#i put a lot of attention into maintaining the height balance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherryrainn · 2 years

Text

the perfect pair {onceler x reader}

.1| 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 |

hello everyone!! this is my first Tumblr post, and it's Onceler related of course.. anyways I've put this same fic on Wattpad so check it out if you want a kinda more detailed version I guess? click here :))

warning; s3lf harm, self-hatred, depression, mental health issues, etc, and A LOT OF ANGST!!

song to play while reading if you'd like that i think matches this chapter

next part

the dark and gloomy day had a somber atmosphere, with heavy storm clouds dominating the sky. the air was filled with a sense of impending rain, and the cold winds cut through the air, chilling everything in their path. this was the perfect setting for you, as you found solace and comfort in days like this, embracing the melancholy and embracing the beauty in the darkness.

stepping out of your house, you braved the elements, determined to face the world despite the emotional weight you carried within. your attire was a reflection of your mood—an off-the-shoulder beige sweater, soft and comforting, wrapped you in its warmth. the bell-bottom jeans added a touch of retro elegance to your ensemble, while the sturdy boots protected your feet from the wet ground.

with an umbrella in hand, you raised it high to shield yourself from the pouring rain. its canopy, a shield against the world, provided a small sanctuary amidst the storm. the raindrops cascaded around you, their gentle patter becoming a soothing symphony against the nearby roof.

as you ventured forward, the wind whipped at your clothes and pushed against your body, mirroring the turbulence within your mind. thoughts swirled and churned, each gust of wind pushing them in different directions. it was overwhelming, the weight of loss and despair pressing heavily on your heart.

the cold drops of rain touched your skin, leaving trails of moisture. the physical sensation of the raindrops mingled with the emotional pain you felt, creating a combination of sensations that made your whole being tremble. the exhaustion that settled deep within your bones.

navigating through the rainy streets, you walked with a steady determination, seeking refuge from the tempest within. the vibrant lights of the city were muted in the gray haze, their glow subdued by the relentless downpour.

finally, you arrived at the coffee shop, a haven of warmth and familiarity. as you pushed open the door, a gust of warmth enveloped you, accompanied by the intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee. the rich scent filled your lungs, instantly awakening your senses and offering a glimmer of respite.

stepping inside, you closed your umbrella, allowing the water droplets to drip onto the mat, their soft patter joining the chorus of rain outside. the cozy atmosphere of the coffee shop embraced you like an old friend, its soft lighting casting a warm glow on your weary soul.

as you made your way towards your favorite table, lost in your thoughts, a sudden jolt disrupted your steps. the impact was forceful, almost knocking you off balance, but with a swift reflex, you managed to catch yourself just in time, preventing an embarrassing tumble onto the floor.

before you had the chance to fully comprehend what had just transpired, your attention shifted to the person you collided with. standing before you was a super tall guy, his height towering above the average crowd, giving him an air of undeniable presence. the surprise and shock were evident on his face, his brows furrowing slightly in response to the unexpected force of the bump.

in his hands, he tightly gripped a cup of steaming hot liquid, teetering precariously in the aftermath of the collision. though he maintained his own balance, the unfortunate consequence of the impact was evident. a small gasp escaped his lips as the steaming liquid spilled onto his arm, causing him to hiss in pain. the cup slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a resonating thud, its contents slowly trickling down his sleeve, leaving behind a trail of coffee droplets in its wake. the impact had also disrupted the once-perfect alignment of his fedora, which now sat at a slight angle.

initially, frustration crept into his voice, ready to be unleashed as he began to admonish you for your lack of awareness. "hey, watch where--" he began, his tone edged with annoyance. but as his eyes met yours, a profound transformation swept over him, stealing his words away. his breath hitched in his throat, silenced by the gaze that held him captive.

the anger that had momentarily clouded his features dissolved, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. his initial reproach faded away, and the lines of tension on his forehead softened. a profound silence settled between you, the only sounds audible being the distant hum of conversations and the gentle patter of raindrops on the café's windows.

as the intensity of his gaze bore into your eyes, a warm flush crept up your cheeks, coloring them in a delicate shade of pink. to avoid his penetrating stare, you instinctively shifted your gaze, focusing on a distant point in the room.

the boy, still slightly stunned by the unexpected connection, managed to find his voice amidst the swirling emotions within him. "i'm sorry! are...you okay?" he stammered, his words punctuated by a dryness in his mouth that made it difficult to articulate properly.

"yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you mumbled, your voice tinged with a hint of shyness. as the boy's fingers instinctively clutched at his collar, a subtle attempt to steady his nerves, a gentle laugh escaped his lips, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

intrigued by your presence and drawn to know more, the boy's eyes sparkled with curiosity. he mustered the courage to ask, his voice laced with genuine interest, "do you... come here often?" his question hung in the air, full with anticipation, as he eagerly awaited your response.

"yes, i come here almost every day," you reply, a hint of familiarity in your voice. you gather your belongings, preparing to make your way to the counter to place your order.

"oh wow," he exclaims, his eyes shining with an undeniable intrigue. he seems to have a liking for running into deeper conversations rather than engaging in small talk, and he's eager to learn more about you—your hobbies, interests, and the things that make your heart come alive. with a genuine desire to know you better, he asks, "what's your order?"

you wave your hand dismissively, a playful glimmer in your eyes. "hold on a second," you interject, a slight teasing tone lacing your words. "hello? you haven't even told me your name yet!"

"huh?" he exclaims, a tinge of embarrassment flushing his cheeks with a rosy hue. his expressive eyes widen in the realization that he had overlooked such a simple and basic interaction.

"oh, uh, sorry," he stammers, his voice carrying a mix of apology and self-deprecation. gathering his composure, he manages to offer his name, his words carrying a touch of vulnerability. "my name's onceler!" with a sheepish smile, he extends his hand toward you, an invitation for a handshake. you take his hand, his fingers are warm and soft,

"cool, i'm y/n," you introduce yourself, a warm smile gracing your lips as you shake onceler's hand, appreciating the genuine curiosity that emanates from his eyes. with a newfound desire to get to know him better, you lead the way back to your table, creating a comfortable space for conversation.

"so, what're you into, onceler?" you ask, genuinely interested in unraveling the layers of his personality. as you settle into your seats, the ambiance of the coffee shop providing a cozy backdrop, onceler's eyes light up with an infectious enthusiasm. "i don't know, what do you like?" he responds, eager to explore your interests and passions.

you take a moment to ponder, considering the things that bring you joy and fulfillment. you start sharing with him, a hint of excitement lacing your voice while you talk about the things you love. "sounds cool, doesn't it?"

onceler's face brightens with admiration, captivated by the notion of your adventurous spirit and the wealth of stories that accompany your travels. "of course it does!" he exclaims, his genuine enthusiasm shining through. "sounds like you have a lot of interesting stories to tell! have you been anywhere interesting recently?"

as you delve into the details of your latest journey, onceler listens intently, engrossed in the tapestry of your experiences. he leans forward, absorbing every word with fascination, eager to vicariously explore the places he has yet to see.

the hours slipped away unnoticed as you and onceler kept on talking, diving into the depths of your lives, interests, and dreams. time seemed to take on a life of its own, weaving through the minutes and hours in a blur. the world outside the coffee shop faded into the background, leaving just the two of you engrossed in this shared moment of connection.

glancing at your watch, you let out a sigh tinged with a hint of disappointment. the realization dawns upon you that time had slipped away, and you had forgotten to get your much-anticipated cup of coffee. with a pang of reluctance, you turn to onceler, feeling a pang of guilt for cutting the conversation short.

"hey, onceler," you begin, "i should go home now.. it's.. getting dark and the rain hasn't stopped yet. i'm just gonna get some coffee and head home, okay?" onceler frowns but nods, understanding.

"alright," he responds, "walk home safely. but hey, how about we hang out tomorrow? can i get your number? i'll call you and give you directions to my place." he offers with another sheepish grin, his genuine interest in spending more time with you evident.

you look at him, a mix of confusion and amusement playing on your features. "directions? just tell me your address, it's that simple," you offer, expecting a straightforward response. however, onceler's response catches you off guard. "well... i don't really have an address," he admits sheepishly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

raising an eyebrow, you wait for him to elaborate, your curiosity piqued. "what?" you inquire, unable to hide your bemusement. a slightly awkward laugh escapes him, and you can't help but shake your head in good-natured disbelief. you exchange phone numbers instead, the act serving as a promise of future connection.

with your coffee cup securely in hand and your umbrella providing shelter from the relentless rain, you bid onceler a warm farewell and step out of the cafe. the soft smile that graces your lips is mirrored by the gentle patter of raindrops on the pavement. today hadn't been all that bad, but.. once you stepped inside your home, you swiftly closed the door and leaned against it for support. the tremors that had taken hold of your body couldn't be suppressed, causing shivers to ripple through you. the relentless rumble of the storm outside persisted in a predictable rhythm, occasionally interrupting the quietness within.

droplets of water from your umbrella dripped onto the floor, forming a small puddle that added to the sad atmosphere. the chill in the air permeated your clothes, intensifying the shivers that persisted even as you settled on the floor. your apartment greeted you with darkness and a noticeable chill, devoid of any comforting presence. the emptiness seemed to fill the room, reminding you of your solitude.

sitting there, you couldn't help but feel the shivering persist, even as you remained seated. the sensation of being watched loomed over you, despite the absence of anyone else. it was an unsettling feeling, one that your body couldn't shake off.

in the quietness of your home, the sound of your breath mingled with the distant rumbling of the storm. occasionally, a gust of wind would make the windows rattle, further heightening your unease. the absence of light cast shadows that danced along the walls, whispering secrets that only added to the eerie ambiance.

you sat there for a while, embracing the silence that enveloped you, grappling with the emotions that surged within.

with a weary exhale, you released the weight of your dark thoughts, longing for respite. your steps led you to the modest yet comfortable living room, a space perfectly suited for your solitary existence. the encroaching darkness momentarily heightened your sense of unease, causing a shiver to cascade down your spine. but you swiftly dispelled the darkness by illuminating the room, and switching on all available lights. the relief of seeing the power still intact washed over you, providing a small glimmer of comfort.

setting your coffee down on the nearest surface, you collapsed onto the couch, allowing your legs to stretch out before you. your gaze fixated blankly upon the wall, your heavy eyes bearing the weight of sleepless nights. weary and exhausted, you yearned for a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos that plagued your mind.

as you made way towards the refrigerator, a sigh of relaxation escaped your lips, offering a fleeting sense of calm. you reached for a refreshing beverage and a bag of chips. settling into the plush embrace of your warm couch, you switched on the television, hoping for a distraction from your depressing thoughts. however, you soon discovered that there was nothing good playing on the screen.

nibbling on the crispy chips, your attention wandered aimlessly, detached from the images flashing before you. there was a knot twisting in your stomach. you were aware that, in time, this torment would become the new normal, but for now, it gnawed at your being, inflicting a searing pain that seemed unbearable.

each passing day brought forth an increasing struggle to maintain focus on the aspects of life that held significance for you. with a shake of your head, you attempted to drown out the anxiety, filling your mouth with a handful of chips as if to silence the nasty within. "gosh, you're such a moron. quit complaining," you scolded yourself, caught in the tug-of-war between two opposing voices within.

a yawn escaped your lips, revealing the weariness that had settled deep within. without bothering to switch off the lights, you ambled towards your bedroom, the sanctuary that promised respite from the turmoil of the day. with a gentle thud, you plopped onto your bed, the softness offering momentary relief from the burdens that had weighed you down.

as you settled into the comfort of your bed, you reached into your pocket and retrieved the slip of paper that held onceler's phone number. uncertainty lingered in your mind, unsure whether you should take the leap and dial his number. the thought of engaging in conversation felt like an impossible task in your current state of tiredness. rationalizing your decision, you decided to postpone the call, thinking about doing it tomorrow instead.

laying on your bed, the room dimly lit by the faint glow of the hallway, you allowed the weariness to wash over you. thoughts of the day slowly dissolved, replaced by a quiet stillness as you succumbed to the embrace of slumber. tomorrow would bring a fresh opportunity, a chance to engage with Onceler and discover the potential for connection and solace that awaited. For now, sleep beckoned, promising a temporary reprieve from the trials of the world.

you take your socks off and throw them across the room, thinking that they might land on the floor somewhere, but you don't really care. you put away the paper and fall asleep within seconds.

#onceler #the onceler #greedler #the greedler #the lorax #reader insert #x reader #onceler x reader #greedler x reader #angst #fluff #mental health #tw s3lf harm #menta health issues #romance #reader x character #y/n #once-ler

156 notes · View notes

good-beans · 7 months

Note

Tsumi's ask game: 2, 3, 4, 6 for Fuuta and Mappi!

Woo thank you so much :3 I promise I didn't go overboard but there were still a bunch so they're under the cut

2. favorite mv moment/frame?

This first one, hands down. Of course I love all frames of my little skrunkly (especially in his little knights outfit :3) but this moment in particular gave me chills. I could write a whole essay on how well Bring it On shows the melding of imagination/reality in a way that isn’t infantilizing. It’s not like a little kid getting carried away thinking of their fake stories, this happens to everyone – this has happened to me. Between the glitching and the beat in the music, this really gut-punched me with the feeling of letting yourself get carried away. Shoutout to the second one because it’s epic and I edited a lockscreen with it for a while. (extra shoutout to when he wipes the blood off his face ough I love that one too)

3. favorite non-mv official illustration?

the pv shot who said that. Lmao I actually really liked the 3rd anniversary art! It really captured that shit eating grin, and somehow maintains the perfect balance of making him look genuinely creepy/intimidating and still like a loser asdfsdf. In general he just looks real good in it :3 I know it’s like three tiny panels but I also love his Clock Over Orquestra look ;-;

4. favorite minigram episode/moment?

THERE’S SO MANY LOL I think it has to be the pause of silence as Amane makes fun of his height, but I’m so obsessed with the starry-eyed panel when he’s watching Yuno do cat’s cradle ;---; (eng versions from thinkin-bout-milgram)

6. favorite relationships with another character in the prison?

In general it’s Yuno, but a lot of that is from my own analysis/brainrot/fic writing 😭 I will never shut up about how his initial impression of violence was revealed to be in her defense, rather than his own aggression!!! They’re very similar and where they’re not, they’re complimentary. They are so special to me. If we’re talking mainly canon, it’s definitely him and Amane :’) Some parts are healthy and healing, some parts are fucking them both up more, but it’s all very fun and interesting.

2. favorite mv moment/frame?

You’re making me choose??? You’re making me choose only one frame of my beautiful beautiful wife????

Seriously though, this one. I know it may be cliche as her Classic Frame but for someone who really relates to her “out of control” emotions and toxic positivity habits, it really hit hard!! It puts you in her victim's shoes, but still in the mindscape, and is just so unsettling and sad ;-;

3. favorite non-mv official illustration?

Definitely her birthday art! She’s so beautiful and happy in it <3 I love the dress, love the cake, love the flowers, it’s perfect! I enjoy her various anniversary art, but it always makes me sad seeing them try and paint her as creepy. I get it, but the whole point of her character is that there’s nothing literally creepy/mean about her ;--; (Referring to my previous answer, that's how you make her creepy. You put the viewer in her victim's shoes and make her just as cheery as always.)

4. favorite minigram episode/moment?

Her “I bet I could” because she Could!!! I believe in her 😤 It was such a cute minigram overall but after so much canon content of her struggling to keep up with what society/others expect of her I loved seeing her have some confidence in herself, even if it was silly :3 Ahh I also love her keeping up with Kotoko at jumprope! She may be small but she can keep up with the best of ‘em 💪

6. favorite relationships with another character in the prison?

Also Yuno lol! I love how much they care for each other, especially now that Yuno has been looking after her in T2 ;-; In general they make such a cool parallel – they both have crimes related to a partnership with a man, both pay attention to the picture-perfect ideal of a woman that society expects, but are complete opposites regarding honesty/masks. My secret little favorite is Fuuta, but once again that’s really all from headcanoned interactions and parallels 😅

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #mahiru shiina #ahh thank you pal :D #these were so fun #despite being absolutely insane over every second of backdraft im not crazy about the visuals #i could write So Much on my love for bring it on though...#i dont have it on me rn (no phone :c) but someone made a nic stitch of the scene where mahiru is looking down at her bf in the mindscape #hes disheveled but shes looking down at him blushing and i also love that one #rose posts #ask

9 notes · View notes

snackhobi · 4 years

Text

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within.

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over.

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight.

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed. It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on.

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code.

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time.

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water.

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine.

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.” The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious.

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new.

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed.

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone.

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one.

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they?

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.”

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper.

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go.

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked.

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least).

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for.

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good.

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone.

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend.

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way.

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God.

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence.

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things.

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.”

Ah.

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.”

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new.

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased.

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs.

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples.

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice.

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off.

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs.

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?”

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight.

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality.

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own.

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #bts #taehyung x you #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #android taehyung #robot taehyung #look you know the drill by now: I don't know how to tag effectively #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #dbh is so good guys. I love connor. like. an alarming amount.

3K notes · View notes

elizabeths-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

"The Demon Brothers as Volleyball Players" Obey me! Headcanons

☁ Yes, my knowledge comes only from Haikyuu and what I have read online. Am I sorry for that? No, I'm probably not because it was really fun.

I was going back and forth about their positions so if you have other ideas I would love to hear them (with explanations) ^^

──────────────────────────────

Lucifer [opposite hitter/captain]

As an opposite hitter, Lucifer takes care of offense as well as defense,

A perfect role for the strongest of the bros,

Thanks to his strength and quick response time he is able to receive powerful and difficult balls,

He's merciless during practice and games, keeping everyone focused and in line,

He finds the most creative punishments when the team misbehaves and slacks off,

But he's not the embodiment of evil - he treats everyone to dinner after a well-played match.

Mammon [outside hitter/ace/vice-captain]

He loves being the center of attention so this role suits him perfectly,

You can say a lot of things about him but he's the one Lucifer trusts the most, which makes their synergy nearly perfect (they still maintain the same brotherly dynamic tho),

He's not someone who would think through every move so he usually hits following his intuition but he recompenses in strength, his spikes could kill somebody for sure,

As a vice-captain, he's always trying to raise the spirits of his teammates, which helps to create balance with Lucifer's strictness.

Leviathan [middle blocker]

He's not the tallest out of his brothers but he's still a huge guy with very long arms and great speed which makes him a powerful middle blocker,

It's the best position for him because of his tendency to blame himself,

Even when his fingers just slightly brush the ball, it can give a lot of time for other teammates to try and receive the ball.

Satan [setter]

He's got everything that makes a great setter; he's intelligent, resistant to stress, can think under pressure and he's quick,

He's the backbone of the team with an ability to draw the best out of each player,

He comes out with the best strategies,

Even with all of his great qualities he has to be switched from time to time (usually with Asmo),

When he starts getting angry as a frustrating game goes on he starts making bad decisions, trying to piss off his rivals which usually backfires.

Asmodeus [defensive specialist/server]

Although he didn't master any position, he's quick to adapt and can either spike or receive the ball if necessary,

His outgoing personality also makes it easy to create synergy with other players,

Most of the time he sits in the dugout and doesn't play in the main squad but often gets switched to serve which is his strongest quality,

He has great control over the ball and unexpected strength, making his serves really hard to receive,

He's the fans favorite who often cheer and scream when he enters the court,

He's also in charge of the team's social media accounts.

Beelzebub [libero/middle blocker]

As a middle blocker, he creates a stone wall that's almost impossible to break thanks to his height and big palms,

But his main role is a libero,

The team puts huge trust in this position that's why Beel is the perfect fit for it,

He may not be the fastest libero but he recompenses that with his strength and stamina.

Belphegor [outside hitter/bait]

Even tho he's also an outside hitter (like Mammon), he doesn't spike that much during the match and does it only when necessary (mostly because his stamina isn't that great),

He's a real pain in the ass to play against because of his smug and cocky personality,

His role comes down to annoying the other team (which is very successful) and drawing their attention away from Mammon to help him get a clear area to spike,

Because he gets tired quickly he usually gets switched with Asmo when the game goes on for too long for him to handle.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me shall we date #haikyuu!!

54 notes · View notes

demonsandco · 3 years

Note

I have this headcanon that angels/demons (when not in their “human form” that they have to maintain for the comfort of the human exchange students) are like. Huge. 6.5-7 feet on average, at least for the demon forms we see in-game. Even when they’re in their “everyday” forms, their height can fluctuate by day (depending on how much effort they want to put in the glamours) and can vary widely.

I figure they start off pretty human-sized when young (my excuse for still keeping Luke at like the average 10 year old’s height in my hcs lol) but they’re created with crazy huge horns/wings/tails/etc. that they’re going to “grow into”, and it’s a pretty good indicator for how tall they’re going to be when they’re older.

For example, baby Diavolo had these like huge and heavy horns that he could barely balance with for centuries. Most of his “adolescent” years involved a lot of accidental wall damage and a very exasperated Barbatos. Baby Lucifer had six massive wings that made walking straight very difficult. Baby Beel could keep all of his brothers warm and comfy under his downy angel wings. Baby Satan’s tail was so long that it dragged behind him, and Levi had to teach him how to wrap it around his leg so he wouldn’t trip and fall (and it’s a comfort habit that’s extended well into adulthood).

I also like to hc that Luke has these huge wings that he can’t stand because they’re so big and he thinks it makes him look awkward and stupid, but every adult who sees them is immediately like “wtf” because they know at a glance he’ll probably be as tall as Beel or Dia one day.

Sorry this turned long lol, I had a lot of thoughts about heights, apparently 😂

Oooo I love this so much!! Most of their human forms are short enough that they can pass as human, but tall enough to garner some attention. Their true forms are at least a foot or two taller, and they look much broader, too. Consider, though, if demons are in general quite a bit taller than humans, than their furniture would be bigger, too. I like to think that even though my MC is 5'9", he needs to use a stepstool while cooking or washing the dishes because the counters come all the way up to his chest.

When it comes to growing, I've always thought of demons and angels as working similar to lizards, snakes and amphibians, so they never actually stop growing. They'll start out as average human size (so Luke's only around 4'8") and they grow pretty slow. I'm not sure if Luke has a canon actual age, but I like to think that he's around 10,000 years old (this seems really old written down, but considering that Lucifer is 200,000 to 300,000, I think it makes sense), while mentally and physically he's the equivalent of a 10 to 12 year old. However, unlike humans, angels and demons never stop growing. The growth slows down substantially when they hit an "adult" height, but as long as their healthy, they'll keep getting taller.

The idea of wings, tails and horns being oversized on young demons and angels is so cute! Also consider, young angels having to grow through the same awkward feather growing stage that baby birds do. So they start out with little chicken wings covered in downy fluff, and once they start entering the preteen phase, their flight feathers start growing in. Luke would be right at the age where his feather start coming in and Simeon starts to realize that the feathers just keep getting longer. Eventually you'll get a slightly older Luke, awkwardly tall with long lanky limbs and then huge, broad wings that are twice as long as he is tall. It'd take him a while to fully grow into them, but they'd definitely be impressive. Maybe then people will stop calling him a chihuahua. The brothers would be so cute as young angels, too! Especially Luci with his concerning amount of wings.

The idea of little Diavolo with massive horns is also one of my new favorite things now. It takes him so long to get used to how wide they are, so there's almost a daily occurrence of him taking a turn too sharply or walking too close to a doorframe and taking a chunk out of the wall with his horns. He'd be so whinny about it, too. Sure the wall's damaged, but also his horn's sore now and he thinks that's much more important than the hole he made. I'd also imagine that the process of growing horns is really itchy, so I can't help but picture young Dia headbutting Barbatos like a baby goat until the butler agrees to scratch at his horns. On a similar note, do you think young demons headbutt each other like goats? Because that would be really cute.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #im tagging those two specifically because they're talked about #but most of this applies to any demon/angel

198 notes · View notes

softinkshadows · 4 years

Text

Shingeki no Kyojin Astrology: sun-moon-rising combinations

I was looking around tumblr for detailed astrology speculations of my fave anime characters, but there aren't that many! Being q well-versed in astro myself, i thought why not do my own version (very spoiler-free, don’t worry)! I followed the birth dates given by isayama:

Eren Jaeger - Aries sun, Scorpio moon, Cancer rising Aside from the fact that he can be hotheaded and impulsive, Eren's feelings of vengeance run deep and explosive. Remember that time he was chained to the bed after the attack on trost, and his eyes were wild with the need to violently eradicate all titans? He's so tenacious and emotionally stubborn too (a Scorp moon trait) to the point of being closed off from everyone else, especially towards the end where he seems to take the weight of the world's burden on his own shoulders. And all for the sake of protecting his community and ensuring the safety of his friends for the rest of their lives. His comrades and family are his motivation. This is his Cancer rising steering his life.

Mikasa Ackerman - Aries sun, Aquarius moon, Aries rising "Look that moody brat is running off on her own again." Mikasa is similar to Eren in her impulsiveness and determination, but different in two ways- what they aim to protect and their extent of fearlessness. Eren is aware of his own weaknesses and helplessness, but Mikasa's amazing physical prowess makes her act without any hesitation at all. She's hella fierce and driven to keep herself in shape too, doing all those sit-ups and chopping firewood post-injury. I think she deserves a double Aries! An Aries rising means a Libra descendant too, which is reflected her whole-hearted devotion in her close partnerships (Eren and Armin). Her aquarius moon really shines thru with her stoic independence, focus and perseverance.

Armin Arlet - Scorpio sun, Virgo moon, Pisces rising He's the brain of the 104th cadet corps, and is second to Erwin in terms of strategy! An intelligent planner with low self-esteem often found second guessing his own analytical abilities, Armin is a true blue Virgo moon. His emotional self stands out the most from the main three protagonists - Eren & Mikasa mostly express anger and desperation, whereas Armin is usually shrouded in fear and worry. He's a very soft bb, hence the Pisces rising, not to mention he gets so dreamy imagining the sea, the vast plains, and the magical world beyond the walled universe he knows. A spiritually-attuned and curious explorer :")

Levi Ackerman - Capricorn sun, Scorpio moon, Virgo rising Levi is such a complex person, thanks to Isayama's brilliance. Like many Cap suns, Levi is authoritative, cold and incredibly savage. That's not to say he doesn't feel anything either. Levi is an evolved Scorp moon (maybe even moon in 11th house) because his feelings are never for himself, but he hurts so much for others - you can tell every death hits him so hard, but he doesn't show this to anyone else. He also exudes this quietly intimidating aura of natural competence, a common characteristic of this sun-moon combo. He can take things personally as well (re: height issues) but it never snowballs into more than passing irritation. The turbulence of his emotions and habit for violence is balanced out by his earthy Virgo rising, which is emotionally subdued, quite thin and delicate in physique, and super neurotic and nitpicky when it comes to cleanliness and health. Cap, Virgo and Scorp are some of the most guarded signs, and a combi of all 3 are hellish. You can tell this poor beautiful man is always caught between feeling and thinking, between maintaining his humanity and forsaking it.

Erwin Smith - Libra sun, Capricorn moon, Leo rising In another life, Erwin Smith would be the damn CEO of a global conglomerate because he oozes so much charisma. Hell if charisma were energy Erwin Smith would be its prime, eternally renewable source. His stature alone is so commanding, and I find some strong Leonine traits in his thickset physique, strong eyebrows, beautiful hair, and that way he shouted in full glory atop wall Rose in that one episode to the cheering masses below. He might be a Libra sun, diplomatic in political affairs, but his Capricorn moon is what drives his decisions. Cap moon has a rep for being cold and unemotional, but i believe they are way more than that! Cap moons rarely boast about their long list of achievements, instead looking forward to the next goal. They struggle with emotional expression, and are super driven and disciplined. Erwin is capable of making the hardest decisions, putting aside emotions to strive for an abstract ideal, and this is to be expected of the commander who takes on the role of the devil.

Hange Zoe - Virgo sun, Sagittarius moon, Gemini rising All hail our favourite mad scientist!! Hange is such a breath of fresh air in the Survey Corps, balancing out the heaviness of missions with their wacky tales of titan research and experimentation. Their penchant for study and higher knowledge is typical of a Sagittarius moon, who is drawn to advanced academic study and spiritual truths. It's also a lighthearted and optimistic sign, true to Hange's upbeat personality. The Virgo in them contributes to their sheer intelligence and obsessiveness with research subjects. We also know they LOVE to talk, and once Eren asks Hange about experiments, they cannot stop (Gemini governs communication). Virgo, Sag and Gemini are the most intellectual signs, and because they are mutuable Hange tends to follow orders rather than give them, making it difficult to adapt to their new role towards the end of the series. Mutable signs also means rapidly-changing emotional states, and a whole lot of chaos, which suits our beloved squad leader.

Jean Kirstein - Aries sun, Virgo moon, Taurus rising Our third Aries on the list ohmygod. The snk universe is full of feisty hotheads. Jean is always seen clashing with Eren, fuelled by Eren's closeness with Mikasa and his own adorable jealousy. I mean, they had a full on fist fight right after dinner in the mess hall, although everything went downhill after the first few punches. Our first impression of Jean during his cadet days is coloured by his desire to work in the interior, and this favour for material safety and wealth is perhaps common to a Taurus rising. Also, Taurus is ruled by Venus, planet of beauty and harmony, and thus often figures in the charts of artists. If you've seen Jean's drawing skills in that special episode, you'll know that his artistic abilities are the finest we have seen, exceeding even that of isayama himself. Jean's strong principles such as being averse to killing people and oftentimes cynical nature, is also characteristic of the moral and cautious Virgo moon.

Sasha Braus - Leo sun, Gemini moon, Taurus rising Not all Leos are showmans. Sasha is the type of Leo who displays more of the quirky, unabrashed personality suited to her opposite sister sign Aquarius. Authority doesn't exist when food comes into play, as we see when she breaks potato with Shadis and later steals a slab of meat from the officer's warehouse. Unlike the visual artistry that Jean possesses with his Taurus rising, Sasha's Taurus centers around her love for food, and hell she can have fiery determination for it (rmb the wild night she mistook Jean's hand for meat?). I love that both of them were pitted with each other in that cooking special episode. I considered placing her as a Taurus moon, but Taurus moons are usually steadier and classier in emotion, whereas Sasha is often breezy, gets nervous and chaotic, with stellar intuition, making her likely a Gemini moon.

Connie Springer - Taurus sun, Cancer moon, Gemini rising Although not much attention is paid to Connie's growth, his character development reminds me a lot of Aang from ATLA. Cheery and happy-go-lucky at first, before the incident with his mother made him more prone to feelings of anger and vengeance, especially near the later chapters. His strong protective bond with his mother is what compels me to say he is a Cancer moon, which is a moon sign that is very homebody and drawn to family and traditions. His goofy self and him referring to Sasha as "his twin" puts him as the spunky Gemini rising, another sign he shares with her.

Reiner Braun - Leo sun, Pisces moon, Capricorn rising Aside from his natural leader personality (Leonine), Reiner likes to take on the persona of the big brother of the group. His outward stoicism, decisiveness and task-oriented nature is typical of a Cap rising, who is often serious and solemn in appearance. He reminds me of that Cap rising workaholic who does his best in a corporate organization, working 9 to 5 plus overtime as it fulfills his sense of purpose. Beyond his stoic facade reveals a more troubled personality. Like a Pisces moon, Reiner is impressionable, and it's difficult to tell if his emotions and personalities are his own, wavering and absorbing traits from those around him. His internal war with his identity and the ensuing fatigue characterises him during the second half of the series.

Annie Leonhart - Aries sun, Aquarius moon, Virgo rising Annie is the kind of Aries that is so motivated to achieve her goals that everything else is sidelined, including her own emotions. She's quite ruthless in chasing her objectives, and her composure, focus and endurance is highlighted with an Aquarius moon. I'm guessing she has a 4th house influence somewhere because of her motivations to go home to her father and lead a normal life. I find the daintiness and delicateness of her features similar to Levi, who is also a Virgo rising. The Virgo effect also registers as a brutal, unfiltered honesty (also seen in Levi), and Annie doesn't hesitate to speak the truth about her own or her opponent's capabilities.

Other characters which I won't go into much detail about:

Bertholdt Hoover - Capricorn sun, Virgo moon, Pisces rising Bertholdt is quiet with an unobtrusive personality. His lack of supposed iniative and aggression can perhaps be attributed to the mutuability of Virgo and Pisces, which goes with the flow instead of charging forward. He keeps his feelings to himself, but reacts when the people he wants to protect are threatened.

Historia Reiss - Capricorn sun, Libra moon, Cancer rising Historia initially lives for the sake of others (esp Ymir), and is more co-dependent than many of her other squadmates. She also tends to put up a front of pleasantness, afraid of disappointing or offending people. She has a strong tie to family, and a profound sense of duty.

Ymir - Aquarius sun, Pisces moon, Aries rising Ymir is extremely astute when it comes to evaluating human behaviour. The religiosity of her background is also usually found in this sun-moon combination, which tends to attract paths of strong spirituality. She also has a bold and noble sacrificial streak for the sake of her companions.

Zeke Jaeger - Leo sun, Capricorn moon, Scorpio rising A headstrong, intelligent and radical character. In a way similar to Erwin in his ruthlessness, but emotionally darker and much more sinisterly private.

Kenny Ackerman - Aquarius sun, Sagittarius moon

Rod Reiss - Virgo sun, Libra moon

Dot Pixis - Virgo sun, Sagittarius moon

Hannes - Capricorn sun, Taurus moon

#snk astrology #snk #aot astrology #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #anime astrology #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlet #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #jean kirstein #sasha braus #connie springer #reiner braun #annie leonhart #bertholdt hoover #historia reiss

163 notes · View notes

horanghaechan · 4 years

Text

Dream in a Dream (M)

pairing: Prince!Ten x Princess!You

word count: 6k

warnings: written in 3rd person, mature content, fluffy, ten being the love of my life

synopsis: The Four Great Kingdoms took turns to maintain the peace of a planet called Mahabhuta. However, when minor rebellions threaten its stability, two kingdoms seek an alliance. But, hearts could never be war weapons. What to do when one of them is already committed to another?

Inspired by indian/turkish stuff and Avatar lol

[a/n]: since he (and his smile) was the reason i started stanning nct back in march 2016 (lol) i decided to post this here, the original version is in portuguese and posted on my fic site. happy bday, phonphon, you deserve the world.

also, english is not my first language so any grammar/etc mistake please let me know!

First of all, a small glossary so you don’t get lost:

The cycle of the Great Kingdoms of Mahabhuta takes place by:

Kingdom of Prithvi (Kingdom of Earth)

Kingdom of Apas-Jal (Kingdom of Water)

Kingdom of Agni (Kingdom of Fire)

Kingdom of Vayu (Kingdom of Air)

However, there is Akasha (Heaven, "vacuum"), by which all other kingdoms are "subjected". Akasha’s laws override any other law, as they were enacted prior to the division of Mahābhūta.

The hierarchy in each kingdom consists of:

Samraat and Samrajni – emperor and empress;

Maharaja and Maharani – king and queen, used formally for the heirs of the throne;

Raja and Rani – king and queen, used informally with the heirs of the throne.

Some words used by the characters and their meanings:

Evet: an informal way of saying “yes”;

Nei: an informal way of saying “no”;

Shokran: “thanks” said from peasants to monarchs;

Shukriya: “thanks” said from monarchs to peasants;

Olum: interjection of astonishment, incredulity.

Om Shanti: good luck.

Findi: petname, which can mean both “love” and “sweetheart”, normally related to married couples.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Border between Vayu and Prithvi, Apas-Jal Era.

Some carriages and soldiers crossed the bridge across the border of the Kingdom of Prithvi. Everyone there was fully aware of what they were doing, but no one hesitated. Keeping Maharani of Vayu happy was the only thing they were looking for.

“Rani Y/N are you sure that Raja Chittaphon will be waiting for us?” Ipek, Y/N’s chaperone and personal maid, asked worriedly.

“Evet.” Y/N nodded. “It’s our only chance.”

“Samraat Bhima will be horrified when he notices that you are missing.”

“He will.” The princess smiled. “But he’ll eventually understand that I had to.”

“Everyone will be delighted when you get married to Raja Chittaphon, right?!” Ipek smiled when she noticed how the girl’s face lit up at her question.

“Hopefully so, Ipek. That’s what I’m aiming for.” Y/N sighed, biting another smile. Remembering Chittaphon always resulted in moments like that, where everything melted and she became a puddle of love.

She still shivered like a fool when she remembered when they met.

Flashback on

Jala, Kingdom of Apas-Jal, 3 years ago

The corridors of the Palace of Jala were huge and very confusing. There were no separated doors, let alone identification by floors or wings. Y/N walked blindly through them, because she couldn’t remember where they assigned her rooms earlier.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not here.” One of the doors opened and a boy came out of it, on his back, wearing a typical outfit of the monarchs she knew.

“Olum!” Y/N froze on her place.

“Oh, are you the owner of this room?” He turned to her, drawing her attention to the pair of amused chestnut eyes that stared at her.

“Nei, nei. I’m lost.” She confessed. “I thought the floor was empty.”

“They told me that the Kingdom of Agni would be on the third floor, according to the cycle, but I confess I’m having trouble counting. Is it the third excluding the ground floor, or the third from the ground?” The boy smiled and she felt her heart flutter.

She absolutely adored smiles.

And... Olum, that smile was out of this world!

“Well, guess I’m twice wrong, then.” she blushed.

“You’re not from Agni, I suppose.”

“Nei. I’m from Vayu.” She extended her hand, indicating the ring of the Compass Rose, which was the symbol of her kingdom. “I ended getting lost...”

“Ten, from Agni.” the boy showed his own ring too, a ruby sun adorning his hand. Only monarchs wore such rings. “Maybe if we go back where you came from, we’ll be able to find your chaperone.”

“Y/N, from Vayu.” She bowed, understanding now with whom she spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Maharaja Chittaphon.”

“Olum, it can’t be!” Another lovely smile painted his thin lips. “Maharani Y/N Vatavaran?” Ten sounded excited. “I spent years trying to get to know you!”

“Really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Indeed! Did you think that you could remain incognito forever? All kingdoms are curious about the Heiress of the Air.” he signalled for them to start walking. He couldn’t touch her until they were officially introduced. “I suppose you make your debut at tonight’s ball?”

“My parents decided that it’s time for me to seek popularity.” She nodded. “I’m a little afraid, you know? Balls have always seemed too formal.”

“And they are.” Ten agreed. “But as soon as we are introduced, I’ll ask for one dance, and I hope you’ll save me a page on your card.”

“As I don’t know anyone, you’ll have them all.” She laughed.

“Perfect! So I won’t have to keep company with the Apas.”

“Don’t you like water?”

“I don’t like anything that puts out fire.” Ten joked casually, and then realized that the princess was puzzled by his comment. “Don’t worry, the air tends to spread it. I really like the air.” The same amusement gleam flashed through those chestnut eyes.

Y/N also had made up her mind: she liked the fire a lot.

End of flashback

Closing her eyes, Y/N waited for the right time to relax. When the antelope’s hooves stopped, she knew it was near.

“Maharani Vatavaran, we have arrived.” One of the soldiers tapped the carriage window twice, breaking the silence. “Maharaja Bhumi is waiting for you.”

“I’ll go down. Shukriya.” Y/N smiled. “We’ll meet tomorrow, Ipek. Watch out for any strange movements, pay close attention to the air! As we are in Prithvi you may feel weaker, but just focus on the atmosphere.”

“Evet, evet. Now go, we have no time to waste!” Ipek rushed her.

“Off I go.” Y/N smiled. “Wish me luck.”

“Om Shanti.” Ipek raised her hands to her face, crossing them in the shape of a bird and touching her forehead between them, a gesture of undoubted respect to Her Highness.

Y/N got out of the carriage and came across Bhumi, Prithvi’s heir. They had become very close friends when they were in Jala, because Bhumi was Ten’s close cousin. Adding up to their escapade, Varaha, capital of Prithvi, was extremely close to Akasha – if all went well, they’d need just two days to arrive there.

“I’m glad you made it!” Bhumi hugged her. “Ten must be on his way.” He signalled for a carriage behind them. “If they saw Vayu’s carriage we might have had problems, so I thought it is better to use mine until we get to the house.”

“Thanks for helping.” She thanked him, getting into the car.

“You know my weaknesses are love stories, Y/N.” Bhumi laughed. “I asked some guards to take the road to Akasha and they reported that it is in perfect condition. I separated two stops, one in Urvarak and the other in Chattaan; if you manage to reach Chattaan tomorrow by the afternoon, Akasha is just an hour away, so you can rest and do everything at dawn. I estimate that by lunchtime you’ll be married.” Bhumi gave her hands a soft squeeze. “Om Shanti, cousin.”

“Thank you, dear. But can’t we go straight to Chattaan?”

“It’d be very risky and a tad tiring. If other guards notice a strange movement on the roads, it’ll be warned to my father and everything will go down the drain.”

“Then we will follow the pace of normal travelers.” Y/N nodded. “Ipek is following in a carriage with some of my guards, but there is nothing that indicates my presence or relation to me. Do you think they are in danger?”

“If there’s nothing of yours with her, then I don’t believe so.” Bhumi waved a hand, dispensing bad luck. “As soon as they reach Urvarak, if they wish, they can go up in the air and proceed directly to Akasha, without stopping by Chattaan, or just taking a short rest. But, in my point of view, it’d be a little risky, no? Since your father will notice your disappearance in a few hours...”

“I’ll talk to Ipek, then. It would be really good if we had someone waiting for us in Akasha.” Y/N stared at the road. “How long does it take for Urvarak?”

“If you leave this morning, you’ll be there before sunset. That, of course, if you stop to eat and everything.” Bhumi loosened a belt that held his royal attire. “We will be near Varaha in a few minutes, but I’ll drop you off at home and go to the palace. You need to be aware because only Ten knows where it is.”

“Do you think he hasn’t arrived yet?”

“I don’t know how it went with the guards at the border, even if I let them know he was coming.” Bhumi sighed. “In times of crisis, things get chaotic.’

“I hope we don’t make this a bigger problem.” Y/N sighed.

“Love inevitably creates problems, baby.” he laughed. “But, a Maharaja has always been able to choose his wife and vice versa. I don’t see your marriage as an affront to Mahabhuta’s balance, but exactly what Apas-Jal and Agni wanted to do: an alliance. So, if we are to have an alliance, let it be real and auspicious.”

“Ah Bhumi, dear, you’re so good with words.” Y/N laughed, trying to relax.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The house consisted of Prithvi’s standard architecture, with various stone details and spearhead adornments. After hugging and thanking Bhumi four more times, Y/N quietly entered the house, dressed as an ordinary Vahara citizen. It was very good that Bhumi had chosen a normal property instead of a more luxurious and aristocratic house.

She put her bag in the living room and walked to the bathroom, desperate to shower and do her hair. It could be the height of futility, but Y/N did not want Ten to see her sloppy and dirty. All those times they met when she was air bending were enough... They, in general, involved a lot of dust and dry leaves.

“Of course Bhumi would do that.” Y/N sweetly smiled when she found cinnamon essence in the bathroom. This was, in the best description, Vayu’s “official” smell.

While the water in the bathtub heated up, Y/N stretched out a lacy mid-length dress and a cloak. She had brought, in addition to that outfit, another white dress – which she would wear the day she arrived in Akasha – and a dark green dress.

Y/N smoothed the velvet piece and smiled a little. She was starting quite an adventure, but couldn’t find the slightest regret for what she was doing. For sure, if she had to choose, she would do everything again and again.

After washing up, Y/N was braiding her hair when she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. She felt chills down her spine, but because the house had only one floor, anyone who entered it would make enough noise for her to prepare before she could cross the room. Awareness spread through her and she held tight on her hairbrush and a small hand mirror – since there wasn’t enough time to look for any other weapon.

“Y/N?” Her name came out loud in a soft voice, almost like velvet.

“Ten!” dropping all objects, she ran to him.

The couple hugged each other, trying to make up for all the one-month longing in those few seconds. A never-ending month in which Ten had heard about the arranged marriage; he and Y/N did not have much chance of communicating; and in which each other’s world seemed to get off track with the possibility of not being able to be together as they wanted to.

“How are you? Did you arrive safely?” Ten caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, loving how Y/N’s eyes closed at the slightest touch.

“I got scared thinking the house was invaded, but now I’m fine. And yes, I arrived safely thanks to Bhumi’s assistance.” she smiled.

“Sorry, I heard the water and decided it’d be respectful to wait.”

“There’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Y/N blinked, wickedly.

“I know.” Ten brought his face close to hers. “But I thought we had agreed not to do anything else until the wedding?!”

“To look doesn’t mean to touch.” She lifted her chin, voice dripping challenge.

“It turns out, little devil, I’m not so magnanimous.” He pressed his lips to hers, savouring the longing. The last time they saw each other they had to be quick, because it was at the reunion of the kingdoms, and although they could not participate actively, the heirs had an obligation to be present.

Ten circled her waist, breathing in the cinnamon and melting on Y/N’s tongue. Her whole body was on fire – almost not so figuratively – when they were together. Even though he knew they couldn’t waste time, he delighted himself with a few bites on her neck, fighting the urge to take the kiss further.

“I swear I can’t wait to be married.” She whispered. “Then I won’t need to count our minutes together.”

“Soon.” Ten winked. “We are leaving this morning, right?”

“I think it would be ideal. Bhumi said that we can get to Akasha in two days, or we can cut some time, but we would not have Ipek anticipating any problems. It’s up to you.” She shrugged.

“We’ll do what is best at the moment, findi.” Ten smiled. “This nickname gets better and better just because it reminds me that it should be used by married people.”

“You are very keen to remember that we will get married.”

“In Agni, marriage is one of the best things that could happen to anyone, you know?” He let Y/N get out of his arms. “You can’t blame me for this.”

“I don’t blame you, but your excitement is so evident that it makes me look disinterested… And you know I’m not.”

“It’ll show up as soon as we have tied our strings.”

Y/N smiled at the mention, because the wedding rite in Akasha had, as one of the main points, to use strings. Each kingdom had its specific ritual, and they should be performed according to the bride and groom’s wishes (and the place they were in, regardless of their nationalities). When Y/N was learning about kingdoms and their cultures, she never imagined that she’d marry in Akasha, let alone with their celebration. She couldn’t wait to put it into practice.

“How’s the situation in Agni?” Y/N asked as she folded her clothes.

“Kinda stable.” Ten sat on the bed and removed his boots. “Dad thinks it’s a matter of time before it spreads to other regions other than the capital”.

“I hope nobody gets seriously hurt until we get this solved.”

“For now there was nothing.” he nodded. “Just two fires in abandoned houses. The big problem is that this affects the population indirectly; after all, you never know when they will start attacking them. Psychological terror is the worst weapon.”

“Do you think we’re going to make it worse by getting married?” Y/N swallowed.

“I think...” Ten looked at her, a small smile adorning his beautiful face. “That love is a force far greater than greed and power. If two prosperous kingdoms tied by love, and nothing but love, fails to reach everyone’s heart, then no alliance between two other kingdoms will change reality.” He held out his hand, looking for hers over the velvet dress. “I didn’t lie when I said I would set the world on fire if something hurt you, findi. It only takes one word and we return to our kingdoms.”

“No!” she denied fervently. “I won’t give you up. I only worry about these rebellions...” She shrugged. “But I love you, Ten. You know that, right?”

“Always.” he nodded. “Why don’t we rest before leaving?!”

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The two of them really tried to rest, but the growing tension and adrenaline from their escape were too much. Long before planned, they were already on the road, heading towards Urvarak.

“It’s amazing how, despite the night, everyone lives normally. Look at how crowded the road is!” Y/N commented, surprised. “The Kingdom that never sleeps, really.”

“We have a stop in forty minutes. If you’re cold, I can stop to get the blanket from the trunk.” Ten, the gentleman he was, offered.

“I’m fine, findi. If anything, I can hug you and I’ll be warm soon.”

“If you don’t want to be attacked by my kisses, I advise you to stay away.”

“What if I want?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Seriously Y/N, I don’t know what to do with you!” he laughed. “We’ll definitely take the air route and get married as soon as possible.”

“It’s amazing how shy I still am with your flirty banters.” Y/N sighed, because in spite of being bold, that was not quite how she felt.

Sometimes she managed to keep on her carefree persona, but her feelings for Ten always made her embarrass herself. It summed up in a fool, enchanted by any movement or word spoken by him... Especially when they were addressed to her. Olum, how difficult it was to remain serious at public parties! Both of them needed to behave as if they didn’t like each other more than the “necessary”, as if they had priorities and not wished to spend every second together. Thanks to Bhumi, they were able to get away often and make some time to ease their longing.

“Ah, Rani Y/N,” he clicked his tongue. “why does this shyness never appear when it should?” His chestnut eyes flashed in a playful glow.

“Stop it, Ten!” She laughed, shyly. “but, I must confess, I don’t regret you being the first. In everything.”

“It would be a little too late to regret it, you know?” Ten pinned. “However, that does not diminish the pleasure of listening to your confession. I hope that, in addition to being your first, I’ll also be your last.”

“If we get to Akasha really fast...” She batted her well-trained lashes, like a she used to do when trying to manipulate her father into thinking she was sweet and innocent.

“It’s decided! At the next stop I’ll look for antelopes and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be married.” Ten shook his head like an indignant little boy.

“In my suitcase I have a Vayu scroll and I will make sure that it reaches Ipek as soon as possible.” Y/N winked at the groom.

“What a helpful wife I got!

“Olum, you can’t even imagine.” She grinned.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

The innkeeper explained to them how to get to the antelopes in two stops. They had thirty minutes until there, and the horses were losing their pace along the way. Fear not, Y/N thought, since she already had everything worked out in her head!

Probably, her father would be finding out about her disappearance at that moment, and then he would start searching the palace and the gardens. Then, when he didn’t find her, he would request searches around the city. Then, the Royal Guard would issue a search warrant to all kingdoms, and perhaps Chittaphon’s parents would warn Vayu of his disappearance as well. Then they would finally come to conclusion of what happened to the two heirs, and if they were as smart as Y/N hoped, they would march to Akasha.

Only that it would be too late.

Because she’d be married!

Perfect.

The antelope route was really the best option.

“Maybe I can bend some air so the horses can rest. I can make sure no one notices that they’re floating...”

“You schemed.” Ten laughed. “I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t do it.”

“Perhaps you’re so excited about the escape that you didn’t pay close attention.” She joked. Everyone knew how much Maharani Y/N loved to turn things into schemes. “Well, if my plan is right, we have about fifteen hours to get married and consummate it, avoiding, even if improbable, it to be nulled.” she laughed. “Therefore, we indeed have to take the air route.”

“Amazing, findi.” Ten winked.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Akasha was a wonderful city. Y/N visited there only twice: when she was born, and when she reached her adult age, so she had to seize her title of heiress. She remembered the big trees, especially the cherry ones, the colourful houses, the bright and clean streets, the undeniably blue sky... There never seemed to exist bad weather in Akasha! When they stopped in front of the temple where they would celebrate their wedding, Y/N’s heart raced. It was a large and flowery place, like a cottage, with symbols of the four kingdoms and their specific plants. Two carriages (one with her guards and the other with his) were waiting for them in the parking lot. Impatient, Ten grabbed her hand and they both entered the temple, drowning in emotion and adrenaline.

“Ready?”

“Always.” she smiled.

Ipek, who had been instructed to organize everything, was talking to two monks and the celebrator. As soon as she saw Her Highness, she ran to help her get ready. They couldn’t waste a second of the day!

The typical ceremonial dress Ipek got was cream coloured, adorned with gold accents, and a dark green – almost black – velvet cape that made the costume extremely elegant. From the bar to the knee, the lines formed spirals and points that resembled the starry sky or some forest/landscape seen from above. Her hair was braided with gold threads and cherry blossoms, because they were the symbol of Akasha. At her hands, in addition to the jewels she was supposed to wear, temporary ink tattooed the main crests of the four kingdoms extended from the wrist to the elbow, to indicate the union of these nations. On her feet, more drawings, up to the height of her shin. She should be barefoot, connecting to the nature and the land, as a sign of balance.

“Raja Chittaphon is ready.” Ipek returned to the salon where Y/N was dressed. “Now we just need the ornaments on the face and you can go!”

“I’m anxious.” Y/N exhaled. “Let’s get on with it soon!”

“I promise it will be very quick.”

After Ipek used powder from shiny stones and glued three diamonds above her left eyebrow, Y/N was ready.

Ipek and two guards accompanied her to the decorated courtyard, where those responsible for marrying her had started the blessing in Ten, preventing him from seeing her. Y/N watched, with her racing heart, the black and gold velvet suit he wore, a single cherry blossom attached to the left side of his chest.

“We’re ready.” The monk guided her to the entrance of the hall.

After a short speech in Akasha’s dialect, one of the monks began to play a harp, while Y/N crossed the room towards Ten, not knowing how to react to the prince’s brilliant and hypnotic gaze.

When they faced each other, the monk handed them a small vase with coloured sand. According to the ritual, the sand symbolized “the union of two different points in the name of something greater” in this case, love, and each one should pour a little of it on a plate, so that the mixture of colours creates a new one: their colour. Y/N watched wordlessly as a lilac originated from the mixture.

“Now hold hands.” The man responsible for the ceremony instructed. “This is the thread of companionship. For Akasha, you are one, but this does not mean that you should forget who you were before the wedding. One hand is tied to the partner’s, while the other is free to remind you that there is room for both to grow together and individually.” He tied the ribbon on their fist. “Still united, we will recite the vows and walk towards the end of the celebration.”

Y/N and Ten repeated each word very calmly, although their hearts were desperate for the end. After washing their feet in the water of the main river, Kundalini, to purify their bodies in this new phase, the couple still had to plant a tree as well, symbolizing their growth. And, to the sound of “Under the laws of Akasha, I declare you husband and wife”, several fireworks were lit. Ipek started the party by playing a soft melody over two lovers, and the people present continued with the dance. The newest couple stared at each other, laughing.

“I think this is our cue to escape... Findi.” The nickname now sounded a thousand times wicked in Ten’s voice. “Let’s go?”

“I was counting the seconds.” Y/N nodded, intertwining their fingers, as they still had one hand joined.

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten undid the first tie of Y/N’s dress quite slowly. He had done it a few times, but at that moment, it was too special to ruin it in a hurry. They were finally married. He no longer needed to be quick with Y/N. Now they had all the time in the world to love each other as they deserved.

“Do you need help?” Y/N frowned.

“No, findi. I just want to... Take it slow.” The light entering the room made his eyes even brighter. “Because you deserve to be adored, from head to toe. Quietly. Every inch.” To demonstrate his words, he raised her fist and glued his mouth to it, running his tongue lightly over her soft skin.

“Ten...” She breathed weakly, it tickled.

“What?” He smiled. “‘Ah Ten’, ‘more Ten’, ‘please, Ten’?”

“Pretentious rake.” Y/N shook her head, feeling her heart explode with joy.

“Your pretentious rake. Your favourite rake. Yours, for eternity.”

She closed her eyes at those words. She was his, too, since the damn smile he gave her in the hall of Apas-Jal’s palace. Olum, how could one live with so much love inside them?! And how lucky had she been to feel that and be reciprocated?!

I’m staying up

I don’t wanna come down from your love

Ten pulled her close, melting his mouth on her neck, biting and sucking like he knew she liked. He wrapped his arms around her, throwing the damn tie to the floor. Y/N smelled extremely well, having washed and removed the tattoos she was supposed to use for the wedding ceremony. His fingers tangled in the fabric of her nightgown at the mere sound of her quiet moan, trying to go easy, to remain chill. He didn’t want to go fast. He had to stay calm.

“Let’s go to the bed, huh?” Y/N suggested, knees buckling from all those emotions.

“I tell you I want to take it easy and you urge me to go fast...” He shook his head, carefully guiding her to the huge mattress. “What should I do?”

“You can start by kissing me here.” She signalled from her collarbone to the valley between the breasts. Ten smiled. “Or, you can let me take off your clothes...”

It’s not that she didn’t want to be worshiped from head to toe, but if her calculations didn’t fail, someone from the Kingdom of Vayu would arrive in Akasha by the end of the afternoon... And if the wedding wasn’t consummated, they could be in trouble. She and Chittaphon never took more than thirty minutes with sex, because there were always too many people around and if they were five minutes late, someone would miss one of them. It was unfair that their first time since married had to be rushed too, but they would have a whole life together.

But, Y/N should be grateful. At least they were together.

“What are you thinking?”

“Schemes.” She joked.

“ Now, now, Rani Y/N, that was an unfortunate answer.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “Guess I’ll need to be a little cruel this time. I don’t want you thinking about anything other than my mouth and my fingers on your body.”

“Or your dick.” Y/N smirked, satisfied with the provocation.

She closed her eyes and felt Ten’s lips come down over her shoulder, paiting small bites. With her legs spread, he found space to rest between her thighs while devouring each centimetre of the princess. Her calculations were forgotten as soon as his fingertips went up the hem of her dress, sliding down the inside of her thighs, making her shiver. He reached her underwear and touched her clothed womanhood.

“I want you to do that again.” Y/N moaned.

“Do what?”

“You know what.” She gasped when he brushed her swollen spot.

“I don’t know,” He commented wickedly. “But I have an idea of what it is… And for that, I will finally need to take your clothes off.” He couldn’t believe that after months he’d be able to see her completely naked again.

Rather than feeling shy, Y/N was more than willing to throw the sleeping dress away. They never had much time to get rid of all their clothes, so she was also counting on Ten naked. It had been a long time since she had had such a privilege to see him like that. And the view was always a spectacle!

She sat up suddenly, leaving him a little unbalanced, but grinning. Y/N started pulling on her nightgown anyway, not caring if she would tear it up. Ten could bent fire, but what burned inside her was pure lust. He would have a hard time controlling his wife, especially if he continued to look at her as if she were a work of art. But as soon as the fabric passed over her head, Y/N didn’t have time to absorb the intensity of his eyes. Ten pulled her by the hand, kissing her urgently.

With the princess in his lap, he got rid of his shirt and tried to open his trousers’ button. To give him enough space, Y/N stepped back a little, noting a new detail in his left arm: there were two lines near the elbow, one thick and the other a little thinner. Unlike the wedding tattoos, those lines seemed permanent.

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

“In Agni, every married man should have this tattoo. It is like a ring that we never take out or lose.” Ten looked at his arm. “Women should have these lines on their ankles, but since you are not from Agni, I thought it best not to ask you to tattoo it.”

“I want to!” She cut him off. “I’ll do it, if you want me to.”

“Really?” Ten smiled. He was always touched by Y/N’s loving manner. She was his best companion, in any situation. Even when they could get in trouble, Y/N would not leave him alone. She preferred that they’d get scolded together than to leave him. “Then, as soon as we wake up, I’ll ask the monk to arrange everything.”

“I think I will have a charming ankle.” She stretched out one leg, moving close to where Ten wanted her most. “Oh, oops...” Y/N smirked, faking a shy laugh.

“Findi, findi.” He shook his head, matching her smirk.

“Let me make up for the distraction.” Y/N moved away as she lowered her hands to his pants, finishing unbuttoning them.

“Your wish is my command, findi.”

We’ll get lost together

Let me flow

Ten swallowed hard as soon as he felt her mouth kissing his abdomen. Y/N was not ashamed of trying to please him. She was always receptive and creative, making each time something very unique and very special. Unlike what was expected of an Air Princess – known for being more reserved and a little cold. Y/N had fire inside her. She burned like him… Burned with him. For him.

With her delicate fingers, Y/N removed Ten’s pants, and began her exploration on his belly, playing with the fine line of hair up to the underwear he was wearing. It was unusual for her to dedicate themselves so much to foreplay, but she was loving seeing Ten so mesmerized by her movements. Very gently, Y/N took him with one hand, going on with a lazy back and forth motion, just to make him double hard and more desperate. Her eyes found the glowing chestnut globes and she smirked, causing a burst of pleasure to break inside Ten, who moaned loudly.

That was enough for him. Blast trying to prolong the moment! He needed Y/N and he needed her now. Pulling her by the chin, they came face to face.

“I miss you,” The distance between their mouths became even smaller. “around me.”

The kiss began sweet, slow, but charged with lust. Both were already familiar with the delicious sensations that any scarce touch between them provided, but nothing compared to the anxiety build during foreplay. It was very, very good. Their bodies were tickling and hot, their hearts beating fast and their minds remembering all those times when they were together.

How glorious it was when they met.

It was a different, more intense sensation. Y/N didn’t understand why she wanted to cry and laugh out loud, like a crazy girl. The tossed their underwear out, surrendering to the bubbling desire. Ten put her hands on his shoulders and smiled warmly, making the frenzy an act of zeal. He leaned down to kiss her again, and from there, it was automatic. Y/N’s hip followed its own will and moved, showing exactly what it was looking for. The kiss became wet and some moans escaped not so quietly. Ten’s husky voice was the turning point for the princess.

“Come here.” He asked in a whisper.

Ten turned her on the bed and stood over her, waist between her legs. He entered without warning, fast and strong. A louder than expected groan left her throat, earning a chuckle mixed with a grunt from the prince. Y/N brought her hands to his back, dividing her attention between his shoulder blades and his dark, silky hair. With a love bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder, Ten started to move. Slow and intense, but picking up as the seconds passed by. Y/N already knew what to do to please him, so she devoted herself to his neck, trying to occupy her mouth with something other than “Oh, Ten” or scandalous moans. He grabbed one of her thighs and wrapped it around her waist, managing to reach deeper. Then, he was thrusting hard and fast. Y/N rolled her eyes and arched her back, forgetting about the whole world.

This was perfect.

Her stomach churned with several knots of pleasure, the peak of her orgasm reaching its maximum when Ten grabbed her face and kissed her urgently. Y/N felt the spasms in every cell, not knowing if she was able to enjoy her climax and kiss Ten at the same time. The prince continued to dive deeper until he too reached his release, making her want to get there again. Y/N slipped a hand to her swollen spot and began to rub it, tightening her muscles even more and listening to Ten’s sexy growls. And it worked.

Don’t ever let me come down from your love

From your love, from your love

☼ ⸛ ☼ ⸛ ☼

Ten examined his wife’s ankle, amused by the way she didn’t try to pretend that the tattoo was a “big deal”.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to tell me that this was common in Agni.” She lowered her dress’ skirt. “It looks rather cute on my ankle, doesn’t it?”

“You look rather cute, indeed.”

“Not me, the tattoo you didn’t want to tell me about!” She grinned.

“Are we going to talk about this again?” He hugged her, placing a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, anyway, for accepting. I love you.”

“My pleasure.” Y/N waved her hand. “Love you more.”

Ten offered her a glass of water and a cookie, because she hadn’t eaten breakfast in her desperation to get the tattoo. The monk finished cleaning the room and excused himself, but as soon as he left, Ipek hurried in.

“Rani Y/N! Rani Y/N!”

“What is it, Ipek?” Y/N disengaged herself from Ten’s embrace and stood up.

“Samraat Bhima is here... And he didn’t come alone.” Ipek pointed to the window.

When she pulled the curtain, Y/N could see Vayu’s flags extending across a large part of the street, accompanied by some of Agni’s. She turned to Ten in a mixture of concern and joy. It was time to announce to the kingdoms what they had done. And to hope that love would be enough.

“Olum, findi, it looks like we have some nations to win back.” She grinned.

And hand in hand, they went out to face the nations of Air and Fire.

#ten scenarios #ten smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #wayv scenarios #wayv smut #superm scenarios #superm smut #nct ten #wayv ten #superm ten #ten chittaphon #chittaphon x reader #happytenday

93 notes · View notes

cosmicgoddesswrites · 3 years

Text

Punch Drunk

Boxer!Kuroo x F!Reader

Summary: Kuroo Tetsuro dreams of making a name for himself in the city as one of the best boxers out there. But he can’t do that without a a gym to train at. Luckily for him, his best friend happens to know a hardass gym owner with a soft spot for dummies.

Word Count: 7,278

Warnings: Some violence (descriptions of boxing matches), bl00d, swearing. Slightly N*FW

Author’s Note: This won’t necessarily be a series, but I will be revisiting this AU in future one-shots. View this as sort of an introductory to the characters and the setting, as well as the romance between Kuroo and (Y/n).

Kuroo stared out the window of the cab he had called to get him to the address Bokuto had sent him.

The gym was deep in the city, thankfully not too far from Kuroo’s apartment. At least, that was Bokuto’s main selling point to get him to go.

Kuroo would have happily stayed at the gym a block away from his apartment… if he hadn’t been kicked out for ‘starting a fight.’ Kuroo didn’t necessarily start the fight… he didn’t end it either.

His mom always told him that mouth of his would get him into trouble. She of course was right.

The cab pulled to a sudden stop, causing Kuroo to lurch forward in his seat and the seatbelt to dig into his stomach. He narrowed his eyes at the cab driver before paying the fare and getting out of the vehicle.

He scanned the busy sidewalk, smiling once he caught sight of Bokuto waiting for him at the doors of the gym. The two greeted each other, exchanging a quick bro hug before parting and turning in unison towards the gym.

“So, this is (L/n) and Son’s, huh?” Kuroo asked, taking in the sight of the worn out sign above their heads. “I did some reading up on this place, apparently it’s famous.”

“That’s cuz (L/n) was a boxing legend! This place is pretty exclusive, you’re lucky you have a friend on the inside who could get you in with the owner!” Bokuto boasted, leading his friend inside the dimly lit gym.

Kuroo looked around, noticing the limited amount of people taking up the space. He expected it to be a lot more busy, given its reputation.

Rap music played over the speakers, barely audible due to the grunts and shouts coming from the people sparring in the boxing ring to the right of the door.

Kuroo spotted a man sitting in an office situated in the far corner of the gym. He began making his way there, only for Bokuto to grab his arm and stop him mid-stride.

“Where are you going?” he asked, tilting his head.

“To talk to (L/n) and or his son.” Kuroo responded, motioning towards the man who was now leaving his office.

Bokuto laughed awkwardly, “R-right, about that… there is no son in (L/n) and Son’s… That’s one of the trainers. Our girl’s over there.” He pointed towards a woman currently facing off against a stand-up punching bag.

Kuroo looked around, hoping no one had noticed his blunder as he adjusted his gym bag over his shoulder. He followed Bokuto to the section of the gym the woman was in, noting her impressive form as she continued training.

“(Y/n)~~~” Bokuto sang, catching her attention. She turned away from the bag, panting hard as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

“You’re late… None of my other trainers are ever late…”

Bokuto gave her a bashful smile, “Yeahhh well I had to wait for my friend to get here! He wants to enroll!” He motioned towards Kuroo, who smiled and waved at her.

(Y/n) sighed, glancing between the two men as she began unwrapping her hands. “Fine. Go get ready for your 11o’clock. I’ll take care of him.”

Bokuto saluted her before retreating into the men’s locker room.

“Well, let’s get this taken care of, newbie.” (Y/n) said, motioning for Kuroo to follow her to her office.

She took off her tank top as they entered, tossing it aside shamelessly and leaving her in a sport bra and sweatpants. (Y/n) flopped into the desk chair, grabbing a towel from nearby and wiping the sweat off her body.

Kuroo didn’t realize he was staring until she looked up at him and motioned for him to sit down.

“So, what kind of experience do you have?” she asked, pulling out a clipboard with a couple forms on it.

“Well, I did some boxing in high school. Nothing really serious though, it was more just for fun.” he said, looking around at all the photos in the room. He saw one of a man flexing his muscles with a toddler holding onto his bicep and being lifted off the ground. After staring at it for a good minute, he realized it was (Y/n) and her father.

“And is this for recreation? Or are we looking at a future boxing champion?” (Y/n) teased, sliding the clipboard across the messy desk and towards him.

Kuroo smirked slightly as he began writing down his information. “Best case scenario, boxing champion. Worse case scenario, just a punching bag that bets against myself in fights.”

He felt something within himself flutter as (Y/n) cracked a smile at his joke. “Well, we’ll see what we can do to help that. Is Kou gonna train you?”

Kuroo finished up the paperwork and handed her the clipboard. “Could you?”

She snorted as she took the clipboard from him and began looking over his information. “Honey, you couldn’t afford me. License and credit card, please.”

Kuroo laughed loudly, handing her the cards and ignoring the looks they received from the people outside the office.

She wrote down the information then handed him his cards back. “Alright, gym is all yours. No breaking the equipment, and don’t go starting fights. If you have a problem with someone you take it outside. You already know where the locker room is, if you need anything ask Kou.”

Kuroo gave her a small smirk, “Can’t I ask you?”

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him slightly, a smirk of her own painting her features. “No. Now go on.”

Kuroo hurried out of the office, giving her one last glance before making his way to the locker room. He ran into Bokuto on his way there.

“Sooo… she’s cute huh?” Bokuto asked, wiggling his eyebrows at his friend.

Kuroo gave him a small shove. “You should’ve told me the owner was an attractive woman. I would have brought more appealing gym clothes.”

“Hey hey! Don’t get mad at me… just show off extra hard for her then.”

Bokuto whined, waving him off as he left to grab some bottled waters for the person he was training.

Kuroo changed into his gym clothes and began wandering around the gym, settling on doing simple combos on one of the many punching bags in the gym. It wasn’t until (Y/n) left her office that Kuroo began getting into his workout, throwing harder and more frequent punches.

She walked right past him and into the women’s locker room, presumably to shower.

Well, now he had to keep working out that hard or the other patrons would catch on to his peacocking. He figured he’d train a couple more minutes like that on the bag before he was in the clear, then he’d take a water break and find something else to do.

“Kuroo!”

He jumped at the mention of his name, turning to glare at his spiky haired friend who had just barked his name. Bokuto was currently standing in the ring, the biggest man Kuroo had ever seen standing beside him.

Bokuto sent him a bright smile as he waved him over, “Come on into the ring, bud! There’s someone I wanna introduce you to!”

Kuroo huffed, leaving the bag and climbing into the ring.

“Kuroo, this is my trainee, Ushijima!” Bokuto announced, wrapping an arm around Kuroo as he motioned towards the larger man. “He has a fight coming up in a couple weeks and I need someone to spar with him so I can critique his technique!”

Kuroo was half processing the words coming out of his mouth, too busy taking in the wall of muscle standing before him. They had to be about the same height, but Jesus. This guy was a monster…

“So? Think you can help us out?” Bokuto said, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

“Sure… yeah, I can do that…” Kuroo gulped, trying his best not to stutter and give away his anxiety. He quickly turned, picking up and putting on the spare protective gear his friend had left in the corner of the ring.

Once he turned to Ushijima, he swallowed his anxiety and put his gloves up. One of the trainers out of the ring rang a bell, signaling them to begin sparring.

Ushijima was on him in an instant, throwing the first punch as Kuroo kept his gloves up, blocking the hit but still being rocked by the heavy blow. He was sure he heard Bokuto barking instructions, but Kuroo was too busy trying not to die to listen to the trainer’s words.

He finally took a hit to the jaw after his opponent faked him out. Kuroo dropped to his knee, grunting as he struggled to cup his face with his gloved hand.

“Kuroo! You okay?!” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo moved back onto his feet, “Just a little tickle…” he said through his mouth-guard. Once he seemed to maintain his balance the bell rang, and Kuroo was once again dodging the first hit from Ushijima.

He decided to stay lighter on his feet, dancing around the ring in an attempt to tire out the other boxer. His tactic seemed to be working. As Ushijima struggled to keep up with him, Kuroo moved in close and landed a hit on his jaw.

Without warning, Ushijima quickly recovered and sent a harsh blow to Kuroo’s gut, sending him back to the floor.

Kuroo gasped for air as he laid in a heap, crumbled over himself. He blocked out Bokuto’s voice, trying to focus his breathing to recover.

“Did that tickle too?”

It was Kuroo’s first time ever hearing his opponent’s voice, but it was Ushijima without a doubt who had sent the taunt his way.

Kuroo slowly stood up, ignoring the ache in his stomach as he glared daggers at the other trainee. He didn’t even wait for the bell to signal the start of the next round. He just stalked towards Ushijima, arms at his sides and fire in his eyes.

No surprise, Ushijima took the first swing. But Kuroo ducked out of the way before hitting him with a two-hit combo. They were light hits, something to throw the more muscular boxer off rather than cause damage.

Bokuto was yelling for Kuroo to put his gloves up, his orders falling on deaf ears.

Kuroo didn’t bother keeping his distance this round, giving Ushijima no room to breath as he bobbed and weaved away from his hits while delivering some of his own.

“Keep your defense up, Ushijima! You’re letting him get to you! Just cuz his defense is sloppy doesn’t mean yours has to be too!” Bokuto said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the two.

Sure enough, Ushijima raised his gloves, giving Kuroo adequate access to his stomach. He took a hard swing at him, knocking the air out of him and sending him onto one knee.

Kuroo smiled victoriously as the bell signaled the end of the round.

In a blur, Ushijima jumped up onto his feet and swung at Kuroo, hitting him square in the nose.

His vision went black the second he hit the mat. He wasn’t sure how many seconds passed until he regained his vision. The first thing he heard was Bokuto scolding Ushijima for throwing a punch after the round had ended.

Then he heard heavy footsteps move past him and out of the ring.

Somebody then hoisted Kuroo onto his feet. He turned his head to see Bokuto looking over his nose. Kuroo’s head lulled as he watched Ushijima walk towards the men’s locker room.

“Yeah, that how you fight? Take cheap shots and hope they stick?” he slurred, the feeling of warm liquid dripping from his nose and down his face fueling his words.

Ushijima whipped around to face him, looking like he was ready to pounce into the ring and rip Kuroo apart.

“The hell did you just say?” He asked, the threatening tone of voice doing little to get Kuroo to back down.

As Ushijima prepared to climb back in the ring, (Y/n) rushed out of the bathroom with one of the trainers hot on her heels.

“The fuck is going on here? Why’s the newbie bleeding all over my mat?!” she shouted, making her way to the edge of the ring.

“They were sparring and-”

“Your boy here takes cheap fucking shots!” Kuroo shouted, interrupting Bokuto as he made a move towards Ushijima, only for Bokuto to hold him back.

“Say that one more time, I swear to God-” (Y/n) stepped in front of Ushijima, pressing her hands to his chest to hold the larger man back.

“And you’ll fucking what?” she growled, not faltering as he shifted his deadly gaze onto her.

The gym went deathly quiet, everyone seeming to wait for Ushijima’s response.

(Y/n) slowly removed her hands from his chest. “That’s what I thought…” she scoffed. “You both know the rules. You can’t keep it civil in the ring, you get out. I see either of you start more shit and I’ll make sure no other gym in the city lets you so much as spit in their direction…”

She looked between the two men, her expression sending a chill down Kuroo’s spine.

“You,” she said, her voice low and tone steely, “hit the showers…”

He stared down at her for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the locker room.

Kuroo’s shoulders went lax as he breathed a sigh of relief, only to tense once again when (Y/n) addressed him.

“And you… get in my office.”

Without another word, she went to her office, leaving Kuroo and Bokuto standing there in shock.

“Is she gonna kill me…?” He asked, looking at his friend.

“Maybe… Go…” Bokuto said, helping his friend out of the ring.

Kuroo hesitantly closed the office door behind him and took a seat in front of (Y/n)’s desk, her eyes on him the whole time. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she suddenly got up and moved around her desk.

She sat at the edge of the desk, glancing at the large window that offered her a view of the gym to make sure the blinds were shut. She took a tissue box from the corner of her desk and handed it to him once she was sure they had privacy. “How bad does it hurt?”

Kuroo shrugged, wiping the blood off his face and quickly plugging his nostrils with tissues. “Not too bad…”

(Y/n) leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied his nose. “Doesn’t look broken, so that’s good. You might just need to ice it.”

“You didn’t just bring me in here to play nurse, did you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

(Y/n)’s lips tugged into a slight smirk, “You don’t like it when I play nurse?”

He felt his cheeks warm. “You were ready to rip my head off earlier… so I’m a bit suspicious of it if I’m being honest.”

Her expression softened, for a moment Kuroo swore he saw some deep, foreign emotion swirl within her eyes. “You’re pretty good, y’know…”

Kuroo’s tough guy façade dropped as he looked up at her, eyes wide and full of hope, hope that she wasn’t toying with him.

She continued, “You’re kind of a jackass, and smack talking the competition like that will get you killed… but you still got talent…”

“Thank you…” he breathed, suddenly aware of how nasally his voice had become with the tissues stuffed up his nose.

“How would you feel about getting set up with one of our trainers, officially? They’d have weekly appointments with you three times a week and monitor your progress, get you on a fast track to your first match.”

Kuroo practically jumped up from his seat, “Yes! That sounds awesome! Yeah, I want that!”

(Y/n) chuckled at his eagerness as she raised her hands up in mock surrender, “Alright, take it easy, newbie. I still gotta find a trainer who has a clear schedule for you.”

“I meaaaan… you could always do it…?” Kuroo trailed off, raising his eyebrows at her. His heart stopped when she looked like she was thinking it over, weighing the pros and cons of actually training him.

“Once you make mama some money, I’ll consider training you… For now, I’ll see who I have available…” She said, hopping off her desk and returning to her chair.

“Thank you,” he said, his soft tone surprising himself, “Really… this means so much.”

(Y/n) smiled and looked him over before hastily looking away to retrieve a binder from her desk. Kuroo coulda sworn she was checking him out. “Go home and rest up… can’t have a future star like you bleeding all over my gym… I’ll call you once I got a trainer for you.”

“Thanks…” time to turn on the charm, “you can call me even if you don’t have a trainer for me, y’know… just throwing that out there.”

(Y/n) looked up from her binder, grabbed the box of tissues and threw it at him, laughing as he smacked it away. “Goooo!” she whined, ducking her head out of his view.

He quickly left the office, shutting the door behind him. He couldn’t stop the big, cheesy grin on his features, even when he passed Ushijima on his way to the locker room.

Once he had showered and changed, he couldn’t help but try and look into (Y/n)’s office through her window. He only caught a small glimpse of her on his way out, noting her small smile and soft eyes, the same emotion he noticed earlier present in her (E/c) orbs.

—————————————

(Y/n) called Kuroo the next day with news about the trainer she had assigned to him. Much to his disappointment, she wouldn’t be training him.

He came into the gym to meet his trainer, trying to mask his intimidation once he caught sight of the dude’s arms. If he ever put me in a chokehold, I’d be dead…

Iwaizumi seemed nice enough, he started off slow with Kuroo, getting to know his strengths and weaknesses. But Kuroo could tell his constant comments and quips were getting on his new trainer’s nerves.

Kuroo didn’t see much of (Y/n) in the upcoming weeks, only seeing her when she’d walk around the gym or check in on his progress with Iwaizumi.

He couldn’t text the number she called him from, based on the call quality he was sure it was connected to the ancient phone in her office. Asking Bokuto or Iwaizumi for her personal number would be too creepy. He was stuck and he was upset.

He was in the middle of taking his frustrations out on a punching bag when a familiar whistle prompted him to take a break. He turned to see Iwaizumi approaching him with a medium sized box under his arm.

“Got something for ya, newbie.” He said, handing the taller man the box.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him, not taking him for the ‘bro-gift’ type, before opening the box. His jaw practically dropped as he took out a bright red jacket and tossed the box aside. His name adorned the back of the jacket in black lettering, popping against the shiny, red material.

“Holy shit…” he looked up at Iwa, ready to thank him, only for the trainer to hold up a hand to stop him.

“Don’t look at me. It’s from the boss.” He said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of her office.

Kuroo could see her through her office window watching the two as she talked on the phone. He had a suspicion she was faking the phone-call just to look busy while she watched him open the gift.

“You can thank her once you’re done for the day… and pick up that damn box, she’ll take the jacket back if you leave your trash laying around.” Iwa scolded him, lightly kicking the box at Kuroo’s feet.

Kuroo did exactly that, peeking into her office once he had finished his shower. She waved him in, smiling once she noticed he was wearing the jacket.

“I take it you like your gift?” she asked, fiddling with one of the many pens that littered her desk.

“I love it,” he said, smirking as he leaned back comfortably in his chair. “Though I gotta say, it’s insanely red.”

(Y/n) smiled, lightly shrugging her shoulders. “Makes it so they can’t see you bleed.”

“You think I’ll get hit that much?” Kuroo pouted.

“I would hope not. Iwaizumi says you’ve made a lot of progress, he’d probably kick your ass if you got sloppy and got the shit kicked out of you in the ring-” (Y/n) was cut off by the office phone’s high pitched ring.

She picked it up only to hang it up not a second later. Kuroo raised an eyebrow at her curiously, to which she shrugged. “At least I can keep one of my trainees happy…” Her eyes wandered to the papers on her desk, Kuroo hadn’t even noticed the posters stacked messily underneath her crossed arms.

“My ESP is telling meeee… Ushijima’s fight got cancelled?” he asked, frowning as (Y/n) nodded.

“The twerp he was supposed to fight chickened out. I got the call this morning.” she sighed, leaning back into her chair and brushing a hand through her hair. “And Ushijima’s pissed. I told him I’d call him if I had good news and now he won’t stop calling me.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you have a boxer friend, who isn’t Bokuto, that can be ready for the match last minute.” she replied.

Kuroo sat up straight, a cocky smile gracing his features. “Lucky for you, I happen to be a boxer! Aaaand I won’t flake on you.”

(Y/n) scoffed, shaking her head at him. “The fight is in a week and you are nowhere near ready to have an actual match against Ushijima.”

HIs smile faltered, “Excuse you, you said I had talent!”

“Yeah, when you were sparring!” she groaned. “You’ve gotten better, I’ll give you that. But he’s too good and I won’t have you dying in my gym… for insurance reasons.”

“I signed a waiver! Iwa says I can have my first match soon, why not break the ice and start next week?”

“Because he’ll break your face!” (Y/n) shouted, catching Kuroo off guard as he flinched away.

(Y/n) closed her eyes, placing her hand on her chest as she took a deep breath to calm herself. “If Iwa can say without hesitation that you’re ready… We can put you on the roster. But if anything, and I mean anything, happens that shows me you weren’t ready, I’ll make sure you never get another match in this city.”

He couldn’t help the smile that crept on his features. “I’ll go talk to Iwa then…”

Two minutes later and Iwa was in (Y/n)’s office, clearly having an unpleasant chat with her about the upcoming match. She must have felt Kuroo’s eyes on her as he watched the scene unfold before him, because she eventually turned to the window of her office and closed the blinds.

A couple minutes later, Iwa had opened the door to the office, unshaken by the encounter with (Y/n). He motioned for Kuroo to enter, shutting the door behind the taller man and leaning against it.

Kuroo reluctantly took a seat in his usual spot, eyeing (Y/n) cautiously as she looked him up and down.

“If you can sign all this paperwork for me,” she began, sliding a packet of papers towards Kuroo, “and promise you won’t get that nice face of yours broken… you can fight in the match…”

Kuroo grabbed a pen and began filling out the packet immediately. (Y/n) bit back a smile, grateful he didn’t poke at her comment about his looks. She shifted her gaze back to Iwa, “Go tell Bokuto what’s goin on. We’re gonna need a second trainer on Kuroo for what little time we have left before the match.”

Iwa nodded and promptly left the room.

“Yknow, he made a good case for you. You should buy him a beer or something.” (Y/n) suggested, tapping a pen against her desk as she watched Kuroo work.

“I might,” he chuckled, signing his name on the last page of the packet before handing it off to her. “Maybe I’ll buy you one too…”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but snort. “Maybe if you win…now go on, I have a lot of work to do now.”

Kuroo practically jumped out of his seat, eager to talk to Bokuto about the good news, but stopped in the doorway of the office to look at (Y/n) one last time. “Hey… thanks.”

(Y/n) looked up from the paperwork he had just handed her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re welcome…newbie.”

—————————————

Kuroo figured he’d be nervous before the match, but he felt like he was about to shit his pants as he waited in the locker room. Fuck, would he shit his pants if Ushijima hit him in the stomach? God, that would be so embarrassing. He should have bought brown gym pants. Well, hindsight was 20/20-

“Kuroo! You’re on!” Iwa barked into the locker room.

Kuroo took a deep breath before making his way out of the women’s locker room. He felt a stabby feeling in his chest when he saw Ushijima exit the adjacent locker room in unison with him.

They both walked through the crowd of people and approached the ring. Kuroo felt a tiny wave of relief wash over him when he saw (Y/n) standing in the ring. She looked almost as nervous as he did.

“Here are your fighters! Place your final bets while you can, folks!” (Y/n) announced over the chatter of the crowd, directing them towards one of the trainers who stood beside a chalkboard to keep track of the bets.

Kuroo entered his corner of the ring, shedding his jacket onto a chair before putting on his gear. (Y/n)’s bare feet padded against the mat as she made her way towards him. She leaned against the ropes, offering him a slight smile. “Still wanna do this?”

Kuroo only nodded, knowing his mouthguard would muffle his speech.

“Good! Cuz there’s no turning back now!” she shouted over the crowd’s chatter. (Y/n) left to the opposite corner of the ring, probably to check up on Ushijima before the match.

Iwa snapped his fingers in Kuroo’s face, forcing his eyes off (Y/n)’s back and towards him. “Keep your head in the ring, Kuroo. Don’t get caught up on me, or the crowd, or even (Y/n). It’s best 3 out of 5, so let’s make these rounds count, okay?”

Kuroo nodded, only for his focus to shift back to (Y/n) as she stepped into the middle of the ring once more. “Alright boys! Let’s roll!”

Kuroo hoisted himself into the ring, the feeling of the crowd’s eyes on him made him feel naked as the day he was born. He almost double-checked to make sure he had his shorts on.

“You know him, you love him! In the left corner, Ushijima Wakatoshi!” (Y/n) shouted, motioning to Ushijima as the crowd went wild. Ushijima seemed unfazed by the crowd’s support.

“In the right corner, newcomer, Kuroo Tetsuro!” (Y/n) yelled, motioning towards Kuroo and queueing some cheers, some boos, and lots of wolf whistles. If Kuroo didn’t feel naked before, he certainly did now.

The two met (Y/n) in the middle of the ring, where she laid out the rules for the match. Kuroo almost didn’t hear her, too caught up in the death glare Ushijima was sending him. They wordlessly went to their corners, waiting for (Y/n) to get out of the ring and start the match.

Once she was at the ropes, the bell was rung to begin the match. To no one’s surprise, Ushijima lunged for the first hit, just as he’d done during their sparring.

Kuroo narrowly dodged the hit, but it was quickly followed by a second jab to his stomach. He was grateful it wasn’t a full-force hit, because he’d already be on the ground if it was.

Kuroo delivered a few quick combos his opponent’s way, doing no real damage with the hits that did land. Before he knew it, he was getting fatigued from dancing around to keep out of Ushijima’s reach. Just as someone in the crowd sent a profanity Kuroo’s way, Ushijima punched him square in the face, pushing past his gloves for a brutal blow that sent Kuroo to the floor.

The bell rang, Kuroo didn’t even realize how long he had been on the ground, it felt like a millisecond. He forced himself to get up, growling as Ushijima stepped back into his corner.

“You move around too much and you’re gonna be walking into his fist,” Iwaizumi scolded, helping Kuroo take a much needed drink of water. “Keep letting him go for the first hit, let him come to you. Make your hits count, don’t be afraid to get close.”

The next round went by too quick for Kuroo’s comfort, he followed Iwa’s instructions, but Ushijima’s hits were merciless, like every bit of his weight was put into each punch.

Iwa’s second pep talk was blocked out by the slight ringing in Kuroo’s ears. His eyes were focused on Ushijima, basically lounging in his corner. Then he looked (Y/n)’s way, and to his surprise, she was looking back at him. She didn’t look sad, or disappointed, or even angry. But there was a fire in her eyes, one he saw in his own the weeks prior to the match.

He didn’t know how long he had been staring into her eyes, he didn’t even realize he had been doing it until (Y/n) gave him a curt nod and mouthed something out to him.

Go get him.

Kuroo ignored the jeers and insults from the crowd, only focusing on the feeling of (Y/n) watching him as he made his way to the middle of the ring once more.

Ushijima went for the first hit, as always, only this time Kuroo sidestepped towards him and sent a hard blow to his face. Ushijima seemed surprised by this, and honestly, so was Kuroo. He felt like he needed to be on the defensive with an opponent like Ushijima, but that obviously wasn’t working.

I’m small, I’m fast, I can use that.

Kuroo allowed himself to get closer to his opponent during the rest of the round. He took some hard hits, but he delivered his fair share of them as well.

Ushijima moved backwards, attempting to get some breathing room, but Kuroo only followed. He hit Ushijima with an uppercut to his jaw. It was nasty, but not against the rules.

The hit sent Ushijima to the mat, where he stayed until the bell signaled the end of the round. The crowd was now on Kuroo’s side, but it was (Y/n)’s cheers that stood out to him the most.

He went to his corner with pep in his step, unaware that he was being followed. Before Iwa could start up another pep talk, (Y/n) leaned over Kuroo in his seat, forcing him to make eye contact with her.

“You just need to take him out one more time, okay?”

Kuroo sent her a questioning glance, only for her to lean in closer to him. “I bet a lot of money that you’d win two rounds of this. So even if you lose, I’ll make sure you get paid tonight… You already got him looking scared, just finish him off…”

“Ifm I dimdt hamf tihs moumthguard im righmt mow, I’d toadally kith you.” he said, watching as (Y/n) stood straight and crossed her arms.

“I hate that I understood exactly what you said,” (Y/n) mumbled, earning a blush from Kuroo, “Now get back in there.”

Kuroo made his way into the ring with a goofy smile on his face. He tried his best to hide it when he faced Ushijima, but he knew the giant had caught a glimpse of it. And he was not very happy about that.

Kuroo took some hard hits during that round he figured it was punishment for getting too cocky after winning a single round. After a minute or two, he was on the mat, breathing hard as he felt one of his eyes Ushijima landed a hit on already swelling.

Kuroo could see (Y/n) through his blurry vision, she was hollering for him to get back up, screaming like a madwoman. With a grunt he forced himself to get up just before the bell could ring. His movements were sluggish, but he knew if he could crowd the giant again, he could knock him down and end the round.

It took some hard work, but Kuroo had eventually wrangled Ushijima into a corner. He began landing merciless blows to his gut, hitting him with combos while ignoring Ushijima’s defensive hits to Kuroo’s back and face. Eventually, Kuroo hit Ushijima with another uppercut that floored him and ended the round.

Kuroo didn’t waste a lot of time in his corner, he knew Iwa would try to tell him to take it easy or take the L with grace, but Kuroo was riding this high to victory. He drank his water and ran back to the center of the ring, where Ushijima was waiting for him.

He quickly regretted not taking a moment to rest, he felt like cinder blocks were tied to his feet, this was the most exhausting thing he’d ever done. One hit and he would be out.

Kuroo spared a quick look at (Y/n), hoping she could fuel his fire again.

Then Ushijima swung at him with what felt like the gusts of a thousand winds.

Kuroo spun in place, the force of the punch making him do a 180 turn in place. Shit, his mouthguard even flew out from between his lips.

His vision went black once he smacked against the mat.

—————————————

Kuroo woke up to a stinging feeling on his cheek. His whole face felt like it was on fire, Jesus his whole body felt like it was burning. He forced his eyes open, only to be met with the sight of (Y/n) practically in his lap as she pressed an alcohol pad to his face.

“Sleeping Beauty’s finally up,” she said, keeping her tone light as she tossed the pad in a nearby trashcan.

Kuroo looked around unfamiliar surroundings only for (Y/n) to hold his chin and still him. “Don’t move so much, hot shot. You’re in my apartment above the gym.”

She took a small, open container out of the first-aid kit resting on the nearby coffee table and began gingerly rubbing the wounds on his face with what he guessed was ointment.

“I didn’t win, did I?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

(Y/n) gave him a sad smile. “No… but you still made some good money tonight. And now you got a nice ice bath with your name written all over it.”

She wiped the remnants of the ointment off her fingers and onto his shorts. (Y/n) tossed the container into the first-aid kit, making a move to leave, “Iwa will be back soon with some food for us, so we should get you in the bath now.”

(Y/n) struggled for a moment to hoist Kuroo onto his feet. If he had to guess, Iwa helped (Y/n) get him up the stairs and onto her couch after the match.

She led him to her tiny bathroom, motioning towards the tub already filled with ice cold water. “Just sit in there and relax your muscles, I need to go downstairs and wash your stink off of me.”

“You don’t wanna join me?” Kuroo asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her despite the pain.

“You look half dead and that’s all you can think about?” (Y/n) asked, trying to bite back her smile.

Kuroo shrugged, “I feel half dead, but I think you could help with that.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes before lightly pushing him towards the tub, “I am helping. Now get in the tub.”

Kuroo snickered and began tugging down his shorts, not even waiting for (Y/n) to leave the restroom. She practically sprinted out of the bathroom once she caught sight of his v-cut, causing him to laugh heartily before getting in the tub.

Once he was settled, he noticed some clothing in his size on the toilet seat beside him. She had probably set it aside earlier for him. He smiled to himself before sinking further into the water.

He left the tub after about 15 minutes, knowing he would get sick if he stayed longer. Kuroo dried off and dressed himself before making his way back to the couch.

He took note of the clothing (Y/n) had given him, grey joggers and a black and white flannel shirt. They were comfortable, and somehow the perfect size for him. He would have to ask her about that once she was back from her shower.

Kuroo had to keep his jaw from dropping when she came back. She wore a pair of tiny sleep shorts and a loose tank top, her moist hair dripping onto the material and causing it to cling to her skin. Kuroo couldn’t help but feel like she had given him those grey joggers out of more than just the kindness of her heart.

(Y/n) locked the door behind her and approached the couch, sitting on the far end of it, much to Kuroo’s dismay. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Much less dead.” he replied.

“You’re bleeding. I think from one of your stitches” she sighed, reaching back into the first-aid kit for an alcohol pad. Kuroo hadn’t even noticed the stitches, probably because they were on his forehead and under his bangs where Ushijima landed a particularly nasty hit.

“Think it’ll scar?” he asked, shivering as (Y/n) sat closer to him and brushed his bangs back.

“Definitely, but it wont be too bad.” She said, brushing the pad over the wound and drawing a hiss from between Kuroo’s gritted teeth. “I think the ladies will like it.”

Kuroo chuckled, shivering as (Y/n) used the cool pad to clean the blood that had dripped down his face. “There’s only one lady that I want to like it…”

(Y/n) pulled back, rolling her eyes at Kuroo’s words. “Me?”

“No! God, so full of yourself!” Kuroo smirked, laughing as (Y/n)’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Okay, ass. Get a new nurse, then.” she pouted, moving to get out of his lap only for Kuroo to pull her to straddle him. She made no move to get out of his hold, signaling him to continue.

“You know you’re my favorite nurse…” he cooed, watching (Y/n) intently as she nervously bit her lip. “But I still have some pains I need treated…”

“Yeah?” she asked, her body slowly relaxing against his as he gently rubbed her forearms. Kuroo playfully pouted at her, adjusting his body under her so he was sitting up against the arm of the couch.

“Here,” he said, pointing to one of his bruised cheeks. It looked like (Y/n) was in the middle of an internal debate when she leaned in and gently kissed the spot. Kuroo smiled as he watched her sit up and bat her eyes at him.

“Here,” he said, this time pointing at a spot on his chest covered by his shirt. (Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him before slowly unbuttoning the shirt and running her fingertips down his toned stomach. She pressed another gentle kiss to the spot he had pointed out, this time allowing her lips to linger on his flesh before parting from him.

Kuroo could feel the warmth between her thighs intensifying. He experimentally shifted his hips against hers, drawing a shaky gasp from her. He licked his lips before pointing at his bottom lip. “Here…”

(Y/n) leaned in close to him, brushing her lips over his teasingly. They both lingered, breathing each other in before finally allowing their lips to meet. Kuroo moaned at the taste of her, his hips stuttering against (Y/n)’s as his body responded to their kiss.

(Y/n) instinctively ground her hips against his, throwing caution to the wind as she deepened the kiss and wound her fingers through Kuroo’s messy hair. The kiss was wild and desperate, the needs of the two shining through as they gripped and ground against one another.

Kuroo suddenly hisses in pain, causing (Y/n) to hastily pull back and look him over. “Oh god, what happened?”

“J-just aching… I’m fine.” Kuroo reassured, adjusting his body under her.

(Y/n) bit her lip, “You’re too hurt, now's not the time…”

Kuroo cupped her cheeks and pulled her into another kiss, just as sloppy as the last. “Nuh-uh, I’ve been waiting for this for weeks,” he moaned against her lips, dragging his hands down her body to cling to her flimsy tank top, “I can handle a little pain…”

(Y/n) shivered at his words. She sighed shakily as she took his hands and slid them under her shirt, giving him permission to touch her bare skin. (Y/n) moaned louder as Kuroo nipped at her lips and tugged at her nipples, all while his hips worked at her core.

“Fuck- please,” (Y/n) begged into the kiss, struggling to tug the joggers past his sculpted thighs. The lack of boxers she provided him meant he was ready to go the second his cock was exposed.

Kuroo was in the process of tugging (Y/n)’s shorts off when they heard a knock at the door. (Y/n) groaned in frustration against Kuroo’s lips before adjusting her shorts and climbing off him.

“No-no-no, please, c'mon just send him away,” Kuroo whined, reluctantly pulling up his pants.

“I’m horny but I’m hungry.” (Y/n) sighed, fanning herself as she approached the door.

Kuroo grabbed the first-aid kit and placed it over his boner just as Iwaizumi and Bokuto entered the apartment.

“Hey hey hey! There’s our champ!” Bokuto cheered, holding up two packs of beer.

“I lost, Bo.” Kuroo smiled, hoping his friend wouldn’t press him for a hug.

“Well we got a nice consolation prize, 4 pizzas and plenty of beer to make you forget about how fucked up your face is.” Iwaizumi announced, earning an elbow to his ribs from (Y/n).

“No more playing around, let’s eat.” (Y/n) said, grabbing a box of pizza from Iwa’s stack and sitting beside Kuroo.

“Yes, m’am….” Kuroo teased, winking at (Y/n) as he took a slice from the box.

(Y/n) answered with a signature eyeroll before biting into her own slice of pizza.

Kuroo would have to continue their make-out session later. For now, he would celebrate his first match with his friends, and hope that he would win the next one.

If he got to kiss the girl of his dreams after a loss, he wondered what he’d get after a win.

#Punch Drunk #Boxer!AU #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #Kuroo Tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #Boxer!Kuroo

40 notes · View notes

theshinsun · 4 years

Note

please I Am Begging You do that 20 questions for OT3s with AoKagaKuro

asdfgggdfhjkk ok here we go! prepare for Length...

Who sleeps in the middle?

Kuroko. he gets cold the easiest and likes to be smushed between his two giant bfs. he’s also often the peacekeeper stopping them from kicking each other and stealing the blankets. they both get their share of his ice cold toes and fingers that way, and he’s such a light sleeper that once they’re in that position neither of them can move for fear of waking him up, but none of them would have it any other way.

Who is the best cuddler?

Kagami. he’s like a giant snuggly teddy bear, gives the very best hugs and is always the big spoon no matter who he’s cuddling with. and he’s okay with that. in fact he loves it, whether he’s holding Kuroko or Aomine or both at once, he loves that he can just wrap around them like an octopus and make them feel safe and loved.

Who gets hurt the most?

Kuroko. Kagami might be the biggest klutz of the three but he also doesn’t bruise easily. meanwhile if Kuroko so much as stubs his toe it turns purple and he’ll be limping for a few days. he’s also the one most likely to get in trouble and get scraped up on purpose, whether he’s skinning his knees trying some new technique he’s not prepared for, or picking a fight and getting decked by someone twice his size, he’s always sporting a new bruise or band-aid and getting chastised by his overprotective bfs who are honestly just as bad... just less likely to show it.

Who acts like the baby?

Aomine. obviously. this guy is an oversized toddler in big boy clothes. he’s always pestering for attention and whines and complains when he doesn’t get his way. he’s a picky eater and can throw actual tantrums if he’s annoyed enough -- and usually the root cause is him not getting enough sleep. he’s also treated like the baby of the family, with both Kagami and Kuroko feeding him and taking care of him, but honestly, neither of them mind it much.

Who teases the others the most?

also Aomine. he’s especially prone to poking and picking at Kagami because he knows just what buttons to press and likes to get him riled up. he can’t seem to resist taunting and provoking him at any given opportunity, and he’s just as quick to tease Kuroko, when he can. the difference is rather than turning red and potentially starting a fight, Kuroko will just coolly sass him right back and move on with his day.

Who proposes?

I’m sorry but I can only see Aomine being the one to propose (or at the very least, being the first one). under the exterior, he’s a useless sappy romantic and would probably either insist on doing things proper, buying a pair of rings and getting down on one knee and all, OR randomly blurting it out during dinner with no planning or preparation or anything. either way, of course they both say yes.

Who is the most protective?

Kuroko. looks are 100% deceiving here, he’s physically the smallest but mentally and emotionally, he’s the toughest of the three and he’ll go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he loves. he would absolutely put himself in danger to protect the others and worries about both of them a lot (sometimes needlessly, but there are times they do need it). Kagami and Aomine both put up a tough act, and follow Kuroko around like his personal bodyguards, but don’t be fooled, he’s the one you need to really watch out for.

Who is the closest to the child? (Whether it be a fur baby, scale baby, or human child.)

either Aomine or Kuroko... probably both equally. they’re very emotionally-driven people who love animals of all shapes and sizes (Kagami would have some trouble if their fur baby happened to be a dog -- and considering Nigou that’s a very likely possibility). both of them would form a strong connection with any baby the group decided to have. that’s not to say Kagami wouldn’t also be close to a child or pet and love them, but he’s just a little bit more distant and guarded than the others and it would definitely take him some time.

Who gives the best advice?

Kuroko. he’s (usually) the only one with a brain cell to speak of, and has a lot of practical knowledge and common sense. he has difficulty separating his emotions from a situation to look at it objectively, so he can be a little biased with what he suggests, but it’s still good advice, just the same.

Who is like a therapist?

Kagami. unlike Kuroko, he doesn’t always know what to say or what to suggest, but he is a good listener, and easy to talk to, so he lets the others vent to him and work through their issues, and often finds himself on the receiving end of a long and cathartic story or rant from one or both of them. he’s also much better at looking at things objectively; nine times out of ten he’ll bluntly point something out that makes the others look at things from a new angle, because it’s so obvious to him as an outsider but they’re too wrapped up to see it.

Who sings B and C to sleep?

Kagami. I hc that he can sing in three different languages (English, Japanese and some Spanish), the others especially like when he sings in English, and he indulges them since he’s probably going to be up the latest anyway. sometimes Kuroko also tries his hand at a lullaby, but he doesn’t have the instant power to knock Aomine out that Kagami does.

Is the relationship healthy?

I mean... is any relationship completely, 100% healthy? as relationships go, they have a very good balance between them and there’s a mutual, three-way respect that they all maintain with each other. they’ve got problems and character flaws, of course, they’re very different people and things aren’t always going to be perfect, but they love each other and are all willing to put in the work when it comes down to it.

Do A and B have a stronger bond with each other? Or do C and B or C and A have a stronger bond? Or are A, B, and C close together [equally]?

they’re all close with each other in different ways. not necessarily equally all around, just... their individual relationships within the greater whole have different strengths and shortcomings. It breaks down something like this:

Kagami and Kuroko are probably the most stable with each other. there’s trust and affection and good communication between them, and they’re on very equal footing. the trouble is, because they usually work together so well, they’re not very good at reconciling when they don’t, and things can build up between them that they don’t acknowledge until their whole balance crumbles.

Aomine and Kagami are in tune with each other in a way that’s almost instinctive, they finish each other’s sentences and seem to always be on the same wavelength. they don’t require much from each other, and have a kind of simple ease in each other’s company, when they aren’t getting in each other’s faces. the downside is they aren’t very good at communicating, and tend to avoid difficult subjects and saying what they really mean.

Aomine and Kuroko have history, are probably the most sappy and romantic with each other, and share an almost indescribably intimate bond built up over years, but they’re also the most likely to argue (not just petty squabbling like Aomine and Kagami, or old-married-couple bickering like Kagami and Kuroko, but actually fight and hurt each other). they’re also terrible about enabling and egging each other on and probably get into the most ridiculous situations because they’re somehow the best and worst combination of personality traits at the same time.

Who can be trusted to be left home alone?

Kagami. he’s the only one. do not leave either of the others home alone they will burn the house down, either accidentally or as a result of getting bored and thinking “I wonder what happens if...” (famous last words).

Who cries the most?

Kuroko, by default. he cries about as much as any normal, healthy person would. Kagami doesn’t cry hardly ever, to the point that it’s a little concerning sometimes, and when he does it’s a Big Deal. Aomine cries every now and then, but doesn’t really feel comfortable doing it in front of other people so he’ll usually try to hide it or hold it in.

Who is the softest?

like... physically, or emotionally? you know what, Kagami for both. he’s a great big softy under the tough exterior, and even though he’s the most physically jacked, he’s got enough meat on his bones to have some nice give and be very comfy to lie on.

Who is the shortest?

Kuroko. ....we been knew.

Who is the tallest?

Aomine. again we been knew; he’ll hold that little 2cm sliver of height he’s got on Kagami over his head until the end of time.

Who likes cuddles the most?

Aomine. he will seek out cuddles every chance he gets, he flops down next to both of the others and nudges them like a cat, or just muscles his way into their space until they have to accommodate him or risk falling off the couch.

Last of all, who sings terribly in the shower?

oh dear god. you know what, I think it’d be really funny if it was Kagami. it’s boggling because he can sing perfectly well, they all know it, but for some reason when he’s alone and using the body wash as a microphone he lets loose and goes completely off-key and it’s awful. the others love it though (even if they’re confused) because it sounds like he’s having fun, at least.

#shin speaks #answered #dear god this is so long #aokagakuro #aomine daiki #kagami taiga #kuroko tetsuya #knb #taigainside #i have so many emotions for these boys esp when theyre Together #i really need to write them more #they're so good #ot3 #thanks friend! <3 enjoy

40 notes · View notes

colorseeingchick · 3 years

Note

Hello, colorseeingchick, I hope you’re having a nice day, and congrats on reaching 200 followers! I wanted to say I really like your Kuroko no Basket posts. I was recently looking for some small fanfics of Kuroko no Basket and I am glad I’ve found yours. I am also looking forward to reading your “Oh! Baby Series” of Tsukishima.

For the 200 Follower event, I would like to request a Kuroko no Basket matchup. I’d prefer to be matched with a male and my pronouns are she/her. I am currently 16 years old, I have brown skin and dark brown eyes. My hair is a dark brown color(almost black), very curly, and it reaches toward my mid-back. I’m 5’2” in height and I am an Aquarius(For Midorima).

I usually like to watch anime and read in my free time. I really love chocolate and exercising. I dislike people that lie a lot, peanuts, peanut butter, pecans, almonds, avocados, and onions. My hobbies are writing, drawing, reading, watching tv, singing, and playing the Piano. I think I’m particularly talented at writing since everyone seems to like my writing very much and right now I’m practicing my creative writing skills.

Personality: When I first meet someone, I tend to be quiet and just observe everyone. If anyone comes up to me, I usually just introduce myself, and depending on who the person is I may strike up a conversation. If I don’t then the person that’s talking to me will usually make conversation and I will quietly listen. I would usually just nod or say things like (yea, right, mhm) to show that I am listening. If I begin to feel comfortable I will give my opinion on the subject or try to strike up my own topic. But once I get really comfortable with that person I can become very goofy. I’ll start randomly dancing in the hallways and make weird sounds when I’m with that person. And depending on the person this can either increase or decrease in weirdness. I’m very good at listening to people especially when it comes to a person talking about their passions. My friends and family tend to laugh at a few things I say. They’re never really jokes there just situations I’ve been in and Apparently, they’re funny. I don’t tend to touch people, the most I really do regularly is either is put my hand/elbow on the person’s shoulder(Doesn’t matter if they’re tall or short) or begin poking them in odd places.

Negative Things: If someone is sad or insecure about something, I don’t know how to react, I usually just stare at them while they cry to themselves. I would not suggest that any of my friends come to me for emotional support. Unless they just want someone to listen to them. I don’t know how to take compliments. Once someone compliments me I usually just stare at the person or say thank you very slowly.

Additional: Since me and my friends were in chorus, we would usually just begin singing our chorus songs very loudly. It didn’t matter where we were, we would just begin singing. There was a time where my friend called me super sweet because I was checking up on them during the pandemic. My friends also said I give the best presents and truthfully I struggle trying to find presents. I want to give my friends something they can use or they really like. For example, I gave my friend a drawing notebook and some art supplies since they like to do art. I’ve been told that I have a mean resting face and that I act more mature for my age. I also asked my friends to describe me and they said, “Beautifully, Creative, Loving, Silly, Writer, Fashionable, Pretty, Innocent, and Nice Hairstyles.”

I swear I don’t where they’re getting these nice compliments. Hopefully, this is not too long.

Hello noodleman!!!! This was perfect do not worry. They compliment you because you're amazing haha. I always see you in my notifications and it makes me so happy :) I’m very excited to do both your matchups! For KNB, I’ve matched you with…

Akashi Seijuro!

We all know Akashi is a powerful man who’s been through a lot. As a girlfriend, you would be the one to both compliment his power and balance out his emotional state, even if you don’t intend to. And that would be the source of the beauty of your relationship with him.

You were a student at Rakuzan who would mind her own business. Akashi was in your class (ranking at the top) for the new school year, and you two sat next to each other. Akashi (this is the OG Akashi- the nice one) would introduce himself to you, and you would do the same. You observed Akashi quietly. The way he was so put together. His calm demeanor. His pretty eyes and how they were keenly watching everything. You didn’t realize he was observing you as well. While you both were just normal acquaintances at that point, things were about to change.

One day, you heard Akashi talking about basketball next to you. You could hear how passionate he was about it from the way he talked. The person he was talking to walked away, but you couldn’t help but ask him about basketball. Watching him talk that way was so enticing.

He looked at you for a second before smiling kindly and asking, “would you like to learn about basketball?” From there, you two would have a very engaged conversation with Akashi fanboying in a way that was as classy as fanboying could get, while you were listening attentively. You had to leave for the end of the day, but you left with a smiling Akashi out the door of the classroom.

The next major interaction between you two happened a few days later. You were doodling in your notebook when you heard him speak. “You’re very talented at drawing.”

You smiled awkwardly at the compliment, unsure of how to respond, so you just looked at him. He didn’t mind though. He just smiled back. “If you draw again, I’d like to see.” He then left soon after.

While you didn’t doodle again, you decided that maybe you were comfortable around Akashi, more than you thought you were.

A major shift in your dynamic happened one day when you were writing down intensely into a journal, stopping only when your hand hurt, taking time to think about your next words when you felt a light tap on your arm.

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you writing?” He genuinely looked interested, which caught you by surprise.

And so you explained the short story you were writing. Akashi asked questions about the characters, the plot, where you got the idea from- all sorts of things. You both didn’t realize everyone else had already emptied out. “If you would like to share your story with me sometime, I would love to read it. And if you’d like to come by and watch my basketball team play, let me know.”

He was surprisingly easy to talk to. And that was the point where you both got closer. As you got closer, talking and learning more about each other, you both started to fall bit by bit. You both had a long list of hobbies and talents, much of which overlapped. Akashi was mesmerized by your singing, though he knew you wouldn’t like to hear the compliment if he gave it to you. Instead, he just asked you to always sing and gave you his full attention when you did. It went without say he loved your writing. He was a talented musician himself, and you found his game pretty entertaining- the way he dominated on the court.

He asked you out after Rakuzan had taken a big victory before the winter cup. You’d come to watch the game.

“Will you celebrate with me?” He asked you.

“With your team?”

“No, actually.” He’d smile at you and step closer, but had not invaded your personal space. “I’d like to actually get some time with you, on a date.”

He was pleased you said yes. The date went well. He’d learned you were mature, which is what he was looking for in a partner. He already knew you were talented and a good listener. It wasn’t long before he asked you to be his girlfriend officially.

Your dynamic with Akashi was well tailored. Being the captain of Rakuzan, he had an image to maintain- one of power. And having a girlfriend who he knew to be intimidating as well (your resting face was intense) was a fitting situation. He knew you observed and listened well, which is why he could trust that you would be thoughtful- something that was also very important to him. You also cared for efficiency and purpose. But what he didn’t realize he needed so badly was your goofiness. After you two had gotten as close as you were, he learned how funny your stories were and saw you in your most comfortable states. He loved your fun goofy side. It helped him live a little, too. He enjoyed elbowing you back when you did it to him (it was the most innocent playful thing he’d done). It didn’t bother Akashi all that much that you didn’t know how to deal with other people being emotional. He wasn’t one to show negative emotions all that much and didn’t project that expectation onto you, which made it a bit easier. He knew that if he needed to talk it out and have someone listen, he could always go to you.

Overall you and Akashi managed to balance out on a lot of your ideologies, world views, hobbies, and life practices. While some were the same, others were different- but in a complimentary way. It’s quite a beautiful dynamic, really.

~~~

Ahhh I really hope you like it! Lemme know what you think hehe. I'm excited to do your MHA one too!

#knb #knb matchup #csc hits 200 #colorseeingchick milestone

4 notes · View notes

sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

strawberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

SEQUEL TO BLUEBERRY PANCAKES

DESCRIPTION: Lily Osborne and Bucky Barnes were never blessed with an easy relationship. Whether it be emotional trauma, or Lily's parents trying to be evil scientists. But they somehow made it work, after coming together once again after the birth of Lily's nephew. They were smooth sailing for a while. He proposed, they got engaged, but have yet to marry. While also juggling raising a teenager together as Hunter reaches the age of 16 now. All the while struggling with adjusting to their new lives in Long Island, balancing careers. Meanwhile, Lily struggles with the new found fame of being the fiancé of The White Wolf; and handling the tabloids critiques on her life and gossip columns digging up any information they can on her. While trying to maintain a low profile; and handle her life as it is. And becoming parents. Lily for the second time, while Bucky, well, this is his first attempt at a biological child. All the while a new threat from their past rises up once again, blind siding the family. Bringing forward old hatchets that had been buried, and putting their relationship at risk once more.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

STATUS: Unedited

NOTES: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Two: The One With The Dinner

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2241

“Who does that woman think she is?” Lily exclaimed as she burst into the Barnes residence, “Telling me I need to calm down. She called my fiance a terrorist.” The blonde fumed, storming into the kitchen to start making dinner.

“Doll what’re you doing?” Bucky sighed as he set Stella down, following the woman into the kitchen, “We have the conference tonight. Remember?”

Lily dropped her hand from the cupboard, placing her face into her hands. She had forgotten that Bucky and she had an Avengers conference dinner that they had to attend. The dress she wore was sitting in their room, calling for her to go put it on. She could feel the pressure laying on her shoulders from the level above her. The blonde turned her head, meeting Bucky’s eyes. He looked sorrowful and sympathetic, knowing that Lily wanted to stay home more than ever.

“Is that tonight?” Hunter asked as he joined the others in the kitchen, “Did we agree that Stella and I were coming?”

“Yeah, why don’t you start getting ready,” Bucky began, “Take Stella with you to her room. I’m just gonna talk to mom quickly.”

Hunter nodded and took his little sister from Bucky’s arms, glancing back at his mother as he walked up the stairs to the second floor of the house. Lily leaned back against the counters of the kitchen, her face still resting carefully in her hands as she attempted to calm herself down. The entire day had been something out of a nightmare for Lily, especially when she learned about what happened at Hunter’s school. The anxiety in her skyrocketed, and she wondered what everyone around them thought of the two’s relationship. About Bucky raising two children. Marrying an “all-American girl”, or so the tabloids had been saying over the last few years when the public got a hold of their relationship and Lily’s story.

“I know you hate these, baby,” Bucky whispered, walking towards the blonde and placing his hands on her shoulders, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a very, very long day,” Lily whispered, removing her hands from her face and staring up at the man, “Don’t apologize. Let’s just...let’s just go get ready.”

“Wait wait,” Bucky sighed, taking Lily’s hands and pulling her closer to his chest, hand moving to the side of her face.

“What’re you doing?” She sighed, tilting her head into his hand.

“Jus’ lookin’ at ya,” he purred, Brooklyn accent pushing through, “My beautiful, beautiful, fiance.” The brunette cooed, bending down and pressing a gentle and barely-there kiss to Lily’s lips.

Laughing softly at his words, Lily squirmed from Bucky’s grip, “Sam’s right. You have a staring problem.” She teased, poking her fingers into the brunette’s stomach before turning towards the stairs.

-----

Lily sighed as she readjusted her black peacoat. Her hands dusted off the satin material of her dark green dress that had a black lace pattern along the entirety of it. After readjusting herself, Lily bent down to Stella’s height, smiling softly at her beaming daughter. The four-year-old wore a white dress with a baby blue floral pattern along the entirety of it, white tights on her legs, with bright white ballet flats as well. Her dark brown locks pulled into a bun, a baby blue flower pinned onto it.

“You do love dressing up, don’t you?” Lily cooed, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up, running her hand through her curled blonde hair, “Shall we?”

“That makes one of us,” Hunter muttered as he readjusted the white dress shirt he wore, glaring over at the crowd gathered in front of the building, “I feel like a clown right now.”

Lily chuckled softly at her son and ruffled his tousled blonde hair, before picking up the four-year-old girl. The dinner was being held in Gotham Hall, a beautiful place where the Avengers were gathering to recognize a few that were retiring, and welcoming more who were joining in on the initiative. It was a televised event, and each Avenger was individually introduced to the hall, including the families. Meaning Lily, Hunter, and Stella were being introduced alongside the White Wolf, aka Bucky Barnes.

“Did we remember to tell Tony to have the chef make Stella chicken fingers? She won’t eat what’s on the menu.” Lily sighed, following Bucky as they walked towards the entrance, smiling at a few of the paparazzi and fans.

“I told him, as did Steve. Mostly because we had to ensure that Leo also got chicken fingers.” Bucky chuckled, hand resting on the small of Lily’s back, other arm slung around Hunter’s shoulder.

The family waved and smiled as they walked down the sidewalk, shielding Stella’s eyes from the bright lights. Friday night in New York was already an insane time, and with an Avengers event, it only grew more hectic. Which is not always the best for a four-year-old who was not the biggest fan of large crowds. Hence why she thrived in the countryside in Long Island, enjoying her time alone or with a few of her close friends. It sometimes freaked Lily out just how much the girl was like her father. But warmed her heart at the same time.

“Let’s go find our seats,” Bucky whispered in the blonde’s ear as the four walked into the hall, making their way through the halls towards the dining area, finding their seats with Sam and Steve.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Sam chuckled as he embraced Bucky, kissing Lily on the cheek, “You lot clean up well, hm?”

“Your girlfriend cleans up better than you,” Bucky teased as he embraced Rose, kissing his fiances sister on the cheek as well before taking a seat next to Lily, “Even Leo looks better than you.” He teased, winking at the five-year-old boy across the table.

“He was being nice Buck, c’mon,” Steve chuckled, clapping the man on the shoulder before smiling as Natasha joined the table, “Now the whole families together again.”

“Oh don’t go pestering cyborg, I looked at the playlist Tony made,” Sam chuckled, sitting at his seat, “He’s got Marvin Gaye on there. Might be the thing that sends robocop over the edge.”

Lily chuckled and shook her head, pouring a glass of water for Stella and placing a straw that was on the table in it. She loved hearing the banter between the three and laughing at Rose and Nat’s interjections. Lily herself was not the best at bantering back and forth with them all, but apparently, a few of her quips were some of the funniest things said. Hunter as well. Neither of them were big talkers, which is why the two never really enjoyed the events that they had to attend.

“When are they doing introductions? Just to prepare Stella for the camera that comes zooming around,” Lily hummed, catching Bucky’s attention, “You know she freezes when they come by.”

“We’re up first,” Steve commented, sipping his whiskey, “So it’ll be done and over with quickly.” The blonde chuckled, pinching his goddaughter’s cheeks gently, “But they may be doing interviews. Tony sent an email.”

Lily glanced to her side, watching Bucky turn his head away from her gaze and focus on the whiskey he himself had. The blonde shook her head, focusing her mind on the water in her own glass. Hunter seemed to go a bit pale as well, most likely worrying he’d have to speak. Lily nudged Bucky’s arm, nodding towards Hunter. The brunette nodded, turning to the boy and whispering to him. Lily sighed softly, watching Hunter relax at his words.

Time went on and Lily felt herself relax a bit. But when the camera crew entered, her anxiety skyrocketed once again. Bucky’s hand rested on her thigh, the coolness of the metal seeping through her satin dress, causing goosebumps to pop up along her skin. Stella was busy on Lily’s phone, too distracted to really see the cameras entering and everyone setting themselves up. Lily pursed her lips and turned to Bucky, looking up at him through her lashes. The older man bent down and pressed a kiss to the woman’s forehead, soothing her nerves. Or at least trying to, as the cameras made their way over.

“Welcome everyone to the annual Avengers Dinner!” The announcer chuckled, her voice radiating through the speakers around the room, “Let’s start this legendary night with the star of the show, Captain America!” She grinned, “Or, should I say. Captain Americas.”

Lily sighed softly as she watched Stella lift her head, dropping Lily’s phone into her lap. The blonde rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, squeezing gently as the cameras made their way towards the table. The announcer plastered on an obviously fake smile that made Lily want to leave the room, but she stayed silent as she came closer.

“Look at this lovely group,” she chuckled, “Steve Rogers, always an honour to see you here. Alongside the ever ravishing Black Widow, aka, Natasha Romanoff. And who do we have here? Sam Wilson, aka Captain America, and fashion designer Rose Osborne! With her little one.” The redhead grinned, gesturing to the group before turning her attention to the family of four, “And last, but not least, the Barnes. James Barnes, the now-retired White Wolf, with his stunning fiance, Lily Barnes. Have you two tied the knot officially yet?” She asked, lowering the mic to Lily.

The blonde flushed a deep red, chuckling softly, if not awkwardly, “Not yet.” She stated simply, readjusting in her seat.

“What’s the holdup? We’re all dying to know!”

“Just been busy.” Lily hummed, glancing over at Stella, who was staring down at her lap.

“How could I forget! You two have your own kid,” she hummed, glancing over at Hunter, “Kids, sorry. Stella and Hunter correct? How do you two feel about the announcement tonight?”

Bucky jumped in, taking over as he saw Lily’s confused face, “Walker has had a past. But I’m sure he’ll do great. Especially with some reinforced supervision.”

-----

“Walker!?” Lily whisper yelled, pushing open the front door, “What the hell is Tony thinking?” She muttered, dropping her purse as she cradled Stella’s head on her shoulder.

“We tried to talk him out of it.” Bucky sighed, nodding up the stairs for Hunter to head up to bed.

“It’s ridiculous,” Lily sighed, following her son up the stairs, Bucky following close behind, “Was what happened nothing to him? He decapitated a man in a town square.” The blonde continued, walking into Stella’s room, slowly stirring her, “Darling wake up, gotta get you into PJ’s.”

“He redeemed himself near the end of it all,” Bucky sighed, pulling pyjamas out of his daughter’s dresser, “Maybe that counts for something in Tony’s books.”

Lily had her own personal reasons to resent the man. Whenever there was a function where he attended, he was always a bit friendly with the blonde. Bucky mostly stepped in before it got too far, but still, it made Lily uncomfortable regardless. But above all of that, the events that happened with the Flagsmashers was something that Lily couldn’t get past. Bucky had gone to help with the entirety of the ordeal but ensured to keep in constant contact with Lily, who was sitting at home, pregnant as can be.

She remembered the day he came home like it was yesterday.

-----

Lily watched the TV with relief in her eyes. She watched Sam’s speech with pride, her heart swelling at his words. She had always admired Sam, and watching him officially take up the mantle was something Lily would remember for decades to come. Her hands rested on her swollen stomach, counting down the minutes before she could see her boyfriend walk through the door of the Manhattan home they still lived in.

Lily made her way to bed, laying uncomfortably in it. She didn’t remember how she was able to sleep when pregnant with Hunter, but the baby currently growing inside of her was making her want to turn back the time and keep Bucky at bay that night she was positive was the day the fetus was conceived. Though she knew deep down, she would want to relive that night time and time, and time again. As she tossed and turned, the blonde wondered if Bucky was still directly in the middle of the city.

When the door opened, she felt herself almost float up from the bed. Turning her head, the blonde jumped from the bed and walked towards the man, not hesitating to kiss him deeply as his hands found her cheeks. When they broke apart, he dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to Lily’s seven-month pregnant belly.

“Please tell me the arrested walker,” she whispered, running her hands through Bucky’s brown hair, “Please.”

“They didn’t...I’m sorry my love.” He whispered, standing to his feet, “We don’t know what’s going to happen with him.”

-----

Three years later, they figured out just what would happen to Walker. He’d be given the same privileges as people who had saved the world countless times, including that of Lily’s fiance. It sat heavily on Lily’s shoulders as she undid Stella’s hair, placing the elastic to the side and running her nimble fingers through the dark tresses as Bucky helped the young girl get changed into her pyjamas.

After the two tucked their daughter into bed and undressed into pyjamas themselves, and climbed into bed, Lily let out a heavy sigh. Not only was the Walker situation heavy on Lily’s mind, but the announcer’s comments on the state of their engagement did also as well. She never really thought about it. The two had been busy, there was no time for them to really sit down and properly plan a wedding. But then again...Steve and Nat had been able to. Their own rehearsal dinner was in a week. They had gotten engaged about six months ago. Lily and Bucky...they had been engaged for two years.

Yet legally, they weren’t married. And it worried her.

“Why haven’t we gotten married yet?”

4 notes · View notes

theoriginalladya · 3 years

Note

Dragon Age II - Meghan Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Sebastian Vael *ears perked* *grabby hands* :D for your WIP folders?

Hehehehe Thought that might get your attention! :)

Okay, so let me start with Meghan and Nate. Meghan is the only Hawke I’ve ever played (dual wielding rogue). I ended up playing her twice because on my first playthrough (romanced Fenris) the save I tried to import didn’t work, but I didn’t discover it until Alistair showed up and I knew that language I needed to hear, and I didn’t. Okay, not so bad. So I reimported it, it took this time, and I romanced Sebastian second time through in the game. Great - now I have some baseline on both of those romances.

That said, I already knew Meghan wasn’t going to be with either of them in her story - she ends up with Nathaniel Howe who she meets when he is still a squire for his lord in the Free Marches. In fact, they meet in Kirkwall as he is waiting on the ship that will take him back to Ferelden.

Going to put under a cut because this got long really fast! lol

(And I do not vouch for any of this as I first wrote it about six years ago, possibly longer! lol I’ve certainly learned a LOT more about writing since then, so these will inevitably get cleaned up before I think of posting them in future)

Deep in thought, Meghan left the table and returned to the bar. She waited to be served another and was considering looking to round up a game of Wicked Grace to entertain herself with when she was unexpectedly and quite rudely hit in the back. The move shoved her belly first into the bar counter, and the edge caught her just beneath the ribcage. “Ooof!” Her breath was forced out of her lungs, and for the briefest of moments, Meghan thought she saw stars ….

“Maker’s breath, are you alright?”

Blinking back pain and trying to suck in enough air to breathe let alone reply, Meghan coughed harshly and finally resorted to nodding. Her vision wasn’t quite back to normal yet, but a strong hand at her back pounded a few times in an offer of help -- help? How does this help?

Almost as if he sensed her thoughts, the hand grasped firmly at her shoulder and he guided her to sit on a nearby bench. She recognized that it was a he, despite still being doubled over from pain. His voice had that soothing baritone feel to it, very similar to the voice her father once had.

Once seated, he left her side, returning a half moment later. He dropped a tankard on the table beside her with a not so gentle thud and both he and she ignored the suds and ale that sloshed over the side, dripping down to form a ring around the vessel. “I must apologize,” he told her, dropping to a knee in front of her to bring them to eye level.

Meghan lifted her head, still searching for enough breath with which to speak, when she met cool, steely grey-blue eyes. Blinking, her mouth worked again, but still nothing escaped that even remotely resembled words. At best, a rough grunt slipped past. His eyes narrowed in concern and he moved to her left as if to pound on her back again.

Meghan reacted instantly. Straightening, she lifted her hand, warding off his actions, and finally drew in a deep breath. “No, thank you!” she rasped. She pulled in another immediately following, and then another. Absently, she rubbed at her ribs where they’d hit the counter. “I’m … good.”

“Are you certain?” he asked. The look of concern on his face didn’t fade. If anything, Meghan noticed, his brow seemed to furrow more deeply. “I would hate to think that I --”

She managed a lopsided smile, waving her hand back and forth between them. “I’ll be fine,” she promised, this time with better vocal projection even if it was still rough around the edges. “What -- what happened?”

He grimaced. Glancing around, he pointed towards a mild brawl taking place that was now moved onto the far side of the tavern. “I guess I walked into the middle of something.”

Meghan’s eyes followed his direction and she spotted a pair of vaguely familiar faces in the center of the tussle. Sighing, she shook her head. “Willis and Farlan are always in the middle of some ruckus,” she assured him. Her voice was stronger now and she straightened further. Reaching for the tankard, she took a careful drink. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she observed, “You aren’t from these parts, are you?”

The concern finally eased from his face, but Meghan wouldn’t say it softened his features at all. Dark hair, light eyes, and eagle like features even down to his unfortunately large ‘beak’. Still, he wasn’t entirely unattractive, and Meghan had to admit the caramel smoothness of his voice more than made up for any perceived deficiencies so far.

“I’m not, no,” he agreed. Rising, he took a seat on the bench next to her, his eyes drifting to follow the activities across the room. “My name is Nathaniel Howe. I’m a squire for Ser Rodolphe Varley.”

Meghan frowned, searching her memory for any information on that name. She’d heard it a time or two, but had no first hand knowledge. At the same time, something about Nathaniel dropped into place for her. “You aren’t from the Free Marches, are you?” When he looked startled, she smiled. “Your accent -- Ferelden?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I’ve worked hard to disguise it,” he admitted, “and thought I’d made progress. Obviously, I was mistaken.”

Dropping into the Fereldan tongue, Meghan gave him a sassy grin and extended her hand. “Meghan Hawke, lately of Lothering. My family and I fled to Kirkwall when the Blight started.”

“Lothering?” His look of astonishment faded into a half smile of amusement. “Your accent, on the other hand, is quite good.”

“My parents were originally from Kirkwall,” she explained. “They moved to Lothering before I was born.” She took a healthier swallow of her ale. “Can I buy you a drink?” she asked after a moment.

Nathaniel chuckled softly and shook his head. “It is I who should be buying you one, I think,” he told her.

Meghan jumped to her feet, only the slightest of tightening at the corner of her eyes indicating any residual pain left from her injuries. “Nope. This round is on me.” She left him before he could protest, returning a couple of minutes later. Handing him the tankard while regaining her seat, she reached for her own and lifted it to clink against his. “We Fereldens have to stick together.”

Now, let me tell you a bit about Sebastian in this world. I adore Sebastian, good parts, bad parts and all the in between. I’ve always thought he got the short end of the stick on some things too, and I wanted to include him more predominantly in this series of fics, so I’ve sort of broadened his horizons, so to speak.

Now the clip i’m going to share technically is a part of Serafina and Alistair after the Blight, but it happens in Kirkwall (long story there, too), so I sort of wedged it in on this side of things to make it easier to find in my notes. You see, he and Serafina met years ago when she is visiting Orlais. Neither has seen each other since then - about five years previous to this moment. This is how they bump into one another after all that time...

Their path took them into an open courtyard and for a moment, Serafina’s steps slowed.

“Did we take a wrong turn?” Alistair asked, his eyes searching the area.

“I think we must have,” she replied. “Oh, wait. There’s the Chantry.” She pointed across the way. “I think we need to head that way.” Her hand drifted to a stairwell to the right of the building.

Alistair’s eyes lifted to view the large building looming over the city. “You know,” he mused in a tone only she could hear, “I’ve always heard how the people of Hightown think themselves above those in Lowtown, but I didn’t think it was so literal.”

“Hmm?” Serafina glanced around. Smiling gently, she nudged him in the arm. “There is a lot of history here,” she agreed, “but most people tend to forget the simple yet more important aspects of it.”

“Oh? What do you mean?” He stopped walking, pulling her over to the center of the courtyard near the Chantry Board.

Casually, she pointed to the exits to the immediate area. “What do you see?” she challenged.

Alistair blinked. “Stairs?”

Serafina nodded. “Where do they lead?”

He frowned. “Down?”

She nodded again and waited, her eyes meeting his.

“To … Lowtown … Oh!” Blinking, Alistair tilted his head to his right. “Stairs lead up and down.”

“Exactly. They might find themselves above those whom they think they are better, and their history certainly provides enough reminders that even the bloodiest of battles have not reached these heights,” she pointed out, “but the fact remains that when that happens, they are still stuck. Those stairs are their only way out. If a siege can be held long enough, they have no means of escape.”

“Thankfully,” he muttered for her ears only, “Denerim isn’t set up the same way.”

“There is that,” she agreed. Then, walking out into the middle of the square, she turned in a slow circle, eyes lifted and surveying the architecture and situation of the buildings surrounding them, “On the other hand, it’s difficult to argue that it isn’t a pretty view.”

“And clean,” Alistair interjected as his eyes followed her. Granted, certain parts of Ferelden’s capital city were better tended than others. He wondered how much that had to do with the Blight and civil war or simply because Cailan had been king. His eyes fell back to her after a moment and he stiffened when he realized … “Watch out, behind you!”

Serafina, eyes still on the buildings around them, stumbled as she stepped backwards into someone. She caught herself awkwardly, but didn’t quite lose her balance. “I’m so sorry!” A strong hand at her arm helped her maintain balance, and she dropped her eyes … to an unexpectedly handsome and familiar, if somewhat older, face from her past. Gasping, her own eyes widened. “No! It … it can’t be!” she breathed. “Sebastian?”

Startled, the man released his hold on her and took a step backwards. “I’m sorry. Have we met?” he asked.

It was all Serafina could do to break her gaze from his. When she did, her eyes trailed over the rest of him. He stood before her, just as vibrantly muscular and male as she remembered, now dressed in armor that clearly had Chantry’s influence in the design. That, perhaps, answered a question. However, some things remained the same. The blue of his eyes. The velvety roll of his voice and the soft burr as he spoke ….

It stung a little that he didn’t recall without some prompting, but considering the circumstances that led to that night, it wasn’t much of a surprise. “Five years ago in Val Royeaux,” she murmured quietly. “There was a masquerade and …”

Recognition hit him instantly and he took another quick step backwards from her. “You!” he gasped, face paling with shock.

She nodded slowly but remained where she was. She didn’t realize Alistair had joined her until his voice, quiet but urgent in his concern for her, penetrated through the fog of surprise. “Are you alright?”

#WIP Folder meme #ladya writes #Dragon Age II #Meghan Hawke #Nathaniel Howe #Sebastian Vael #Serafina MacKinnon #Alistair Theirin #my writings #thank you so much for asking about them!!!#shadoedseptmbr

4 notes · View notes

themulberrytree · 4 years

Text

character sheet.

full name: Shallan Davar pronunciation: Sha-Lahn Dah-var (fuck IPA i am not doing that shit again)

nicknames: strong one (by hoid), love, dear (by adolin), storming woman (mostly by kaladin)

height: 5′6″ age: 19/20 (rosharan years) / 21-22 (earth years) zodiac: gemini (donut ask me when her bday is i donut have a date yet) languages: (spoken/written): veden (native), alethi, azish, selay (moderate skill in speaking only) thaylen (reading/writing only).

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: rich, deep red, only red. eye colour: bright blue skin tone: shallan is very fair, though she spends as much time in the sun as she can, so her face is dusted with freckles. body type: slim and slender. unlike the curvaceous body type often seen on alethi women, shallan is much smaller both in figure and stature. she could be mistaken for delicate, at first glance. as she spends more time training with her blade, her body becomes much more defined and muscular, but she will never achieve any kind of bulky muscles, she simply does not have the body type.

accent: her natural veder accent would be considered low, given shallan’s isolation out in the countryside. she can speak in a more posh (re: acceptable) accent, but she has little reason to do so. dominant hand: right posture: shallan has the posture of a perfect vorin lady, back straight and shoulders back at all times. when sitting, her freehand always covers her safehand, placed delicately in her lap unless she is sketching. when walking, her hands are clasped in front of her. she is rarely animated in her posture when speaking, and depending on her company, she works hard to blend in. when alone, shallan may slouch when studying, or do her work in a very unlady like fashion on her bed. if she trusts her present company, they may witness this lapse in acceptable posture, but only if she trusts them.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: jah kaved hometown: some hick town in the middle of the countryside. birth weight / height: 6 pounds, 3 ounces. 18 inches. manner of birth: natural first words: pa siblings: (all elder, all brothers) helaran, balat, twins: wikim and jushu parents: lin davar, and an unnamed mother, malise davar (step mother), all deceased. parental involvement: shallan remembers a somewhat happy childhood (although the likelihood of that being the case is up for debate). her mother taught her how to draw, and was in charge of shallan’s education in the early years. much of her early years have been forgotten due to the trauma of shallan’s witnessing (see: committing) her mother’s murder. she did not speak at all for half a year afterwards. from that point on, her father became overbearing, and with each year he was less of the man shallan had first known. he was violent towards two of her brothers and the servants, often scaring away tutors, so shallan’s education in those critical years was sporadic at best. her father demanded complete obedience, and any deviation on her part meant that a servant got beaten in her place. in order to spare them and placate her father, shallan worked hard to draw little attention to herself and obey. it was her father who also chose her devotary (purity) rather than her having the opportunity to choose for herself.

ADULT LIFE

occupation: she is the ward of jasnah kholin, having managed to convince the woman she was worthy of wardship at seventeen. after being taken in, shallan begins her education in scholarship, fine tuning her skills in making logic based arguments, study, and critical thinking.

on the shattered plains, she secures work with highprince sebarial as a clerk while maintaining the work in finding urithiru that she started with jasnah, and working to infiltrate the secret group known as the ghostbloods.

she latter assumes a more public role as a knight radiant, the first of the order of lightweavers in centuries. while her status as a radiant is known, she works very hard to keep her work covert. she deals in spywork and information, and uses her lightweaving to form disguises for herself and associates. she has also used her abilities to battle unmade, work oathgates, and help run reconnaissance in kholinar.

as highprincess, her duties would include helping manage affairs of the realm and detecting intrigue to better aid her husband.

close friends: lmafo what are those????? jk, her brothers, later adolin, renarin, kaladin, jasnah (sort of, more teacher/student) wit/hoid (when he’s around). relationship status: verse dependent, married to adolin kholin in canon financial status: her family is destitute, and shallan herself has little experience in personally handling money. that being said, she knows how to balance finances and plan expenses. when working for sebarial, she manages to secure a comfortable pay from him, her later marriage secures her financial security, though her status as a radiant could’ve done that too. driver’s license: she could probably drive, but would be terrible at it due to the fact that she’d keep lookin out the window. she has little experience on horseback, but can manage. criminal record: technically none yet, having managed to get away with murder twice. she had also stolen successfully from jasnah kholin.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic, could be polyromantic preferred emotional role: submissive (someone pls force her to accept comfort i am beggin) | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed | libido: she’s basically DTF anytime and anywhere, and yes, i wish i were kidding, but she’s just horny on main. turn ons: she’s into more traditional kinds of attractiveness, people who look put together. but she really enjoys some kind of hint at wildness, hair that won’t quite stay, a kind of subtle ruggedness. post-battle disheveledness is HOT. allow her to talk about her studies, things she’s working on or wanting to start, she’ll love that. don’t be afraid to talk about your own interests, she goes off on her own a lot, so she’ll want someone with their own hobbies too. be kind, be willing to grow and change and share. be there if she asks. laugh at her absolutely fucking awful jokes. on the more physical side, not being afraid to show affection in public. that spot on the neck below the ear? yeah, kiss it. leave a mark. kiss the inside of her wrist. do not be afraid to be rough with her, she’s not easily hurt and she doesn’t always like being treated like a china doll. go to town. BUT you must also be good at taking your time. tenderness is a good trait to have in every day life, but if you can translate that into the intimacy of the bedroom, give her a slow buildup, ur golden. turn offs: unnecessary rudeness, lack of independence. anyone who treats her like she needs protecting, or thinks she needs to confine herself in some way, for any amount of time. never laughing at her terrible jokes, or indulging her seemingly random curiosities. being a skybreaker. love language: physical touch is primary, but quality time and words of affirmation are also great. relationship tendencies: shallan has a tendency to fall fast. even when she’s telling herself to be careful and take things slow, it’s easy to pull her in and have her grow an attachment on a superficial level fairly early. she’s good about letting the other person lean on her for support, but she’s not so great when it comes to sharing anything deep about herself. she has a habit of trying to mold herself into what she thinks the other person would like, and clinging to that. if confused she might play around with feelings, though she’s not fully aware she’s doing it. she’s big on positive reinforcement, she’ll let you know if she enjoys your company, and when she’s invested in the relationship, she’ll look for fun ways to spend time with that person. she might attempt to appear more serious and mature than she is, but her silliness will slip out. when she loves though, she loves completely, and a distracted heart is settled once she makes a decision about what she wants.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song: flowers, from ha.des.town iris, goo goo dolls moth’s wings, passion pit: this is more a general vibe. i picture it when shallan is in a creative spurt. sun, sleeping at last: for the same creation aesthetic. fire drills, dessa (for when she finally Snaps. and also some lines just really Hit)

hobbies to pass the time: drawing is the big one. she’s always got her sketchbook and something to draw with on hand. it’s an art she’s perfected and uses it both for her lightweaving, and to relax. she enjoys scholarship, exploring history is of a special interest, but taking a closer look at the local flora and fauna is just as fun. she’s naturally curious, so if something grabs her attention, she will want to take a look. she also enjoys discussing what she’s working on with other people, sometimes just so she can use them as a sounding board, but also because they might have insights she doesn’t. it’s very fun for her to explore ideas. she likes going on walks, exploring the area around her. just spending quality time with people she enjoys too. mental illnesses: Dissociative Personality Disorder is the big one. ADHD, PTSD, some depression. physical illnesses: None. left or right brained: right fears: CONFINEMENT. she fears vulnerability and relying others, but she also craves it quite a bit. she fears being understood completely because she’s certain there isn’t anything left to love if someone were to see everything. she fears what she can’t understand, and losing the people she loves, more than she already has. self confidence level: extremely low. she projects an air of self confidence, but frequently downplays her talents. she finds it completely astounding that adolin might actually find her attractive in any sense, let alone be interested in her as a person. her trauma and what she precieves as crimes has left her feeling hollowed out, because she is so terrified of someone really Seeing her, she works hard to hide those corners of herself from others and often feels like she’s failing at even that. vulnerabilities: shallan keeps secrets. too many of them. and she can often dig herself into a pit and struggle to get herself out, and even when she’s in that deep, she has difficulty asking for help. she doesn’t always think things through. her dpd can leave her particularly vulnerable depending on which personality is in control (veil in particular has trouble seeing the Big Picture). it’s easy to goad her into a fight (of the verbal variety) and she will stop at nothing to have the last word. if you have members of her family to hold over her, that’s a good tool. and shallan cannot resist a good mystery, that is a surefire way to pull her in.

tagged by: @luck-crowned tagging: @marblecarved (for mary, emma, or horace!), @melnchly (meg or ros), @minastiriiths, @arturiusrex, @gxtenoughnxrve, @ambiidexter, and @arborvitas

#c. shallan #this took me several days of fact checking the books for some shit lmafo #anyway meet my garbage daughter

13 notes · View notes

mamep · 4 years

Text

The Forging of the Legend: A Prologue to The Legend of Zelda

I wrote an almost-8,000 word fanfic to try and give the original Legend of Zelda game some context and backstory. Also, it’s my first real fanfic. While I did add a handful of things that were not mentioned at all in the original two games and their accompanying material, this story diverges from the source material in a couple of small ways.

It can also be read on AO3, linked here! Otherwise, it’s below the cutoff.

(CW: graphic violence, mild gore, warfare)

”The Forging of the Legend”

by mamep

“One, two!” a man said, his voice matched with the strikes of his wooden sword. “Link, keep your eyes up!” He laughed alongside the forest’s summer breeze. Eventually, the man raised his weapon up high, and the boy froze at the sight. It was too heavy, too quick, and the boy was disarmed with the blow landing on his shoulder.

Link was only ten years old and could barely keep up with his father’s sweeping attacks, who stood over him with the end of his wooden sword put in the ground, offering his hand. Link took hold of it, and was pulled up faster than he expected, almost losing his breath just as quickly as when he was blown back.

“That was too fast,” Link said, still grimacing and holding his left shoulder. “Can we take a break?”

“Of course,” said his father, “but not for too long. Here, have a swig of this.” Reaching behind his back, he gave his son a waterskin, unlatching the top. Link noticed it wasn’t the waterskin at front of his belt that he usually drank from. “Come on now, we haven’t got all day.”

Link gingerly took a sip from it, reeling from the aftertaste.

“Haha! It’ll do that to you,” his father said. “Alright, show it to me.”

The boy pulled back the sleeve of his olive roughspun tunic, revealing the fresh bruise on his shoulder, just starting to redden.

“It tingles,” Link said. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The boy’s father smirked. “It’s special water, from a spring deep in the woods. They say it’s got fairy dust mixed in, and it’s handy for pain and wounds.”

“It tastes funny,” Link mumbled, paying little attention, but he drank again.

“Alright, alright! Not too much!” the boy’s father said, taking the waterskin back. “I went through a lot of trouble getting to that spring. Come on, let’s continue.”

“Father, why do we have to do this?” Link groaned. The water healed his shoulder, but the young boy was still tired, and there was yet target practice after this.

Link’s father lost his smile in the wind, and he knelt down to match his son’s height. “Because I fear for you, my boy. You must be able to protect yourself, to not fall in the face of danger. Courage when it matters most.”

Link could only stare back into his father’s eyes, wondering at what he meant.

High in a tower of the decrepit Hyrule Castle stood Princess Zelda, looking over her realm from a small balcony. The sun shone brightly, revealing all from the crags of the Death Mountain Range to the glimmering coasts of the Great Hyrulean Sea and beyond. However, a frown made itself apparent on the princess, and she sighed deeply.

“My princess, what bothers you?” said an old woman, whose voice carried some whimsy. She tended to the hearth in the princess’s chamber, one she had taken up use of recently over the comfort of her former bedroom. The choice baffled the nursemaid, as the coming autumn would keep this place cold, even with the nearby fire. The princess had found her nursemaid’s jovial tone could easily lower her guard, however reluctant she was to yield.

Zelda let loose her tense shoulders. “This sight saddens me, Impa,” she said. “This realm they call a lesser Hyrule was once a grand country, much larger than... this.”

Impa approached the princess. “I know, child.”

“My people have dwindled, either by the division of this country, or that there is little wealth remaining in these lands. The few that have lingered can barely make a living in this petty kingdom.”

The princess looked down below at castle bailey, watching the handful of knights and workers going about their daily duties. She could barely afford to pay them, and some were even volunteers, whose help Zelda graciously accepted despite her shame.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t speak so little of your country,” Impa said warmly. “Petty kingdom or not, the name of Hyrule remains proud, for it still keeps the greatest treasures of all. No amount of wealth can surpass them.”

“Not ‘them,’ but ‘it’... Were it that I could wield the full ensemble of the Triforce... With but a single wish from my heart’s depths, I could rule Hyrule properly and lead my people to prosperity, like the monarchs of old.”

Impa looked at her princess more closely, seeking to understand.

“I only want to do right by my people, Impa. That means making the right decision, even when it is difficult.” Zelda turned to her nursemaid, with unease weighing heavily in her brow. Impa noticed a glint of light from the back of Zelda’s right hand, which the young princess quickly hid with the other.

“Princess, what have you seen?” Impa asked.

Zelda breathed deeply, looking away for a moment. “An evil will strike this country soon, Impa, I am sure of it. Surely you have heard the rumors? The monsters stalking the wilds are amassing in greater numbers, even stealing weapons and tools from the outer villages in the night. Never before have they acted like this. There are even whispers of certain people consorting with them.”

“It’s certainly odd...” Impa said, maintaining a willful skepticism. “Perhaps Your Highness can arrange for more guards patrolling the roads? To protect the people from monsters, to dissuade dealing with them. But it may require some further thrift here...”

“No mere soldier can protect this land from what is to come, from what I have foreseen. You know of what I mean, Impa.”

“Your Highness, I am not so sure...” Impa said, reluctant to believe she would witness the fabled calamity return in her lifetime.

Zelda again looked back over the remains of her kingdom, lamenting its decline. “The fate of Hyrule will be decided in the very near future, Impa, at a point in time I cannot yet discern past. All else before then, however...” Zelda breathed deeply, trying to stand up straighter, more strongly. “The decision is still difficult.”

Impa’s voice became grave. “What must be done, my princess?”

“Please prepare for an escape from the castle, Impa,” Zelda said. “Not even this place will be safe from the storm.”

Link had begun to get the hang of his father’s training. His eyes could keep up with the wooden sword’s dance now, and his footwork had gotten better, too. This time, they practiced outside their home atop a small hill in the outskirts of their woodland village, with the sun setting behind the western mountains. Link’s mother was preparing thin wooden panels as targets, resisting the itch to practice on them herself before her son would complete his sword training for the day.

“Three, four!” his father said, and Link deftly parried his strikes aside, his green cap bouncing slightly with his movements.

“Five!” he shouted, to Link’s surprise, but the young boy quickly jumped back, evading the blow. Having put too much force behind his swing only to hit air, Link’s father stumbled forward, trying to regain balance. With a smirk, Link then leaped forward, lunging with his wooden sword, and the tip landed squarely on his father’s chest.

“Alright, alright, I yield,” he said, and Link withdrew, cheering a little.

“Link!” his mother called out. “Rest for a moment, and then get your slingshot!” Yet the boy was filled with energy despite the autumn chill, and grabbed the small tool lying aside the log Link’s father sat on.

“Let’s start now, Mother!” he said, pulling on the sling loaded with an acorn.

She sighed in wonder as she attached the target to the clothesline. “Ready?” she said, and then turned the crank on the contraption, attaching more targets as she went. From one end, the wood panels swayed in the air as they were pulled along. Link quickly landed the acorns on three out of four targets, though not very accurately, before they reached the other end of the clothesline.

“What about the fourth, Link?” his father said, taking a drink from his waterskin.

“It’ll do, dear!” his mother replied, watching Link as he looked for acorns that remained intact. “Don’t worry, Link. You’ve gotten good at this very quickly. You’ll be perfect in no time.”

“Can I try again?” Link asked, restless.

His mother laughed. “Of course, of course.”

But as she turned the crank the other way to bring the targets back, a scream was heard from the far side of the village. The three of them turned in its direction immediately, and Link’s father jumped from his seat to get a closer look.

There was a clang of metal, and another scream. Embers caught on another villager’s thatch roof, quickly lighting it ablaze. The piggish roars of moblins were enough to turn Link’s knees to jelly.

“Something’s wrong,” Link’s father said, urgently walking back to the door of their home. “Link! Quickly, now!” he said, and the boy obeyed, following him inside. Moving aside their supper table and the fur pelt beneath it, he revealed a trapdoor blended in with the planks of the floor, and he easily stuffed Link in the tiny space beneath their home.

“But Father!”

“No buts. Stay here and don’t make a sound until you hear me or your mother call for you. Do you understand?”

“It’s for your own safety, Link,” his mother said. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”

Link hesitantly nodded.

His mother took down a short bow from the wall, with simple wooden arrows in a large quiver, while his father pulled a thick club out from behind their bed, larger than the wooden swords they used for training. They wasted no time in shutting the trapdoor and putting the pelt and table back above it before heading out toward the rest of the village.

Link sat in the darkness of the hidden space, trying not to make a sound against the old wood, loose soil, and pebbles he sat against. Soon, the door to their home opened again.

“Mother? Father?” Link whispered, fear forcing still his throat.

He heard a dog-like snarl, and the moblin stomped on the planks of the floor, sniffing around for life. It took all Link had to not yelp in fright as he hugged his knees.

“No one here!” the moblin growled, and Link heard the heavy stamps of its feet leaving the house, and the door slammed shut. Link sighed in relief, but his face shot up when he heard crackling sounds above him. Through the little cracks between the floorboards, he could see an orange light, and Link pounded at the trapdoor above, screaming for his parents. But they weren’t there, and the door would barely budge against the weight of the table.

For a moment, Link despaired at his weakness, wailing in pain from throwing his forearms against the dirt wall. None of the training he endured had prepared him for this, nor made him stronger than his ten-year-old body. He cried at his powerlessness, at not knowing what to do.

In a moment between his deep breaths, he remembered his father’s words, muffling the sound of everything else, just for an instant.

Courage when it matters most.

Link found strength in his legs, and again he pushed up against the trapdoor, managing to open it just a little. A flicker of fell light and smoke threatened his focus. With the full weight of the table above him, Link could barely move it any further than a foot, but then he heard a thud behind him. Something on the table fell off, and then another, and Link pushed harder than before, every fiber of his muscles screaming. With a final push and his foot now against the edge of the floor above, he threw the trapdoor back and leapt out from the darkness.

With the support beams of his house’s roof collapsing, Link slammed his weight against the burning door, dashing right through, sustaining a few burns on his hand and legs, while the loose threads of his shirt and tunic singed away. By now, much of the rest of the village was on fire, homes and trees alike, covering the red sky in a thick smoke. Sparing no time to think or catch his breath, Link grabbed his slingshot and his wooden sword, and ran toward the village.

“Mother! Father! Where are you?” he called out as he neared the center of the village, its houses all ablaze, its people running, fighting, and dying.

A young girl screamed as she scampered past Link, holding her stuffed doll tightly in her arms, both of them bearing little burns. Removing its weapon from the body of a village defender, a moblin gave chase, prepared to throw its spear at her.

“No!” Link yelled, and swung his wooden sword hard and low, catching the fiend on its ankle. It tripped, landing face-first into the dirt. The girl kept running, unaware she was safe for the moment, while the moblin growled as it got up and picked up its spear, now focused on Link.

The young swordsman jumped back, grasping his wooden sword in both hands. He raised it up for a high strike, and he felt it pulsate in his arms. The moblin charged at him, its spear aimed straight for the boy. Link only planted his feet and grit his teeth, and at the last second he jumped to the right and swung his sword down and forward to meet the fiend, landing the tip right on its unarmored head. The wooden sword erupted with a burst of rainbow light, and the moblin was thrown back, limp and lifeless.

Some distance away, another moblin roared “Blood for the king!”

“Blood for the king!” others yelled in unison.

Link was thoroughly winded from the blast, and as he confusedly regained his breath, he noticed his wooden sword was cracked and split in parts.

“There are more on the other side of the building!” he heard ahead. It was his mother’s voice.

“Mother!” he yelled, but got no response. Link quickly picked up the shield from the fallen defender, strapping it to his right arm as he ran forward.

Ahead, Link’s parents were engaged with a duo of moblins; his father quickly evaded the strikes of their spears, while his mother drew another arrow, aiming for their heads.

“Keep them still!” she said, narrowly evading the thrown spear of a moblin.

“I’m trying!” Link’s father yelled, bashing the now-unarmed moblin in the head. In close quarters, he attacked the other, and the moblin had no choice but to defend.

“Father! Mother!” Link called out.

“Link?” his father said, and the moment of distraction was enough for the moblin to overpower the man, its hooved foot kicking him back, undoubtedly breaking his ribs.

“No!” his wife screamed. On the ground, Link’s father then brandished a knife from his belt and plunged it deep into the upper leg of the moblin, ripping through flesh as he wrenched it back out. Link’s mother loosed an arrow through the moblin’s eye, and it fell back, frozen in its stunned pose. With great difficulty, Link’s father got up, barely able to breathe and unable to hold the large club he had wielded.

“Link, I told you to stay home...”

“I want to help!” he yelled loudly in defiance.

“Link,” his mother said, running to him, “it’s not safe here.”

“It wasn’t safe at home! They burned it down!”

As Link’s father tried to approach them, holding his chest in pain, they heard roars on the other side of the buildings, through the crackling flame.

“More, more!”

“Blood for the king!”

Gasping, Link’s mother’s eyes darted around for assailants.

“Look at you,” Link’s father said, still some distance away, pushing against his forward leg for support. “My boy, my brave fighter—”

A spear slashed through his back, and a dog-faced moblin roared in victory, now pointing its weapon at the young boy straight ahead.

“No!” Link’s mother screamed, pulling him along by the arm, and running off as quickly as her legs could take her, as much as Link tried standing his ground.

“Blood for the king!” yelled the moblin as its spear sped through the air, and Link’s mother stumbled, falling with him tight in her arms.

Wresting himself out of her grasp, Link then threw the wooden sword with all of his might at the head of the charging moblin, its splintered and broken shaft knocking the creature out cold.

“Mother, come on,” he said, turning back to her, but his eyes were caught on the spear that had torn through her back.

“Link... You must run...” she forced out with the last of her breath, and the life faded away from her eyes, like wind through flowers.

Link, speechless with tears burning his eyes, screamed at the open sky. But the moblins were not yet finished. A handful of them remained, all gathering near the body of Link’s father, pointing their spears at him. One spiraled through the air right past him, landing and getting stuck in the ground. Something spurred Link’s legs to run, dashing away from the rain of the moblins’ spears and their stomping charge, running back home without a second thought.

His home was now entirely aflame, and part of the structure had collapsed. Frozen for a moment with wide eyes and the roars of moblins behind him, he grabbed the second wooden sword, once his father’s, and kept running. Over the hill and through the thick forest, Link ignored the burning in his legs and lungs, and kept running.

There was a banging at the castle’s gates, and the young Princess Zelda watched from above as scores of moblins kept throwing themselves into it with battering rams. An accident involving their crude bombs had dented the moblins’ numbers, but with the sheer amount of their recently arrived reinforcements, Hyrule Castle’s garrison had little hope beyond maintaining its defense of the wall. Hidden in the upper parapets, the wall’s few archers could properly hold their positions and pick their enemies off one by one, and the knights and fighters skillfully ambushed the ladder-climbing moblins, knocking them back and letting gravity handle destroying their poorly made tools. But the garrison’s supply of arrows would eventually run out, and the swordsmen just couldn’t keep up with all of the moblins coming for them.

“Blood for the king!” the beasts chanted. Together they would all stamp on the hopes of Hyrule’s last guardians.

“Set up the barricades!” the knight captain yelled, and others brought out what few they had to defend entrances to the keep both above the ramparts and down in the bailey. There was an explosion behind them on the other side of the keep, however, along with the screams of the handful of soldiers defending that position.

“No!” the knight captain yelled, his hand grasping his sword too tightly. “You all must hold this place at all cost, I must go—”

“You must stay where you are, Captain,” he heard in the far back of his mind. “That dark fiend is beyond you and all your soldiers. I will deal with it in time.”

He looked up to the keep’s tower, and though he could not see his princess, he knew she watched.

“I will stay here,” the knight captain said, raising his sword to his face, his eyes looking past its edges. “On my honor as a knight of Hyrule, I will smite the enemy of this land and protect my charge with my very life.”

With renewed strength, the captain led a forward push against the invading moblins, and together with his remaining soldiers, he cut through them with great speed and accuracy. His lovingly polished steel armor shone with a red gleam, and the weaker assailants were thrown back, awestruck when their spears would do little to harm him. While others went to deal with the ladder moblins at the ramparts, the captain faced those just now breaking through the front gate of the outer wall. He knew that the princess and the Triforce of Wisdom she wielded would see things right, and if he were to die on this battlefield, it would not be in vain so long as she lived.

Zelda above watched as her knights fought in spite of their dwindling numbers. “The stage is almost set. Impa, have you finished the preparations?”

“Your Highness,” Impa said, “I have readied our flight from the castle.” Her heart raced a bit too much for her old age. “But what was that sound?”

“It was an explosion, Impa. Their king has gained entry to our deepest vaults.”

“Princess... No! That is where...” Impa stopped herself upon noticing Zelda’s unchanging expression, as if it was something she expected to happen.

“Yes, Impa. Whether it is fate-designed, or pure happenstance that allowed this, I cannot say that it was a surprise. Or perhaps it was my weakness in not bearing the full Triforce as my ancestors did that allowed for this to come to pass.”

Impa would have scolded her were it not for the situation surrounding them.

“It matters not. He will be here soon. I have one more task to fulfill, but before that, you must escape the castle before he arrives.”

Impa’s eyes widened. “My princess! No, I cannot leave without you!”

“Impa, you must. The escape was never meant for me.”

“I will not leave you here to be left to the Demon King’s whims! The fate of Hyrule rests on your shoulders, Your Highness. So long as you live, Hyrule will survive, it can be wrought anew! Princess Zelda, you are Hyrule!”

“Nay, Impa. The fate of Hyrule is a shared burden. In this light, I require of you a mission, my faithful nursemaid.”

Unease forced Impa’s back to tighten, but she bowed all she could nonetheless. “What shall I do, Your Highness?”

“Seek someone of great skill and bravery, Impa. One whose shoulders can bear this weight. One with the will to save Hyrule.”

Impa breathed deeply, contemplating her mission. “I understand, my princess.”

“Now go, my dear Impa. We are running out of time.”

Impa’s feet were reluctant to move, but she bit her tongue and steeled her heart, and soon made for the lower hidden corridors of the castle. The castle’s few servants had gathered near the concealed exit, waiting for Zelda and Impa to flee together from the evil king’s wrath, but they would not see their princess this one last time.

Zelda returned to the balcony to observe the battle. Of the castle’s garrison, only the knight captain still remained. Though his breaths and sword were heavy, he stood against the advancing enemy, ignoring all notions of tire and pain. The horde of moblins assembled around him, readying their spears to skewer the armored man to the door. He gathered his breath once again, raised his shield, and dug his feet into the ground.

“As I still draw breath, you will not enter this castle.”

“Choke him!”

“Trample on his throat!”

One moblin thrust its spear at the captain, but he easily deflected it with his shield and ran his sword through the moblin’s neck in one swift motion.

Then he heard thundering footsteps, coming from the other side of the wall. Even the moblins trembled at first, but soon a laughter erupted amongst them. There was a pounding on the other side of the still-shut front gate, undoubtedly the moblins trying once again to break through with a battering ram. But they were hushed with a single swipe, which the captain felt rend the air.

In an instant, the stout gate of Hyrule Castle was smashed to a thousand pieces, the fist of the demon standing at its threshold burning with a fell flame. It looked to be a pig-faced moblin, with its flat snout, fangs too big to keep in its mouth, and bearing dried skulls and spoils of war, but the similarities stopped there. Its hide was shaded in a skin-crawling blue, it had thick horns sprouting from its head though they were now broken, and even hunched it was much larger than its footsoldiers. Stowing its broad trident over its back, it cracked its knuckles, and behind the deeply dark flame wreathed around its hand, the knight captain could make out a faint light, its shape all too familiar to any servant of the Royal Family of Hyrule.

“Princess!” the knight captain cried out.

“Worry not, Captain,” he heard in his mind. “I remain unharmed.”

“But the ancient relic! The treasure of your family! No, why are you still here?” he said back to her.

“I could not find the will to wield it myself, for fear of what I would become with its power. You may rue me if you want, Captain.”

The captain’s shoulders dropped, watching the demon ahead stare him down. “No, my princess, I will not,” he said, “for I was too foolhardy to heed your warnings.”

In his weariness and the heat of the battlefield, he remembered the words the princess gave him before the siege, as he and his soldiers kept to their vigil.

“I ask that you flee as well, Captain, for I fear the might of this invading army and the one who leads it,” Princess Zelda had said. “Please, Captain, your defense here will be sure death.”

“Your Highness, my soldiers and I will defend the keep to make sure you and the others can escape to seek someplace safe.”

“And if I call upon your oaths to serve me, your ruling princess, without question nor defiance?”

“Then I would beg your forgiveness, for I am set on this path. I ask that you allow me this honor of protecting you. Once I know you have successfully escaped with your treasures, my princess, I will retreat with whomever I can. My soldiers are aware of this plan, and will act on it should you approve.” Though the captain’s eyes were elsewhere.

Zelda lamented this thread of fate, for she knew what the captain did not. “Captain, with great reluctance do I give you my approval, for I know that I cannot defeat fate... But I ask that you use this for your protection.” She presented to him a little ring made of a silver-red band bearing a dull garnet stone; a trinket to most people’s eyes. But he knew this was a preserved magic treasure of Hyrule Castle, to be kept for the assistance of the hero of legend.

The captain smiled, accepting it. “I only do this to protect you, Your Highness. I know that you will be a good queen one day.”

The hazy memory faded away, and Zelda shed a tear remembering it herself. Now, the captain stood alone against the dark fiend, this purported ‘Demon King,’ and its army of beasts.

“So this is how it ends,” the captain said, tightly gripping his sword and shield.

“I will stay with you to the end, my dear captain,” he heard, and it was warm.

The dark fiend’s hand flared again with its wicked flame, and the golden light that appeared under it radiated enough for him to see clearly. The fiend grabbed the knight, its hulking hand wrenching through his steel breastplate, right past the protective red light. Soon it collapsed, and the knight’s ribcage shattered entirely. Still holding him, the snarling fiend placed its forefinger over the knight’s head, and clenched its fist one last time.

With unreal strength, the fiend broke right through the gate to the castle’s keep, leading the moblin army with heavy footsteps that shook the building’s foundations. Though the princess had foreseen this outcome, with each time she felt the shock in her knees and spine, she couldn’t help but be frightened.

But the princess knew she had to perform her duty, even at her own expense. Her mind called out to Impa’s, and gave the nursemaid her final orders.

Zelda fortified her heart, raising her right hand forward, and the light Impa once saw on the back of the princess’s hand shone again. The intense light dimmed for a moment to reveal a marking – three perfect triangles joined in unison at their points to make one greater triangle. The triangle of the bottom-left gleamed more strongly than the other two, before the full marking dimmed completely. Zelda turned her hand, raising the palm high, and produced a single triangle, one that appeared immaculately carved from shimmering, unblemished gold.

Grasping the triangle in her hand, she clenched tight her fingers around it, yelping in pain. With great difficulty and searing pain in her very core, Zelda broke the golden triangle, light pouring from its cracks. It shattered into eight pieces, and Zelda struggled to walk back out to the balcony. The moblin army still stationed outside could not see her, nor would their shoddy bows and arrows reach her. Mustering what she could of her magic, the princess let loose the triangle fragments into the sky, each wreathed with a blinding blue light as they flew like missiles to different spots around her kingdom.

Traveling through a hidden clearing in the woods, Impa and the other servants watched as they soared through the dusk sky, and the elderly nursemaid’s heart sank as she came to understand the princess’s plan. Soon, a wandering detachment of moblins spotted them under the starlight. Against the sways of her heart, Impa split off to fulfill her duty. Despite that, most of the moblins roared and chased the servants, and a few followed Impa. With heavy breaths and weary bones, she ran for the hills.

At the tallest tower of Hyrule Castle, the dark fiend effortlessly broke through the door of Zelda’s chamber, and with a raised hand, a glowing barrier formed over the smashed doorway. The moblins looked on, touching the barrier in wonder, as the Demon King and Princess Zelda stood opposite each other.

“Say my name,” said the king.

“Ganon,” replied Princess Zelda.

“You know who I am. Then you know why I am here.”

“Yes, I know. You’re here to claim the Triforce.”

“What times Hyrule has fallen into, that the Triforce is unwhole.”

Zelda betrayed a hint of annoyance, and Ganon’s fanged mouth smirked.

“How do you feel, Princess, having watched me utterly decimate your forces? Knowing you never had a chance to stand against my army? My own power?”

“Your power is scarcely your own, Ganon. You have stolen a piece of the Triforce from me. Along with that arrow and many more things, I see.”

“What, this tiny needle?” He removed the arrow from his satchel, holding it by the shaft, carefully avoiding the silver arrowhead. “I know not what it is. It was kept in your vault, so it must have some value. Perhaps I’ll pick my teeth with it.”

“Despite bearing golden might, the blight they called Ganon was also known for his cunning and trickery.” She knew Ganon could tell the silver arrow was crafted as a weapon against him, blessed with moonlight in the hopes it would repel evil. He placed it back into the satchel, along with the little gold and rupees pilfered from the vault, and the red ring taken from the body of the knight captain. “Though perhaps little of your scheming mind remains, having revived as many times as you have. Maybe once this happens again, you will end up a slimy thing, struggling to even stand.”

Ganon growled. “Do not think I will leave these foul tools here for your hero to claim. Oh yes, Princess, I know. Each and every time I have risen, in turn you raised the hero against me. I expect to meet him soon. It is only a matter of time. May I kill him in the cradle.”

Zelda showed an inkling of sorrow. “How could I have raised a hero, with my kingdom as weak as it is now? Perhaps this will be the time you win and break our cycle, Ganon.”

He roared in laughter. “Tell me, Princess, why did you not wield the Triforce of Power yourself? You knew I was coming for you, for it. You could have taken it in your hand to rule over this lesser Hyrule and beyond. You could have used it to destroy me on the battlefield, and none of your soldiers would be dead. Your knight would still live.”

“Do you think I would bandy such words with a foul creature like you?”

“Entertain me, Princess. You have done so up until now. Why stop?”

Every minute she could scrounge for Impa’s flight was precious, but in truth Zelda wanted not to speak of this, least of all with Ganon.

“I would not wield the Triforce of Power in fear of what it would make me. I arm myself with wisdom, so that I can discern what is right and what is wrong... and what will come to pass. With the Triforces of Wisdom and Power, I would see my country restored to its classical splendor, but I may also become a wrathful queen... And when I see your wretched and vile existence, Ganon, I fear it all the more.”

“You fear power would outweigh your ruler’s wisdom... You are scared witless to act as any ruler must. And without the third to complete it, you cannot make your wish upon the Triforce,” Ganon said, his toothy grin curving hideously. “Then give it to me, my Zelda.” He outstretched his massive clawed hand.

“You? The one called ‘Demon King’? I would sooner fling myself from this tower than give it to you, foul beast.”

“Then do so. I would claim the Triforce of Wisdom from your lifeless corpse. Princess, me having left you alive the moment I entered this room was mere courtesy, from ruler to ruler. As much of a dung heap this country has now become, I have come to respect you in some little way for defying me so many times. Give to me your share of the Triforce, and I will give you your life, to live the rest of your pitiful days in Hyrule’s carcass.”

With her head down and eyes closed, Zelda began to smile, seemingly resigned to her fate.

“You know this is the only way you get to live. Your Wisdom will show you.”

Zelda raised her head and met Ganon’s stare, and her smile became wry.

He growled. “Princess... Where is the Triforce of Wisdom?”

“It is gone. I no longer bear its light.”

“WHERE IS THE TRIFORCE?!”

“Not even I know, Ganon.”

“YOU LIE!”

“I have broken my piece into many pieces and scattered them around my country. It may take you a long time to find them, even if you knew where to start. But wisdom you do not have.”

He roared again, and the floor beneath him cracked. “Foul, despicable girl! I will kill you! I swear it! I will kill you worse than your puny knight!” Ganon’s hand glowed with the mark of the Triforce, its upper triangle of the three shining most brightly.

Zelda’s knees almost buckled.

“Stay your hand, demon. You will not kill me.”

“Do you mean to test me?!”

“I am the only one who can divine where the pieces of the Triforce of Wisdom have become hidden. Kill me, and you lose your fastest way to acquiring it.”

“I can wait,” he snarled. “I have become very patient.”

“Do you expect to gather them all before the hero comes for you?”

“You admit it, then? You have raised a hero to defy me?”

“Nay, I admit that I have not. But I doubt you want to wait long enough to see one rise on their own, Ganon.”

“Vile, wretched princess. Your own existence disgusts me. Long have the people of Hyrule enjoyed the bounty of their land. You can imagine how happy I was to see how you all now suffer in this waste of a land, like mine. Fine then, Princess. You can play your little game of rebellion against me. Divine for me these cursed places where you have hidden the Triforce of Wisdom. When it rests complete and whole in my hand, I will claim your skull as the price for your childish defiance.”

Ganon clenched his glowing fist and a crystal prism formed around Zelda, trapping her in the fiend’s clutches. With the princess and her family’s treasures in tow, Ganon and his army left Hyrule Castle and marched for his base at Death Mountain.

Impa had been running almost nonstop for hours, and by the time the sun began to rise, she was all but exhausted. She found herself in a clearing outside the forest, near a low plateau by the kingdom’s southern borders. The nursemaid’s old body hurt beyond belief and capacity, but with the moblins having not given up on the chase, she could not spare much time for rest.

As she sat against a tree to catch her breath, only a few minutes passed before she heard rustling from within the trees. Impa groaned in pain and worry, with beads of sweat falling from her brow as the stomps and growls of moblins approached.

“Oh, Princess, I don’t know if I can do the mission you gave me... Forgive me for my weakness, sweet child...”

The very moment one of the moblins stepped out from the thicket into the clearing, something zoomed through the air, hitting one in the eye. In throes of pain, the moblin unwittingly slashed at the other three. More projectiles zoomed through the air as a boy holding a slingshot jumped out from a tree, continually readying new shots.

“There! Kill the runt!”

Two moblins flung their spears at the boy, who dodged one and deflected the other with his small shield. Loosing another acorn at the eyes of a moblin, the boy’s already-worn slingshot broke, and he threw it away before drawing his wooden sword, also battered and cracked. Swift as the wind, he dove into the thrashing pile of moblins, throwing them all back with a spin of his sword. Impa gasped in awe as she watched the boy fight. One would think a child would scream, hold their head, and run when faced with a moblin, a devilish and ever meat-hungry forest beast often mentioned in stories meant to make the children behave. Yet this boy fought unwaveringly with four moblins armed and trained for feral warfare. Impa thought the boy moved like a green flash, watching him whittle each of them down with the strikes of his sword.

The last of the four moblins, a larger blue-skinned kind, got in a lucky strike with its spear, cutting past the boy’s sleeve and skin. Still, he held his shield and his sword, almost snapped in half at this point, to face the fiend. It roared, putting all its force behind a quick thrust. But the boy deflected it to the side and jumped forward before using his shield to bash in the side of the moblin’s knee, and it fell. The boy then tightly grasped the hilt of what remained of his wooden sword, and smashed it into the moblin’s head. Any life that remained in the moblin was now gone, and the wooden sword was now broken, little of it remaining past the guard. After a moment of contemplation, the boy cast it aside.

“Young boy,” Impa called out weakly, coughing.

He turned, staring at the small old lady sitting against the tree.

“Come here... Quickly, please.” Impa slowly tried to stand, and when she almost fell, the boy ran to support her, and he gave her his waterskin to drink from. There wasn’t much, and Impa had not expected she would drink it all. Still, it rejuvenated her, and pain slowly left her body, though she was still weary. “What a good lad you are...”

The boy kept silent, focusing on carrying the small woman forward where she wanted to go. He squeezed out the last drops of the fairy water over the wound on his arm, and it stung and steamed as it closed shut.

“I am Impa, servant of Princess Zelda. She needs your help.”

The boy inhaled sharply when he heard the name. Though his home was a few miles from the Kingdom of Hyrule’s official borders, he had seen the few soldiers the castle had when they were on their regular patrols around the region, and he knew of the attack on Hyrule Castle. Though he had never seen the princess, his parents had sometimes talked about the state of the kingdom and the overall Hyrule region.

My parents...

Though Impa remained quiet waiting for a response, some semblance of acknowledgement, the boy’s thoughts trailed off in remembering his mother and father. Yes, he had to escape his house to live, but if he hadn’t called out to them, distracted them in battle, revealed their position to the moblins, perhaps they...

“Young boy? Surely you aren’t deaf.”

His mouth frowning tightly, the boy turned to face Impa and shook his head.

“Dear me,” she sighed in some mixture of worry and relief. “I must ask your forgiveness, boy, but Princess Zelda and this land of Hyrule need your help. I fear I must believe you are its best hope. Please, will you at least tell me your name?”

The boy felt as if his throat was bound in fetters. He managed to utter something with some difficulty, as if he was remembering himself.

“Link.”

“Oh my, a strong name. I will not have to call you the boy who hides in trees,” Impa said, laughing to herself.

Link carried her to the edge of the plateau, and she sat again, breathing deeply. Together they faced the remains of the kingdom, from the Death Mountain Range in the northwest and the Great Hyrulean Sea in the far east. Though the plateau wasn’t very high, they could see much of it clearly. The Lost Woods, Lake Hylia, Spectacle Rock upon Death Mountain itself... Some thought these grandiose names were all Hyrule had to remember its former glory.

“The princess is... in Ganon’s clutches, the one called ‘Demon King,’” Impa said, but her words were unsure and very pained. “To keep it out of his possession, she has broken a treasure most vital to Hyrule’s peace, its heart. It is the Triforce of Wisdom, a triangle of gold, now split apart in eight pieces.”

Link nodded, remembering the lights he saw the night before.

“I am not entirely sure of pieces’ locations, but there are many strongholds throughout the kingdom. They are older than even me, but they were well built... some even hidden by magic, to be used in the defense of this country. I am sure the princess has hidden the pieces of the Triforce within their depths. But the strongholds themselves have been in disuse for ages... There is talk of monsters and other evils having taken up residence.”

Impa was surprised, yet joyed nonetheless to see Link’s glare remain steady.

“You must recover the Triforce of Wisdom, both to keep it out of Ganon’s hands, and to save Zelda from him. For Ganon has taken its counterpart, the Triforce of Power. Without Zelda’s treasure, you cannot hope to battle with the Demon King. Link... I know not if I can trust you with the princess’s mission, but please, you must help.”

With his brow heavy, Link only nodded.

A smile formed on Impa’s face, but strength began to leave the old woman’s eyes.

“I leave it to you... Please, save Zelda... Save Hyrule...”

Impa lightly fell to the side, and Link gasped, but when he heard her snore, he knew it was alright. Just below them at the foot of the plateau, Link saw a person, an old man, who had seemingly been watching them. The old man turned back, hobbling into a cave of which the entrance Link could barely see. Doing what he could to lift Impa over his back, he carried the old woman down a pathway leading below, and took her into the cave.

With the cave illuminated by fires in two pots, the old man sat against the rear wall, with some scavenged provisions and a walking stick at his side. He looked upon Link warily as the boy laid Impa down against the cave wall.

“I saw enough of what happened, young boy,” the old man said. “You’re quite skilled, I have to admit. I can watch over the lady until she wakes. But I don’t have much in the way of provision here myself, and I don’t know if I’ll last so long anyway.” Link noticed some spots of red in the cave floor, and a bloodied rag wrapped around his leg.

Link nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait!” the old man yelled. “It’s dangerous out there. There are those pigs lurking about, but more creatures have come out from the trees, down from the mountains. You’re one boy, all alone. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but there’s a weapon, right over there, if you need it...”

Link turned to see a moblin’s spear off to the side, its head carved from animal bone. Link’s lip curled in unhidden disgust, and he shook his head.

“I see... Then, the only other thing I have left is this. Take it.”

The old man pulled from behind him a sheathed sword, holding it out as Link approached and took the weapon from his hands. Keeping an eye on the old man, he unsheathed the sword carefully; it was an old thing, rusted in parts, but still serviceable. Link swung it lightly a few times to get a feel for its weight before putting it back in its scabbard and strapping it to his tunic’s belt.

The old man smiled. “I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got. And someone so young shouldn’t wield a sword so easily... It is less a boon than it is a burden.”

Link’s heavy stare met the old man again.

“But I suppose you already knew. I’ll keep you in my prayers, boy. Should I live, perhaps I’ll hope to see you again.”

Link took another look at Impa before leaving the cave. Back outside, he turned to face the cave, and took another look around him. In the far distances, he saw a cluster of tektites to the west, and more octoroks to the east and north.

He knew not why he had accepted Impa’s request so readily. He knew little of Princess Zelda, had no deep love for Hyrule. He could leave this place if he wanted to, and anyone in their right mind would. But even though the hate he bore for Ganon and his minions still burned strong, part of him felt compelled to do this task out of some duty.

“O brave hero,” Link heard. It was faint, far-off yet still close. “O brave hero, venture north. The great lake, you will find the first piece you seek. Save Hyrule.”

No longer alone, Link grasped his sword tightly, and took his first steps into the wild.

11 notes · View notes