#Stow Organizer

[bradsbackpack]

Stow Organizer Review

Stow Organizer: Our Verdict Stow Organizer Star Rating ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.5 out of 5. Pros Rigid design Lots of space Stylish Cons Expensive Less packable than the Stow Lite Triangle shapes Technical Details Dimensions 11.5cm x 20cm x 5.5cm Weight 180g Main Materials Polyester and Nylon Where to buy You can also use the below button to purchase your own Native Union Stow…

[epitomees]

((I swear I think I had a HC I posted a while back about the turntable Makoto has in her room. It was a gift inherited from her father once he passed away, one that Makoto would always hear playing on the weekend when everyone was home. Her father would whisk baby Mako into little dances in the living room, Sae would be laughing along, it was really wholesome. 

Maybe I need to dig up that post again, because I went into a little more detail about it.)) 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OH BIG BRAIN IDEA-

Reverse Puss In Boots panic attack scene with Reader calming Dogday down from a panic attack, 'cause this case it's the dog that needs comforting-

"[Y/n]! Come quickly! Something's wrong with Dogday!"

Pausing in your repairs of Kissy's arm, you made sure to cut the thread before giving her an apologetic look. Fortunately, she seemed to understand that you needed to heed Poppy's call right away, and so you followed the little doll into the next room over.

There, Dogday was resting...although at this moment he was very much doing the opposite.

He was slumped against the wall, out of the makeshift dogbed you and Kissy put together for him, a hand clutching his chest--but it kept heaving, rapidly rising and falling with each labored breath.

His white pupils were completely gone, not a shred of light to be found within his sockets, and that was very alarming.

Did he see something?

Did an intruder try to get in?

While Poppy couldn't guarantee any place in the factory was safe, she did mention this area was a good place to hunker down, rest, and plan your next move against the Prototype.

But if that's the case...then what was going on with him?

You needed to find out fast.

"Dogday...what's wrong..??!"

Even though he could hear you and see you kneeling in front of him, concern written all over your face, he simply couldn't answer. He couldn't even keep his focus on you, as a whirlwind of terror and panic clouded his mind.

The only thing he could do was paw at his chest, unable to make sense of why his heart refused to stop pounding, as though it was trying to break free.

Or maybe..

It was a little Smiling Critter who stowed away inside him, trying to get out....

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

"I don't know what happened.." Poppy murmured to you, shaking her head. "I swear he was fine a second ago! Y-You think his organs might be shutting down? Or his hunger is-?"

"No, I know exactly what's wrong." You calmly answered, much to her bewilderment.

But before she could question you further, you moved over to Dogday's side before hugging him around the torso, squishing your cheek against his chest the moment he took his paws off of it.

And you simply waited.

The little doll had no idea how this was helping him, although she soon realized his breaths were finally starting to slow. His white pupils flickered back to life, looking down and seeing you embrace him without any regard to your own safety.

Somehow..you provided him with such a comforting weight that drowned out his panicked thoughts.

One of his trembling paws eventually came to rest atop your head, and he slowly began to pet you much like a human would pet a dog: gentle, ensuring he wasn't too rough.

After a few more moments passed, you felt his breaths even out to the point where his chest wasn't heaving like before, and he placed his paw on your back.

Finally, he spoke.

"A-Angel...thank you..I..don't know what happened.."

"It's okay." You sat up to look at him, seeing the tears threatening to spill from his sockets. "You were just having a panic attack. But it's over..you did great."

"Is..that what it was?" He murmured, confused.

"That's all it was. Do you remember what led to it?"

"...'m not sure. I was..just thinking about Catnap, and the Prototype, and suddenly I felt this strange tightness in my chest. Thought somethin' was wrong with my lungs...a-and then the room just started spinning. Next thing I knew, I...I-I couldn't breathe. I couldn't talk to Poppy or you, angel. Thought one of those wretched things was trying to eat me from the inside out. B-But..that was just all in my head, right? I'm not...nothing was-?"

"I made sure none snuck inside when I was fixing you up. You're safe from them." Taking one of his paws into your hands, you smiled, seeing Kissy walk into the room. "Catnap and the Prototype have been on all of our minds lately, and it's been...a stressful few hours."

"...I didn't mean to scare you all..usually it's me who calms people down, ya know?" He sighed quietly, still feeling guilty. "You sure I'm not going to slow you down? Because if I have another attack...i-it could be at the worst time, and then-"

"Then I'll help you through it. I made a promise to get you all out of here, and I'm sticking by that." You reassured.

Dogday looked surprised, but he relaxed his shoulders in relief, tail wagging along the floor. "Thank you, angel.."

He had his doubts before, about whether saving him from the Playhouse was more trouble than it's worth.

But now he knows you're in this for the long run, ready to help guide him out of the darkness.

[neolxzr]

OK so heres some of my favorite things that were talked about during the enter the florpus commentary thing yesterday:

one of jhonen's favorite things in the whole movie is the writing in zim's kitchen that says "do anything is real?"

they clarified specifically that gir was not lying and he did in fact eat a baby at the crazy taco

gir smells REALLY bad. theres like rotting organic matter in his body at all times. he stinks

zim's human suit is made out of actual human skin

zim is acting drunk on nacho cheese during that scene in his house because richard horvitz recorded it while drunk

they planned to have this whole thing with tak's ship only agreeing to go to moo-ping 10 because it knows tak is there. they wouldve shown her in silhouette during that brief explosion and she wouldve stowed away on the ship without anyone knowing and then wouldve shown up towards the end of the movie, but they decided to cut it out

zim did not need to frame membrane for a crime in order to get him into space prison and likely just tossed the guards like 5 bucks for it. its a shady place. they did specify though that if he did frame him for something, it would have been jaywalking

they pointed out during that scene where zim is celebrating peace day on dib's lawn that zim's reaction to seeing dib was very much genuine and that's just how his brain works. he is genuinely surprised to see him pop out of his own house. (they also described his reaction as like "being surprised to see your best friend")

the ham joke was ABSOLUTELY CRITICAL to the film and at some point jhonen remembered it and was like GUYS. WE ALMOST FORGOT THE HAM

there was supposed to be this joke where it cuts to and from gaz and dib in tak's ship and they would've had to stop at like a warp station or something and theyd be waiting in a long queue of spaceships and the radio is broken in the ship so theyre stuck listening to that one song. then itd cut to them like totally braindead drooling from listening to it for so long. and then a little later itd cut back a FINAL time and theyd know all of the words and both be singing along to it. but this was also cut out so only the last bit remained

when asked "who would win: minimoose or mrs. bitters?" the answer was along the lines of "neither, i think all of us lose in that scenario"

the tallest are just two dudes who happen to be the same height and therefore have to share the same job. they are not brothers and they are also not gay lovers ("as much as you want them to be, they are not. there is no love in this universe")

skooge is in fact alive and lives in zim's basement. they wanted to keep the number of "hey remember this thing from the tv show!" moments to a minimum so he was not mentioned in the movie. but he is there

[twistmusings]

Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Octavinelle

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul actually has a lot of little touches in his room that are very cute. For one thing, his general decor lends itself to the idea that Azul likes the finer things in life. Truthfully, all of the dorm rooms are have shown a lot of attention to the character's actual stylistic preferences in the Guest room and Azul is no exception.

Rather than having a bedside table, Azul has a second safe in his room in addition to the large one he has in his office. This is interesting because, well, that means that there's things that are likely more important to him than the contracts he kept in his vault in his office. I'm certainly curious about what sort of thing Azul would choose to keep in a personal vault - are they especially important contracts to him? Money? Or, perhaps, just other things that are especially special to him. I know the kneejerk reaction for a lot of folks is to be that it's where he stores his coin collection, however...

Azul actually displays his coin collection in a frame! He has them mounted in velvet.

Several of the other characters have featured a feather pen and ink bottles in their room, however a cute touch is that Azul's pen is actually fish bones. This is a cute little insight into what they may use for pens underneath the Coral Sea. Or, perhaps, Azul just has a flare for the dramatic.

Azul has a trunk and several potion bottles on top of his wardrobe. The fact that Azul has these out in the open on top of the trunk likely means that all of the items in the trunk were potion bottles, and then because they were stored up so high, he placed the ones he commonly uses on top, rather than storing them back inside the trunk. Azul is otherwise very organized, so it would make logical sense that if he's not putting these away, they're likely out because he knows he's going to reach for them again.

This is honestly probably my favorite detail in Azul's room because these are terrariums. Azul never mentions having any interest in Terrariums, but Jade does, meaning that these are likely terrariums that Jade made for Azul and gave him as gifts. This is actually really cute, because though the Leech twins joke about leaving Azul as soon as he becomes boring in canon, this shows that Jade at the very least thinks of Azul in his free time when he's not at work or around Azul by obligation, enough to have given him gifts. it's also worth noting that Azul has these displayed, which means that they aren't a gift that's rotting away in a drawer or stowed away somewhere. It's also worth mentioning that the ones that have plants in them are alive, which requires at least some level of attention to them in order to maintain the environment inside. Little things like this show how much the characters actually care about each other.

Azul's hidden Mickey is next to his shelf of terrariums.

Jade Leech

Jade is an interesting case because he, like Ruggie and Trey, doesn't actually have much displayed in his room in terms of decoration. That being said, what he does have displayed are his terrariums. Jade being the sole member of the Mountain Lover's club, it seems like he probably spends a lot of his free time out and tending to either his plants in the greenhouse or actually hiking.

This isn't likely directly because of Jade, however it seems like Octavinelle as a whole have coat hangers and hat racks that are themed around octopi, which is possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Jade is notably organized - he has his shoes on his shoe rack, his hat and scarf hung up, and his bed made. This will become more important when you see Floyd's half of the room.

There is also this object. While I'm not certain and it doesn't seem to be mentioned in any of Jade's vignettes outright, I suspect this may be a jewelry box. It's a little hard to tell in comparison to a lot of the items in the student rooms, though, so if anyone has any additional input, please let me know! Neither of the other two from Octavinelle have an object like this one in their rooms.

Jade's Hidden Mickey is on one of his terrariums.

Fun fact, Jade AND Floyd both have errors in their Night 2 versions of their backgrounds, as they are both missing the hidden Mickey.

Floyd Leech

Oh, Floyd, sweetheart, you live like this?

Jokes aside, Floyd actually has some things of note! While his side of his and Jade's room (canonically they share a room) is messy, he's messy in a different fashion than someone like Leona. Where Leona doesn't hang his clothes - Floyd does. Or at the very least, it seems like someone does it for him. (Given the haphazard hanging of his jacket, though, I would guess that he probably does it himself.) What does that tell us? Well, more than likely, Floyd gets small bursts of motivation to clean certain aspects of his room, and then grows bored and gives them up. To be quite honest, for those who know of or experience it, Floyd's organization style reminds me a lot of how ADHD folks tend to struggle with forming sustainable cleaning habits, as it's often easier to put something down rather than to put it away.

Snacks, literally everywhere. Floyd has snacks on his desk as well as on the shelf above his bed. It would seem that Floyd has a serious sweet-tooth, given the amount of sweets that we see in his room.

For the life of me, I could not tell you if this is a trash bin or not, but if it is, it looks like whatever Floyd put in there has teeth marks on it.

Another thing of note about Floyd's room, while there's a lot of things that are strewn around, there's not actually all that much trash around. He has a single empty container on his desk, but otherwise his floors are clean, and it seems like things that need to end up disposed are. Again, whether or not that's Jade intervening because they share a room, it's hard to say.

Floyd's hidden Mickey is on his pillow.

As was mentioned in Jade's section, both Floyd and Jade's Night 2 versions of their backgrounds are missing the hidden Mickey. Floyd's background has an additional error however!

Floyd's box of cookies is actually missing the box in his Night 2 artwork. If I had to guess, since I have experience with digital art, more than likely, the layer containing these details was accidentally deleted when making the edits for the Night 2 cards, resulting in these things disappearing when the background were published. It's a minor error, all things considered, and gave me a little giggle because now it just looks like Floyd has haunted cookies floating in his room.

Addendum

Excellent catch by @twistedminutia that Azul's fish bone pen is likely in reference to the pen Ariel signs her contract with in the original movie! (To be quite honest, and I know this is ironic given that this blog has such a heavy octavinelle theming, but the little mermaid was my least favorite Disney movie growing up, so I never would have caught this myself!)

[somanyratsinthewalls]

A Little Funny Business (+18)

Pairing: Buggy x Afab!Reader

WC: 3760

Summary: As a Warlord, you’re always being invited to prestigious Marine Events. With your insatiable sexual appetite, you use these events as a hunting ground for your next prey, and tonight you’re feeling a bit… silly. 

Warnings: Bisexual cunty BFF Mihawk, Alcohol consumption, Face Sitting (HONK), Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Inappropriate use of Devil Fruit Powers, nervous Bugs, Missionary, unprotected sex (bad idea!), cream pie (worse idea!), spitting, multiple orgasms, porn with a lot of plot for no reason. 

*authors note* I saw someone ask a few weeks ago for more fics about Buggy being a huge loser and I was a little inspired by that LOL he's such a dork wow

MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

——

“And why do I need to come to this again? I have much better things to be doing than rubbing elbows with those fools.” Dracule ‘Hawkeye’ Mihawk was lounging in your parlor chair with his  boots kicked up on the glass coffee table, the large glass of red wine you had offered him swirling in his hand. He was your best… friend? As a fearsome pirate, no one had friends, per se, but he was probably the closest thing you had other than your own crew. 

“Because…” You emphasize while you throw on one of your dresses from behind your changing curtain. “I’m in the mood for a romp and if I can’t find someone I think can satisfy me tonight, I might as well bring along ole reliable.” You peek over the top of the curtain and shoot him a wink. Over the years you’ve known each other, you and Mihawk realized that you have incredible sexual compatibility but the thought of being in a committed relationship repulsed you both. 

Mihawk rolls his eyes at you. 

“For future reference, it’s not sexy to tell a man that he’s your second choice.” He smirked as he sipped his wine. He was indifferent, he just liked to poke fun at you. “So who do you have your eyes on, then? Another Admiral?” He teased.

You scoff as you exit the curtain in a red plunging, halter, backless gown with a slit up nearly to your hip. “After Aokiji? No way. His hands were so cold I felt like I was the the doctor’s office.” You give Mihawk a twirl, gesticulating at your dress. “Thoughts?” 

Mihawk takes another sip of his wine. 

“You look like a whore.” He smiles slightly and quirks up an eyebrow at your body. You turn around to face yourself in the mirror. You grin. 

“Perfect.”

— — 

Upon docking your ship at the upper-class Marine town where the ball was being held, you slipped on your jacket and heels and made your way to the banquet hall. You made sure to arrive fashionably late, to make your presence known once most of the attendees have already gotten comfortable in their cups. 

“Miss Y/n, I can take your coat, please allow me.” A dinky little pink-haired Marine Cadet gently shuffled your coat off your now bare shoulders. 

“Aren’t you cute, thank you dear. Keep it warm for me, hey?” With a wink you slipped a one-thousand berry note into his uniform pocket. 

“Y-y-y-yes! Of course, Miss! M-m-my pleasure!” The young cadet sputters out while hurrying off to hang your coat. 

You square your shoulders as you saunter into the extravagant banquet hall filled with important men and women. The hall had vaulted ceilings with beautiful skylights and the walls were adorned with gold appliqué and candelabras. You feel the eyes of many on you as you stroll towards the bar. 

“A gin martini please, up, extra dirty.” The bartender nods at you and begins mixing your cocktail. You reach into your purse for your pocket mirror and lipstick and reapply the gorgeous shade of red that matches your dress. After stowing your cosmetics, your drink was ready so you reach out and touch the martini glass. 

“Really? The Marines can’t even spring for chilled glasses?” You furrow your brow at how cheap the government organization had gotten lately. You hear a low chuckle from the man next to you. 

“Allow me.” You hear him say. Suddenly, as if by magic, a frost of ice begins to form from the bottom of your glass to the very top. Realizing who was standing beside you at the bar, you smile. 

“I wondered where you’d made off to. You never called me back, you know.” Admiral Aokiji looks down at you. 

“I do know. It’s nothing personal, Admiral, but keep frosting these glasses for me and I might just change my mind.” You wink and stroll back to the rest of the party with your drink. 

After scanning the crowd you see Mihawk seated at a table with a few others. He was hard to miss… he just had to bring that eyesore of a weapon everywhere. You take the seat next to him and put your drink on the table. 

“I miss anything good yet? Did the fishmen get here? They always make it weird.” You question Mihawk. 

“No, painfully boring as expected.” Mihawk swigs from his drink. “At least it’s an open bar. Have you found your ‘soup of the day’ yet?” He inquires about your hunt for your next sexual conquest. You laugh out loud at his phrasing. 

“Hah! Not yet. Old man Garp looks kind of nice lately though…” You say looking over your left shoulder at the vice-admiral who was paying attention only to the roving stewards with trays of meat-heavy appetizers. Mihawk crinkles up his nose slightly. 

“He looks like he bites. Not in a good way.” The two of you make eye contact then snort into your drinks trying to hold in your laughter. 

“Ah, my friends! What a pleasure to see you both!” A booming voice caused both you and Mihawk to turn around in your chairs. A massively tall, blonde, sunglasses-clad man was sidling your way. 

“Oh gods, why him? I thought for sure he wouldn’t make it…” Mihawk whispers as he takes a huge gulp of his drink. 

“Ugh.” You turn back towards the table, hoping he would just go away. 

“Is that any way to greet an old pal?” DonQuixote Doflamingo laughs as he muscles his way in-between the two of you. 

“Doflamingo.” You beam up at him with the fakest smile you could muster. You extend a limp hand which he takes in his much larger one. He licks his lips before he kisses it. “Couldn’t be bothered leaving that gaudy thing at the coat check?” You nod your chin towards his ridiculous hot pink jacket. Doflamingo chortles. 

“Always such a charmer, y/n. What does a King have to do for you to join them in his bedchambers tonight?” He licks his lips again. Still smiling at him widely, you respond. 

“When I say that I would rather cover a sea cucumber in sandpaper and-“

Doflamingo leans over you, trying to intimidate you. 

“You’re rejecting me? You must think I won’t kill every single one in here and then-“ 

Mihawk rises and pushes a hand against Doflamingo’s massive chest. 

“Wait until she has a few more martinis. She’s much more… adventurous. Speaking from experience… friend.” Mihawk dispels the situation with ease. Doflamingo huffs and heads off to converse with some Marine Higher-Ups. 

“He’s going to actually kill you one day, you know.” 

“I’d rather fight him than fuck him. He’s insufferable and you know it. Fucking bird brain.” You snap at Mihawk as you take the last sip of your drink. You notice Mihawk’s drink is empty as well. “Get me another drink, will you love?” You smile sweetly at the swordsman. 

“You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” Mihawk grabs your empty glasses and leaves for the bar. You take this opportunity to scan the ballroom for potential lovers or anyone interesting enough to even have a conversation with. You were starting to regret even coming… when you overhear two marine captains chatting near you.  

“Who invited that guy?”

“Bro he’s a warlord now, can you believe that?”

“No way… he’s so… lame?”

This piqued your interest. You looked in the direction they were gesturing in. There was a man who had just arrived at the event, one you had yet to meet in person. This gentleman was wearing a slightly dirty orange fur jacket with a matching giant, orange pirate hat adorned with blue and green. What you noticed immediately, though, was his large, round, red nose. 

“Buggy the clown, nice to meet ya. It’s me, Buggy, the clown. The Genius Jester, Buggy the Clown, yes that’s me. Captain Buggy, pleasure to meet ya.” The silly looking man was shaking hands like he was running for office. It was corny and he was clearly out of place. You found yourself smiling at his awkward behavior. After pandering to the crowd, the clown eventually seated himself at a table across the room with a glass of whiskey. 

“Your martini, my lady, just the way you like it.” Mihawk returns with a new martini for you, unfortunately not chilled. 

“Thanks. Say, what do you know about the circus guy?” You nod in Buggy’s direction.

“Oh him? We have an old mutual friend. He’s an idiot. Everything good that’s ever happened to him he’s stumbled ass-backwards into it. I give it a week or two as a warlord before someone’s killed him for his spot.” Mihawk explains. 

“Interesting. I’ll be back.” You stride towards Buggy’s table at the opposite end of the ballroom. Without asking or saying anything, you take a seat right beside the clown. 

“Hi.” You lean on your elbow on the table with your head tilted to the side. 

“O-oh, Hi! You’re uh- um- y/n!” The clown stutters out, startled by your sudden appearance next to him. 

“Mhmm…. And you’re Buggy… Captain Buggy.” You look into his sea-glass colored eyes. 

“Y-yes! I am Captain Buggy the Clown. A powerful warlord of the sea!” He nervously chokes out at you.  You giggle. 

“Yeah, me too. So…” You draw circles on the table with your finger. “What brings you to some stuffy Marine function like this one? Doesn’t really seem like your speed.”

“Uh… The free food and booze, honestly.” 

You laugh. Buggy’s posture becomes less stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I’m glad we’re here for similar reasons, Mr. Clown.” You raise your martini glass in his direction. Buggy raises his whiskey and clinks his glass to yours. 

“Please, y/n, call me Buggy. Mr. Clown was my father.” 

Maybe it was the gin talking, but you found yourself laughing out loud at his stupid joke. You both finish your drinks after your toast. 

“Hey, y/n… wanna see a card trick?” Buggy pulls a crusty old deck of cards out of his coat pocket and starts shuffling them. Your eyes widen, not expecting this man to be fully committed to the clown bit. 

“Fuck it, show me.” 

Several minutes of shuffling and slight-of-hand go by before the clown pulls a Queen of Hearts out the deck. 

“Is this your card?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“No fucking shit!” You slam your hands on the table, genuinely impressed that he had picked your card. 

“Hah Hah! Told ya!” Buggy laughs as he finishes his drink. You notice his empty glass. 

“Let me get you another drink. Don’t go anywhere.” You wink as you grab your glasses and turn towards the bar. After ordering and receiving your two drinks, you spy Mihawk at the end of the bar facing outward. 

“So, how’s the plight of the huntress going? Anyone that you-“ He starts as he brings his drink to his lips, but you cut him off. 

“I’m going to fuck the clown.” You say with a deadpan expression. 

“Gods, y/n, what?” Mihawk chokes out after he spits out his drink. 

“Yep. See you!” You don’t give Mihawk a chance to criticize your choice before you walk off. You bring the drinks back to the blue-haired clown and sit down, pulling your chair close to his as you sit. 

“Thanks!” Buggy takes a big gulp of his drink, noticing that your knees are now touching his. “So… uh… y/n? I gotta ask… with all these big wigs here… why are ya talking to me all night?” 

You sense his insecurities. Cute, you thought. 

“Well, Buggy,” You emphasize his name. “Unlike you, I am not new to this game. And since I am not new to this game, frankly, I am bored. All these stuck up, no-fun, corporate dickheads make for a very boring party.” You grab his hand that’s clutching his drink on the table. “You however…” You stroke your thumb along the back of his glove. You could see a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “You are fun. I like fun.” 

Buggy giggles nervously.

“Heh, well, uh, t-thank you. You’re… you’re f-fun too…” He uses his free gloved hand to rub the back of his neck. 

“Do you wanna see how much fun I can be, Captain Buggy?” You cock your head to the side and place your other hand on his knee. Buggy’s eyes blow so wide you thought he had seen a ghost. 

“I-… I- Um… Ah!” He jolts as you slide your hand up his thigh, further trying to get your point across. 

“Want to come back to my ship with me, Buggy?” You lean and whisper in his ear. 

“Yes! Of course I do! Now? Can we go now?” He stands up. You laugh. 

“Follow me, funny guy.” 

— —

Buggy follows you all the way back to your ship like a lovesick puppy. Trailing behind you and asking you all kinds of questions and oversharing about himself. You board your ship and lead him into your luxurious captain’s quarters and close the door behind you both. 

“Wow it’s really nice in here, y/n! Who does your…-mmph!” Buggy is cut off by your lips smashing against his as you push him against the closed door. 

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and kiss him deeper. You feel smooth gloved hands wrap around your waist as he finally kisses you back once the shock wore off. Your lips move slowly together at first. Buggy is awkwardly trying to find a rhythm, but after a few moments he feels confident enough to walk you backwards and push you both onto your plush pink comforter. Now laying down, you wrap your legs around his hips, effectively hiking your dress up and exposing your panties to him. Buggy pulls back breathlessly and looks down at you. 

“Uh, so, uh… I-I don’t do this a lot… A-Are you sure you want to-?” His brows are furrowed and his eyes are full of uncertainty. 

You bring your hands up and remove his hat and tossing it to the floor, smoothing his long blue hair off to one side. 

“Buggy. I want you. Please.” With your last plead, you bucked your hips upward to grind into his hardened bulge. Buggy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

“Fuck! Okay, okay, okay- let’s get this thing off you, hey?” Hurriedly, Buggy lifts your already hiked up dress over your head leaving you fully exposed except for a red lace thong with a little wet patch right over your hole. His eyes dart from your naked breasts to your long legs to your clothed sex, before you snapped him out of it. 

“I think you have too many clothes on.” You jump up and slide his jacket off of his shoulders and then lift his shirt off his head as he takes off his trousers and boots. Not wearing underwear (you smirk at this realization) he was now naked in front of you. You grab his face with both hands and pull him into a passionate kiss. He falls on top of you again. But during your heated make out, you roll him over so that you’re on top, grinding your lace covered cunt against his hard cock. 

“Y-y/n! Ah!” Buggy moans out lewdly, and he isn’t even inside of you yet. Perhaps knowing he wouldn’t last long once he feels your warm insides sucking him in, he pleads with you.

“Let me taste you, please, y/n. Wanna make you feel good on me…” He was so desperate, it was so cute. You giggle.

“Aww, you’re so cute, Buggy. Of course I’ll let you have a taste. Now open wide baby…” You shuffle your way up to his face and straddle it with your body facing the headboard. You grip your panties and push them forcefully to the side, exposing your slick pussy mere millimeters above Buggy’s waiting mouth. You fully seat yourself down on his face, knowing he could take it. He was a warlord now, after all. 

“Mmmpph!” Buggy swirls his tongue experimentally around your slit, groaning at the sinful taste. He laps and sucks up and down your cunt until he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you when he slurps it between his lips. 

“Fuck, there!” You throw your head back in pleasure as the man below you learns what turns you on and how to bring you to that edge. “Just like that, fuck! Keep going!” He enthusiastically licks at your clit harder with your praise. He moves to slip his tongue into your hole, you sigh out and wind your hands in his hair below you. Instinctively, you push your cunt onto his face, trying to force his tongue deeper into you when you hear-

HONK!

You gasp as all motions on your sex stop and you look down. Nervous, anxious eyes look back up at you from between your legs.

“Buggy… baby…” 

“Y/n I-“

“Baby that’s so hot.” You were panting down at him. His expression became one of even more confusion. “I want more. Do it again.”

Buggy was in shock. There’s no way you were really saying his nose was… sexy? It was turning you on? You had to be joking. There’s no way that you-

Buggy’s thoughts were cut off by you pushing your pussy down onto his mouth again, whining and begging for more of his tongue. 

HONK!

“Please baby? Make me cum on that handsome face of yours.” You gasp out as he resumes his ministrations on your swollen clit. You close your eyes and moan loudly. You feel two hands massaging at your breasts, and you snap your eyes open to see two disembodied hands at your chest. 

“Shit, yes! I’m gonna- ah!” 

With a final pinch of your nipples and a harsh suck to your clit, your orgasm rips through your body and you shriek out and grab the headboard in front of you for balance. Shudders of pleasure still radiate through your body as you hear Buggy’s hands reattach to his body and he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He cradles your face and kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of your release on his lips. 

Buggy pulls back from the kiss. 

“D-Do ya still want to-?” Buggy asked, hesitantly, like he didn’t just let you ride his face. 

“Gods, yes. Fuck me.” You sighed as you slipped your panties all the way off and laid back on the bed with your legs spread. You were wiped from your orgasm, but your hole was still aching to be filled by the clown. He climbs on top of you and smiles a wicked smile. 

“Get it nice and wet for me first, kay?”

Suddenly you feel something velvety and hard tap against the side of your mouth. You glance down and see Buggy’s detached cock prodding at your kiss-bitten lips. You mindlessly obey and open your mouth and allow Buggy to slide it onto your tongue hands (and body) free. You wrap your lips around his shaft and try to suck it in as far as it will go down your throat. 

“W-wow doll, you really are somethin’!” Feeling himself already losing it at your cock-hungry expression, he pulls himself from your lips and attaches his spit-soaked cock back to his body, positioned at your dripping hole. 

“Just fuck me already, Buggy!” You grab his ass and push his hips into yours. He gets the message and swiftly bottoms out inside of you, the sloppy wetness of your saliva and arousal making it easy to slip right in. His long blue locks are splayed over his bare shoulders that stutter as he tries to compose himself now that he’s fully buried in your hot sex. You groan out, finally feeling him fill you. 

“FUCK, y/n!” Buggy leans forward and bites deeply into your neck, still trying to steel himself. Thinking this would keep him from cumming immediately, it had the opposite effect. When you felt his teeth in your neck, your cunt clenched on him so tight that it triggered his orgasm. Buggy’s eyes roll back and he muffles his moan. He can’t let you know that he came so early. 

Fighting overstimulation, he shallowly starts thrusting his hips into yours. Buggy whimpers at the feeling of his oversensitive cock gliding through your slippery, now cum-coated walls. 

“Harder, fuck me harder, PLEASE!” You were begging him to rail you, and he knew he had to give it to you. Hearing you plead made him fully hard again immeasurably quickly. Buggy places one hand on your hip and angles himself to thrust upwards inside your cunt. 

“That’s so good baby, please, right there just like that, you’re doing so good for me.” You slid your left hand down and rubbed your clit in tight circles. 

“Fuck, let me…” Buggy slaps your hand away to replace it with one of his now detached hands. He slows down his thrusts enough to drop a glob of spit down onto your clit and start rubbing it himself. 

“Bugs, fuck! Gonna cum! Ah, shit… yes!” You jolt upwards and waves of pleasure start overtaking your body. Buggy fucks you through your orgasm and picks up his pace. He attaches his hand and now places both hands on your hips to slam you onto his cock at a breakneck speed.

“Gonna fucking make you mine…. All mine…”

“Ah- yes- yours- fuck-“ You sputter out incoherently as you bounce back and forth against the bed on Buggy’s cock. 

“There it is baby… yes-!… ” Buggy slams his hips into yours deeply and empties himself for a second time inside of you tonight. After catching his breath in the crook of your neck, Buggy rolls off of you and lays his head on the pillow next to yours. You both make eye contact and start laughing. 

Buggy eventually rolls his body into a sitting position and rises from the bed. He begins picking up his belongings and tries pulling his shirt over his head. You sit up and look at him, while pulling the blankets over your body. 

“You’re not staying?” You inquire of your clown lover. 

“I-I wasn’t… I mean I wasn’t invited to sleep- sleep over? You know? I didn’t want to-“ He stutters out, his shirt on, dick still out in front of you. You giggle and flop back on the bed. 

“Get in here. I may be tired now, but I might want to see what else those chop-chop powers can do in the morning.” 

Buggy strips his shirt again and hops under the covers with you. 

“Doll, you haven’t even seen the half of it.”

xx 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Reverse-verse.

Content warning at the end for suicidal ideation. Nothing graphic.

Jason leaned against the wall where Babs was typing training notes and jerked his head to where you were talking to Bruce. Evidence notes in hand. "So the Emo doesn't have to train why?"

"Physiology," she answered, not looking up. "When they messed with the structures in her brain they messed with well... everything." "Which translates to no cardio how?" he scoffed, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"If she trained like the rest of you she'd have to eat like a Speedster and take enough vitamins to fuck her organs," she said. "If that's not clear enough- They made her pretty powerful sure but also pretty fragile."

"So much for a super soldier-"

"She's slightly stronger and slightly faster than a normal person but only in short bursts. And she lives in constant hell. So. You know. I don't begrudge her not having to run." She gave him a meaningful look, eyes narrowing.

"It can't be that bad."

Barbara shrugged, "If you're man enough, have her show you. If you're not- or she won't- Ask Bruce how he found her. Then see if you say that." And before he could sulk anymore, she stowed her laptop in it's compartment and left. He had every right to be pissed. At Bruce. At the Joker. At every injustice in the world. But- you hadn't had anything to do with it and she was tired of hearing about it.

_________________

"Jason," Bruce said glancing up, "you can't have-"

"It's not about guns," he snorted. "I'm not carrying the stupid crowbar. A tire Iron is more fun. I wanna know about Y/N."

"Why?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, she's one of my replacements so-"

"No one replaced you, first of all. And second of all-"

"Where'd you find her?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He hadn't asked you. It felt weird. Mostly because you would barely look at him. And you only ever spoke to him when you needed to in order to be polite.

Bruce sat back in his chair with a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "If you use this to-"

"I just wanna know!" he protested. "Everyone treats her like a pet!"

"We," Bruce started after a long moment, "found her in the bottom of a cage. Almost dead. Mostly naked and filthy. Treated worse than an animal. If she hadn't whimpered, Dick would have thought she was dead." Bruce paused for a second; swallowing down the sick feeling he'd thought was the gore and the scent of blood in the air.

"Scientists were looking for kids like her. Kids with heightened abilities they could exploit," he explained. "She was the last survivor, somehow."

Jason wasn't looking at him. If not for how still he was, and how tense, Bruce would have thought he wasn't listening. But now, his sense of injustice was rankled. And he was listening. "Long story short," he continued, not wanting to dwell on it, "they wanted a soldier. They tried to desensitize her to violence and well. It didn't go like they planned."

"How?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"They forced her to kill people," Bruce said wincing.

"But when you found her-"

"She was trying to kill herself," Bruce said sadly. "She lost control and made a building of scientists and guards- about 20 people kill themselves."

[makkir0ll]

setting the past (part one/ prologue)

ukai x reader.

wc: 837

synopsis: you coach a volleyball team, one of the best in the country known for having mostly recruited players. you take pride in the fact that you have led your team to win a national championship title. And with the news of the rising team karasuno, your interest is piqued, mainly because that was your old school. you had known that they were nicknamed the "fallen crows" and such, so hearing about their fast improvement you decide you want to see it for yourself. you call up the school and takeda picks up. you organize a practice match for later that week.

but what you don't realize is that their coach is your highschool ex.

a/n: woohoo finally finished part one of idk how many. i haven't written since my wattpad days and i have so many good ideas for this fic so i hope y'all enjoy this. i just need to like collect my thoughts and put them in order because thinking about the plot my brain goes like 100 mph but then when i actually have to write it, suddenly im illiterate.

anyways enjoy this!!

masterlist

Once practice concluded, and the clatter of equipment being stowed away subsided, the Karasuno boys formed a line in front of Ukai and Takeda, anticipating any last-minute announcements before dispersing.

".. and make sure you're eating well and getting enough rest. That's all I have to say for today," Ukai stated firmly, his arms crossed as he surveyed the team.

Takeda cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the eager players. "Yes, indeed. I know this is short notice, but the coach from Kozue Highschool reached out for a practice match later this week, and I accepted."

"HUH?" The boys chorused in a mix of surprise and excitement. A practice match against the reigning national champions was unexpected, to say the least.

"Didn't they win nationals last year?" Daichi questioned, his brows furrowing with intrigue.

"Did they? I'm not sure but you know more than I do." Takeda replies with a smile. "But apparently, their coach is an alumna of Karasuno," He glances at Ukai. "Y/N, I believe? Do you know her? She might be from the same graduating class as you"

Ukai's reaction to your name didn't escape notice. He knew exactly who you were—the pride of Japan's under-19 women's team and, to add a twist, his high school sweetheart.

"Yeah, I know her," Ukai replied, turning to the players. "That means this won't be an easy match. Not only because Kozue is a national champion, but also because Y/N is coaching them. She was- is one of the best womens volleyball player. So think expect nothing less from her team. Be prepared to face some formidable opponents."

"WOW! A NATIONAL CHAMPION TEAM! I CAN'T WAIT TO PLAY WITH THEM!" Hinata exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "I won't lose to them!"

"Yeah, me neither," Ukai thought to himself, his expression unreadable.

After practice, as the Karasuno third years made their way home, Suga couldn't help but bring up the tension surrounding Ukai and you.

"So, Y/N is definitely Coach's ex, right?" Suga prodded, casting a knowing glance at his companions.

"Oh, absolutely," they agreed. They continued to discuss the possibilities as they walked home.

Ah, the history between you and Ukai. It was a tale of high school romance, filled with shared lunches, mutual support at games, and stolen moments in the clubroom. But graduation day shattered those dreams, as Ukai chose to explore college life, leaving you heartbroken and struggling to move on.

But some wounds never truly heal. Ukai remained a lingering presence in your thoughts, the memory of him etched into your heart as your first love, your first heartbreak.

Little did you know the storm brewing ahead as you prepared for the practice match against your alma mater, Karasuno Highschool.

The bus ride back to Miyagi was quiet, your team fast asleep behind you. As the bus slowed to a halt, you felt a surge of excitement—the familiarity of your hometown, the anticipation of facing your old school.

Karasuno High. The memories flooded back as you recognized the school's facade. Your stomach churned with excitement and nerves as you led your team off the bus.

"...twelve, thirteen, fourteen, yep! That's everyone," you counted, gently tapping your players as they stumbled out of the bus, still half-asleep.

"Why are we playing at a school two hours away again?" Haru, your team captain, yawned.

"Because, one, I used to go here back in the day, and two, I heard they're really good now. I'm excited to see what they look like. It'll be good practice," you explained, walking into the school towards the old gym where you spent multiple late nights after practice. you hear the familiar sound of volleyballs hitting the ground grow louder the more you walk toward the ajar door.

But what you didn't anticipate was a volleyball hurtling towards your face. Instinctively, you raised your arms, but it never struck you. A familiar figure stood beside you, his presence startling.

Ukai Keishin.

You were at a loss for words. It couldn't be him. Yet, there he was, saving you from a potential injury.

"Hinata, you can't be receiving like that!" Ukai's voice cut through the air, snapping you back to reality. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"What are you doing here?" you managed to ask, your tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

"What does it look like, Y/N?" he retorted with a teasing smirk. "Same reason you're here, I suppose."

You couldn't believe your luck—running into your high school ex at a crucial moment. Hoping to avoid any further interaction, you turned away and made your way to your team.

"Thank you for having us here," you bowed to the Karasuno team, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. As you started stretching with your team, your mind raced, your gaze occasionally drifting to Ukai. Your usual composure faltered, and your team couldn't help but notice.

This practice was shaping up to be far more challenging than you had hoped.

[l-gengar-l]

'Shadow of a Bat' by PaperPuffin

Status: Complete ( 5/5 )

FANDOM:

Danny Phantom

DC

SUMMARY:

Captured by the GIW, Phantom was a mere shadow of the thing (no, person, he had to remember he was a person) that he used to be. He thought he would never be freed from the bright, white lab. Then what seemed like a mass of living shadow swept into the lab and Phantom suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, felt safe.

When Batman swept back out of the seemingly empty lab, he was none the wiser about the eldritch Phantom stowed away in his shadow. At least not until things started to seem just slightly off.

[fuck-customers]

never before have i worked under a supervisor who got mad at me for trying to help with other tasks when i otherwise had nothing the fuck else to do. 👨‍🍳🌌

i’m doing temp work at a catering kitchen with a few other coworkers and my usual chef while our usual location under the same company is closed for reasons. it’s literally my third fucking day here. today they tagged me in to help with “hand-outs” for a buffet service—basically i just had to stand there and wait for a buffet runner to come back and ask for a salad. the salads were already on their shelf, ready to unwrap and pass out. i am straight up just standing there doing fuck all. my usual chef from the kitchen i’m typically at (i’ll call Chef) is helping oversee the buffet service as the on-duty chef, there’s another guy actually managing it and touching base with the organizers running the event (i’ll call Guy), and then there’s this hot line supervisor (i’ll call Bibi) and the two other temps helping her.

Bibi goes off to do god-knows-what, and again, i’m literally just standing there doing fuck all, so i step over to help Chef and the other temps arrange shit for the hot plates on buffet—garnishing pans, etc. we get their shit dressed, put it back in the hot holding boxes, ready to hand out to the runners. i’m keeping general track of where everything is because…i don’t know, i’m fucking paying attention and make sure i can snap into action at a moment’s notice if called to do so? mostly i’m just transferring pans back and forth for dressing and finding the odd places things have been stowed so it’s not that hard for me to follow when i’m the one being told to put shit back. Chef and Guy walk off to do something, i think to do with the organizers or the buffet attendants, making sure we have all our garnishes to match spec, etc.

Bibi comes back losing her mind because apparently there’s *another* event that got their hot entrees mixed up with ours? so i, trying to be helpful, pipe up to mention which hotbox the just-dressed pans were put into, because like. we don’t fucking want those being taken. and instead of something simple like “i’ve got this handled, thank you” and going back to her shit, she drops everything she’s fucking doing and starts giving me this, like, straight up almost two minute condescending LECTURE. talking to me like i’m fresh out of kindergarten and never stepped foot in a kitchen before instead of a fucking 30-year-old man who’s been in this industry for the better part of a decade, about how *she* can handle *her* hot side and *i* can handle *my* cold side and a bunch of circular bullshit reiterating on that point and by her tone and body language, not so subtly disparaging my intelligence as she did so. straight up i would have felt more highly respected if she just called me a slur to my face.

i’m staring at her like she’s sprouted a second head, but again, it’s my third day here and she has seniority, so i bite my tongue. like, what the fuck? you’ve got a guy here who’s willing to step up and do something other than stand there with one thumb up my ass and the other on my phone to fight the urge to take a nap for the goddamn hour and a half until we even open service. and you’re going to stand there and lecture me for it? like i’m a child?? with your whole chest??? you are 40 years old and acting like this. wow. i appreciate the refusal to adhere to “time to lean, time to clean” mentalities but jesus fucking christ. it’s like she was perfectly genetically engineered to irritate me specifically and decided to speedrun pissing me off.

anyway, Bibi fucks off with the hotbox holding the vast majority of our backups for the beef entree. (we would later run out and have to call her to fucking bring some back because all we had otherwise was chicken and salads.) brief interlude with the return of Guy and him touching base with the temps. we’re standing around on our phones and chatting bc there’s nothing to do; he asks where the other hotbox went, and i actually AM allowed to explain that Bibi came and took it for the other buffet, but we’ve got X number in this other one, because Guy is actually halfway understanding of how operating a fucking kitchen as a team works, i guess. they check and confirm. rinse and repeat with Chef, also a halfway reasonable person to work with. again, they walk off to do whatever.

Bibi returns. she’s looking for a garnish. i start to point it out. this time she just cuts me off to dive into *another* lecture. i’m fed up at this point so i just interject “i’m communicating where i put it because i’m the one who was told to put it away” and this time it turns into an almost three minute lecture about the same bullshit of her handling her shit and me handling mine. i am physically struggling to keep my cool at this point and biting my tongue to keep from getting into an argument with her. i have to step back and put the speed rack with my salads on it between the two of us so i don’t have to fucking look at her.

Bibi walks away as Chef comes back. he’s worked with me a year he knows the Look i get when someone’s crossed a line with me and it’s taking everything in me not to metaphorically spontaneously polymorph into a silverback gorilla. and he comes back over to the buffet arrangement.

Chef: “So, what do you think of Bibi?”

Me, making unblinking eye contact: 🫠 (the longest, slowest, deepest inhale i have ever taken in his presence)

Chef: “Yeah, that’s why she doesn’t work for me anymore.”

turns out he has repeatedly had to get HR involved because of her behavior/attitude, resulting in her getting in the hot seat almost every time they have to work together when she just needs to learn when to stop fucking talking to people like that, and Guy agreed that she’s constantly out of line damn near every fucking time they’ve had to work with her, and they’re one of the location’s powerhouse workers. the fact that she still has a job there at all is so far fucking beyond me.

again, it was my THIRD DAY at this location, my first time working buffet service there, my first time working with her, and i barely got through a full sentence trying to be helpful and expedite things before she decides to take it upon herself to waste her own time by trying to break years of “doing more than your job description instead of simply doing nothing when you have no active tasks” conditioning in the most condescending way i could have possibly conceived of.

i’m so fucking insulted i’m seriously considering telling Chef not to volunteer me for any more temp shifts over there until i’m not at risk of having to work with her, because if she doesn’t learn to talk to me like i’m a fellow fucking human being, i will end up losing my temper, and i will certainly be asked not to come back regardless. i’ll just have less choice in the matter.

i might have to figure something out for seasonal work anyway while things are getting squared back away at my usual site, but i’d rather take my chances with a second job than risk having to deal with this fucking bullshit, and i don’t think i’ve made the best first impression at this other site anyway.

Posted by admin Rodney

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

#72 #5

Minho or Hyunjin? Eheh 🤭

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompt: "Are those...bite marks?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Princess!Femreader x Royal Guard!Lee Minho

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

"Fuck." Hyunjin grunts as the heavy hilt of your sword buries itself in his stomach.

He goes to his knees, dropping his own sword with a clatter, trying to catch his breath, and you circle him slowly, like a big cat waiting for the right moment to take down its fallen prey

You regard him with narrowed eyes and an air of annoyance.

"You're going easy on me. Stop it."

Hyunjin glances up at you, tracking you with his eyes, a few loose, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over his brow, and he lets out a little humorless laugh at your words, throwing his hands out in an exasperated gesture.

"I swear to god, princess, if I went any harder on you, I'd collapse."

You stop, staring at him, trying to gauge the truthfulness in his statement.

He bows his head slightly to you, but not before you catch the hint of an amused grin on his full lips.

"I hate to admit it, but you've simply become better than me, princess." He glances off to your left, the grin growing slightly more cheeky now. "Isn't that right, Minho?"

You glance over your shoulder at your personal guard, leaning against the nearby wall, his usual, blank expression on his features, as unreadable and silent as ever.

He arches a brow at Hyunjin as the former scoops up his sword and bounds to his feet once more, headed for the weapons rack and the pail of water waiting beside it.

"I'm in no position to proclaim anything."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes good naturedly, sheathing his sword as he throws you a smirk over his shoulder, swiping hair back from the glistening skin of forehead.

"God, he's absolutely no fun, is he?"

"No." You shake your head, biting back your own grin now as you toss him your sword, which he catches easily, stowing it beside his own.

"I don't get paid to be fun." Minho deadpans, his eyes astutely scanning across the training courtyard in search of god knows what, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his sheathed sword at his waist. "I get paid to protect the princess, and that's what I'm doing."

"All right, Sir Serious." Hyunjin taunts, rolling his eyes once more, just for good measure. "Whatever you say."

Minho pushes off the wall and strides toward you, light armor clanking, before he narrows his eyes and looks up to judge the position of the sun in the sky.

"We should be getting back, your highness."

You glance once more at Hyunjin, who grins at you, before turning away and starting to organize the racks of weapons.

You sigh and drop the light weight helmet you had been wearing during your spars to the ground at your feet, motioning with your head to the waiting guard and the palace seen in the distance.

"Fine. Lead the way."

As you trek silently after Minho-back through the royal gardens, down the path through the vineyard, into the main fountain courtyard-you can't help but think that your mother is going to be furious with you.

Minho tries to keep you on time to things, but you're head strong and stubborn, and chafe under the rules of being the crown princess, and judging by the dipping of the setting sun, you're late for dinner.

Not to mention, you'd snuck some old clothes from the stable boys to practice in-skirts and silks only serving to get in your way-and your mother was sure to have a conniption fit if she saw you dressed in the raggedy pants and overly large tunic you'd secured.

Minho had caught one sight of the outfit and you had seen the disapproval on his face.

"Your mother is going to be angry, you know." He remarks, not looking back at you, as if thinking about his obvious annoyance with your recreational activities has summoned it to the surface once more.

"What's new?" You huff back, stepping past him as he holds aside a low hanging shrub for you to pass, stomping your feet in their old boots just a little bit harder than necessary as you do. "She's always angry it seems."

Minho remains quiet, following you up to the servants' entrance of the ostentatious castle that leads to the kitchens, and ultimately, the back staircase that allows you to sneak in and out without catching your mother's-or the royal advisor's-watchful eyes.

Yanking open the heavy wooden door, you stomp up the staircase without so much as a backward glance in your personal guard's direction.

Let him be angry with you. Let them all be angry with you.

It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered, and it would never matter, not when you were doomed to be held in a gilded cage for the rest of your life.

********************************************************************************

You keep your head down at dinner-only speaking when you're spoken to, though it chafes against every nature you have-and you mostly avoid your mother's ire by doing so.

Acting the dutiful princess has always put her off the war trail.

After dessert, you sneak out of the dining room as your mother takes her wealthy guests to the parlor for some after dinner brandy and betting games, probably a little political talk if you had to guess.

None of it matters to you. It doesn't have to, because eventually your mother will find you some boring old duke of a husband, and he'll rule the castle, because god forbid a woman do it on her own, and you'll be just as trapped as before.

Dashing up the stairs, skirts in your hands, gleeful and heady from getting out of entertaining without being caught, you stop on the landing and glance down into the foyer, just as Minho steps from the shadows.

You can tell he's irritated, even from here, and something about it makes you even more triumphant than before.

"You don't have to follow me." You call down to him, taking the second flight of stairs two at a time, even as he sighs and begins to descend the first.

"I do though."

"You really don't." You reply back, reaching the second landing, catching your breath.

Damn these heavy skirts and petticoats and this tightly drawn corset in which you can hardly breathe. You much prefer the tunics and trousers men are allowed to wear.

Minho reaches you as you're finding the last of your breath, and the look on his face is smooth once more, unreadable.

It's something you've never understood about him. How he manages to keep such a blank mask all the time. Doesn't he feel stifled? Doesn't he want more?

"It's my job, princess." He affirms in a serious, no argument tone, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Fine."

He follows you silently down the long corridor, but when you reach the large oaken doors of your room, you pause with a hand on the knob, glancing at him with a sort of smirk over your shoulder.

"You have to wait out here though. I'm going to change."

If Minho's caught off guard, he doesn't show it. He leans against the wall and his hand goes to the sword at his hip.

"I'm not allowed in your chambers regardless, your highness. Now is no different."

"God, you really are no fun." You complain, just to annoy him, and you push through the doors, shutting them in his face before he can say anything in response.

Deciding against calling for the help of one of your ladies maids, and risking a lecture, you slip out of the dozens of layers of gowns and petticoats yourself, but the corset cinched tightly around your waist proves a little more difficult.

No matter how much you twist and turn, you can't get ahold of the carefully placed laces to tug them loose.

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sweating slightly, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you ponder your options.

Finally, you come to the conclusion that there's no other way. It has to be done.

Waltzing to the door, you tug it open and peek your head out to see Minho right where you left him.

He slides his gaze to you with a questioning sort of look, and you clear your throat.

"I-need a little help."

He stares at you, and then his lips form a firm line. "Call for Celia."

"I can't." You explain with a huff, as if he thinks you're stupid and you feel the need to explain yourself. "She'll rat me out to mother and I'll get the lecture of a lifetime."

Minho just continues to stare, unyielding.

"Minho." You whine, stamping your foot, and he arches a brow. "You know I'm on thin fucking ice with her already."

"And you'd be on even thinner ice if she heard you using coarse language like that."

You don't give in. "Please?"

Minho sighs. "Fine."

You squeal and duck back into the room, and it's only when he steps through the door to join you, that you suddenly realize with certain clarity what you're asking of him.

You're standing in nothing but your shift and corset, and there's a man in your room, one you're not married to, and oh god-

Minho seems to realize all of this at the same time you do, and he freezes mid step as if he's been doused in cold water, and you shriek without thinking, darting behind the bed to hide behind the blanket.

"Close your eyes!" You hiss out, as you scrabble to cover yourself.

He does so, but a wash of frustration moves across his face as he snaps back, "How the hell am I supposed to unlace you if I can't see?"

"I don't know!" You blurt out, heart hammering against your chest with panic.

Minho takes a blind step in the direction of the door. "If you would just call your maid-"

"No!" You exclaim, a bit louder than intended, and Minho cracks open an eye as you slap your hand over your mouth.

"No." You repeat, quieter this time, and you straighten, steeling your nerve, glancing toward the closed door nervously. "Let's just do it quickly. I'll stay behind the blanket, and you have to promise your gaze will remain appropriate at all times-"

Minho snorts a humorless sounding chuckle, and you glare at him.

"Promise me, Minho!"

He sighs and stares upward at the ceiling for a moment, as if looking for something to give him strength.

"I promise."

"Okay, good." You say nervously, tucking the blanket more securely around you, until you're sure just the laces on the back of your corset are showing.

You waddle in Minho's direction, and if you didn't know him better, you'd think that was a flash of amusement in his eyes.

You turn toward him, baring your back and your shoulders, and hold your breath, staring straight ahead.

He doesn't touch you and you grow antsy in the silence.

"Minho!" You hiss, not daring to glance back at him. "Hurry!"

You hear him take a step forward, and then feel a brush of a finger along the bare skin of your shoulder as he reaches for the top laces.

You jolt, cheeks instantly aflame, and try to hold still as you feel him hesitantly pull the top lace through the eyelet.

You try to focus on anything but the feel of Minho's warm hands brushing your back through your thin shift as he works, quickly and quietly, and as the corset loosens and you can breathe again, your lungs tighten up for a whole different reason.

Minho is touching you.

And you don't hate it.

Minho pulls the last lace through and clears his throat, reaching around you to drop the discarded laces into your hands.

"There. All done."

He pulls his hand back, and as he does so, it brushes the bare skin of your shoulder.

You shiver, and it's not because you're cold.

Instantly, you whirl, tugging the blanket up and around you so you're completely covered now, and when you meet Minho's gaze, his mask is firmly in place, expression unreadable.

"Thank you." You manage to say, as Minho nods and backs toward the doors.

"I'll be waiting outside, your highness."

He disappears, and the doors click quietly shut behind him.

You stare down at the silk laces he had laid in your palm, and will your heart to stop thundering out of your chest.

********************************************************************************

"Do you think Lee Minho is actually cold, or do you think that's just what he wants people to see?" You ask one day, sitting in a field of wild flowers, watching the horses graze contentedly a few feet away.

Felix looks over at you in surprise, then glances in the direction of Minho, off a few hundred feet away making sure his mare drinks from a stream.

"Why are you asking?" He replies curiously, instead of giving you an answer, and you sigh, leaning back on your hands and hiking up your skirts to give your legs a little glimpse of the warm afternoon sun.

"I don't know." You shrug, considering, and lean over to pick an especially yellow daisy, twirling it between your fingers as you think. "I just think there's a side to him I don't really know."

Felix lounges back beside you, a blade of grass stuck between his lips, and stares up at the blue sky for several moments.

"I think there's a side to everyone that we don't really know."

You nod thoughtfully, and unwittingly, your gaze drifts to Minho, stroking the broad neck of his horse gently, whispering something to it in low tones that you can't catch.

"Yeah, I guess." You admit vaguely, staring off into the distance.

"Besides-" Felix leans over to nudge your side, giving you a bright grin that dimples his cheeks and scrunches his freckles. "-I wouldn't worry about him too much. I'm sure your mother has loads of eligible suitors lined up and waiting. You'll have no time to think of the mystery that is Lee Minho soon enough."

That sounds absolutely awful, but you don't say that out loud.

You simply give him a smile that you don't feel in return, playfully shove him, and stand up to ready for the ride back home.

********************************************************************************

"Minho." You call out, standing in the middle of the sparring ring, chest heaving, having bested Hyunjin once again.

Your guard glances up from his usual position on the wall.

"Spar with me." You command, motioning to the ring with the tip of your sword.

Minho stares.

"Minho." You repeat again, tone firmer and harder this time, because you know he's going to try to refuse, but you need this. Just to see. "That's an order from your princess."

You see his chest rise and fall beneath his armor with a breath, and then he pushes off the wall, accepting the training sword Hyunjin hands him wordlessly as he walks toward you.

He steps a boot over the red line of the training circle, and eyes you warily.

"Princess, I don't think-"

"Don't think." You snap back, readying your stance, adjusting your hold on the hilt, glaring at him. "And don't go easy on me."

Minho watches you, something flashing across his eyes that you can't quite read, and then he sighs and sinks down into a ready stance of his own.

Hyunjin steps up, glancing between the two of you carefully, before he drops his hands in between you to signal the start of the match.

You move without thinking, whirling around and using the heavy weight of your sword to propel you toward Minho, under his left arm and right toward his flank.

He leaps out of the way easily, and comes around your back, and you follow his every movement with narrowed eyes, trying to preemptively think of what he's going to do next.

He lunges for you suddenly, the tip of his sword headed for the juncture of your shoulder, and you drop and roll out of the way to the other side of the ring, avoiding him.

"Why are you holding back?" You ask furiously, swinging at him again, as he ducks and maneuvers out of your way.

"I'm not." He snaps right back, and with a cry, you leap at him again, aiming for his legs, hoping to take him down to the ground.

There is tension, as the two of you circle the training ring and each other like jungle cats, stalking each other's every moves, watching footwork and body language and any minute movements.

"You are." You insist, slightly out of breath, as you dodge another one of Minho's well timed attacks, barely missing nicking your arm on the edge of his training blade.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princess." Minho retorts, fire flaring in his eyes, as he scrapes past a swing of your own.

With a growl of frustration, you head for him again, and this time, he meets your blade head on, the swords creating sparks as they make contact, the two of you battling for dominance.

You're so close now that you can see the flecks of gold in Minho's dark brown eyes, the sweat shining on his upper lip, the slight wave of his hair now that it's damp.

"Fucking hurt me." You hiss back, holding against his insistent pressure, your arms beginning to ache with the strain. "It's the only thing I get to feel in this prison."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously, and he gains an inch over you, the blades sliding against one another as he pushes you a step back.

"You wanna know something, Minho?" You bite out, your muscles beginning to shake with exhaustion, your whole body tense. "Every day, I watch you. I watch you put on a mask, and go to work, and follow orders, and do it all again the next day-like some sort of cold, unfeeling, unyielding machine. Aren't you tired? Don't you get tired of just not feeling anything?"

Minho growls in his throat, and suddenly, he's heaving forward, sending your sword flying from your hands as you tumble to the ground, the wind knocked out of you as you land hard on the packed earth, flat on your back.

Before you can react, Minho is on you, sword at your throat, pinning your body down beneath his, chest heaving.

You stare up at him, shocked, and suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

He leans over you, face impossibly close to your own, and you catch a hint of his musk-something cedar and pine-before he grits out beneath his breath, "There. Happy now?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out, and he stares at you, hard, his breaths harsh, and you see something flicker across his gaze as he murmurs, "I feel things. But they're forbidden. And that's the way it has to be, princess."

He pulls the sword back from your throat and stands.

You lay there in the dirt, Hyunjin rushing to your side, as Minho tosses aside his sword and leaves without another backward glance.

********************************************************************************

"Fuck." You swear beneath your breath, sitting on the edge of your ridiculously large bed, trying, and failing once more, to wrap your hand in the strips of linen you had stolen from the kitchen.

Glancing down at the small wound on the palm of your hand, you let yourself fall back heavily on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Fuck this." You announce, if only to yourself, and you stand determinedly, marching to the door of your room and yanking it open.

Minho glances at you from his usual post on the wall.

"I need your help." You say, with no preamble, and Minho arches a brow.

"Your highness, please say it has nothing to do with corset laces."

You pause, because that's probably the first time you've ever heard Minho make anything close to a joke, and then shake your head with a slightly rueful smile.

"It does not."

Minho inclines his head to your open door after looking down the hall to make sure you're alone. "Lead the way then."

You shut the door behind him, and return to the bed, sitting down on the edge as Minho stands like a statue in the doorway.

You heave a sigh and motion him forward with your hand. "Come over here. You can't help me from there."

He does so, albeit reluctantly, hand on the hilt of his sword, like always, and comes to stand awkwardly beside you.

You open your palm and he glances down, his expression going dark as he takes in the small, red wounds marring the flesh.

"Are those....bite marks?"

You shrug one shoulder and try not to let his sudden anger make your heart do weird things in your chest.

"Yes. I tried to befriend a stray in the village this afternoon." You remark, reaching for the discarded roll of linen. "Bastard apparently didn't like cook's egg tarts."

You hold out the linen to Minho with an expectant look, and he sighs heavily, before taking it from your outstretched hand and kneeling at your feet.

"Fine. Let me see."

You extend your hand another inch or so, suddenly unsure of what to do, and Minho glances up at you, amusement in the twitch of his lips, before he grasps your hand with his own and pulls it into his lap.

You bite back the gasp that threatens at the feel of his fingers on your won.

"Did you clean this?" Minho asks, studying the wound clinically, turning your palm all which ways to see it in the light.

"Yes." You nod, annoyance seeping into your tone. "I'm not daft."

"I didn't say you were." Minho remarks offhandedly, as, seemingly satisfied, he unrolls the linen and begins to carefully wind it around your palm.

You hiss a little as the coarse fabric scrapes the raw skin, but manage to hold still as Minho finishes the job and ties it off securely with a satisfied little nod and a hum in the back of his throat.

"There." He announces, glancing up at you, and you freeze, because, fuck, Minho is pretty, and how have you never noticed?

You stare openly, your eyes dragging down the sharp, well arched lines of his face, the slope of his nose, the full bow of his upper lip.

And with a start, you realize he's still holding your injured hand in his own.

Tugging out of his grasp, you stand, brushing off your skirts as if they're dirty, if only to direct attention away from your suddenly flaming cheeks.

You clear your throat. "Thank you. I-"

Minho stands now as well, echoing your throat clear. "Yes. If that'll be all-"

Something sinks heavy into the pit of your stomach at his obvious dismissal.

"Minho-" You start to say without really thinking where you're going, and he glances to you, expression shuttered. "I never got to apologize. For the other day."

He regards you with a cautious look, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, your highness."

"No, I mean-" You take a step forward, holding his gaze, and you feel the danger in this, the danger in him being here, in being alone, in your room. "-I didn't mean it. What I said about you being cold."

Minho studies you, his eyes dark in the flicker of the sconces. "But I am."

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Minho sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his thick hair, and you think it's the first human gesture you've ever seen out of him since you've known him.

"It's who I am. I have to be. It's part of my job, princess."

"Why?" You ask without thinking, and Minho's gaze grows pained, just for an instant, and then it's gone.

He shakes his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Please." You beg, taking another step toward him, and surprise even yourself when you clutch your hand in his.

Minho instantly freezes.

"Please. I want to understand. If you could just try to help me-"

"I-" Minho starts to say, eyes flicking down to yours.

"We're the same, Minho." You whisper desperately, squeezing his cold fingers. "Trapped, locked away. Maybe if I understood, we could help each other-"

Minho stiffens, and he tugs his hand from your own, and when you look at him again, he's closed off, face unreadable once more.

He backs toward the door, a flash of anger in his eyes before it's gone.

"We are not the same, princess. We will never be the same."

He turns on his heel and exits your room without another word.

********************************************************************************

You don't know if it's the way you left things with Minho the night before, or if it's the fact that your mother is waiting in the parlor with some suitable prince suitor, but you find yourself fleeing the castle on horseback at the first possible moment.

"Princess, wait-" Felix calls out, but you pay him no heed as you pull yourself up on your mare and kick her flanks, urging her into a fast gallop, leaving the stable and the palace and your mother and Minho all behind.

You ride and ride, not caring where you're headed, and it's only when the first rain drop hits your forehead, that you pull the horse to a slower canter, weaving her in and out of the forest trees, the sound of your own heartbeat and the hoofbeats on the ground the only thing filling your head.

The rain quickly becomes a downpour, and you tug the hood of your riding cape up around your head, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to leave without checking the weather first.

It mists your face in a chilled spray, and soon, your dress is drenched, heavy and wet, the horse's mane sticking to her soaked skin beneath your clenched fingers that hold the reigns.

You reach a stream, made into something closer to a roaring river by the storm, and the mare beneath you balks when you urge her to the edge, stomping her feet and shaking her head, snorting nervously.

"C'mon-" You urge, your teeth starting to chatter, and kick her flank once more, just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky and a boom of thunder sounds over head.

The horse rears, and with a startled shriek, you're thrown violently to the muddy forest ground.

Your mare thunders off wildly, and you're left alone, crumpled on the forest floor, your body aching and your heart pounding.

You push yourself up to a sitting position, slipping slightly in the mud, and wince, hissing through your teeth as you jostle your bruised ribs and very clearly sprained ankle.

Mud covers your palms as you take stock of yourself and any injuries sustained, and when you pull your fingers away from your forehead, they're red and sticky with blood.

Glancing around, you realize with a sharp pang of fear, that you have no idea where you are.

And no one knows how to find you.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to get to your feet, the roar of the river loud in your ears, but only succeeded in rising to your knees before you slide in the mud, your skirts-heavy with water-tangle around your legs, and your weakened body collapses back down.

You glance around for a stick, or a branch, or a tree to heave yourself up with, but you're dead weight, and there's nothing in sight.

Tears gather, hot and frustrated, and you scream into the clouds overhead, raging at the storm, at your stupidity, at this asinine life and role you've been thrust into.

You duck your head against the wind and rain, and stare at your muddied, bloodied hands and skirts, the tears starting to drip from your eyes without your permission.

It makes you even angrier.

"Fuck." You growl out, swiping at your cheeks, smearing the mud around along with the tears. You let your head fall back and scream louder once more, "Fuck!"

You don't know how long you sit there, defeated, in the mud beside the river, before you hear a faint sound in the distance that makes your ears perk.

It's the sound of hooves.

Without thinking, you cup your hands around your mouth and start to cry out, hoping it's a hunter or servant stumbling upon you in their trip through the woods, "Help! Someone please help!"

No one comes, and your pleas die in your throat, along with your hope.

Foolish. Stupid. It was probably just your abandoned mare passing by in her frenzy whipped up by the storm.

And then, a large dark horse-much too large to be your own-appears at the edge of the clearing, cantering toward you, and everything inside of you instantly grows warm with relief at the sight of the rider upon its back.

Minho leaps off the horse before it comes to a full stop, his boots sinking into the mud as he slides to a stop beside you, instantly dropping to his knees next to you, ignorant to the thick mud staining his breeches.

"Minho." His name comes out on a strained whisper, and you're crying again.

You expect to see anger on his face when he looks at you, the emotion he sports the most around you-irritation maybe, at your stupidity, at not telling him where you were going, at blowing off your mother-but instead, you're caught off guard by the sheer panic in his dark eyes, the relieved, almost scared, pull of his lips.

"Are you hurt?" He asks you instantly, voice hoarse and frantic, his eyes roving down the length of your body, as if to check your condition, and his hands clutch your upper arms, holding you in place, the strength of his fingers making you wince.

"Not vitally." You reply, and Minho's eyes flick back up to your face at that, and you remember the blood probably coating your skin.

"Your head-" He starts to say, reaching up to swipe a careful thumb across the gash that must be there, and you resist the urge to close your eyes, lean into the warm comfort of his touch.

"It barely hurts." You whisper back, and it's the truth. Your ribs and ankle are warring to take the place of highest ache currently. "My ankle though-"

Minho's gaze goes down to your ankle, buried in the deep mud, as if he can see what's ailing you through the layers of skirts tangled around your legs.

He seems to consider for a moment, and then he stands, and before you can protest, he pulls you up easily so you're cradled in his arms.

"Minho-" You gasp out fearfully, your arms going around his neck tightly in impulse.

"I won't drop you." He assures you, face serious, eyes dark. His gaze roves slowly across your face, as if searching for something. "Do you trust me?"

Without a second thought, you nod.

He almost smiles, but it's strained, and fraught with concern. "Good. There's a small, stocked hunting cabin nearby that the estate's game warden uses during the summer. We'll head there until we can wait out the storm."

He glances up at the tumultuous sky with narrowed eyes, the rain pelting his face, dripping off the heavy dark waves of his hair, and another round of lightning flashes overhead.

You bury into the safety of his chest without thinking, and Minho's arms tighten slightly around you.

You think he presses a barely noticeable kiss against your wet dirty hair, but it's probably just your imagination.

"Let's go." He murmurs, and heads off into the shelter of the quickly darkening trees, you still held carefully in his arms.

********************************************************************************

It doesn't take Minho long to get a small fire going in the hearth of the tiny cabin, and then he turns to you, face half in light, half in shadow, and motions to your drenched petticoats.

"You need to take those off. You'll get sick."

"I'm fine." You start to protest, but a violent shudder goes through you before you can finish, proving his point, and he stares at you pointedly.

Still, you return the look stubbornly, and finally, Minho lets out a long sigh, standing up from the fire and heading to a dresser in the corner.

He tosses a pair of breeches and a tunic into your lap without really looking, and says firmly, "I'll wait outside," before turning and leaving without another word.

You stare down at the dry clothes in your hands, debating on resisting, just to piss Minho off, but another shiver wracks through your body, and you decide in the moment, it's better off to be warm than stubborn.

Slipping out of your heavy, wet clothing, you slide the dry clothing on quickly, warm now from the fire, and immediately feel ten times better.

Minho was right, but you'll never admit it.

"I'm finished." You call out into the silence, and you don't know if he's heard you, but a minute later, he reappears through the front door, letting a burst of wind in with him, dripping rain onto the floor.

He crouches down beside the fire, warming his hands, and gives you a once over before glancing to your pile of wet clothing on the floor, already puddling.

Seeming satisfied, he turns back to the glowing fire.

"You didn't have to go outside." You mutter sullenly beneath your breath, curling your knees to your chest and scooting as close to the fire as you can allow. "Shutting your eyes would've sufficed. I know you don't think of me like that anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho tenses, but it's gone so quickly that you think you've imagined it.

"Think of you like what?" He questions emotionlessly, eyes never leaving the flames.

You shrug. "A woman. An interest. Someone other than your job."

"Mm." Minho muses, oddly blank for the moment at hand, not even deigning to look at you. "And who told you that? Your mother perhaps? Or maybe one of your maids?"

You feel anger curl, hot and tight, in the pit of your stomach at his indifference.

"No one had to tell me. It's always on your face." You spit back, fire lacing your tone. "You've never treated me with anything other than irritation, or boredom, or apathy in all the time we've known each other, all the time you've been saddled with me."

Minho tongues his cheek, and his fists clench in his lap, and then he turns, staring at you hard, fire reflected in his own dark gaze now.

You note with a start that he's not wearing his usual armor. You don't think you've ever just seen him in a tunic and breeches in all the time you've known him. Your mother must have thrown an absolute fit about your disappearance to have him leaving the castle without so much as a chest plate.

"It's a mask." He remarks coldly, his words tight and low. "A necessary evil of the job, but a mask nonetheless."

You hold him, stare for stare, and refuse to back down, your own anger growing hotter and brighter by the second.

"I don't see why it's necessary to treat me with such disdain-" You start to retort back, but Minho cuts you off with a harsh wave of his hand and a flash of his eyes.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about, princess." His voice trembles with fury, and he forces a harsh breath out through his nose, as if he's willing himself to remain still and not wrap his hands around your throat. "That mask that I've worked so hard to curate? That you seem to harbor such hatred for? That mask protects us both."

He takes in another long breath, and unclenches his hands in his lap, but his gaze never leaves your face, and his expression is darkened in shadow as the flames flicker across his features.

When he speaks again, his voice is resigned, low, barely a frustrated murmur.

"If I were to allow myself to ever, ever explore the depths of my feelings for you, not only would I lose my job and most likely my head, but I would ruin you."

You stare at him, anger slowly fading, as you try to comprehend what he's telling you.

Outside, the wind rails against the small cabin and the rain thunders on the roof.

Minho sighs and glances away from you now, something sad flickering briefly across his dark eyes, no longer filled with fire.

"I will not do that to you. I would never risk it." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "But I also feel I owe it to you to be honest, and as much as I'd like to stay safely behind the mask, it's also not very conducive to vulnerability."

The fire crackles in the tense silence between the two of you, and you finally let out the breath you've been holding, confusion and exhaustion quickly replacing the anger, dampening and heavying your bones.

"I don't understand." You whisper out, because your heart is going a million miles a minute, and you're trying very hard not to focus on the soft curl of Minho's hair now that he's growing dry beside the fire.

Minho shifts slightly, and suddenly, his thigh is brushing against yours, warm and solid through the thin cotton of the pants you wear.

Everything inside of your body tightens.

"(Y/N)-" Minho says softly, gently, reaching out to take your chin in his fingers, and you resist the urge to pull away, avoiding his gaze instead.

You don't think you've ever heard him call you by your given name. Or speak so gently before.

"Don't say my name like that." You whisper out, voice hoarse, and try to ignore the way Minho's skin feels against your own, giving you butterflies.

He regards you seriously, tilting his head slightly to pin you beneath his intent gaze.

"Like what?" He questions back, just as soft, and his fingers curl against your skin, tugging your chin up to finally make you look him in the eye.

"Like you'd willingly cross oceans and tear nations apart just to keep me safe." You whisper in response, voice growing hoarse and dry in your throat, your stomach fluttering pleasantly now that is gaze is directly on you, roving your face.

He lets his hand drop slowly from your face, but his eyes never leave your own.

His mouth softens, and something goes weirdly warm in the depths of his dark eyes as he continues to stare at you.

"Don't look at me like that." You demand quietly, voice growing in confidence, as you stare him back down, your chin trembling a bit and the fight not to drop your eyes to the full curve of his lips growing harder by the second.

"Like what?" He questions again, voice rough and soft, caressing your skin as if he had reached out and touched you.

You take in a shuddering breath, and press a hand to your wildly pounding heart just beneath your sternum, as if you can will it to quiet just by your touch.

"Like you lov-" You start to say, but Minho cuts you off as his mouth covers your own.

You gasp, but it's lost in the kiss, and you're so caught off guard, your mind goes blank for a moment, but Minho is patient and cautious, and soon, you respond to him in kind, growing used to the feel of his impossibly soft mouth moving in time with your own.

You've never kissed anyone-not like this.

You weren't allowed to even be alone with a man, let alone experience anything that Minho's offering you now.

But suddenly, you find that you're starving for more.

You part your lips experimentally beneath his, and Minho responds with a low hum in his throat, his fingers tangling into your damp hair, his tongue slipping in to the gap you've created, prodding, exploring, but never pushing.

Gods, you feel like you're on fire. Is it possible to catch fire just from someone's touch?

You don't know, but you hope it never stops.

Minho pulls back from you, his lips red and slick, his eyes dark and blown, and he stares at you for a moment, as if you're the most precious, pretty thing he's ever seen, even though you're sure you look a mess.

Your hair is nothing more than a rat's nest from the rain, and you're wearing the games keeper's old clothes, skin still covered in mud from your fall earlier, but Minho regards you in this moment like you're the moon goddess hanging the stars in the sky.

Minho heaves in a laborious breath, and then another.

"Tell me to stop."

You stare back at him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the way his lips are pinker than before, flushed and rosy, the tanned, sharp lines of his collar bone and upper chest where it dips into the deep v of his shirt.

Do you want him to stop? You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"Tell me to stop." Minho repeats, slower this time, his hands finding yours where they rest in your lap. He leans down to meet your gaze. "And I will. We'll never speak of this again."

Do you want that? Do you want to go back to cold looks and apathetic glances and masks? Or do you want this? Do you want warm fires and hands on your skin and Minho?

In a bold move that surprises even yourself, you lean forward and press your lips to his.

He palms the back of your head, pulling you closer to him, almost in his lap, and your whole body tingles at the feeling.

You part just enough to catch your breath and get your words out.

"Don't stop."

Minho's eyes flash and then he's smashing his lips against yours once more, devouring you fully, and you can't help the slight mewl that escapes into his open mouth as his tongue dances with your own.

He tugs you down beside him onto the rug that lies in front of the fire, and doesn't stop kissing you.

You feel his hand slip beneath the loose material of the large tunic you wear, and you whimper as his fingers stroke your skin, along the curve of your hip, across your ribs, until he can palm your breast.

"Fuck." Minho swears as you gasp and arch up into him at the foreign contact, and you're not really sure what you're doing, but it feels right.

He puts his free hand beside your head, propping himself above you, and his gaze roams hungrily down the lines of your body, before he seems to shake himself and drag his eyes back up to your own.

"Are you sure?" He questions softly, and his hand stops its exploratory motions, and you have to bite your tongue so you don't beg him to continue.

"Yes." You nod, ignoring the breathless catch to your voice, and reach up to run your fingers through his hair.

It's so soft. You've always wondered what it felt like

"I'm sure."

Something resolute flashes across his gaze, and he leans back over to kiss you, but it's short and sweet and gentle this time, before he pulls back and moves to the pants currently bunched around your waist, his fingers settling there as he once again gives you another questioning look.

You bite your lip and nod, and he tugs the thin material down your body and tosses it aside.

You're wearing nothing now but the large tunic, and you fight the urge to squirm or try to cover up as Minho returns, staring down at you, his eyes roving your newly bared skin as if he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

"Fuck-" He repeats again, leaning over to press kisses to the now bare curvature of your hip, down across your lower belly, dangerously close to where you suddenly feel very hot in a strange, but altogether pleasant way. "-you're so beautiful."

"Minho." You whimper out, as his slides a large, warm palm up your bare thigh, and his fingers tease where his mouth just was only seconds before.

Is it supposed to feel like this? Is this why they'd been keeping it from you? Because it's so damn good?

"Easy, love." Minho murmurs against your stomach, as he inches his fingers lower and lower, until they touch the strange warmth, sending an electric jolt through your body that has you shuddering and crying out.

He flicks his gaze to yours, and something serious resides there.

"It might hurt the first time." He cautions gently, and you nod dazedly, because you don't really know, but you'd heard whisperings from the castle staff, the maids, that told as much. "I'm going to prep you, okay? But tell me if you want me to stop and I will."

You take in a deep steadying breath, and your hands clench into the fabric of the rug on either side of you. "Okay."

Minho presses another kiss to your lower stomach, and carefully slides a finger in.

You gasp, because it feels like an intrusion, and it stings, just a bit, your body tensing, muscles fighting, but Minho is there, leaning up to press tender kisses to your lips, along with low, flowing praises in your ear.

"Try to relax." He murmurs, and you force yourself to listen to him, slowly loosening every muscle in your body one by one.

Minho's dark eyes flicker with something akin to warm pride at your obedience. "Good girl, love." He eases another finger into you, and you fight the urge to tense up again. "That's it."

It's oddly intimate, Minho talking you through it, and when you finally feel like you've reached a space of comfort, and maybe even pleasure, writhing beneath him with each exploratory, careful probe of his fingers, you find yourself begging for more.

"Please, Minho-" You whine out, and it feels sinful to experience this much pleasure just at the hands of another.

And then, he disrobes, between your legs, and you feel everything inside of you tense up again at the sight of him.

You've never been with a man. Are they always that large? And hard? And intimidating?

Fear crawls up your throat, alongside a small flare of curiosity, and you find yourself reminding yourself to breathe.

Minho must sense your sudden panic, because he leans over you once more, and you try to force yourself to focus on the lines of his chest, the scars that mark the tan skin there.

"Do you trust me?" He asks suddenly, and you snap your gaze back up to his, the fear melting away at the reassuring look in his eyes, the soft lines around his mouth.

"Yes." You whisper back, nodding without even having to think, and Minho leans forward to press his lips to yours once more.

When he presses into you, you gasp, and your body goes tight once more at the bigger intrusion, and it's painful, sharp and foreign.

You start to feel the panic swell in your throat once more, gasping against Minho's lips, but then he's right there, murmuring comfort low in your ear, his hands stroking up your sides even as he pauses, just letting you be for a minute.

"You're doing so well, love." He breathes, and you force another muscle to relax, one by one, as he slips in a bit further. "So perfect for me."

You whimper as you feel him, all of him, but then most of the pain is gone, and suddenly, your entire body feels light and limp with pleasure.

"Minho-" You gasp out, body aligning with his, thoughts suddenly hazy and far away.

He grunts, low in the back of his throat, and the sound makes your legs feel like jelly. "Fucking perfect."

You shift slightly beneath him, and he groans in response, hands going down hard on either side of your head to support his weight, his muscles trembling.

"Fuck, don't-" He starts to say, his words bitten off by another low growl rumbling in his chest.

He glances up at you from beneath the dark wave of his hair, his chest heaving with breaths, lips parted.

"Don't move like that, love, unless you really want me to cross a line."

He rubs against you, and the friction has you mewling and arching up into the strong warmth of his body.

You grab his head and force his lips back down to yours.

"Cross all the lines, Minho."

********************************************************************************

You're lying beside the warmth of the fire, your head on Minho's chest, a fur throw thrown over both your naked bodies, the rain slowly dying to a light mist outside.

You don't know what time it is, you don't know if your mother has sent others out looking for the two of you, but with your hands idly combing across Minho's broad chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, your entire body achy and satiated, you find you don't really care.

"What's this one from?" You ask in a sleepy whisper, running your fingers along another of Minho's scars-this one a faded, shiny white line along the edge of his breastbone.

"You probably don't remember." He muses, as you cuddle closer to him, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "You were barely five or six at the time."

"Which would make you not much older." You quip back teasingly.

"Yeah, a few years. I was probably ten?" Minho remembers, staring up at the ceiling, as he cards his fingers through your hair distractedly, remembering. "You had wandered away from your governess in the gardens. She was absolutely frantic. I found you at the edge of the woods, playing in the mud beside a stream."

You smile at the thought, because that does sound like you.

Minho chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest, and you turn your head to press a kiss to his bare pec as it flexes as he tightens his arms around you.

"You were buried in some pretty thick brambles, but you hadn't a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the angry, large thorns you had climbed through, surprisingly unscathed, to reach the mud patch. Offered me a mud pie, if I remember correctly."

You laugh and Minho shakes his head ruefully. "I climbed in and carried you out on my back. Sported a pretty nasty gash for a couple of days from one of the more vicious thorns."

He rubs absentmindedly at the small scar, and you cover his fingers with yours.

"Thank you." You murmur under the crackle of the fire, and Minho glances down at you.

"You don't have to thank me. It's always been my job to protect you."

You push yourself up on an elbow to stare down at him seriously. "I know. I'm not thanking you for that."

His brow arches in surprise. "Then what?"

You idly trail a finger down his cheekbone, studying the way the shifting firelight makes him look even more beautiful than before if that's possible.

"Thank you for keeping me safe. And for looking out for me. And showing me that there's more to life than just being stuck in a fancy cage."

Minho's eyes soften, and you lean over to kiss him sweetly.

He pulls you back down to his side, and you tuck yourself willingly against him, curling your body against his.

"Thank you, love, for never giving up on the person you knew I was behind the mask."

"You didn't make it easy." You tease sleepily, nuzzling against him.

Minho chuckles softly. "I know."

You close your eyes, the exhaustion making your body heavy, your mind blissfully quiet.

Tomorrow, you'll have to return and face your mother, and your gilded cage, and whatever else will be waiting for you back at the palace.

But tonight, you're content to enjoy all of this.

And tomorrow, no matter what, you'll face everything with Minho by your side.

[arcadiii]

Asking someone to the dance shouldn’t be this hard, should it? Pitiful: the way Anne silently squirms even now, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, masking an air of patient indifference. Still, it doesn’t help. Nothing’s enough to stow the bubbling turmoil quelling in her stomach. This is silly. Stupid, even. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. --- It's Frog Valley's Annual Flower Dance and Anne only wants to dance with one person.

woah, it's another cadi Marcanne Week 2024 fic, this time for day 3's prompt: RAIN. i actually wrote this for @mood-owl's birthday which was on the original prompt's date but I can finally share this with everyone else! enjoy

[frizzle-mcshizzle]

the first 4 kotlc books summarized in the most unhinged way possible, because it’s been like 6 years since i’ve actually read them

Keeper: You’re an elf Sophie, you have to live with your new guardians who have a pet t. rex, have fun being an outcast at school, secret messages from your creators?!? actually you where dumb and went near fire and now your guardians don’t want you :(. oh no child kidnapping!! girls first time almost dying in elf land!! she gets to stay in elf land and gets adopted happy ending YAY!!!

Exile: girl finds a magic HORSE, girl goes to prison to vist a ✨psychopath✨ and make him go 🔥insane🔥 because that’s a job for a 12yo!?! oh no she accidentally causes a man to go insane from guilt (his children hate her now) oh no she’s allergic to MIRRORS, time to go on a field trip on your magic horse and meet a old man in a cave, oh no the bad guys attack!!!, SHE CAN TELEPORT?!?, fixes the man she broke though the power of happiness and 💕 love 💕 the last non cliffhanger of the entire series 

(12 year old girl attacked by 5000 year old man happens sometime in these two books)

Everblaze: time to fix the psychopath you made go insane, oh no, he committed arson and killed somebody important!!! ogre king puts the fun in funeral by announcing his intention to commit mass gnomeocide and the girl commits WAR CRIMES FOR THE FIRST TIME (she should have known better you can’t even blame this on lack of elf lessons), your best friend is tricked into to making a torture device just👏 for👏 you!! the council is making you wear it as a punishment!! your dead adoptive sister was killed by her fiancé!?!, oh no your new dad is trying to kill him, you 🔥destroy🔥your torture device and plan to join a rebel organization, you are 13 years old, this is the start of the series cliffhangers 

Neverseen: children join rebel organization by following a old man through paris, ✨surprise✨ a mother stowed away with them (she knocks the man on his ass), boys fight over girl and end up being forced to basically kiss through their magic breathing tube for a unknown amount of time, T R E E H O U S E S!!!!, children meet the leaders (that they definitely don’t already know under different names), 🦄ALICORN SEX SCENE!!!🦄 the rebel leaders take the kids on a field trip! (it’s a prison brake), OH NO!! one of the hot boys™️ get stabbed by B U G, family puke party while he gets better, the children go to prison school for the man who they failed to prison brake!! Girl set herself on 🔥FIRE🔥 (don’t tell her parents), they meet twins!! one was bansihed for property damage and not because there’s society has no ability to teach overpowered middle schoolers hot boys™️ big brother comes to visit!! they go on ANOTHER field trip and this time Commit MORE WAR CRIMES, oh no!!! the big brother is actually evil!! oh no!! Tree lady activates tree power to save the other tree people!! 

part two

[khryptid]

BRB, just thinking about newly escaped baby Sanji stowing away on Zeff’s ship, helmet and all.

Option 1:

Zeff finds Sanji tucked away fast asleep in one of the overflow pantries (c’mon they’re called the Cook Pirates for a reason) and of course immediately kicks the kid. Sanji startles awake, flinging themself backwards in the same way they’d try to escape their brothers, only to let go of the one meaningful thing they’d managed to take from Germa. Sliding across the floor only to stop at Zeff’s feet is a book titled All Blue.

“Where’d you get that?”

“It’s mine! Give it back!”

“What? A fairy tail book for a little kid?”

“You’re wrong. It’s real. The All Blue’s real, and I’m going to find it one day.”

“ha ha Ha HA HA HA,” Zeff’s slow chuckle grows into a full bellied laugh, “how about a meal, Little Eggplant?”

Option 2:

Zeff knows someone on his crew’s got to be messing with him. First, it started with his spice rack getting rearranged. Dammit, he knows it’s unconventional, but he had them in order of the flavor profiles he used the most. Then, the ginger cookies he had stashed away for his next watch shift were just gone, not even the wrapping left behind. But worst of all, worst of all, someone had messed with the things in his quarters. Not much, barely enough to be noticeable, but his maps, the precious books he’s collected about the All Blue, he can tell have been rifled through.

Meanwhile, Sanji has been putting their Germa training into practice. (I mean there had to be a reason they were supposed to be Stealth Black) Somehow sneaking around the pirate ship is easier and harder than it was sneaking around the castle. While there’s certainly less space on the ship, they find it almost simple to avoid the ship’s inhabitants in ways they never could seem to avoid their brothers. As for the ship itself, it’s practically paradise. The kitchen is fully stocked—though whoever organized it seriously needed their head checked, who thinks basil goes next to chili powder—the food was pretty damn good, and best of all, the captain has a stash of books on the All Blue hidden away in his room. Now if only they could get this helmet off, they’d be set.

Zeff still ends up finding Sanji eventually, but rather than kicking the kid awake, because it’s definitely a kid who’s been messing with him and not one of his crew, he takes a good long look. Eyes catching on the metal contraption wrapped around the kid’s head, but settling on the book tightly clasped in too small hands titled All Blue. It’s not one of his, but it certainly explains the intrusion upon his private collection. Making up his mind and without waking the kid, he returns to his kitchen to plate up something simple yet hot and filling. When he gets back to the little nook, the kid’s still asleep, still tightly grasping that book, and setting the food on a crate at eye level, softly kicks them awake.

“Oi, you got a name stowaway?”

“Sanji”

“Nah, you look more like a Little Eggplant to me.”

[needfantasticstories]

Chapter 9: A Rescue

Summary:

Legend tries to escape the Yiga hideout. He finds a friend.

Legend rushed onward, but hardly made it to the next room before he had to stop and collect himself, both his breath and his tumbling thoughts.

What in the Sacred Realm just happened? Time slowing down, the Teacher letting him walk away? This wasn’t how dungeons worked. Nothing was adding up. 

He leaned on the wall and assessed the room. 

Practice dummies lined one wall, weapons on the other. Each dummy had a devilish sketch pinned to the face—a face with distinctive blond hair.

The veteran stumbled over to it, snatched the paper free, and laughed. These were somehow worse than his old wanted posters! Wild had to see it. By Din’s dance, he’d make it out of here just to shove this in Wild’s face. The others would never let him live it down. Nor, of course, would he.

His prize safely stowed away, the veteran lit up the now-faceless dummy to mark his path, but didn’t ignite the rest of the room: they might need to come back this way, and after the inferno he created earlier, he should probably reserve at least enough oxygen for the journey out. 

He moved on, and found the last hall in this wing. Peering around the corner, Legend came face-to-face with a stark white mask. 

The footsoldier raised a hand to whistle an alarm. Legend swung his blade faster. 

He wiped his sword clean, checked the map, then followed the switchbacking halls. These led to mirrored rows of tiny rooms on the bottom edge of the map. A prison, most likely. Not an ideal place to find Hyrule, but a likely one. 

Ahead in the next hall, two burly guards paced. 

Memories of his first adventure bubbled to the surface. If only Hyrule had Zelda’s telepathy.

Legend’s boots made no sound, and then no guards remained. He ran, and the floor sloped ever downward. His steps, quiet as they were, still echoed. This felt more like a dungeon than anything he’d seen so far.

Passing through one last stone archway, he found the hall lined with cave-like cells. He checked through the bars of each one. All gaped back at him, empty, until the fourth. From the dark, red eyes glared back at him. Legend lit up his firerod and peered closer. A Yiga soldier glared back at him, still in uniform but unmasked, his face heavily scarred by what looked like bear claws. He was bound, and the ropes were tagged with the inverse design of the many papers stuck around the caves. Sheikah magic, musty as moss, but mingled with something wrong, something heavy as tar. It must be some spell to prevent teleporting, he guessed.  

 The brawny Yiga man stared at him, incredulous, then bellowed, “Guards!” Apparently he was still loyal to his clan, despite whatever crimes he’d committed. Legend knew they would not answer.

Legend moved on to the next cell, knowing the guards would not be coming. In the next cell, a slight figure stepped forward into the dim glow of the torchlights. Gold eyes looked back at him surrounded by a faint shimmer of fairy-magic.

Rulie!  

No, too small. 

A little girl approached the bars, folding her arms as she scrutinized him, her nose held high. It was as long as the Old Man’s. Bold red hair, pulled in a high ponytail, curled at the end like a piglet’s tail. 

A Gerudo child? 

Bright, ornate flower patterns covered her thin slippers and silk clothes. Stranger still, they glimmered with hints of fairy magic, identical to Wild’s tunic, but dimmer. He’d encountered magic clothing before, but the fluid, nectar-sweet fairy magic was distinct from the sharp, clean bite of Hytopian magic, or the chilling, weightlessness and mystic glow of Lorulean weaves. He resolved to finally buckle down and ask Wild about his tunic as soon as he got the chance. Fairy blessed clothing was exceptionally rare in his own era, but here apparently even little kids wore it.  

 The girl watched him closely, her stare intense as a beamos, while he quickly checked the last two cells. 

Empty. 

Legend tamped down his disappointment, and with a voice hoarse with ash and smoke, asked, “Either of you see a brown-haired boy with gold eyes? Wears a green tunic?”

The little girl shook her head, earrings tinkling, but her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re a voe !” 

“A what?” Legend asked, but she only scowled. He shrugged, too tired to puzzle out what that meant. 

The maskless Yiga soldier gaped at Legend. “What?” He hissed, “Then… you don’t have him either?” He gave a dark, mirthless laugh, shaking his head as his smirk dissolved into a snarl. “Oh, I knew it was that demon! Sooga warned us! That monster won’t be controlled, no matter what it promises! It can’t be trusted!” He lunged at the bars, shoved his face as far as he could between them, and bellowed toward the very-dead guards, “It was the sword! It wasn’t my fault!” 

Legend’s knees threatened to give out, and  he leaned against the bars of an empty cell. This all made less and less sense. Hyrule hadn’t escaped… he’d never arrived in the first place? He was never here ! The veteran shook his head, his vision swimming from exhaustion, both magical and physical.  

Another red potion. He dropped the empty glass in his bag, then wiped sweat and ash from his face with a shaky hand.   

“Right.” He turned to the child, collecting himself, plastering a friendly mask over his frustrations. “Want out?” He regretted the disappointment still heavy in his voice.   

“Of course,” The girl sniped, still eyeing him suspiciously. Whatever “voes” were, she didn’t seem to trust them. 

The scapegoated Yiga soldier yelled for the guards again, loud and desperately as he glared at both of them. Legend wanted to scream back at him, to throw fire into the cell. He’d already spent so much time in this cursed place and his brother wasn’t even here ! 

Din’s teeth. Hyrule! Where are you?

 But he also felt a spark of pity for the idiot who took the fall for something he didn’t actually do. 

Instead, Legend braced himself for one last fight, one last rescue to complete, before leaving this whole place behind. There were no other leads to chase here.

This girl looked strong for her age, but she was still small, barely up to his elbow, and too young to help much in the escape. He’d need to do this on his own. 

“Alright. Stand back!” Legend shouted to her. He aimed his fire rod, about to torch the wood beams that served as bars, and the talismans, and use his shield to barrel through when they were weak enough, but the girl scoffed and pointed behind him. 

A rope and pulley system. One designed to open cell doors. 

Legend grumbled. If she wasn’t a young kid in need, he might have stuck with the fire rod plan. 

He needed to slow down, to think. Legend put the weapon away and yanked the fifth lever. Arms crossed, she came out and stared him up and down again . She had gold eyes like ‘Rulie’s, but red hair as bright as hibiscus, just like—

“Can you actually get us out of here?” she demanded. “How old are you, voe? You don’t look like a grown up, and voe like you aren't even…well…”  

Oh, this was going to be a nuisance. “Aren’t what?” Legend stared her down. 

“Tough?” she said, throwing out a hand, eyebrows raised, as if this was common knowledge and he was an idiot. 

Oh Sweet Nayru’s blessings... “First, I don’t know what a voe is. Second, whoever said it is probably wrong about them, generalizations are never good. Third, we need to go. Now.”

She scowled. “How did you get in here? How do I know you’re not one of them ? They looked just like my aunts when they took me. You could be a Yiga in disguise.”

Okay, fair . But every second here was a second wasted. “Would they bother pretending to be someone else inside their own base?”

She chewed her lip and seemed to mull it over. 

“You’re staying here, then?” Come on, kid!  

“I… no,” she admitted, uncrossing her arms, “but they said they’d kill me if I tried to escape again. I can’t get caught.” 

“They always say stuff like that. They’re idiots. Can you ride on my back? We’ll move faster if you let me carry you.” He held out a winged pegasus boot. Maybe she was familiar with other magic clothes. She only nodded and climbed quickly onto his back. 

The girl muffled her squeal of surprise into Legend’s shoulder as he dashed back the way he’d come, breezing through passages and skidding around corners, until they entered a new hall. 

“Do you even know where you’re going?” the girl hissed when he slowed down and silently checked the passage ahead. It was clear. Oddly clear. 

“Yes!” he shot back.

“I’m just asking! How do you know?” She demanded. 

Legend checked his tone this time and took a centering breath. “Because I checked the map.”

“How come you’re dressed like a vai?”

Zelda, Hilda, and even Ravio were never this annoying when sneaking through dungeons. “What is a… listen, kid, just… hush.” 

Legend stopped at the end of the hall. A sense of danger opened like a pit in his stomach. He fidgeted, shifted the girl more securely, and crept slowly up to the next turn to listen. Something felt off. 

At first, he heard nothing but the girl breathing too loudly over his shoulder. But no… it wasn’t just her. He could hear the soft brush of feet on sand, the creaking dry of leather, and small sniffs and grunts beyond. 

Soldiers ahead. They were waiting. Another ambush. 

Legend slid the girl off and signaled her for silence. Slipping on his red cape once more, he poured his magic into it and peered around the corner.

It was a cavernous room he’d passed earlier, scorched remains of a storage tower bearing witness. The cave was tall, long, and rather narrow and winding. Short walls, fences, and steps divided it into three parts. 

Scattered wall to wall, dozens of foot soldiers crouched in readiness to attack anything that entered from the lowest room. It was the path he’d taken to the skulltulas. Legend suppressed a grin. Perhaps the Teacher hadn’t told anyone he’d reentered another way? 

That chilly canyon door would take them north into freezing mesas, away from the desert this girl surely came from. And that shrine was useless without Wild’s slate. They had to risk the desert exit to get her home, no matter what men or monsters stood in their path.

His current hiding spot—a narrow hall deep in the shadows—led to the middle portion of the room and the burnt remains, the stink of charred wood and burnt bananas still thick in the air. 

He looked left, and found exactly what he needed: at that end, the entrance to stone stairs, cut from the caves, like every other structure in the hideout. They led around and up to a bridge that spanned over the stairs’s entrance and to an open doorway that led to their final destination, according to the map: a round room, one with many doors tucked inside narrow alcoves. One of them led outside, to freedom. Legend could even see the faintest yellow glow of sunlight overpowering dim torchlight, peeking through the distant arch.

“I know you are there, Hero of Legend.” A deep, hypnotic voice echoed through the cavern like a spell. 

Legend jerked back behind the corner, yanked the girl up, and wrapped the cape over them both. The girl moved stiff as a log, and he hardly blamed her when her nails dug into his skin. This man’s voice was unsettling, crawling over his skin like insects, blurring the line between sounds in the room and sounds in his own head.

Was this the mage, at last? The one with the stench of rot, who hopefully didn’t know about Legend’s pilfering? He couldn’t see through the cloak’s magic, could he? 

The intoxicating voice spoke again. “Don’t you wish to find him?” 

Legend ignored him as he stepped out of the hall, watching for a reaction from the masked soldiers. None of them turned his way. Good . They had to risk it, while the old man yapped. Their sound would cover their footsteps if they were lucky. 

The voice surrounded them again, masking its origin. “You and I know he is fated to die. But what comes after? I can show you how to bring him back from death. That's all any of us want, for the dead to return to us,” echoed the voice in the stone ceiling above.  

Legend knew fate was, in fact, rather flexible. Going back in time and meeting his own ancestor, Sir Raven, had changed many things in his Hyrule. The sorceress Veran had nearly erased Legend when she tried to execute Sir Raven, and wreak havoc in an ancient time that should have been secure and unchangeable in the warp and weft of fate, if such a thing existed. Clearly, it did not.  

With these memories, Legend steeled his mind against the words. He was rather picky about which disembodied voices to trust anyway. 

As he fully entered the room, he searched for the source, stepping softly forward but not activating the pegasus boots. He needed every drop of magic for the cape to keep them both hidden, and his magic was draining fast. 

Legend padded forward on his toes, balancing the girl and himself in careful silence with every step, weaving breathlessly between dozens of footsoldiers toward the stairs. One soldier spun a spear, bored and restless, and the veteran carefully timed his run past it. 

He ducked under a Blademaster’s sword, held in fidgeting hands. Ignoring the pit of anxiety building in his gut, Legend continued to maneuver between soldiers and their whispered grumbles of where is that stupid kid , and let’s just storm the hall already . He squeezed between them at a lull in their conversation when they turned to other neighbors to quietly continue to grouse. 

They all still faced the lowest level, clearly expecting him to come from that way. Let them waste their efforts, the idiots . 

He danced between two more blademasters, both of which stood a head taller than Time, nearly Teacher’s height. It was harder to notice short interlopers like him from their vantage point, and at last Legend’s chest relaxed at the knowledge that they were close, at last, to the stairs, and to escape. 

But the girl began to tremble. She tried to hide it, flexing and relaxing her fingers, but still he felt her whole body shivering. 

Not far ahead now, just beyond a group of yawning scythe-wielders, the stairs waited. The first steps were blocked by three assassins.

“ Walk faster ,” the girl whispered. 

Legend dared not answer, or move faster. 

“ Hurry !” she begged in an ever louder whisper, digging her fingers tighter into the shoulder of his tunic.

Legend shook his head, watching the guards around them for any clue that they’d heard the girl’s plea. 

She barely breathed, but kept shifting, the swish of fabric far too loud, as she looked back and forth at the soldiers surrounding them.  

She’s panicking!

Legend moved closer to the left wall and slid along it where the rows of soldiers ended, leaving just enough room for the toteming pair to turn at the corner and slip behind them, parallel to the bridge. They just had to reach the stairs, only a few feet away. 

The voice filled the cavern and his mind again. “He will die, hero. Fate and the gods have willed it so.” Fear wrapped him with every word, wrapping like coils around him.  

Fuck fate , he scoffed in his head, and the fear loosened, but still followed him. 

“I can teach you a spell that will weave him back together.”

Legend stopped and swallowed hard, heart thundering in his chest as the fear caught up to him. 

It’s a lie. And yet, he struggled to take another step. Why do they keep saying that? A spark of anxious hope flared at the words. Is it possible? If Hyrule were to die, somehow, or any of them, is there a way to bring them back? Stop! They don’t have Hyrule , and it’s probably dark magic, he reminded himself. They don’t even know where the demon is . 

Legend scanned the way forward, and found the voice’s source. Above him on the bridge stood a man in purple robes. Four soldiers guarded him, two on either side. For a brief moment, Legend’s heart raced at the folds of purple fabric. But no, these robes were dull, dark, and the draped hood bore no silly, familiar ears. Instead, a withered face stared across the room, amber eyes nearly glowing from the hood. 

“Believe it or not, we want the same thing.” The mage droned on, the buzzing on Legend’s skin growing stronger as he spoke. He longed to itch everywhere, but resisted. The girl did not.  

Legend grimaced at the words, the false familiarity it established between them, and the paralyzing spell of fear. Din, this same shit again? It sounded no different from the weird old Teacher, and the demon’s nonsense about the red thread of fate. Whale it stung to turn his mind away from Hyrule– not abandoning him! Not giving up! —he thought about the girl trembling on his back. Right now, she needed him. That’s all that mattered. 

“Hero…think about your friend. He will need your help.”

Hyrule’s blood. Hyrule’s death . That’s what these people wanted. 

He would not offer himself as a pawn in their plot.  

Regardless, the stairs were too crowded to continue.

Legend was stuck. 

“Reveal yourself, and we will talk. I promise no harm will come to you. But you will help, either way. For I have seen it. Fate will not be thwarted.”

He crouched and quietly bent enough to set the girl on her feet, and dug in his pouch.

“ Don’t you dare leave me here! ” she hissed, clinging to him. 

He shook his head slightly, and she slowly let go of his shoulder but held tight to his belt. Hands free, he downed another potion, tart and dry on his tongue but washing his body wholeness . He’d need it all for what he was about to do.

The girl slipped off his back. He tried not to panic, but she left one arm on him and climbed back up a moment later.

Her arm snaked down his, her fist over his hand, and something spilling out. He opened his palm. She dropped sand and pebbles into it.

What? 

“ A distraction. ”

Oh.

Dirt could work, but he could do better. Legend drew out a boomerang, an old one with no magic. He hated to lose it, but it had a purpose now. From the shadow of the bridge, he threw it. It was easy to mistake for a keese in the dim light, but the clatter it made on the far side of the cavern sent a shockwave among the soldiers. Dozens of them rushed to the sound.

The Yiga on the stairs disappeared to investigate. 

Legend hauled the girl up the stairs, his foot slipping a little on the sand as he climbed. 

At the top was another cell, oddly separated from the dungeon. He checked inside.

Empty.

But there, midway across the bridge, stood the mage, framed in the faint hint of daylight beyond, blocking it. 

The bridge was too narrow to sneak across, not with four blademasters and a dark-magic wielding mage between them and the way out.

“He’s here,” the old mage whispered to the guard on his right. “I feel the old magic. Have them move about. He may be hiding.”

One step ahead of you . But now Legend needed more than a simple distraction, especially if the mage could sense his magic. He dared not lead them to the Gerudo girl, but how to get her past them? 

Legend’s eyes lit up with an idea. He fished in his pouch, and grabbed a ring–a magic ring–and slipped it onto her thumb. In the quietest whisper he could manage, he spoke over his shoulder. “Wait until I clear the way, then run through there and follow the sunlight.” 

He slid her down, and crouched as he turned to face her, careful to keep the cloak over them both. He swept his sweaty bangs aside to watch her response. She searched his face for more answers. He had none to give. Before she could object, the veteran ducked out of the cape.  

He took the first blademaster by surprise, striking his back so hard the man plummeted off the high bridge.  

The mage backed away between the far pair of guards as the second blademaster approached. Legend unleashed a spin attack, four strikes, and he dropped the clansman with a lethal strike to his collar.  

The mage seethed. “Enough! You have something that does not belong to you! Not unless you stay and learn the way.” He raised a finger, eyes glittering red in the torchlight, cold and hard. “The book is missing half the spell! Only I can teach it.”

Legend lunged with his fire rod and sword. The mage dissipated the flames, while one guard swung his blade, and a sharp wind knocked Legend to the edge of the bridge, and over the bridge. The Mage gasped and rounded on the guard with a furious shout “STOP!”

Empty air gaped below him, but Legend was not called the veteran lightly. He fetched two items at once, kept together for just such an occasion: a feather, and a bulky hookshot. Holding the roc’s feather, he leapt high on the open air as if leaping from flat, solid ground. He jumped again, arcing high once more, his stomach in his ribs, soaring far out of easy reach, and as he dropped he aimed the hookshot at the fourth guard. It burst forward and latched on to the stunned guard’s bicep, and with a sickening jolt they swapped places. The blademaster shouted as he lurched and plummeted, and Legend stood face to face with the mage on the bridge once more. 

To his surprise, the last guard toppled over the edge, a sickle appearing, already buried in his side. 

The mage spun aside and raised his hands toward the place the weapon had appeared, dark magic gathering around him, acidic and rank with rot. Legend rushed forward and bodily yanked the Mage’s arm, away from what must be the Gerudo girl. With all the force he could muster from his exhausted body, he spun the mage and shoved him off the bridge. 

The mage fell, but coils of dark power slowed his descent. Red flashed in his eyes as he glared up at Legend. 

Smoke choked the air around him, but Legend reached into the fog to where the girl must have been. Shaking, invisible fingers grasped his. The unseen girl climbed onto his back. Both her and the cape settled over the veteran as he rushed in the direction of the narrow hall as the smoke cleared, bowling over soldiers as they appeared, chasing the faint glow of sunlight. 

They streaked into a round room like he’d seen, but instead of doors he saw statues, except one bright alcove. He passed through it in a blur. 

Sunlight! Legend chased it outside into the hot desert air, heavy with grit. The sky blinded him, but ran forwards all the same. Soon, shapes appeared through the white haze: reddish canyon cliffs, sparkling sand sloping downward, and a ribbon of pale blue sky. 

And those damned puffs of spoke. They appeared atop the cliffs and scattered on the path ahead. Dozens of bows aimed their way, their bodies invisible but their footprints in the sand were not . 

The girl screamed as she clawed his shoulders, “Your shield! Surf!” 

Oh! Wild had shown them shield surfing before. He’d thought it a waste, seeing how much it damaged Wild’s already flimsy shields, but right now he saw the appeal. The cape gave them cover, powered by the ring, as Legend fumbled in his pouch, rifling through rings and canes and empty glass bottles until at last he felt the smooth, long curve of uncle’s soldier's shield. But their footprints must have given them away, as arrows rained down. He tossed the shield ahead, and with a leap hooked one foot into the strap. The other foot he planted on the back edge, and with the momentum of his run they sped off, rushing down the hot sand, gaining momentum, exhilarating and fresh.

The girl on his back laughed. 

 They surfed for half a minute before the ring’s magic petered out. Legend stuffed the cape away. He’d have to rely on himself now, on his ability to dodge and weave.

A skill he excelled at. 

He quickly found how to move his feet just so to aim his descent, and he charted a breakneck, unpredictable course downward, sometimes lurching left or right, or kicking on the back of the shield to leap over boulders instead of swerving around them, arrows chasing them. The girl clung on and tried to shrink against him, and he mentally apologized for the seasickness she must be feeling. 

Red bodysuits and white smoke littered with paper still appeared all around, though Legend dodged them with ease. A squeeze and shout from the child made him worry she’d lost her grip as he took a particularly sharp right curve, but she clawed him tighter than ever and held firmly, and they sped onward. 

A dozen pops of white flashed in a cluster less than a hundred yards ahead. Barreling at  such a speed, Legend could barely hear the girl’s shout of alarm, but he’d already seen them and  angled for one gap before quickly shifting to pass through another while the Yiga scrambled toward the first. 

Lithe soldiers appeared once again, much further ahead than the first group and forming a tighter line. Their sickles flashed in the sun.  Perhaps they wanted to give him time to slow to a stop, to surrender. Legend smirked and eyed a sloped ridge nearby. It was perfect. He swerved sharply left. It was difficult balancing two people on the shield as he steered, but he’d seen it done once before in a small, snowy canyon. Thanks again, Wild, he thought as he aimed for the stone ramp, grated over the edge, and soared high above the heads of the Yiga. The white masks tracked him as he soared overhead. 

Legend’s stomach twisted as he dropped, but he clutched the roc’s feather and gave a shout of triumph as they bounced once in the air halfway down, then again closer to the ground, and finally hit the sand in a spray, mercifully staying upright at the impact and hurtling forwards. They left a cloud of dust in their wake big enough to obscure the assassins. The girl shrieked, and Legend couldn’t tell if it was fear or the thrill. 

At last, at long last, The canyon ahead stayed clear. They rode it in tense silence, Legend no longer dodging and weaving, simply feeling the rush of air cool the sweat completely coating him. His rabbit-quick heart finally began to slow down. 

They soared onward, riding the solid wave of glittering sand as the canyon curved left and opened onto the vast, sea-like desert.

Legend slowed as it spilled over the flat expanse and leveled out. He stopped just before reaching a path through ruins. A town shimmered into sight through the desert haze, only a few miles away.

Legend jumped off the shield and bent to let the girl down. She slid slowly, and he felt her wobble but seemed to catch her feet. He stared at the distant town and drank. The relatively cool stamina potion felt like heaven in his throat, the heat sapping his strength even as he stood still. 

“Is that your home?” he asked between gulps, searching the ruins for signs of monsters or places to rest safely all the while. 

“Ye-yes,” the girl whispered. Legend turned as the girl dropped to one knee, her face pale as paper. 

Legend cursed. Two arrow fletches peeked over her shoulder, rising and falling with her labored breaths: one in the back of her upper arm and one in her shoulder. Droplets fell and shone like rubies in the sand behind her, swiftly swallowed by the earth. 

Din dammit! He should have stopped to give her an extra shield for her back! Or anything to protect herself! He was used to treating wounds on himself, but removing arrowheads on a child? One that already barely trusted him? This was Warrior's area of expertise. He needed help.

“Hey, kid, I’m going to get you some help. You’re going to be okay. Just… just stay awake, okay? You need to tell me if I’m going the right way. Got it?” Goddesses what am I doing? What am I supposed to say?

Legend stowed his shield, downed another magic potion, chiding himself to conserve them better, and carefully lifted her onto his back again. 

She cried out, and her arms lay limp now, but he tied the cape around her back, kicked his heels, and ran. 

They’d certainly have all she needed in that town ahead, beyond the ruins.

[starshiips]

𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 -- part 01 cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! surfer influencer! reader

trope: next door neighbors au !

summary: a particular influencer known for her surfing has recently moved to monte carlo for the summer.

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y/nverse goodbye california, ill miss my memories, as i embrace monte carlo

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As the sun cast a golden hue over the Mediterranean coastline, [Y/n] arrived at her Monaco apartment, her anticipation palpable. She had been eagerly awaiting this vacation, a respite from the demands of daily life. With a sense of relief, she dropped her bags onto the floor of her room, the crisp linens of her bed beckoning to her tired limbs. Yet, as she gazed out of the window, the sight of the glistening sea stirred something within her.

Despite the allure of rest, [Y/n] found herself drawn to the rhythmic melody of the waves crashing against the shore. The call of adventure whispered in her ears, urging her to abandon her plans of unwinding indoors. With a sudden burst of energy, she discarded the idea of unpacking and instead reached for her surfboard, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

With practiced ease, she slipped into her wetsuit, the neoprene clinging snugly to her skin. As she made her way to the beach, a sense of liberation washed over her. The salty breeze tousled her hair, and the warmth of the sun kissed her cheeks. The familiar thrill of anticipation coursed through her veins, igniting a fire within her soul.

Unbeknownst to [Y/n], her neighbor watched her departure with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. From his vantage point across the courtyard, he observed her with keen interest, intrigued by her spontaneous spirit. In a world where schedules and obligations dictated the rhythm of life, her spontaneity was a breath of fresh air.

As [y/n] reached the shoreline, she felt a surge of exhilaration course through her. With each wave she conquered, she felt more alive than ever before. The sea embraced her like an old friend, its salty embrace comforting and invigorating all at once. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as she surrendered herself to the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Meanwhile, the same captivated neighbor couldn't help but admire [y/n]'s fearlessness from afar. In a place where extravagance and luxury were the norm, her simple joy in the sea's embrace was a testament to her authenticity. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a mesmerizing array of colors across the sky, he made a mental note to introduce himself to his intriguing new neighbor.

As the day drew to a close and [y/n] reluctantly emerged from the water, she couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that enveloped her. Though her room remained untouched and her bags lay forgotten on the floor, she knew that she had made the right choice. In that moment, amidst the crashing waves and salty air, she found a sense of peace that she had been searching for all along. 

After her invigorating surf session, [y/n] returned to her apartment, her spirits lifted and her body humming with energy. With a satisfied sigh, she finally decided it was time to unpack her bags and settle in. As she carefully organized her belongings, folding clothes and arranging toiletries, her mind drifted to the prospect of exploring the local markets for some fresh ingredients. The thought of indulging in Monaco's culinary delights ignited a spark of excitement within her.

With her bags finally emptied and her essentials neatly stowed away, [y/n] slipped into a comfortable sundress and sandals, ready to venture out into the bustling streets of Monaco. Just as she reached for the door handle, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise, her neighbor emerged from his apartment, a casual smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Hey there," she called out, her voice easygoing. "I'm [y/n], your neighbor from next door."

Charles's expression brightened with recognition as he returned her greeting. "Nice to meet you, [y/n]," he replied, a hint of curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "I've seen you around. My name's Charles, " he said as he walked along side her, it wasn't intentional but it seemed they were both going the same way,

As they reached a crossroads, [y/n] hesitated for a moment, not wanting their conversation to end. With a playful smile, she suggested, "You know, I was just about to head to the market to pick up some groceries. Since we're having such a great chat, why don't we continue our conversation on the way? It'll be like our own little walking tour of Monaco."

Charles's eyes lit up with excitement at the idea, and he readily agreed. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," he replied, falling into step beside her as they made their way towards the market. And as they walked and talked, their laughter filling the air, [y/n] couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and connection that blossomed between them.

"what brings you to monte carlo?" charles asked wondering what such a free spirit was doing in such a luxurious city 

" A new scenery, and i heard monte carlo had great beaches" She responded quite vaguely leaving aside some details

Navigating the labyrinthine streets of the principality, they both soon found themselves at a quaint neighborhood supermarket. Stepping inside, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and ripe fruits. As she wandered the aisles, her eyes lit up with delight when she stumbled upon a familiar sight – a display of chips, her favorite snack from back home.

"ah charles, its great so see you back at home, it mustve been exhausting, traveling around this season!" The lovely old shop keeper told charles welcoming the two,

as charles and the shop keeper conversed she wandered the aisles, her eyes lit up with delight when she stumbled upon a familiar sight – a display of plantain chips, her favorite snack from back home.

With a satisfied smile, [y/n] reached for a bag of the crispy, golden chips, savoring the taste of nostalgia as she added them to her basket. As she continued her shopping, she couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that washed over her. In this bustling city of glamour and luxury, she had found a sense of familiarity and comfort that made Monaco feel like home. And as she made her way back to where charles stood her heart full and her stomach satisfied, she couldn't wait to share her newfound treasures with her neighbor, trader joes "ode to the classic chip" this was one of her favorites.

The walk back to the apartments was a walk of tranquil silence.

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y/nverse ngl the first thing i did when i got here was definitely not unpack 😞

new notif !

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