pulled away like nothing happened, but there was a glint in your eyes. The kind that told him maybe, just maybe, you knew exactly what you were doing.

"Thank you, Sannie, for your help," you said, bumping your shoulder into his, your tone light.

And just like that, you turned and walked off, leaving his heart pounding far louder than any curse ever could. He stared after your figure, dazed, on the brink of saying something more—something real—when you spun around with that familiar cheeky grin.

"I'm sure Gojo would be pleased to hear you're so willing to help after hours. Prepared to get busy?"

San groaned, dragging a hand down his face to hide the heat rising in his ears. "You really don't know when to stop." But he was already moving to follow, gaze still soft, expression still dazed.

He wasn't sure what had just happened.

But he knew one thing: he wanted more.

Mingi ↠ Rengoku Kyojuro (Demon Slayer)

With a booming voice, infectious laughter, and boundless enthusiasm, Mingi is the true embodiment of warmth and strength. He fights with passion, determination, and an unshakable resolve, inspiring everyone around him to push forward no matter the odds. He treats everyone like family, encouraging them with uplifting words and radiating kindness even in the darkest of times. He lives without regret, protecting those he loves with everything he has.

Even in the toughest battles, he always smiles and says, "It's okay. I'll take care of it."

He was bright, passionate, and larger than life.

But even the brightest flames have their moments of dimness. And in those quiet, flickering moments—when the laughter fades and the weight grows heavy—he has you.

A fellow Hashira he had met at the very start of his journey. You, who had stood beside him when his fire was still small, unsure, and constantly stifled by doubt. You, the quiet but unshakable force who never let his flame go out.

Not many know, but you are his foundation. The reason he can smile for others. The reason he can carry so much and still say, "I've got this." When his father questioned his worth, when the voices of self-doubt echoed louder than the roar of battle, you were the steady voice that reminded him he was enough.

Behind every smile he gives to the world, there is a moment shared with you. His flame may burn bright for all, but you…

You are the one who keeps it alive.

That thought clung to him long after yet another battle had ended. Tonight's battle had ended, but Mingi's heart hadn't stopped racing. Not from the fight—he could handle demons, wounds, even pain—but from the moment you were nearly struck, the way your blood had stained the ground, the way time seemed to freeze around him in that one terrifying second.

He hadn't let it show. Not in front of the others. Not while the mission still hung heavy in the air. But now, back at the Butterfly Mansion, all he could think about was you.

The Flame Hashira paced past the infirmary rooms, checking every cot—yours was empty.

His stomach twisted.

He scoured the garden, the corridors, a quiet kind of desperation building behind his ribs until—

He paused at the faint smell drifting through the corridor. Sweet potatoes. He followed it like instinct, his body moving before his mind even caught up.

There you were.

He leaned against the kitchen door frame, the sight of your familiar silhouette grounding him in a way nothing else could.

"What, pray tell, could you possibly be making this late in the night?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

You jumped, nearly fumbling the tray as you turned, eyes wide like you'd been caught stealing from the pantry. But then your gaze softened when you saw him, and so did your shoulders.

You beckoned him over.

He was at your side in seconds, eyes dropping to the tray of steaming sweet potatoes—his favourite. "I was going to bring them to you—"

You didn't even finish.

Mingi pulled you into his arms, his hold firm, almost desperate, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder like he was trying to make sure you were real. Warm. Alive.

You stood still for a beat, then melted into him, your hands moving gently to his back.

"I thought I lost you today," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

"But you didn't, Mangi," you replied softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. "I'm right here."

He held you tighter, as if afraid you might slip away again. The warmth of the kitchen, the soft scent of the sweet potatoes, the steady rise and fall of your breathing—it was all he needed to breathe again.

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your hand reaching up to brush a bit of dirt and dried blood from his cheek.

His eyes widened just slightly at the tenderness of the gesture.

"Sit. Eat," you said with a faint smile, trying to lighten the moment. "Even flames need fuel."

He let out a quiet laugh, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He took your hand before you could turn away again and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, just for a second longer than necessary.

And in that quiet kitchen, long after the chaos had passed, Mingi knew something with absolute certainty: You weren't just the reason his flame stayed lit.

You were the reason he kept burning at all.

Wooyoung ↠ Howl (Howl's Moving Castle)

In a castle that moves across enchanted landscapes, Wooyoung is the enigmatic and breathtakingly beautiful wizard who leaves a trail of admirers wherever he goes. Flirty, dramatic, and effortlessly magical, he revels in the attention and mystery he creates—until it comes to you.

Because beneath the teasing smiles and grand entrances, his heart belongs to one person alone: you.

You, who first stumbled into his life like a quiet storm. You, who challenged his ego and saw through the layers of charm and chaos.

He may have a reputation for dodging responsibilities and laughing in the face of danger, but when it came to you, there was no hesitation. He searched high and low, dabbled in forbidden spells, crossed paths with demons and stars alike—all to break the curse that bound you.

Wooyoung could still joke, still charm, still wear his flamboyant coats and wink at danger. But every spell he cast, every risk he took, was fueled by one unshakable truth:

He loved you more than magic itself.

You didn't know. Or if you did, you never said. And so, he never crossed the line. Instead, he remained near—your chaos and your calm, your shield and your shadow.

He still enjoyed making you blush when he whispered sweet nothings, still tucked roses behind his ear for the sole purpose of handing them to you like he hadn't been thinking about it all day. But that affection, as loud as it felt in his chest, remained unspoken.

Even in the stillness of night, that truth clung to him.

It was well past midnight when the castle's creaks lulled into a rare hush. The stars blinked lazily beyond the ever-shifting windows. Restless, you wandered barefoot through unfamiliar corridors of the castle, drawn by the faint glimmer of soft golden light slipping under a closed door.

You pushed it open gently and paused.

The wizard was alone, standing in the centre of a dimly lit room you'd never seen before. It was quieter here, older. Shelves filled with weathered books, scattered scrolls, and constellations drawn in shimmering ink surrounded him. And in the middle of it all, floating weightlessly, was a glowing orb.

He didn't look at you at first. Just kept his gaze on the swirling light inside the orb, as though caught in a memory.

"What's that?" you asked softly.

He turned his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A star," he said. "Or… what's left of one."

He lifted a hand, fingers brushing the edge of the light. "I caught it when I was young. Gave it my heart in exchange for power. For magic. For something I thought I needed to survive." He let out a quiet breath. "It used to feel like a mistake."

You stepped closer, drawn not by the light but by the shadow in his voice. "And now?" you asked.

He finally looked at you then. Really looked. His eyes, usually full of mischief and fire, softened like stardust settling over calm water.

"Now I think maybe I gave my heart away for a reason," he murmured. "So it could find its way back to something real."

Back to you, my love.

The orb dimmed slowly between you, as if the memory had played its final note. You were close now—close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough to notice the flicker in his gaze as it dropped to your lips before darting away.

You reached up without thinking, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear.

He stilled, then leaned ever so slightly into your touch. "You always ruin my dramatic moments," he said quietly, the smirk in his voice not quite reaching his eyes.

You smiled, not pulling away. "Then maybe you should stop letting me in on them."

"Not a chance," he whispered, stepping back just enough to keep from overstepping. "You're the only magic I trust with the whole show." And just like that, he stepped aside, gesturing for you to stay, to linger, to be near.

The world outside could crumble. But in this quiet room, with unspoken feelings and lingering touches, it felt, for just a moment, like you might already know. Like maybe, you were staying on purpose.

And so you did. You lingered.

You could have made some excuse, about wandering in your sleep or being curious about the light. But you didn't. You simply sat on the edge of a low couch near the wall as he returned to his place by the now-fading orb, casting a spell with a flick of his fingers to let the rest of the room dim into golden quiet.

The silence between you wasn't awkward. It never was. But tonight, it felt heavier. Charged. Something unspoken rested in the space like the star that once glowed there.

You glanced at him—really looked.

Wooyoung, with his dishevelled hair and candlelit skin, the robes hanging off one shoulder like they were too tired to be dramatic anymore. The boy who gave his heart to a star, who smiled through shadows, who searched the world to save you without expecting anything in return.

And suddenly, you felt it.

Not like a burst of clarity—but a soft click, like something that had always been there slipping quietly into place. A feeling that had grown with each glance, each teasing comment, each quiet act of care.

You'd spent so long thinking you had time. That his affection was playful. That maybe your own heart had been mistaken for something fleeting.

But it wasn't.

You loved him.

Not because he saved you. Not because he made you laugh when things were falling apart. Not even because he gave you stars. But because in a world that shifted constantly beneath your feet, he was the only thing that ever truly felt like home.

Your breath hitched just slightly. He must've sensed it, because his eyes met yours again—and this time, he said nothing. Just watched. Waited.

You smiled, quiet and real, and whispered, "Thank you, Woo."

"For what?" he asked, his voice low.

"For giving me somewhere to come back to."

He swallowed, a rare flicker of vulnerability slipping through the practised charm. And though neither of you said what you both now knew, it didn't matter.

Because something had changed.

And neither of you would ever be the same again.

Jongho ↠ Kageyama Tobio (Haikyuu!!)

On the court, Jongho is a powerhouse setter—calm, calculated, and relentless. His focus is razor-sharp, his skills unmatched, and his presence alone can change the pace of a match. He demands excellence, not out of arrogance, but because he sees the potential in every player. That desire to push others forward often earned him the nickname "King of the Court"—a title not of admiration, but of criticism, painting him as cold and controlling.

But off the court, those who truly knew him understood better.

Behind the intensity was someone goofy and awkward in the most endearing way. Someone who practised until his hands were bruised, who carried the weight of the team quietly on his shoulders, and who loved deeper than he knew how to say.

And then there was you.

His personal cheerleader since childhood. The one who never wavered, who stood by him when others misunderstood his passion for tyranny. Who shouted the loudest at his games, defended him in the hallways, and always reminded him that being different didn't make him wrong. You believed in him before anyone else did.

You, who had grown from the tiny kid with scraped knees into someone he now looked at with something deeper than just friendship. Something he hadn't quite found the courage to name—yet.

Maybe on the volleyball court, he was a king.

But to you? He just hoped to be something more.

It was thoughts like these that echoed louder than the sound of sneakers squeaking against polished wood, long after the gym had emptied.

Everyone else had gone home. The lights above buzzed quietly. He was alone, except for the ball bouncing back to him, the tension in his chest, and the self-imposed pressure gnawing at his focus.

Sweat clung to his brow as he reset for yet another drill, breath steady but heart pounding. The upcoming match loomed heavy on his shoulders. He couldn't afford mistakes. He couldn't let anyone down.

He served again. And again. And again. Each time just a fraction off from perfect. Frustrated, he exhaled sharply, pausing to rest his hands on his knees. His mind raced—every error, every comment, every moment where he wasn't good enough replaying like a cruel loop.

Then the door creaked.

He tensed, not ready for any more eyes on him.

But then he heard your voice.

"You know, most people go home after practice ends."

He froze mid-serve, the ball slipping from his fingers and bouncing harmlessly away. He turned slowly, trying not to look too startled—or too thrilled.

You stood there with a half-smile and a bag of snacks in your hands, wearing that same look you always did when you found him overworking himself again: exasperated, but soft around the edges.

"I brought your favourite," you said, walking toward him, holding the bag up like an offering. "Figured you'd still be here. You never know when to quit."

He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'm predictable."

"You're relentless," you corrected, stepping close enough to press the snacks gently into his hands. "And a little too hard on yourself."

He met your eyes then—really met them. The gym felt quieter suddenly, like the whole place was holding its breath.

"I just… I don't want to let anyone down," he admitted, voice low. "I know what they say about me. Controlling. Too intense. But I push because I know they can do it. Because I care."

You smiled, the kind that always seemed to pull the air right out of his lungs. "I know. That's why I've never stopped cheering for you."

His hands tightened around the bag. For a moment, he forgot about the court, the pressure, the weight of the upcoming match. All he saw was you—standing in front of him, as you always had.

"You've always been there," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Even when everyone else looked at me like I was too much… you never did."

You tilted your head slightly. "That's because I've always seen you, Jjong. Not just the King of the Court."

He hesitated—just for a heartbeat—before the words slipped out, shaky but sincere. "I think I… I don't just want to be your friend anymore."

Your breath caught.

The gym lights flickered slightly overhead, but neither of you moved.

You stepped a little closer, your voice barely above a whisper. "Then stop talking like you're afraid I might not feel the same."

He blinked, stunned for a moment, before the smallest, most genuine smile curved on his lips. And in that quiet space between old memories and new feelings, Jongho thought—for once—maybe he really didn't have to be perfect.

Not when you already chose him anyway.

I hope y'all enjoyed this! Sorry if the last few members' parts didn't quite meet expectations because my dumbass worked on them in a pretty sleep-deprived state HAHA anyway, how did y'all like the matches? Do you agree with them?🤭

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

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niqhtlord01 · 6 months ago

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Humans are weird: Nightmare ships

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Most terrifying ship I ever seen?”

Mordray repeated the question as he took a thoughtful bite of his xala and pondered the question.

“I’d have to say a Hive Node ship.”

Lithinio scoffed. “When the seven hells have you ever seen a Node ship?”

“I watched a documentary on it just last rotation.” Mordray countered rather defensively. “And having watched it I have to say I’m glad I never saw one in person since they eat entire ships whole.”

Ninten sighed and rubbed the ridges of his face. “Let me change the question then to “What is the most terrifying ship you have ever seen IN PERSON.””

Mordary took another bite as he took in the updated question while Lithinio stepped in with their own answer.

“I once saw a Dru Hunter Class while part of a convoy escort mission.” He took a sip of his drink and ran his hands through the air as if tracing the vessel.

“From bow to stern it was covered in spikes and upon each spike was a corpse. It was like a ship of the dead come to collect its toll of the living.”

“I heard the stories about those.” Ninten nodded. “Doesn’t matter if you were a victim, an enemy, or just some bad luck bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time; they’d spike you just the same. Where’d you see it?”

“The Dinar Campaign,” Lithinio replied, “they couldn’t beat our warriors on the ground so they’d send out small raiding space parties to hammer the transports and supply ships before ever reaching their worlds.”

“Lost a lot of good lads that war.”

The trio of crewmen turned to see the speaker at the table opposite them had turned around. They wore the uniform of an engineer but had several markings of honorary navy marine, honorary gunner, and even one for honorary helmsman. This could be none other than the legendary Midar Nus, the most famous crewman on the ship.

“Apologies for intruding,” Midar said sheepishly, “I was overhearing your conversation and it drew up some memories.”

‘You are more than welcome to join us sir.” Ninten said as his two comrades nodded and made room at their table for Midar to join. He smiled and took the offer, changing tables and nestling himself down in the now free space.

“No need for that protocol with me lad,” Midar spoke with a wintery grin as he eyed Ninten, “especially since you technically outrank me.”

“Experience counts for more than bars, sir.” Ninten replied without thinking.

Midar was taken aback by the boldness and for a moment Ninten thought he had overstepped himself. Instead, Midar let out a deep booming laugh and patted him on the back as Lithinio and Mordray let out a sigh of relief.

“We could have used a dozen more of you during that scuffle with the Dru; would have saved a lot of my friends.”

Ninten took the compliment and tried to redirect the conversation before he said something to ruin his now good standing with a living legend.

“What about you then? What’s the scariest ship you’ve ever seen?”

The trio listened in half expecting him to say something heroic like “I’ve never seen a ship worth being afraid of” or “I once thought I saw one, but it was really my mate’s in-law”. Instead, the old sailor replied without even pausing to think.

“The ones who piloted them don’t have a name for it officially; only a name they had given to them by a creature of their dark past.”

“Whose they?” Mordray asked as Lithinio smacked him for interrupting the answer.

“Humans crewed the things, though it’s been a thankful many years since I last encountered one of those damnable vessels.”

He leaned in close and slowly cast a frightful gaze across the three of his listeners.

“They called them “Frankenstein” ships.”

None of the three said a thing, partly because none of the three had any idea what that word meant. Midar saw this and further explained.

“There’s a story amongst humans about a human named “Dr. Victor Frankenstein”, and they were so focused on circumventing death itself that they began performing horrific experiments on the living and the dead.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ninten asked “How can you perform horrific experiments if the subject is dead?”

Midar shrugged. “Story goes the mad doctor took the chopped up pieces of several dead humans, sewed them together, and then brought the creature to life.”

“Putting aside the continued depraved and discouraging nature of humanity,” Lithinio chimed in, “what does this have to do with their ship design?”

“Because,” Midar continued, “like their mad doctor humans have an infuriating habit carving up the parts from other ships and adding those parts to their own.”

He leaned back into his chair as he recounted his first experience. “The first time I found myself up against one of those ships was in the Delta Cluster. We just fought of a border incursion and were tasked with protecting the wreckage while we sifted for survivors.”

“We just finish a patrol when we got a strange energy signature return near the edge of the wreckage. So we went to investigate it and there we found a human ship the size of a frigate slowly drifting through the debris field using a variety of arms to grab bits and pieces of ships.”

“The captain ordered a scan of the ship and the returns were a confusing mishmash of technological parts.”

“A Thorian engine block, a Juriet power core, a Nexium stabilizer…” he said listing out a surprisingly long list of ship parts from different species.

“None of those parts are designed to work with other tech.” Mordray commented. He would know as he was part of the engineering crew and well trained in ship maintenance. “The Juriet power core alone would generate far too much power for a ship that size; dangerously so much that using it could trigger a system overload.”

Midar nodded at the crewman’s insight. “Indeed, were it not for the majority of that power also going towards a Feren Gel class shield system. We found that out when we tried to disable their engines and our volley bounced off the thing like oil on water.”

Lithinio let out a whistle in awe while Midar continued.

“After that the thing began to slowly turn to make a run out of system so we drove in hard ready to grab it with our tractor beams. We were just about to make it when a panel at the rear of the ship opened up and a turret protruded out of it.”

“One shot.” Midar remarked as he held up a single taloned finger. “It took one shot at us and shattered our shield, blew out our engines, and triggered a cascading system overload that left us dead in space as they plowed out of system and made a jump.”

Ninten grumbled as he pondered Midar’s words. “Must’ve been a Telkar railgun. It’d run the entire length of a frigate ship, but it’d pack enough of a punch to deal that kinda damage; but the recoil alone would’ve split a ship that size in half.”

“Which we later found out was counter acted by a Wu’l gravity displacement field. They jacked it to max just as the railgun would fire and the counter action would cancel out the recoil.”

“I’m still confused why these things are so scary to you?” Mordray asked with a hint of a mocking tone. “They sound like garbage barges held together with scraps.”

Midar took on an offended expression and straightened up. “They’re terrifying because you never know what you are going up against. Frigate size packing battleship class weaponry, a patrol craft that can launch mini black holes, a cruiser that interwove nanomachine and organic materials that could repair any damage; every and anything was on the table!”

The ships seemed beyond reason and logic but the enthusiasm with which he spoke there was some truth to each description.

Ninten took a sip from his drink and nodded in appreciation. “Only fitting for the species that defies existence to have ships that actively defy the laws of technology.”

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #nightmare ships

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crazylittlejester · 7 months ago

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Having thoughts about Legend (17 to me) verbally poking at Wars (27 to me) with the intent to piss him off, and usually Wars will just whip around and be snarky back at him because they sass each other to death for funsies all the time, but if they are around ANYONE who is not another member of the chain it just looks like a full grown man snapping at a child, so he has to sit there instead with his eye twitching while Legend pokes fun of him and he just. He CANNOT react. And Legend knows this, so he saves his best remarks for when they’ve stepped into a town and sits there and CACKLES as he watches Wars struggle to keep himself calm

(and ofc Wars has cried out his frustrations to Twilight over drinks, and Twi was just like “bro why tf are you beefing with a teenager you are almost thirty” and while this is happening Hyrule and Legend are high fiving because for Legend it was another gloriously successful day and he’s watching more and more strands of Wars’s hair go gray)

#they genuinely love each other very much #its just ‘HEY. THATS MY BROTHER. NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO PUNCH HIM AND CALL HIM A FUCK BUT ME.’#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #lu legend #lu headcanons

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luna-loveboop · 10 months ago

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Wars and Wild as knights in Lu

They have issues.

I have a lot of thoughts on Wild and Wars and their relationship (Order of this post is talking about saluting, Wild and Wars' different perspectives, memory issues, and fire) Rant time.

No saluting!!

So Wild took a formal- almost/awkwardly saluting pose when Wars confronted him in 'Entrance pt.2'

It's similar to the first time Wild addressed Wars as 'captain'. His left hand is up from where a salute should be, and his overall posture is awkward, with his shoulders and right hand raised, but it's clear he's trying to do a salute in the presence of a fellow knight.

In the second example his hand is behind his head, but his posture is very straight and his right arm stiff- he's again attempting a formal saluting position. Which is still awkward

It is less clear but his changes in posture clued me in. He goes from like a deer in the headlights to visibly sweating to straight backed and looking up at Wars- looking at the changes in his body language

Side note but I literally love how Jojo draws the champions tunic so much-

We can't see the action of Wild's body language in a comic, just the positions he went to. But he visibly leaned away from Wars before switching to a straight backed saluting-like posture. He's clearly freaked out, hence Twilight's face: >:(

I think that Wild taking somewhat military poses around Wars is important to their relationship issues because it comes from his struggle with memory and identity

So like. All of them have different perspectives

Wars

I adore Wars. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that he would not speak to any of the others this way.

And the scarf man cmon it's so pretty they are so cute-

Why is Wars talking to Wild like this? He's called him out and reprimanded him multiple times in front of the others. Wild has taken it well but tbh if it was Legend I think he would be on fire.

To some extent I think he is in captain mode. I think that he has trouble seeing Wild as not a knight. Wars gives Wild respect as a knight who sacrificed for his kingdom, but now it seems he's taking it away as a knight who's not doing well enough since he 'disregarded the plan'

At least I think that's the outside (or Wild's) view of it. But Wars internally really cares about Wild and he saw him run up to a giant and lose it. Different ways of showing concern perhaps?

Who wouldn't want to keep Wild from getting more scars?

I just. Don't doubt for a second Wars really cares about Wild- even if the way he's acting still isn't cool. He has no right to treat him like a soldier any more than the rest of the chain, and right now I think Wild is acting as the more mature person.

Wild

I adore Wild. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that although he is clearly making efforts after Twilight's injury, Wild has ignored Wars for the majority of Lu, by not speaking to him much, and not thanking or acknowledging Wars when he directly helped him. (Small example being walking with Hyrule not Wars when injured and not directly responding to Wars)

Wars cares about and respects Wild, but it seems Wild wants nothing to do with him, and he's been cold towards Wars for the majority of Lu. To Wild, Wars reminds him of his perceived failure. Which is valid feelings, but still not fair. And I think that ask is talking about these two.

The thing I love about this is each of them are right and wrong in some ways, leading to the tension between them. So fully blaming either of them is not logical

The rest of the chain is just vibing. Except twilight who's mad and wants them to just grow up, but. Heros of courage not wisdom @uniquevoidflowers ;)

And that ask- '''Are any of the Links ever jealous of another Link for adventures that were less difficult/life threatening?'' ''When you hear Wild say he 'hates' someone you'll have your answer.''' somewhat leads to my next point-

Wild's identity and memory issues exacerbate all of this

In Entrance, Twilight is being stressed and defensive, that's ok. What concerns me most is that Twilight has talked with Wild through stuff like this in his rough moments

Wild has tried to be formal several times- he is not very good at it

Four's face I can't didnwidkekfjej

Wild isn't and can't be 'him'- the same 'perfect' (<actually has crippling anxiety) knight he was before, and Twilight knows this. And I agree with him a bit, I think, that Wars is making things worse in Wild's mind by being that perfect soldier, and seemingly holding Wild to a standard he isn't

Wild's attempts at saluting is symbolic of that- Wars makes him feel like a failure trying to be the person he should be. But Wild shouldn't be anyone but himself.

Anyways. Fire.

Wars and Wild have issues, and I want them to work through all their relationship drama so they can reach their PEAK dynamic, which is obviously this

I mean like. We need these two to be friends

Anyways. Wild is in this constant state of identity crisis, and being around Wars has not been beneficial- neither of them is or has been showing the other the respect they deserve. Not as knights, but as people and brothers. They need a get along shirt.

All this Art is by Jojo @linkeduniverse au!

#that's it that's my argument. they need a get along shirt #I think times armor would work. they are small enough to be the kids shoved in dads clothes to get along #it could hold up when wars starts breathing fire and wild blowing stuff up #linked universe #linkeduniverse #hiii Jesse #Lu wild #lu wars #let's talk about it! I know some of yall will disagree with me probably on some of this #open communication and whatnot #but. do not take this post to hate on wild or wars bc they are both baby <3 fire babies #this post took like three days. like it.#<wait that's unclear. I don't mean literally like it lol I just want you to like as because I made it for you and want it to make you happy #':D if I've said anything like mean or offensive accidentally sorry let me know. we all care so much about these little arsonists <33 #remember you are loved yall matter so much and I care about you #:)#if I have type the word 'wars' or 'wild' one more time I'm gonna lose it

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residentwordsofaffirmationdealer · 20 days ago

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batman & robin - "trust your partner to catch you when you fall"

"just close your eyes, remember your training... and trust your partner to be there for you." batman/nightwing: bloodborne (2002)

"what know what the key is to a good trapeze act? letting go... trusting that there's someone on the other side to catch you." detective comics (1937) #1074

"i always know the hands that will catch me." nightwing (2016) #100

"...because i've always had someone to catch me if i fell." nightwing (2016) #79

batman: legends of the dark knights (1989) #100

"i got you, kid. i won't let you fall--" nightwing (1996) #105

"when we were up on those ropes, there was no mom, no dad, and no son. we were partners... we were equal. each one of us made sure the others didn't fall. i didn't get to keep my promise. and i know i swore an oath to you... i know that this is dangerous. but just like my parents, we're more than partners... we're family. and i'm never going to let my family fall again." batman: urban legends (2021) #23

"and yet, watching them... their trust... he saw something for the first time." the boy wonder (2024) #1

"i've got you." nightwing (1996) #25

"you okay, robin?" the boy wonder (2024) #1

"we aren't just there to catch batman before he falls. he catches us." robins (2021) #5

"you caught me?" "always." batman: shadow war omega (2022) #1

"my job isn't to train you to make the same decisions i'd make. my job is to catch you, until you decide for yourself." batman and robin eternal (2015) #22

"robin! hang on!" "come on, girlie! reach! farther! or get ready to do the gotham splat! i got it! now hang on, and pray he can hold us both. but he's batman, so of course he'll hold us. it's official! i love this man!" robin (1993) #128

"out on the precipice. about to leap. knowing someone would catch you. not your mother. not your father. someone with a foot in the dark. just like me. someone who used fear as a weapon. batman." nightwing (2016) #2

"robin!" nightwing (1996) #? (written by devin grayson)

gotham knights (2000) #1

"dick. i didn't fall. i jumped. i jumped because i knew you'd catch me." nightwing (2016) #8

"and i try to pay bruce wayne back by doing for others what he did for me. by being their net. by catching them before they hit the ground." nightwing (2016) #1

batman and robin (2009) #9

red robin (2009) #12

"how'd you know? how did you know i'd be there to save you?" "you're my brother, dick. you'll always be there for me." red robin (2009) #12

"it's all right. everything's all right." "i just... wanted to... help." gotham knights (2000) #58

batman/superman worlds' finest (2022) #6

"but the trapeze is not a solo act" detective comics (1937) #1074

"it's always been about catching people when they fall." nightwing (2016) #29

we are robin (2015) #7

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the-moon-files · 2 months ago

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i saw the weaknesses post you made and the part about us humans needing more attention than hylians made me giggle, because omfg imagine how ANNOYED theyd be at us 😭😭 how do you think theyd react???? l

AFFECTIONATE ANNOYANCE READER POST COMIN RIGHTTT UP

*obv very sorry you've been collecting dust in here, ty for the ask 🥹🫶

And abt another one too?? Tysm 😭

< Link 🧝‍♂️ to post anon is talking about, click me! >

☆

Lowkey very blushy lol

I think it's very obvious who's blushing more and who's blushing less, so more importantly...

Who's getting used to it quickest?

CACKLING

They go thru town and Four's poking at a weapons display and asking questions to the local blacksmith and you just stroll up behind him and flop across his shoulders mid-question lol

Four, just letting out a "oof" but otherwise unaffected and continuing his question abt this new metal

Blacksmith: ... Congratulations, when's the wedding?

The sputtering legit happens to every Link no matter what when they get around civilization and realize what it looks like to their fellow hylians out of context

Lol especially if ur ears are covered or it's not immediately obvious ur human

You just walk in behind Hyrule while he's talking to the waitress about needing a big table for the whole party and just start like picking and finger combing branches and leaves out of his floof of hair

The waitress: "omg,, is he gonna propose?! He's fixing your hair!! In public!! :D (like literal fangirling from the staff)"

Hyrule, who barely felt u behind him, and just wants a table:

"What-? Oh Hylia- no- I- you are my favorite human ever but please stop- I lied, a table is NOT Fine we need a closed booth in the corner, wherever we're the most out of sight-!!"

Hyrule's face going thru the stages of grief like lmao 😭🫠😳🫣😶‍🌫️

It's the giving into ur instincts for me lol

The way he nor any of the others ever consider actually being able to stop you is the funniest part of this adjusting to human casual touch/affections

Like: Yes we need to hide deeper into the woods to make camp, No we cant camp at the Stable where other hylians are- Okay, Captain- why don't YOU figure out what to say to the other hylians when He (you) inevitably drags all our sleeping bags closer for a "puppy hylian pile" and then snuggles up next to one of us? And then in the morning he's literally cuddling at least 2 Links??

...yeah thats what I thought. Lets find a clearing.

LMAO like they just give in so immediately, ngl half that reason is bc the first, maybe, week or two of you naturally clapping shoulders, huddling when its windy, hugging when your happy with one of them- !!

And they try to each in their own way brush off the casual over affection that they perceive only to see your face-

Not a single Link has ever seen a grown man's face crumple into such deep despair so quickly,

They legit see the expression of a kicked puppy in your eyes, you dont even pressure them just a small sad "oh- yeah, hylians are different, sorry!..."

Like yes, obviously you will listen to boundaries w/o manipulating or guilt tripping them, but most of them like your affection being so consistent and obvious (to them)

And it really is small time stuff (to you)

And you look so much brighter, so kuch healthier and so much happier when Sky leans into your arm around his shoulders, or Twilight let you comb his hair out, or Legend lets you adjust a loose tie or buckle on his tunic or back,

It only took a quick glance around the campfire one night to silently agree to let your human instincts do what they will for your health and happiness (and totally not for the big huge crush they have on-)

After seeing Wild recreate your favorite dessert that night, one from Earth, and you just pounced on him with a hug and spun him around lol

For reference,

Wind*, Sky, Four, Time, Wild, Twilight, Wars, Hyrule, Legend

Who gets the most used to your human culture affections the quickest and who still jumps when you hold his hand to guide him thru a crowd lol

And i dont think any of them would be super Annoyed per se, I think there would be misunderstandings at first, and maybe certain Links or collectively you have times where you know not to touch them bc once again, what u see as normal or friendly is A Lot for them,

Like in cooking situations, or mid-battle, or even when some are eating, mostly things that kinda make sense

(Legend claims its annoying but gets pouty when you avoid touching him after he says this, and then leans into whatever form or way ur touching him anyways, so...)

☆

* = clearly i meant platonic. But its the internet so im preemptively assuming what I know to be true, ppl dont give you the benefit of the doubt, so here's me clarifying,

Wind was not included in the romantic implications overall/crush bit. Im sure u can make it still make sense in his context.

☆

Goodnight!

Or good morning, wherever and whenever you are

Hope this wasnt so late yall thought i dropped off again 😬

Peace,

🌙📁

#lu x reader #linked universe x reader #male reader #link x reader #lu x male reader #linked universe reader #loz link x reader #linked universe male reader #moon asks #humans are not hylians au #hanh au #ppl who like hanh au <3333 #and masc/male readers <333 #link x masc reader #love you anon #thanks for the support guys even when i dont post often #it means the world #moon rambles

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skippingstonez · 3 months ago

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So that Cia concept I had? Yeah...it's not just a concept anymore.

Damsels in Distress

(Wars x reader) Chapter 1 / Next Warnings: non-con touching, lots of swearing, implied reference to sa, kidnapping

Stepping through the portal, the first thought that came to mind was that wherever you were?

It was creepy as hell.

You were in some sort of extravagant garden. The loose gravel path lined with wall like rose bushes that would be impossible to see over even for Time. And unless you wanted to be skewered, the thorns that were practically the sizes of daggers would prevent you from simply going through them either. It was the complete opposite from the delicate red roses that littered the leafy walls. Soft petals blooming beautifully despite the chill in the air.

The top few floors of a large building peeked out from above in the distance. Its dark exterior like a giant shadow looming over you. Thorny vines dangling off the tiled roof and clinging to dusty windows that were cracked or boarded up. You tried not to look at them for too long, afraid something would start staring back. You had barely been here for three minutes and it already felt like there was something up there, just watching you.

Closely.

At least it seemed that you weren’t the only one that seemed creeped out by your rather unusual environment. One by one the others walked through the portal, took one look around and visibly cringed.

The most unsettling part of it all though was the look on Warriors face. His eyes were wide and almost completely glazed over in the same way Wild’s do during one of his episodes. His mouth hanging open while his hands were quivering at his sides. He looked terrified.

“Cap?” You called out, approaching slowly. Your movements deliberate, emphasizing each step loudly until you were right at his side. “Captain… Link?” You brought your hand up to his elbow, using the back of your hand to give him a soft nudge. He flinched at the contact, hands clenched into fists as he quickly stepped away from you. His breathing was quiet but his chest started rising and falling rapidly enough to suggest he was hyperventilating.

“Link, breathe. Hey-”

Time steps up beside you, grabbing Wars shoulders. Wars flinches away again but Time keeps his hold on him, coaching Wars till his breathing begins to even out. His hands are still shaking as he seems to come to.

You try asking what's wrong but Time either doesn’t hear you or is choosing to ignore you. Wars doesn't respond either, glaring up towards the mansion as if maybe your ‘im being watched’ feeling in your gut wasn’t too far off. You had heard some of the others talk about ghosts or spirits they encountered on their adventures and you really hoped this wasn’t about to become your introduction to such things.

When Wars finally looks away his eyes are on you, grabbing onto your hand in a firm hold. The kind of hold that tells you this is about safety and not a romantic gesture. “I need you to stay close to me.”

“What's going on?” You press again, keeping close to his side like he said. “Where are we?”

“Mind telling us where the hell we are Cap?” It's Legend who asks. His voice full of its usual snark, though there is a genuine concern behind it all as he watches Wars carefully.

“Temple of Souls.” He says bluntly, his grip tightened around your hand. “This place is dangerous, we need to leave.”

“How so?”

“This place is known to house powerful dark magic. So keep close.” It was Time that answered, still keeping close to Wars who was pulling you down the path away from the building. The others followed after the three of you but it only took a minute before you reached a dead end. Trying the next path for it also to be blocked off. Another corner and you could see a large metal gate at the end of its path covered in similar vines as the supposed temple on the other side of this gardened maze.

Wars approached it cautiously, trying to push and pull it open with no success. The only movement came from the leaves and petals that were shaken free that now floated to the ground around him.

“Smithy, think you can work your magic on this lock and get us out of here?”

Four stepped up to the gate, looking it over before bringing out a few tools. “I need a fire rod, or something that can get it hot enough.” Wars had his out in a flash, its red gem on top glowing brightly as he handed it over to Four who held it up to one of the metal bars. The sturdy material changing from its dark color to nearly white as it heated, steam rising off of it with a low sizzle. Four handed the fire rod back, grabbing some tongs and a hammer as he tried to bend the metal box. It didn't budge.

“Sorry guys, I don't think this is a regular gate.” Four said, putting his things away. “There's probably some sort of enchantment on it that is keeping it protected.”

“So now what?”

“Why don't we try the creepy building over there? There's bound to be a way out inside right? That's how these kinds of things work?” Wild suggests.

“No. No one goes near that place.” Wars is running a hand through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth as he tries to come up with a plan.

“Seriously? Come on, the dungeon here can't really be that bad if it's from your era. You afraid to mess up your hair or something.” Legend teased.

“Plus there's always a way out at the end of a dungeon! If anything I bet there's a cool item in there we could use!” Wind shouted.

“This place isn't one of your stupid dungeons!” Wars yelled out.

This felt wrong. Sure Wars could be stern when the situation called for it but he was only this short with the others when he was really upset. And the fact that he was now yelling at Wind did not bode well.

“Okay enough!” Time called out. “Arguing isn’t going to help right now. Captain, a word?”

Time and Wars walk away, still in view and obviously arguing. But they kept quiet enough for none of you to easily hear what it is they were saying. Sky slides up next to you.

“Is he okay?” Sky asks

“No. There's something off about this place. I just don't know what.” You respond, keeping a close eye on the two appointed leaders of your group. Wars isn't even looking at Time anymore by the time they are walking back over. Neither of them look pleased but Wars looks just as troubled as before.

“Alright, we're gonna go check out the place. Everyone stay close. No one wanders off.”

Time and Twilight took the lead, you and War's close behind as you begin navigating your way through the garden. It's eerily quiet beside the soft crunching of footsteps, adding to the overall unsettling atmosphere that has your skin crawling. Wars’ head is on a constant swivel until his head snaps to the ground, his hand coming up like a pseudo shield for his eyes.

Then you see it. A large marble statue that looks eerily like-

“Is that me!?” Hyrule shouted, staring up at the statue that looked exactly like him, right down to the curl in his hair.

“Uhh guys?” Everyone turned to Wind who was pointing further down the path. Another statue, this time of a wolf, with strange markings on its head and a small chain around one of its paws. And just around the corner you could see the makings of even more.

“Okay what the hell is this place Pretty Boy!? Some weird-”

“DON'T call me that!” Wars snapped at Legend who immediately backed up. His shoulders were shaking and you were pretty sure his grip on your hand was officially cutting off your circulation. You grab his forearm, dragging him away from the Vet and off to the side. He doesn't meet your eyes. Glaring down at the ground like it would turn into a swarm of keese at any moment.

“What's wrong?” You speak softly, not wanting to upset him anymore than he already is. Your hand stays on his forearm, knowing he tends to get jumpy being touched anywhere else when he's upset. It was one of the many things he had told you about his journey that very few others knew.

Wars dropped your hand, still constantly checking his surroundings as he grunts out a “fine.”

“No you aren’t.” He still jumped when you reached back for his hand but he didn't pull away. You reached up and cupped his cheek, guiding his face to yours as you smiled softly at him. “You know you can talk to me right? I’m always gonna be on your side but I can't read your mind.” You know it's not going to do much but hopefully it'll at least get him out of the spiral he is clearly starting to go down.

He sighs, shoulders finally relaxing back down as he leans into your hand before turning his head to give your palm a quick kiss.

“I'm sorry this place is just…it's her place. This is where it all happened.”

You knew exactly who and what he was talking about and your blood began to boil at the mere mention of that fucking witch. You had sworn to yourself that if ever given the opportunity you would tear her to pieces for what she did to the sweet man in front of you and today looked to be your lucky day. Pushing the anger to the side for now though you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“It's gonna be okay, we don't even know if she's around. And even if she is, good luck trying to come near you. We all have your back and I’ll cut her hands off before I let her touch you again.”

He huffs out a weak laugh and nods, pulling you into a tight embrace. Kissing the top of your head before taking your hand once more, much more gently this time. You lead him back to the group, making sure to stay ahead of him so he can see you while you settle towards the middle. Sky and Wind come up to walk beside you, the young sailor glued to his side as he eyes the statues wearily.

The garden path leads directly to the mansion's entrance. Its large doors already cracked open as if someone had just come through before you. Legend and Four step towards it, pulling it open a bit more to peak inside.

“The fuck!?” Legend shouts while Four is slamming the door shut with a horrified expression. You can feel Wars shrink beside you as Wind steps even closer to him.

“What? What's in there?” The sailor asks.

“Nothing,” Four butts in before Legend can say whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “The decor is just…unique.”

“Unique!? The Captain's face is posted on every fucking wall!”

“Hey, chill it with the language” Twilight scolds though Legend barely acknowledges it.

You stick right by War’s side as the others are now all approaching the doors, pulling one open to see inside. Each one having similar reactions as they disappear into the room.

“We can stay out here if you need-”

“No. We need to stay together.”

You go in first, and sure enough large paintings of your boyfriend are hung up on every wall in the large entryway. A large staircase leads up to a second floor landing that looks to lead into a hallway.

“Think she’d notice if I steal one?” You say, trying to lighten the heaviness dripping off of the hero at your side. “I mean you do look really good in that over there.” Wars just rolls his eyes, pulling you tighter into his side as you walk further in. Hes stiff as a board beneath your touch and you rub your thumb soothingly on the back of his hand.

“Everyone come here, gather around.” Time yells out. “We don't know what's waiting for us here. This isn't your typical dungeon with puzzles and monsters.”

“So then what is here? What can we expect?” It was Sky who asked, but was clearly addressing Wars instead of Time.

“There's a powerful sorceress that's been known to live here. She's obsessed with owning the hero's spirit and will do anything to have it. So if she's the reason we were brought here we should expect some sort of ambush so keep your guards up.”

You could see the gears in his head turning, trying to formulate the best plan at moving forward.

“Vet, you can sense magic that's nearby like our Traveler right?” He nods as Wars continues to think for a moment, scanning around the room wearily.

“Alright, we stick together as a group but we do so in pairs. Rancher, you and the Traveler will lead with Smithy and the Old Man behind you. Traveler if you sense any magic I need to know immediately. Sailor, stick with Champion. Sky, you're with (y/n).”

You sharply turn to him. “Wars are you sure?”

He nods solemnly, dropping your hand to cup your face. “I'm gonna be right behind you the whole time,” he says and you know it's more of a reassurance for him than it is for you as he leans down to kiss your forehead. Whispering “I love you” before he steps away, allowing Sky to take his place.

“Vet you're with me at the rear. Now let's get going, the longer we stand around the more open we are.”

Everyone shuffles around, pairing off just as Wars told them to.

“Sky,” Wars says quietly, grabbing onto the other’s arm. “I need you to keep a close eye on (y/n). If something goes down I need you to take her and Wind and get out okay?”

Sky nods, making sure you're right beside him as Wars makes his way over to where Legend is waiting for him. You all decided to head to the right, keeping away from anything suspicious as you walk. The next room looked the same as the entrance except without the staircase and some of the paintings were now of a young boy holding a blue ocarina. You couldn't say you recognized the boy but there was something oddly familiar about him that you couldn’t quite place. But it was unnerving, as was every room afterwards, each one following in a similar pattern that had everyone eyeing it all skeptically.

Up ahead, Twilight and Hyrule led the group into a few more rooms that eventually turned into a long hallway. The walls only just wide enough for you and Sky to walk side by side if you pressed into his side which wouldn’t do any good if you needed to draw your weapons. Sky pushed you just a step ahead of him, sandwiching you between him and Wind.

The already dim lights hung up along the walls began to flicker, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. A hand presses to the small of your back and you jump, only to realize its Sky. Or at least you're fairly certain it was Sky. All the lights go out at once, leaving all of you in complete darkness. The hand takes hold of your tunic, pulling you backwards so you are squarely against Sky’s chest. The master sword, whose blade has the faintest glow around it, now held out in front of you both.

“Everyone still here?” You call out, and you receive quick responses. You reach into your bag, bringing out your small lantern as some of the others do the same. It's barely enough to see in front of you, the darkness almost tangible in the crowded space as you all try to keep moving forward. Sky keeps a firm hold on your wrist, his sword adding a bit more light so you can at least make out Wind and Wild’s figures in front of you. It unfortunately doesn't stop you from running into them every few steps.

“Somethings coming,” You hear Legend whisper.

You weren't a big magic user, probably one of the least magically inclined in the chain but even you could feel the presence that cast over you like a blanket. Shadows licked at the flames of your lantern, a dark mist spreading out over the ground that only seemed to thicken when exposed to the light in your hand. A woman's laugh echoed around you. So softly at first that you thought it was just your imagination, trying to freak yourself out. But it grew louder and louder until it was undeniably a voice.

“I always knew you'd come back to me one day Link.”

Cia. It had to be. You glanced back behind Sky, trying to get eyes on Warriors.

“Vet, where is it coming from?”

“I…I can’t tell yet. It-”

“Though I admit you’re a bit earlier than I expected. I'm sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived.” Her voice taunted and it made you want to run a blade through her throat.

“Vet! Traveler! I need to know where it's coming from!” Wars shouts, his voice teetering between its calculated normality and frantic pleading.

“We're trying! I can't pinpoint a source!”

“It's like it's everywhere!”

“You see, I’ve been rather busy today!” Cia said, her voice flowing around you like the mist that now swirled at your feet. “I figured, while you all are out on your little quest, I would make a few housecalls. You know, to check up on some things.”

“House calls? What does that mean?” Sky asks in a hushed tone. You can only shrug, feeling something in your gut begin to sink.

“And since I was already in the neighborhoods, I thought I would go ahead and take care of a few pests still running around.”

Oh you did not like where this was going.

“I started with that spunky, redheaded little farm girl and I must say she put up more of a fight than I expected.”

Times face dropped as Cia chuckled to herself.

“Malon? What did you do!?” Time yelled out, “If you hurt my wife I swear I’ll-!!”

“Come now, surely you don't think I'd be that cruel. She's alive, for now. As are the others. Not that it really matters though. You all belong to me, not them.”

“Wars it's coming from below!” Hyrule shouted.

“They can't love you all like I can. They don't appreciate you the way I do. The way you deserve after everything you've been through. Especially you Hero of Warriors, I've missed-”

“Shut the hell up you psycho bitch!” You shouted into the darkness which in hindsight was not your smartest move. But it would be a cold day in hell before you let her continue to ramble off how ‘she could love your boyfriend better than you could’.

“Well well well, what a lovely surprise. Guess I have one less trip to make now since you've brought one of the pests straight to me. How kind of you Link.”

Sky shoved you behind him, sword raised defensively as he waited for some sort of attack. You drew your sword, still holding the small lantern in your other hand.

“Sky get her out of here! Now!!” Wars shouted a little too late. You could feel something moving around you like a shark circling its prey. Something dark and powerful as you tighten your grip on your small lantern, trying to find whatever it was.

Apparently, Legend sensed it too.

“(Y/N) MOVE!” Legend shouted, lunging towards you as the ground gave way directly below your feet. A scream left your lips and you barely had enough time to see the horrified look on War’s face as you suddenly fell through the floor.

Wars screamed your name.

Legend smacked into the ground where you disappeared, too slow to have reached you in time. He groaned as Sky quickly pulled him back up to his feet, frantically looking around to try and find where you had gone.

“No no no no no…(Y/N)! Where is she!?” Wars yelled, tears filling his eyes that he desperately tried to hold back. His lungs felt like they had collapsed, making him gasp for air. He could already feel her hands on him, pulling and pushing him around, digging into his skin that he wanted to rip off himself.

“Don't worry, I have something special planned for her. But in the meantime, why don't I show you all to your new rooms?”

____________

You hit the ground with a scream and sickening crack as blood filled your mouth. Pain rolling through you as the lantern you had been holding shattered on the stones beside you, its glass shards now digging into your arm. You rolled onto your si-

Nope. Nope, bad idea. You flopped onto your back again, wiping away some of the blood now drooling out the corner of your mouth

“Oh my! Are you alright?”

Either you had seriously hit your head or that was a voice you truly didn't recognize. Gently fingers brushed your shoulder, pulling away when you groaned out in pain.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) dear, is that you?”

Now that voice you recognized.

“m-malon..?” You called out, peeling your eyes open to a world of blurry grey. There was a figure leaning over you, one whose mouth didn’t seem to move as Malon’s voice called out to you again.

“Are you alright? Are ya hurt?”

You groaned out an incoherent response, focused on letting your vision adjust till you could actually make out what was around you. The figure above you turned out to be a girl with auburn hair and delicate features. Her red dress accentuated the red in her hair while her golden necklace pulled out the specks in her eyes. She reached out to you again, even lighter than before as though you would shatter like your lantern.

“Are you alright?” Her voice was as soft as her touch as she stared down at you worryingly.

“Fine…just need a sec.” You mumbled, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “Where am I?”

She scooted back just an inch, giving you some more space as you began to sit up but close enough to offer support if you so needed it. “I'm not sure. A sorceress came and before I knew it I was put down here in this cell as well.”

You took in your surroundings as she spoke, and sure enough you were sitting in the middle of a stone cell. Its walls cold and damp and you honestly didn’t look too closely in fear you'd see Hylia knows what growing in the corners. Without a window you couldn’t tell if you were underground or not though that's where most dungeons were so it was a safe bet. The iron bars to your left were thick but you could stick your arm between them at least. The torches just beyond providing enough light to see into the cell across from yours, and the 2 women sat inside.

“Malon!? Sun!?”

They both sat close to the bars, fear written on their faces though they did a good job at putting on a brave front.

“Hi (y/n),” Sun waved to you. “It's good to see you again, even if it's uhh.. Not the best circumstances.” Her eyes were red and puffy and there was an obvious stain of red in her golden hair.

Oh Cia better pray that Sky doesn’t find out.

“Are you all okay? What… What happened?” You asked, noticing a few scratches on Malon as well.

“We’re all fine dear. Well, as much as we can be. But that was quite the fall you had. Are you sure you're alright?”

You nodded, rubbing your forehead a bit to lessen the sting still in your skull. “How long have you all been down here?”

“About a day or two?” Sun said. “She got the jump on me while I was on my way to Skyloft. Is.. Is Link okay? Did she attack you guys too?”

“Wait, Link? You guys know Link?” The girl perked up beside you and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Oh boy, this was about to be a long conversation.

“Yes, I know him and I'm sure they have everything under control. But do you mind telling me your name first?” You ask the girl.

“My name is Zelda, though my people call me Aurora instead.”

“It's nice to meet you, your highness,” You say, bowing your head slightly. You immediately knew which Link she was referring to which brought a small smile to your face. Recalling the way the young traveler would sometimes be as lovestruck as their chosen one when talking about his princess back at home. “You might want to settle in though, cause this is gonna be a long story.”

#skippy.writes #link x reader #lu warriors x reader #lu wars x reader #linked universe x reader #shining some love of some of my favorite lu girls

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