Malon_235

Writer || Crafter || Cosplay Event Manager || Twitch Streamer || Healthcare Worker

[malon235]

Something something pinned information on where to find me on this crazy thing called the internet! 🥰

Malon235

Malon Intro Website

[draegmuth]

I love that Ilya Rozanov is a certified Woman Respecting Bisexual Slut. It doesn't bother me at all that during his hoe era he fucks his way through North America because I know those women are getting insane head, multiple orgasms and perfectly angled dicking from a stunning blond babe with a dumptruck ass. Ilya is actually being a feminist by tormenting Shane, the jockest jock of all time. He is femdomming Shane and Shane being the repressed landlord finance bro that he is, loves taking it from his dominatrix.

[foolhearteyes]

need someone who cares about hockey more than i do to write a fic where shane is forced to retire before he feels ready and svetlana has gotten frustrated with her MHL job because team management never listens to her (due to the misogyny) so she quits and talks shane into starting a hockey analysis podcast together and it's called something like "hockey with hot people" or "puckbunnies" or "soft hands" (shane does not like this but svetlana understands the importance of branding) and it's 98% Serious Hockey Talk BUT they do have a dedicated segment called "why does ilya rozanov owe me money" wherein guests tell their worst ilya stories and after hearing them out shane and svetlana decide how much money ilya owes the guest. ilya is never invited onto the podcast.

[malon235]

Hmmmm 🤔 this idea is making my fingers itch to write again…

[gaynehollander]

I’m so curious what Shane’s reaction would’ve been if it was Ilya injured and carried out on a stretcher.

For this to make sense I'm going to have to make sure we're on the same page about a couple of things. First, Shane's initial attraction to Ilya is based primarily on these factors:

His talent

His strength

His confidence

His control

His talent is obvious. Ilya is the only player who is able to keep up with Shane, who's been skating circles around everyone else since childhood. As a teenager, he starts hearing whispers of this prodigy in Russia. This incredible player who rivals even his talent. Somewhere, across the ocean, there is another kid, his age, who has also always been the best. Some people even think he's better than Shane and Shane takes note. He starts watching. And he's good. Sure, technically Shane is probably the better skater, with every move carefully measured for maximum impact, technique drilled into him through countless hours on the ice, methodical rewatches of every game, careful note-taking, and systematic correction of his every fault. But Rozanov is all instinct. He was born for this. It is seeping out of every pore. The way he flies across the ice on a breakaway, his centre of gravity adjusting to accommodate for his torso being almost entirely parallel to the ice is breathtaking. He watches him deke and it's almost playful, in the middle of competitive gameplay, as though it requires no effort at all. On a poke chase, his stick is an extension of his hand, he shoots off a one-timer as though it takes no conscious adjustment of his placement, neither on the ice nor of the stick. Shane feels flustered and enthralled in a way he never has before.

His strength is obvious. The way he carries himself feels almost dangerous. The way he drops gloves feels like a strip tease. His natural state feels like a panther, lying in wait, every muscle tensed, everything within him tightly coiled. There is so much raw power just waiting for an outlet, carefully kept in control until the moment to pounce strikes. And when that control, that focus is shifted onto Shane, it feels electrifying. The quiet confidence, the knowing smirk, the eyes that cut right through him. It makes him feel caged; as though all of his rigid routine has kept him confined and he just didn't know until this menace of a man arrived, carrying salvation within him, and flashed him the key from behind his predatory smile.

Those are initial impressions. Now, we have to remember what directly proceeds this incident. Ilya has finally started to show Shane what hides behind the facade of Rozanov. His carefully built walls, carefully assembled brick by brick, are still very much in place for the rest of the world but Ilya has shown Shane a secret passage, he has let him pass through the walls with hushed words in a language he doesn't speak beyond the aching vulnerability that echoes through them. If Shane believed Ilya to be strong before it is nothing compared to the strength he now knows he possesses. He's now seen exactly what is hidden behind the carefully crafted persona and he is in awe of the control it takes to keep those walls standing; to keep the rest of the world out. Ilya's soft centre is precious and carefully guarded and it has been handed over to Shane willingly. He does not take that gift lightly.

Seeing Ilya go down on that ice is sacrilege. It goes against the entire order of the world as it should be. This doesn't happen to him. He's too good. He is too strong. But Ilya is lying crumpled on that ice, his walls reduced to rubble, his centre exposed to the masses.

I truly believe seeing Ilya unconscious on the ice would rearrange the order of the world for Shane. I think sound drops out. I think he completely freezes. The world is brought to a standstill. I honestly think Shane's reaction would be less noticeable to the general public than Ilya's reaction. I think he stops dead in place, unable to process what he's seeing. I don't think he heads to Ilya's side, I don't think he tries to speak to him. I think he genuinely goes catatonic. He's not aware of anyone around him, he doesn't hear Hayden as he tries to get Shane to move to the bench, he doesn't react to being jostled away. He fully shuts down, his entire world narrowed down into the broken boy on the ice who suddenly looks so small. It takes several minutes for sound to start rushing back in and when it does it's just a high pitched wail for a minute more until individual sounds start being distinguishable. Even then, words do not manage to penetrate the singular wrongness of this moment. Because this was never supposed to happen. This was an impossibility. I don't think he moves until Ilya is off the ice, carried out by the medics. Suddenly the world comes rushing back in. Tens of thousands of eyes on him. Even more lurking behind screens, unseen to him. Hayden's hand on him; he's trying to say something. Shane doesn't understand what. He knows the expectation here. He knows people expect him to finish the game. He knows that meeting, no, exceeding expectations has been what's kept him going all these years but he has just watched the world end right in front of him.

I think Shane is called off the ice. I think Hayden has to physically remove him. I think he's entirely unresponsive until the game ends. I think Hayden has to drag him out of the spotlights, away from the prying eyes of the fans, into a private alcove, an unused office, anywhere else. I think Shane crumples under his own weight and as soon as the adrenaline releases its chokehold on him, he has a full blown, can't breathe, lips turning blue, panic attack.

I don't think the secret survives Ilya going down on the ice. I think Hayden watches as Shane's world ends and he instinctively understands. I think he enlists help, whether it's in the form of Yuna, because Shane looks like he's passing out, or whether it's in the form of Marlow, because it's obvious that the only thing that will make any real difference is if Shane can see Ilya breathing, and Marlow's his closest friend, right? I think Shane gets into that hospital room that night. I think Ilya manages to convince him to crawl into the narrow hospital bed and I don't think Ilya minds the way his shoulder aches in protest nor the way his hospital gown is soaked with the relieved tears on a man who truly believed he had lost everything.

[museeeuuuum]

[malon235]

Haikavetham SFW Threadfic “Massage”

Alhaitham asks Kaveh for a massage, and gets exactly what he asks for.

~~~

The skin beneath Kaveh’s fingers is warm, the flesh pliable and soft from the work he’s already done to the muscles subtly rippling under the surface.

“If you took better care of yourself instead of sitting hunched over with a book for hours on end, you wouldn’t end up with knots in your shoulders, Haitham.” His words are soft even if they are laced with disappointment.

The response is a subtle grunt and an uncomfortable shifting of the body beneath him. Alhaitham squirms, both from the accusation and the way Kaveh has his hips trapped firmly between his thighs. The scribe is laying face down on the divan, a cushion tucked beneath his forehead so he can still breathe, with Kaveh perched atop him, his hands kneading at the muscles of his back.

“Geeze Ahaitham, what do you have in here, rocks?” Kaveh grumbles, digging his fingers into a stubborn knot of muscles along the top of his shoulder. Alhaitham groans again, tensing up as the muscles sharply release. Noticing the tension building, Kaveh raps the head of silver hair in front of him with a flick of his knuckles as he clicks his tongue. “Stop that, you’ll undo all my hard work.”

“It hurts though, you brat,” Alhaitham comments, his voice muffled by the cushion. “Be careful where you’re poking and prodding up there.”

Kaveh huffs, his cheeks puffing out as he pouts. “You’re the one who asked for a massage, Mr. Feeble Scholar,” he replies, digging his fingers deeper into the stubborn knot, causing Alhaitham to grunt again. “So just lay there, stop clenching up, let me do my work.”

Instead of a grunt or a sharp tongued response, Kaveh feels Alhaitham hum softly before he buries his face further into the cushion. After that he stops moving and Kaveh feels him take a deep breath. As he lets the breath out, the muscles beneath Kaveh’s hands finally relax, taking the majority of the tension with them. “Better?” he grunts, more felt than heard.

He smiles warmly and starts to move his fingers again, this time gently moving them in circles to chase away the remaining tightness and warm the muscles up. It’s easy to lose track of time, and Kaveh sinks into a daze, focusing on nothing but the movements of his fingers, dancing across Alhaitham’s skin. From across the strong, broad shoulders, up his neck into silky silver strands of hair, and down the knobs of his spine, Kaveh continues the massage until there’s nothing but relaxation and warmth left.

It’s only when Kaveh’s knees begin to protest being kept curled up for so long that he sighs and removes his hands, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright you, how are you feeling now?”

There’s no response.

“Haitham?”

Kaveh leans over and tucks a lock of silver hair behind a strangely exposed ear and can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at what he finds.

Alhaitham is fast asleep, lulled into slumber by the massage.

“Silly,” Kaveh whispers, gently caressing Alhaitham’s cheek with a fingertip. He carefully lifts himself up and crawls off of the divan, making sure to not disrupt his sleeping roommate. There’s a blanket tucked away in the corner of the room, and Kaveh retrieves it, shaking it out before draping it over Alhaitham’s sleeping form. With one final smile and another caress of silver hair, Kaveh retreats from the living room and into his studio.

~End~

[malon235]

Another Twt dumpster fire, another attempt to figure out how to use Tumblr.

#whycantwejusthavenicethings?

[malon235]

Sunday Warmth

A #haikaveh threadfic

It's unusual for Haitham to be called into work on a Sunday. His regular hours don't deviate much from a regular schedule, but an additional day off in the middle of the week is enough to convince him to return to the scribe's desk on an off day every once in a while.

The sun is still stubbornly below the horizon when he wakes. The darkness of the bedroom doesn't change even when he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stretches his arms out until his elbows pop softly.

He slips from the bed as quietly as possible, mourning the loss of the warmth of the blankets around his bare shoulders as goosebumps bloom along his arms.

Using only the light of the moon streaming in from the window, he pulls on his clothing, set out the night before in an attempt to make getting ready easier and quieter.

There's a noise from the bed, a soft shuffle of blankets and a muffled groan.

"Hnnngh... Haitham?" Kaveh whines, slipping an arm from beneath the blankets to feel around the now empty side of the bed. When his hand finds nothing but air, he whimpers in his sleep, fingers grasping at Haitham's empty pillow.

It's enough to make his heart stutter in his chest and his breath catch in his throat. Haitham quickly crosses the room to the opposite side of the bed, sitting down on the edge and leaning over to press his lips to the side of Kaveh's head. "I'm right here," he whispers, pressing his forehead against tousled blonde hair. "I have work today, remember?"

Kaveh whimpers again, burrowing further down in the blankets. "I'm cold," Kaveh murmurs pressing his face into his pillow. The room is chilly, they both prefer sleeping with the window open to let in the breeze and make up for the cooler temperature by sharing their blankets.

"I know, but you'll have to make due without me," Haitham replies softly with another kiss to Kaveh's head. "I've got to get going."

"Mmmm... I'll miss you..." Kaveh's words are muffled by the pillow, but they're still clear enough for Haitham to hear them through his earpieces. His lips turn upwards in a small smile, his heart warmed by the sentiment. With one final kiss, Haitham stands, pulling the woven quilt back up over Kaveh's shoulders and tucking them in tightly.

He turns towards the doorway but pauses for a moment, looking back at the dark lump on the bed that is Kaveh, curled up under the thick blankets. With a sigh, he unbuckles his cloak from his shoulders and lays it overtop the quilt, adding just a bit more warmth and comfort onto the bed.

Kaveh sighs deeply, slipping back into slumber easily, and Haitham smiles once again.

A long day of work is ahead of him, and the sooner he gets going, the faster he'll be able to return home.

[malon235]

Dreams of Romance

A #haidehya drabble

*~*~*

Alhaitham is many things, intelligent, observant, strong, dedicated. Traits of a scholar and a most reliable companion.

Alhaitham is not, however, a romantic. He doesn’t talk about his feelings, even though they are deep and sometimes overwhelming. He doesn’t do extravagant gifts, nor over the top displays of affection. That’s just not his thing.

Dehya knows that he loves her though.

It’s in the small things, the way his fingers tangle with hers underneath the table at a restaurant, the soft glances and tiny smiles when she points something out to him while on a walk, the single flower sitting on the table next to a freshly poured cup of coffee.

At first this upset her. Was it so wrong to want to be romanced like how they write about in the light novels? She never knew that this was something she wanted, living up to this point thinking that she was better off on her own, not having to deal with another person so close to her.

But when Alhaitham walked into her life, a book in his hand and a quiet smile on his face, she knew that she was gone. It was like a tsunami, how easily he consumed her.

Quiet and overpowering, he easily slipped into her heart and filled every crack and crevice her life had left on it to that point, and he did it so effortlessly.

Now it was virtually impossible to think of her life without him in it.

It took some time to fully learn what Alhaitham’s love language was, and her friends still don’t fully understand, but Dehya just smiles when they tease her about it.

She knows he loves her, just as she knows that she loves him in return. It’s quiet, but it’s strong, just like Alhaitham himself. When he gives his heart away, it’s his whole heart, with no strings left attached.

Sometimes that scares her, knowing that she holds it in her hands, but she loves him so much that it tempers the fear into something easier to handle.

The fact that Dehya, a wild mercenary from the desert, somehow managed to capture the heart of the handsome scribe of the Akademiya above all others is still something she can not quite believe.

When she gets the angry stares and poisonous words of jealousy from his many admirers, she quickly brushes them aside, and he chuckles when she tells him about them.

A quiet groan throws Dehya out of her thoughts, and the cool morning air chilling the skin of her exposed shoulder is replaced with the press of warm lips.

“You’re thinking so hard for this early in the morning,” Alhaitham whispers softly, his breath tickling her ear. His voice is rough with sleep, half an octave deeper than usual, and her toes curl at the sound of it, raw and exposed and gentle.

She turns her head to the side, meeting his bright teal eyes staring down at her, and she smiles at him.

“Good morning to you too,” she murmurs, lifting a hand to smooth out his unruly silver hair.

He ducks his head into her palm, nuzzling it affectionately before pressing a kiss against her wrist.

“Less thinking, more sleeping,” Alhaitham grumbles, laying back down and pulling her closer against his chest.

He buries his nose into her hair and squeezes his arms tighter for just a moment before sighing. With a chuckle, she pulls the blanket tighter over both of them and nestles deeper into his arms, closing her eyes and humming softly under her breath.

Yes, Alhaitham may not be a sappy romantic, but he loves her, and she loves him in return. As they fall back asleep, savouring each other on a lazy Saturday morning, she’s never been more certain of anything else.

[malon235]

Of Visions and Hearts

A #thomato Drabble

(This was originally a threadfic I wrote for Twitter but it was just too long. Figure this would be a nice first real post on Tumblr instead!)

*~*~*

By order of the Almighty Shogun, the person selected as the 100th vision seizure under the Vision Hunt Decree is Thoma, housekeeper and retainer of the Kamisato clan.

The words of the report were branded into Ayato’s brain, the simple sheet of parchment handed to him by one of his shuumatsuban ninjas just before he retired for the evening.

Does he dare tell Thoma of his fate? Does he try to hide his lover away, risking the wrath of the Shogunate upon his family, his clan, the entire commission? He does not know…

Thoma slips into their room, silent as always, never wanting to disturb him in case he is already asleep. When emerald eyes spot him, sitting up with his head in his hands, he hums with curiosity.

“Love, what’s wrong?” the housekeeper asks quietly, dropping to his knees at the side of the futon, reaching out to pull Ayato’s hands away from his face, revealing his panicked expression.

Ayato groans, still unable to decide how to proceed. “I… nothing,” he stammers, shaking his head and placing as genuine of a smile on his face as he can. “It’s nothing, just a long day.”

Thoma raises an eyebrow, skeptical of the sudden response, and suspicious of the obviously forced smile on his lover’s face. “Ok… if you’re sure it’s nothing.”

“I promise, everything is just fine,” Ayato lies smoothly, gesturing to the bed with a nod of his head. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep.”

With a sigh, Thoma concedes that there’s nothing more he can do to pry, and quickly strips off his clothing and slips into his sleepwear before joining Ayato in their bed.

Even with Thoma wrapped securely in his arms, Ayato can’t get the message out of his thoughts, and he lays awake for hours.

Thoma. Their next target is Thoma. They’re going to take his vision, and then…

Thoma… my dear Thoma will be…

Gone? Lost forever?

Ayato shudders, a picture of his lover with dull, deadened eyes, the light stolen from his emerald orbs with the loss of his life’s ambition. An empty shell doomed to walk the nation with no reason to exist.

Thoma shifts in his embrace, and his sleep-worn voice permeates Ayato’s thoughts. “Ayato, please tell me what is bothering you…”

“Thoma… love, please don’t make me say it...” Ayato whimpers, still not wanting to breathe life into the message by speaking it aloud.

“You can’t sleep, so obviously it’s something serious,” Thoma replies, propping himself up on an elbow to stare at him. “Just tell me, maybe I can help.”

“That’s the thing, there’s nothing you can do to help this…” Ayato can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anguish of what is to come tearing at his very soul.

Thoma chuckles, still blissfully unaware of the truth. “Come on, there’s nothing that we can’t take care of if we do it together, right?”

Ayato’s resolve snaps, he sits straight up and grabs Thoma by his shoulders, staring directly into those emerald eyes he adores so much. “It’s you, Thoma. The 100th vision… the ceremony tomorrow….”

Silence falls between them as Ayato trembles, shocked at his sudden outburst. Thoma’s eyes widen and the colour drains from his face.

“Me?” Thoma whispers, his voice wavering slightly. “They’ve chosen… me?”

“Yes,” Ayato replies, dropping his eyes to the space between them, tracing the pattern of the blanket. “I found out just before I left my office…”

Thoma sighs, letting out the breath he had been holding. “Well, we both knew it was only a matter of time before they would come for one of us.”

“But Thoma…” Ayato gasps, “I can’t stand to lose you…” His hands shake where they are gripped tightly into the soft shirt covering Thoma’s shoulders.

“You won’t, I promise,” Thoma replies, causing Ayato to look up once more, and he chokes as he sees the tranquil look on Thoma’s face. It’s the look of a person who has seen their fate and decided that there’s no fighting it.

“But…”

“No, love, no buts,” Thoma murmurs, pulling Ayato into his arms and hugging him tightly. “There’s no way I would ever stop loving you, no matter what may happen to me.”

“Thoma, they’re going to take your vision…” Ayato replies, nuzzling his face into the crook of Thoma’s neck, his breath ruffling the soft hairs.

Thoma chuckles again, as if they weren’t discussing the possible end of his very existence. “That’s just it, they’re only taking my vision, they can never steal my heart.”

“How can you know that?”

Thoma pulls them apart, staring directly into Ayato’s violet eyes, his lips curled into a soft smile. “Because, Ayato, you stole my heart long ago, and you hold it with you wherever you go.”

Ayato stares at his lover for several moments before a strained laugh bursts from his throat. Thoma chuckles in response, and they laugh together for a while, falling into each other’s arms once more.

***

The following morning they dress in silence, Thoma helping his lover into his more elaborate outfit while Ayato wrings his hands together nervously.

“You know what to do, yes?”

Thoma nods, pulling his hair back into its usual ponytail and securing it with the stand of red cord. “Don’t resist, don’t fight back, and just go quietly.”

“I’ll have several of my men watching you, they’ll report back to me when it happens and trail you all the way to the ceremony. Just…” Ayato’s voice finally cracks, his emotions seeping out.

“Thank you,” Thoma whispers, wrapping his arms around Ayato’s torso and pulling them together in a tight hug. “I know this is difficult for you, but I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Ayato sighs, pressing a kiss into the side of Thoma’s neck, inhaling his lover’s smoky scent. “Be careful, and come home safe to me, ok?”

Thoma turns his head and captures Ayato’s lips with his, kissing him like it could be their last, before he pulls away. “I will, I promise.”

Their hands are still linked as they make their way from their rooms, Ayato clinging to Thoma’s fingers all the way to the front doors of the estate, not wanting to let him go.

Thoma squeezes their held hands, lifting them to his lips to place one last kiss on Ayato’s knuckles. “See you soon,” he murmurs before turning and leaving the building, the door closing behind him.

Ayato feels his heart clench, and for the first time in a long time he prays.

Celestia, please keep him safe, and let my love come home to me.

With Thoma facing his fate, Ayato turns and returns to his office, putting in place the next pieces of the puzzle to hopefully prevent this from happening ever again.

*~*~*

[malon235]

Hello everyone, I’m Malon! I wear quite a few different hats in life but online I’m mostly known for my writing. With the looming threat of losing Twitter as a main place to connect and post creative works, I figured I’d make an account here just in case, mostly to be able to follow the creators I have found over the past year through the Genshin community.

I have links to my other socials, my AO3 account, and my Etsy page on my Carrd, please feel free to check out my various homes across the interwebs and I hope you enjoy my works! ❤️❤️

https://malon235.carrd.co

#introductions #newtotumblr #howdoiusethis

[malon235]

New social media app? No clue what I’m doing but I’m here! 😅