#while many want to refine gesture.. we like it. we refine it a bit sometimes but those are Stiffer. inherently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spencersawkward · 4 years

Note

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted!

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

985 notes · View notes

silkling · 3 years

Text

Of Mistakes Past and Missing Home

Of Moments of Life AU

———————————————————————————————————

“You enjoy painting.”

The voice came from behind Boulder, and the unexpectedness of it made him startle. Which, in turn, made him jerk and drag his paintbrush across his canvas. The result of which was him turning a small cloud above a red and orange flower field into a streak that cut through the whole picture. Oops. That wasn’t what he’d been intending.

He turned to see who had spoken, his optics shuttering with surprise when he realized it was Dreadwing. He was quick to realize that the Seeker’s expression had quickly shifted to one of regret.

“I apologize, youngling. It seems I caused you to ruin your art.”

Boulder only smiled, shaking his helm. “It’s no big deal.” he assured. “Part is the artistic process is making mistakes and having to start over. I did it a lot, in the beginning.” He glanced at the canvas, tilting his helm. “But that doesn’t mean every mistake requires you to start over from scratch. That’s the great thing about painting.” he remarked distractedly, tilting his helm in the other direction. “Sometimes, a mistake can be turned into something new, maybe even something better.” he narrowed his optics, then they lit up with a realization. “Sometimes,” he repeated. “All you need,” he reached out, then turned the canvas around so what had once been the flower field was now at the top of the painting. “Is a new perspective.”

When he glanced back, Dreadwing didn’t seem to understand. Boulder smiled. “Let me show you.”

He picked up his paintbrush again, then lifted it and in a few short strokes he added to the stripe that sliced through the picture he’d been painting. He changed colors, adding some more careful strokes around that, and stepped back. It would need refining, but the shape and idea of what he was going for were there.

“See? It’s a feather in the sunset, now.”

Dreadwing only blinked. “I suppose, though I’m afraid I do not much understand art. I always preferred to read data pads and learn about various fields of study.” There was a pause. “Skyquake enjoyed art.” It was a quiet addition.

Boulder found his smile softening. “Yeah? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” he encouraged. He glanced at his canvas. “I like art. There’s no set way to do it and there’s not much penalty for making mistakes. It’s nice.”

The Seeker hummed. “Do you believe most mistakes can be fixed with a new perspective?”

Boulder blinked, frowning. There was something off in Dreadwing’s tone. The others might not pick up on it, but he was good with other bots. He always had been. “…this isn’t just about painting anymore, is it?”

Dreadwing startled, surprise making his field flare. “You are far more perceptive than your teammates.” he said after a moment.

Blades smiled, turning to fully face the flyer. “Blades gets too anxious and wrapped up in his own helm to really pick up on more subtle emotions, Chase can barley understand the complexities of his own feelings, let those of alone others, and Heatwave is too proud and headstrong to really know what to look for. They’re all good bots, and I care about them a lot, but they aren’t the most..”. he searched for the right word. “Emotionally intelligent. Blades can read others really well when he isn’t swept up in his worries, but the other two are a bit hopeless.” He wasn’t saying it to be mean or to criticize. It was just the way his friends were wired, he knew. They were naturally better than him at a lot of other things. It was just how things were.

Dreadwing nodded, acknowledging his words. “You are correct. It is not just about painting. But it is my burden to bare, and I will not trouble you with my struggles.”

Boulder chuckled. “Well that’s a bad idea.” he said lightly. “You’ve already helped us a lot. Chase told the team what you did for him. We’ve all seen what you’ve done for Blades. Why don’t you let us help too? You’re one of us now, it’s gotta be about give and take.”

Dreadwing stared. “Wise words for one so young.” he sighed. “Very well, I will share my thoughts.” he vented harshly, then stared intently at the painting Boulder had been working on. “My mistakes are many, and brutal, and not nearly as neat or benign as a misplaced streak of paint. I suppose I merely cannot see how a new perspective would fix them.” he said after a moment.

Boulder was quiet, before he lifted his gaze. “Can I offer my thoughts?” At Dreadwing’s nod, he continued. “You’ve made a lot of mistakes. You’ve done a lot of terrible things. I don’t doubt that. And I know there are a lot of Autobots who would want to see you pay for those mistakes.” he tilted his helm. “I don’t know the full scope of the War. I don’t know everything you’ve done. But I do know how bad off Cybertron was before we left it.” The Seeker shot him a startled look, and he smiled a little sadly,

“I didn’t join the Rescue Force just because I wanted to help others, Dreadwing. In fact, in the beginning, my motives were entirely selfish.” he explained. “When I got to the age where I’d be expected to work, I was told that my first shift would be at a construction site in Kaon. It scared me. I knew how dangerous construction work was and I knew that even if it didn’t kill me it would kill my spark to be forced into something I hated so much. The only escape, the only chance I had at something different, was the Rescue Force. So I signed up to the Academy, and the day I got in was the day I escaped what I would have suffered through otherwise. The others may not have been as aware of just how bad things were, but…I was from the lower castes, Dreadwing. I knew.” he said quietly.

The Seeker was surprised, his optics wide. He saw how Boulder gradually shrunk in on himself as he spoke, and it made something unpleasant twist in him. The bulldozer was usually more at ease and bright, it didn’t suit him to look so…defeated. After a moment of thought, he put a hand on Boulder’s back and stepped closer. He knew Chase would not want more than this, but Blades preferred hugs as his method of comfort. Dreadwing didn’t know what the little green bot preferred so he wanted to play it safe. His bid seemed to pay off, because Boulder shot him a faint smile.

“What I’m getting at is, I know how bad off Cybertron really was. So even if I don’t know your exact circumstance, I do have an idea of what might have pushed you over the edge. I did originally come from Nyon, after all. Granted, I came from one of its nicer quadrants, but…it was still Nyon.” Boulder sighed. Nyon, at one time, had been the cultural and religious center of Cybertron, rivaling Praxus in beauty and grandeur. But under Zeta Prime, Sentinel’s predecessor, it had fallen into near-total ruin. “You made mistakes, and some bad choices, but you only did it in the end when you were backed into a corner and had nowhere else to go. Your choice was the only one you had that would let you remain alive, and that was wrong. No one should have to choose between death and living life serving a tyrant.”

Dreadwing hadn’t explicitly said any of this, of course. But Boulder was perceptive, like the Seeker himself had said. He’d read between the lines. He had understood what Dreadwing hadn’t been saying. It was one of the reasons he’d so quickly accepted the large bot as a new fixture in their lives. In his optics, this was Dreadwing’s chance at a life he should have had to begin with.

“That doesn’t change what you did, but it adds context. And given that the War destroyed Cybertron and decimated our people…” Which had been another thing Optimus had opted not to tell them. Dreadwing had had to share that particular tidbit. “Well, the War has to end someday, and if it ends in Autobot victory then we can’t afford to lock up every ‘Con. I don’t think there’s enough Cybertronians left for that.”

He realized he hadn’t yet gotten around to answering Dreadwing’s statement, and embarrassment flushed through him. “You made mistakes. That’s true. But context adds perspective. And you have a chance here to prove to anyone in the future who would want to hold your past against you that you can do better. Griffin Rock is your trial run. Heal, relearn how to live without War, and make amends while you’re here. Then, when everything comes to an end and the dust settles, it’ll be a lot harder for people to say that you never tried to make things right or that you’re unwilling to change.” he looked up to meet Dreadwing’s gaze. “Prove to yourself that you can be better than who you used to be, and when the time comes for you to face your mistakes, everyone will see that you have what it takes to make it right.”

Dreadwing was frozen, and Boulder found himself smiling at the hints of shock in his field and gaze. “I…had not considered those points.” the Seeker admitted after a long minute.

Boulder chuckled. “New perspective, remember? I just so happened to be able to provide it. That’s part of the benefit of letting yourself trust and rely on others.”

The flyer shot him an indecipherable look, and nodded. “Thank you for reminding me of that, young one. I have not been able to put such faith in another since I last saw my brother. It is good to be reminded that I do not have to handle my burdens alone.”

Boulder beamed, nodding. His somber mood was seemingly forgotten and he gestured to his painting. “Glad I could help! Now, if you don’t mind, I have sudden inspiration for this and I’d like to finish it.” he said, stepping towards the canvas.

Dreadwing let his hand drop, head tilting. “May I watch?” At Boulder’s nod, he settled on a nearby crate and watched the bulldozer work. It was oddly soothing, seeing the colors go down on the canvas, watching the patterns and shapes form into a familiar image. Into…a very familiar image.

After Boulder finished the sunset and feather, he had begun painting…the Rescue Force Headquarters. And Dreadwing picked up the longing and melancholy in the youngling’s EM field. The Seeker’s spark ached at the bulldozer’s visible grief, and he frowned. So Boulder hadn’t so easily shrugged off his earlier memories of home and his life on Cybertron. Dreadwing was not surprised to see him painting the Rescue Force HQ. From what the youngling had said, it would have been the first place he was truly free of the shackles that had threatened to bind him.

Dreadwing said nothing until Boulder finished and stepped back, and it seemed he hadn’t realized what he’d been painting until then, because when he took in the whole painting his only reaction was to let out a quiet, surprised “Oh.”

Dreadwing stepped closer, letting his own field nudge at Boulder’s, and upon finding no protest he let it curl around the youngling. Boulder’s vocalizer clicked and reset itself before he was able to speak. “I hadn’t realized…”

Dreadwing hummed softly. “You miss it.” he could tell in the aching and longing that all but swamped the bulldozer.

“I don’t know why. Like I told you, I didn’t have the happiest beginnings back on Cybertron. But I still miss it. All of it, not just the Rescue Force. Nyon, too.” he said in a whisper.

Dreadwing put a hand on his back, keeping his field soft and soothing. “It is only logical. It was your home. It shaped you and created the foundation for who you are. And I doubt all of your young life was horrible. You said you came from the better areas of Nyon.”

Boulder nodded. “Yeah.” he admitted. “The All Spark Day celebrations were always amazing. And the bots were great. We all had the same origins and the same troubles so we all just…came together. We were…like a community.” he said softly. “We all took care of each other and helped each other and even if the city wasn’t always the best, the neighborhood we lived in was actually alright, for Nyon anyway. I never starved, even if I didn’t always have the best fuel. My life wasn’t great, but…it wasn’t horrible either. I miss all the good things.”

Dreadwing bowed his head. He couldn’t fully relate. He had had no such struggles in Vos, at least not until the Senate had banned any from leaving the city, but he could understand the longing. “Cybertron is dead, but it’s children are not. And hope for our home is not gone either. Perhaps one day there will be a way to return, and even if not, we still live. Once this War ends, it will be possible to keep the life of Cybertron’s heart and culture alive, even if the planet itself cannot be repaired.” he said softly. “You did not get to know Cybertron’s death as the rest of us did, for we knew our home was dying with each day the War dragged on. We had time to come to terms with the loss. You were forced to be confronted with it in a single, harsh day. The rest of us lost Cybertron in pieces, and you lost it all at once. The loss is harder on you than it ever was on me, or any other Cybertronian involved in the War.”

He paused to let the youngling take in all he was saying, the hand on his back smoothing up and down his tightly clamped armor plating. His tone gentled. “I cannot give you back your home, and I know that reminding you of your new home here on Earth will not make the ache go away. So I will only say this: grieve as much as you want for what you lost. Mourn what you were not able to have and the things you will never get back. If you deny yourself that much, you hurt only yourself.”

Boulder was shaking faintly, his frame just a few degrees too warm from the overwhelming force of the grief was processor was buckling under, and his optics threatening to leak cooling fluid in response. He turned a wide, shining look on to the Seeker. His field probed at Dreadwing’s as if asking for comfort, and his vocalizer clicked and reset itself before he actually was able to speak. “…Blades said you give good hugs.” he said quietly, his field holding the softest undercurrent of hope.

Dreadwing only hummed, gaze softening. So that was Boulder’s preferred form of comfort. He nodded, then wrapped his arms around the shaking youngling and pulled him close to his chest.

As Boulder trembled and let himself finally mourn the loss of his home, he found only one thought on his mind.

‘He really does give good hugs.’

———————————————————————————————————

And here’s the next installment in the “of moments in life” AU! I hope everyone liked it! This was fun! I have so much inspiration for this AU you have no idea.

Boulder is the most well adjusted of all the Rescue Bots. That’s why I figured he’d be the best one to help Dreadwing with his own issues. But, even then, he’s still just a kid! A kid who woke up out of a very long nap to learn that his planet is dead and everything he’s ever known has been destroyed. He hid it well, but that shook him hard.

Dreadwing now has THREE children! All he needs now to complete the set is the fire truck! He also needs proper one-on-one bonding time with his helicopter child because their first real binding experience was with everyone watching. So there is that!

Until next time, friends!

#of moments in life au #tfp #transformers prime #tfrb #transformers rescue bots #rescue bots #tfp Dreadwing #Dreadwing #tfrb boulder #rescue bots Boulder #Dreadwing lives #Boulder is the only well adjusted one of the group I SWEAR #he’s the only one who doesn’t desperately need adult help #this time it’s Dreadwing who gets therapy! :D #Boulder is homesick though #it’s a good thing Dreadwing is there to make it better!#Boulder and Dreadwing bond #Boulder gets a dad!#macadam

59 notes · View notes

local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

Oh! Previous ask lead me to some idea... can I ask for oneshot or small fic with mc (gender you can choice as you like) who manipulate Vil cause she knows his "weakness"?

belladonna - beautiful woman, deadly nightshade

warnings: yandere

,,You’re pathetic, Mr. Schoenheit.”

Your finger found it way underneath Vil’s chin and gently lifted it. Violet eyes were staring straight into your cold ones lacking any sort of compassion or emotions. Vil was crouching before the bed, while you laid on your stomach. You could see how he bit his lip, how his fists were clenched and how his eyes were filled with desperation.

You almost pitied him.

Almost.

Not after he had locked you in his room, forbidding any contact with outer world and slowly turned you into his pretty doll. Dressing you in various, designer clothes, styling your hair, applying perfect make-up and shaping you into belladonna. How many times Vil had forced love potion down your throat in forceful kiss, how many times you were punished and slapped for smearing make-up and destroying his hard work.

Vil instead of bringing out the best of you, brought the worst. You held no other feelings for him other than pure hatred.

After a while, Vil grew tired of your hazy gaze, high-pitched voice showering him in vague compliments concerning his beauty and your clingy touch. Love potion brought him happiness for rather short period of time. It was artificial and he couldn’t help but crave your approval.

Your sincere approval.

So you could alleviate his insecurities.

,,Absolutely pathetic, Mr. Schoenheit”

Vil shifted abruptly from your grasp, standing up, so he could tower over you. So he could feel more in control, even if you had him almost wrapped around your finger. You titled your head innocently, tongue wetting your bottom lip. Vil let out an exaspered sigh, as his hand run through his hair.

,,I don’t need any validation from you, potato”

,,Oh, are you sure? You look as if you wanted me to shower you praises and caress you”

Vil only snorted at your words, eyeing your form. You looked stunning, as always. After a while, you began to be tired from your constant fights against him. That doesn’t mean you became obedient. Not at all.

On the contrary, you became even more difficult than before.

You dressed in whatever clothes Vil chose for you, you followed every beauty routine he imposed on you, you weren’t hunted down by Rook, cause you haven’t attempted to escape.

Yet, Vil was fully aware of your actions. How you were rewarding him with your attention or any kind word. How sometimes you leaned in to his touch, after he let you walk around the Pomefiore gardens or your lips brushed against his willingly if Vil allowed you to speak few words with Yuu.

“What is it? Hmm, not so vocal anymore?”

You hummed, as Vil turned his face away from you.

,,I can make you say whatever I wish. Don’t think so highly of you”

Vil stated and you raised an eyebrow as if you were challenging his words. You entwined your fingers and settled your chin on top of them. You seemed as if you were debating what he had just said.

You truly looked beautiful, even with that cruel, cold smile you were giving him and with your eyes not holding an ounce of empathy. Vil eyed your figure dressed only in silk, white nightgown.

,,I may hate you Mr. Schoenheit, but I truly admire some of your traits. I can give you honest praises, but for a sufficient praise”

Your icy tone contradicted with a soft smile playing on your rosy lips, making Vil raise an eyebrow stunned at your offer. You never initiated any form of affection or approval unless you were influenced by love potions.

Maybe, he was seeking a validation from you.

Maybe, Vil wanted for a brief moment pretend you genuinely appreciated him. His hand clenched into a fist, debating whether to take your generous offer or politely decline it. He could force you into everything with mere drops of refined potions, yet it was never the same.

Honest.

Could you be honest and sincere? Vil had doubts, yet he was desperate.

He was craving any positive attention from you. He was willing to believe for a moment that you were genuine and truly loved him.

,,I will let you out for three hours”

“Without Rook?”

You inquired and Vil nodded with a heavy sigh. So, you had three hours to sneak out of Pomefiore gardens and reach Azul before Rook or Vil gets his hands on you again.

,,Then we have a deal. Come here!”

You clasped your hands, beckoning Vil over to bed with a gesture of your hand. He hastily took few steps, before sitting down on the plush mattress, his body slightly sinking into expensive fabric as it vainly caressed his skin.

You patted your thigh and Vil complied, putting his head down. Your fingers gently brushed through his silky, blonde hair and you could feel his muscles relaxing from tension. His hands began tracing gentle circles on your thigh and you almost shivered when his cold finger brushed against your exposed skin.

,,Vil…”

He restrained himself from a gasp, gritting his teeth. You’ve never called him by his name. Never willingly, since Vil had locked you in his chamber. You knew very well what effect you had on him. His hand stopped moving for a brief second.

,,Vil, I appreciate your efforts. You never give up and you always aim for being the best, it’s truly admirable how much you had endured just to reach your goals”

Your soft voice was calming and comforting and your gentle touch was slowly paralyzing Vil. Oh, how he wished you two could stay like this together.

Yet, he knew that each admirable and affable word was dripping with malice and vengeance.

Vil truly was pathetic and he was fully aware of this.

Belladonna.

That’s how he sometimes named you in his head. Beautiful name after a deadly nightshade. Your contagious beauty and seemingly sincere words were poisonous, slowly contaminating Vil’s heart.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vil #vil x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader #yandere twst #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland writing #twst writing #twst imagine #yandere twisted wonderland #vil x mc #requested

263 notes · View notes

miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

A Way Into the Future - Luxu

Alright, we’ve got the green light kiddos! So, without further ado, here’s my piece for the Shattered Fates - Foretller Zine. Enjoy!

Music Inspiration: I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead - Set It Off

~~~~~

Footsteps echo off the stone walls of the underpass beneath the Outer Gardens. One set—much faster than the other—struggles, moving unsteadily and with a lot of panic. It’s no wonder considering the owner of said steps took quite a beating. He put up a decent fight, but poor Braig had no hope of prevailing against his tormentor: a legend, a man of time, a Master—Luxu.

Ruthless yellow lights barely have the power to illuminate the tunnels, but the young man doesn’t need to see to know the man hunting him is not far behind.

As the black coat stalks persistently closer, his prey stumbles down the path, unaware that he’s being driven straight into a trap—doing everything that the stalker had intended to a T. Luxu has spent many years refining a variety of skills, both combative and strategic; coercing his victims into his snare is child’s play. Decades of thought have gone into formulating the criteria for his perfect vessel and, unfortunately for the young man, he matches every point perfectly.

Unbeknownst to the Radiant Garden native, Luxu had scouted his playground days prior to this encounter and had collapsed the only escape that gave his victim any prospect. His hope is effectively crushed at the sight of the clogged tunnel.

Eyes wide with pure terror, he turns back to Luxu. The sharpshooter has a quick draw, even in fear, but it proves just as useless as it had before. Barely any thought is spent on the barrier that prevents the bullets from reaching their mark.

“I already told you resisting me was useless,” Luxu drawls. “All this fear and pain could’ve been avoided if you had just done as I asked. But I guess it’s only fair to assume any self-respecting warrior worth his salt would struggle.”

Backed against the debris, the kid quivers. To his merit, he maintains his aim, despite how utterly doomed he is.

“What do you want with me?!”

Luxu pauses his approach. “Hmm, let’s see—that brand new job you just took at the castle is a good start.”

“A job? You want my job? I-I can talk to my boss! Just let me talk to Ansem!”

“I hate to tell you, kid, but I need more than your job. I need your entire existence. Or more specifically, I need your body.” The boy’s petrified face goes pale. “My scapegoat has finally arrived; things are about to get very interesting and your life perfectly fits all my needs. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop struggling; I’d like to avoid injuring that body any more than necessary.”

As he closes the gap and the boy cowers beneath him, Luxu recalls how he came to be here, stealing the bodies of young men.

~~~~~

“Master, what is this?” the young man asks, looking over the paper and not entirely sure he’s read it correctly.

As he has many times before, Luxu stands in the Master’s study. The room is filled with books, vials, and plenty of objects of which Luxu couldn’t even guess the purpose of. The only thing he can be sure of is that none of it is as it seems, and that broad statement brings with it its own sense of security. It has always been filled with wonders and the Master seems to introduce him to a new one each time he visits. This time is no exception.

The eccentric man folds his arms. “What do you think it is?”

His voice catches in his mouth. He’s read it over once, twice, but surely, he must be mistaken. “This sounds like a method for taking over someone’s body.”

“Bingo! You are correct, sir!” the Master praises, waving his hands animatedly.

“WHAT?!” In his exclamation, young Luxu throws the paper in the air.

His master snatches the fluttering paper. “Don’t lose it! I only have one copy of that!”

“Okay, one, why don’t you make another copy? And two, why do you know how to possess someone’s body?!”

“Oh, I don’t know how; this is all just theory. I wrote it this morning.”

His master never fails to perplex him. “And you think I need it why?”

“Because you’re only human,” the Master of Masters replies. “That body of yours will become old and decrepit and weaken over time but your job will be far from done. So, you need some way to continue living and persist into the future.”

The Master may be a strange man, but it’s no secret that he enjoys pulling emotions from his pupils—his favorite being shock. Luxu has made a point to accept his master’s eccentricity and all it entails, having come to see the unpredictability as predictable. It’s been a long time since the Master has been able to truly flabbergast the young man.

Luxu’s arms wave in disbelief. “And you think body snatching is the way to do that?!”

Matching the animated gestures, the Master retorts, “Well do you have any other bright ideas?!”

Luxu glances away. “Couldn’t you figure out immortality or something else?”

The Master holds his arms up in an X. “Absolutely not. Immortality is far more complicated and we just don’t have time for that. So, this is your only hope of completing your task.” Again, the paper is pushed into Luxu’s hands. As the student stares at the page, the Master’s tone turns serious. “Remember, while the others have very important roles, everything hinges on the success of yours. If you don’t see this through, the Book of Prophecies won’t be written and things will fall in ruins.” His tone drops even more, almost as if he’s threatening his pupil. “And all those people you care about will die for nothing.”

Those words strike the young man. Aced, Ira, Invi, Gula, and Ava—they’re family. Even if they sometimes bicker and disagree, Luxu grew up with them. He already disliked the idea of them fighting, possibly to their destruction, but they’re all fighting for the light’s survival. If he doesn’t do his job, they’ll lose their guidance and their struggles will be meaningless—his family will die in vain.

But taking someone else’s body and losing his own: it’s unthinkably horrifying. He’d never considered that his body could be disposable; that something so undeniably “Luxu” could just be swapped out as easily as his coat. These thoughts become too much to deal with in this moment, so he decides not to. Still, he can’t simply throw away a key aspect of his master’s orders, so the paper is carefully folded and tucked into his jacket to address later.

“Thank you for your guidance, Master,” Luxu murmurs.

Back to his light-hearted self, the Master of Masters slings an arm around Luxu’s shoulders. “That’s more like it. Now, let me show you why you’re going to need that paper.”

~~~~~

Spasms wrack every gasp he takes. They come not from his chase of the now-unconscious man at his feet, but from the seriousness of what he must do next.

Staring down at his very first victim, he feels a heavy guilt in his chest. Based on what’s written, he can only assume the original heart will be ejected and either become a Heartless or ascend to Kingdom Hearts. This man had no say in the matter; he was hunted down like a dog and endured only terror and pain in his final moments. He’s still young and could’ve had a full life ahead of him filled with happiness and adventure. He had potential but Luxu deemed him a lamb for slaughter.

Luxu shakes his head; he can’t have these sorts of distractions dragging him down.

The old parchment slips from his pocket, a perfect cross forever creased into its aged surface. Instructions written in black still read perfectly clear despite time’s efforts. He’s read and reread the page thousands of times, each time going through the shock of what exactly is being asked of him: ice shoots through his veins while his skin scorches, a suffocating grasp squeezes at his throat, and a violent churn nearly upheaves his stomach. The possibility of failure reels in his mind, threatening to evolve into a full-blown panic attack. He spent his whole life as himself—as Luxu—but now, for the sake of light itself, he must discard that. Just thinking about looking in a mirror and not recognizing the face looking back reminds him of his nightmares. Supposedly, his heart will retain his memories, but he still worries over exactly how much of himself he’ll get to keep; after all, sacrifices for such sins must be made.

The tremors in his chest have spread, shaking the page in his gasp. A deep breath does nothing to soothe his fears but allows him to regain focus. He reminds himself that this is for the existence of everything—for the people he loves. It doesn’t matter if he’s scared, it doesn’t matter if he loses himself, it doesn’t matter if the people who matter don’t recognize him, he has no choice.

Sighing, he lets the paper float to the ground, letting his eyes linger on the victim at his feet. He can’t let himself dwell on anything lest his mind trail back to his fear. He gets started.

Clearing his head, he rests both hands against his chest. The suggested mental imagery serves him well while his heart begins to compress. He remembers the most important parts of himself—the things about himself he values—and imagines placing them in a box. His personality, skills, and knowledge are added inside. Memories follow suit; all the good, the bad, and the in-between are stowed away as important, for they have shaped the person he’s become. The young man takes great care in packing all of himself away.

As these things fade from his conscious mind—all bound to his heart for transfer—the darkness stalking at the edges of his mind begins encroaching on his thoughts like wolves prepared to devour him. Luxu’s natural instincts react in fear, causing the man to tremble and his physical heart to pound in his ears. Just like the darkness, a chill creeps along his quaking limbs, his control over them waning. With every bit of himself that he stows away for his next life, the little rationality that must stay behind cowers in terror. He would simply do away with all his senses, but he knows that some of his consciousness must stay to facilitate the move. He must suffer this fear and lose part of his mind to succeed.

The body to be left behind is nearly shut down. His throat closes, no longer able to draw air into his spasming lungs. He has no idea if he’s doing anything right or if he’s even ready, but the innate fear of death has him in a panic. He has to go now.

Eyes snap open, nothing but bright light consuming his vision. This is it; this is where he discards everything he is. This is the point of no return. With the dread as potent as ever, his consciousness fades as he sends the light on its way.

Instantly, Luxu becomes aware of the intense, stinging pain. Every nerve is like a needle, searing at his heart. He would absolutely be screaming if he could but, as it currently stands, he has no access to any vocal cords, let alone a mouth.

A firm pressure resists his heart, struggling against him. The way it reverberates is reminiscent of his own screams. This is his victim, desperately fighting to keep control. Their panic gives them strength, allowing them to push against Luxu to the point he feels his grip slipping. A desperate alarm shoots through him, fueling his struggle.

As it turns out, Luxu’s fear is stronger than that of the man he’s possessing.

Resistance suddenly stops. Slowly, the presence of the other heart begins to fade, allowing Luxu’s heart to fill the hole left behind. The pain begins to ebb at an unbearably slow rate, but there is solace in the fact that it is fading.

His consciousness begins unfurling within his brain as he lies on the ground gasping. Comprehension begins weaving through the unpacking, bringing attention to what exactly just happened. He hadn’t been prepared for resistance; he didn’t know he could still lose after disarming his target. There was no warning for that. If Luxu’s heart had lost the struggle, he would’ve been expunged, become a heartless, and failed his task; he would have failed his loved ones. And this is only his first time.

It takes an eternity for the agony to fade enough and allow him to assess the body. It’s all still sensitive, like a limb falling asleep and waking back up, only far more intense. Nevertheless, he manages to open his eyes. Even they feel the stinging, giving him blurry vision. Nerves feel like fire as he struggles to raise a hand. The trembling extremities are different: the skin tone is a shade off, fingers are slightly longer, and there’s no sign of a mole he used to have on his wrist. It’s strange to feel and control the hand of a stranger.

It takes some time for all the nerves to properly connect. Small repetitions get the muscles moving as they should, and after a few hours, he is able to stand. Weak legs hold him up while he tries to regain his bearings. Palms press against his eyes, struggling to get rid of that remnant sting.

When his hands drop, he finds nothing. The expelled heart is gone and so is the body he left behind. There is no going back.

The old paper flutters, threatening to fly away. However, this is only the first of many stolen bodies and he will need those instructions to repeat the move in the future.

Reaching down, he scoops up the paper. The action nearly topples him. Despite his careful decision for this particular individual, he couldn’t find someone exactly like himself. There are still differences that will take some getting used to, driving home one very important, horrendous fact.

He is no longer Luxu.

He is no longer himself.

The reality finally kicks him in the gut, bringing him back to the ground where a foreign scream tears from his mouth.

~~~~~

“You’re crazy! Stay away from me!”

The cry drags the man back from age-old memories. Braig is the latest of his numerous casualties.

Luxu could’ve stopped long ago, given up his master’s orders and spared so many ignorant hearts—innocent people didn’t have to die for this. However, sacrifices must be made for sins, and Luxu’s been paying his due. With every bit of himself left behind, the rest naturally tries to fill in that hole, but it’s not the same. The new pieces become influenced by the suffering and bitterness Luxu endures with each move, filling him with more and more darkness. That’s not to say darkness is a bad thing, but it fuels the apathy born from repeated trauma.

Luxu’s views on humanity have deteriorated; each passerby could die at his feet and he would simply step over them. Those chosen as new vessels hold some interest, but he no longer has any qualms putting them down. Only the people he started this journey for mean anything to him now; they are the only light left in his unrecognizable life. They would likely look down on him with disappointment, scold and abhor him, but he would burn every world in existence for their fates. But the end is near. The scapegoat has finally shown himself and soon Luxu will be free of this burden—his family will return to him. No matter what wrath he may incur from them, the relief of the end is just too tempting to spare this last victim.

Luxu shrugs. “You might be right about that; repeatedly losing part of your mind does that to a guy. Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing more dangerous than an insane person with a goal. You were simply the poor soul that caught my eye this time.”

“N-No! Please!”

Having done this so many times, Luxu doesn’t even need the instructions, so he burnt them long ago. His mind already begins to pack away the things he wishes to carry forward and the chill starts in his fingers.

“Sorry, but everything I’ve dedicated my life to hangs in the balance. Neither of us have a choice here. But don’t worry—this isn’t my first time and I’ll ensure it’s as painless as possible.”

As he strides closer, the man scrambles closer to the wall. Fear shines brightly in his eyes, but it doesn’t faze a man who’s seen it so many times before—who’s endured it so many times before.

“Take a deep breath, Braig. It’ll all be over soon.”

#kh luxu #zine feat nova #luxu

13 notes · View notes

vexillumalbum · 4 years

Note

Hello! Whenever you do open requests, could you do the Insecure MC headcanons with Lucien and Victor as well? They’re my favorites so I’d really appreciate it. Loved those headcanons with Kiro and Gavin!

Hello to you too Anon! I struggled a bit with writing these so they can be a bit off. I hope you’ll forgive me.

Victor’s HC I treated a little too personal (let’s say I’m in a similar situation as MC is here, because my partner is “wealthy” and I am not as much and when I tell you some rich people are ruthless... yeah they are) so I got a little carried away. I then tried to rewrite it but it just got worse so I decided to post it like that.

As to Lucien - I don’t know him very well. I only have a few of his karmas, and I played only two of his dates. I do not dislike him, he is just not my type in otome games.

With that being said I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy these HCs. Have a great day/night and please stay safe!

*slight spoilers*

“You are gorgeous* with Victor and Lucien:

Victor

“Are you okay in there?” A deep voice from behind the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly wiped your face with a towel, which you then threw into a basket of dirty laundry and looked in the mirror, hoping that you would not see a tearful woman with red eyes and swollen cheeks.

There is a reason, however, that they say hope is the mother of fools.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Give me a minute!” Your voice almost cracked and it took everything in you not to start crying again. You grabbed another towel, soaked it in cold water and started to vigorously tap it on your face to make the puffiness disappear.

On the other side of the door was standing very worried Victor with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He wasn’t deaf, he heard your sobs coming out of the bathroom a while ago and immediately wanted to know what’s wrong but knew you would not tell him right away. So leaned on the wall next to the door and waited for you to enter your shared bedroom.

Paler than a few minutes earlier you finally walked out with a tight smile plastered on your face. You rubbed your still-a-little-shaky hands on your silk robe to occupy them with something and get rid of the feeling of overwhelming nervousness.

♪ Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know ♪ (I’m sorry, I got carried away)

“Who are you trying to fool?” He knew. Of course he knew.

“I’m tired, Victor. Can we please go to bed?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s bothering you.” He was giving you The Look™. This icy glare that he used at work that was basically saying „do as I say” and that every LFG employee was afraid of. You’ve seen The Look™ so many times now it didn’t bother you anymore but Victor didn’t even flinch when you tried to push past him in order to get to the bed. He was stubborn and you were sick and tired of your own thoughts so you gave in.

Being the girlfriend of one of the most influential people in the country (*cough* the whole world *cough*) brought many advantages. Fancy business meetings, cruises on private yachts, beautiful views from hotel windows when you were traveling together for business trips. Not to mention how much love Victor gave you and how much he did for you privately, behind closed doors, where he showed you his tender loving side.

But it also had many downsides. The people you two were mingling with were refined, elegant, sometimes you could even say stuck-up. And you felt like you didn’t belong there. Hell, you knew you didn’t.

Everything was a race between them. Who drove a better car, who had more investments, who knew more languages, who graduated from better university. Where was your place in this picture?

You weren’t stupid, you were the boss of your own company, you were extremely strong-willed and dutiful, you worked hard, but somehow you still didn’t see yourself worthy of being Victor’s partner.

In addition, there was the fact that Victor had little time for you - which of course you understood, he could not put his duties aside because of your whims - but somewhere inside you were still a bit upset.

Your boyfriend didn't know how to react. From the first day of your acquaintance, he saw you as someone confident, brave, not worried about failures, but only going forward. You managed to convince him HIM to give you and your company a chance. Never in a million years would he had guessed that under your tough exterior lay so many insecurities.

He held your shaking body in a tight embrace occasionally giving you a kiss on the crown of your head partially to calm you down and partially to calm himself down. He treated the fact that because of the self-doubt you brought yourself to the state where you cried when locked in a bathroom alone, as a private failure.

Now he had to make up for every time he weren’t there with you. For you.

You were used to lonely evenings spent in front of the TV with your favorite pudding (which compensated his absence a bit). So you were very surprised when a few days later he announced that from now on two evenings a week you would be obligated to spend together doing whatever you would like to.

Watching TV, playing piano, eating, having sex. You named it - he was down for it.

At banquets, when he saw your eyes begin to waver, he hugged you closer to his side or squeezed your hand a bit harder. He made you understand that he was next to you and did not intend to leave you. So you better not leave him

Oh, and if someone tried to offend you or your intelligence/appearance/mannerisms/whatever…

He would be with you in a minute and with the help of The Look™and his CEO voice he would let the poor thing know that the only person with whom something was wrong in the room was them.

Victor was not very good at comforting you with words, but his actions expressed more than a thousand of them.

When you felt the need for self-pity, he brought you a cup of your favorite tea, covered your body with a blanket and hugged to himself, leaning your head against his sturdy chest. This way he made sure that you weren't alone with your problems. Sometimes he was also combing your hair with his fingers humming a melody he knew you loved, because you were constantly playing it on the piano. Like a parent calming their child down.

“Victor, thank you.” You said one time, your voice tired.

“Sleep, dummy. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He once lost you. He wasn’t going to risk it happening again. You were definitely the love of his life, the only person he would ever wait for. So if he had to wait for you to love yourself properly, so be it.

Lucien

The spark of joy disappeared from your eyes some time ago.

Lucien was a researcher, an observer, he knew when changes to your behavior occurred. He noticed them right away.

How you were sabotaging yourself when something good happened to you. How you were dragging down all your accomplishments. How you became even harder on yourself to the point when you were falling asleep in different places because you were so fatigued.

You were physically and emotionally drained but you kept going anyway cause if you stop, insecurities would eat you alive.

“When are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind lately, butterfly?” A simple question asked during breakfast when he put a cup of chamomile tea in front of you made you almost choke on eggs you were currently chomping.

“Whatever you mean, Lucien…”

“I thought you were the one who said that a healthy relationship is based on honesty and openness. Weren’t you?”

This man. Seriously.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in that matter.”

“On the contrary. I am interested in about everything regarding your person.”

At that point you were sure he was aware of a mess you had inside your head. He gave it away by the way he grabbed your hand and wrapped his long fingers around yours, to later bring them to his lips and kiss each knuckle. It was a tender gesture, one he often did to lift your spirits.

You didn't quite want to explain everything to him, uncover all of your insecurities, but when he looked at you as penetrating as if he wanted to expose your soul as gently as possible, you couldn't refuse him.

He held your hand all the time, didn’t let it go even when you rested your head on his shoulder while weeping.

To say that it broke Lucien's heart is an understatement. He knew everything he heard from you that morning. He had all this information, and yet to hear from you how much you did not believe in yourself, how much you loathed yourself, was a blow to him.

All he could do was gradually try to get you out of your bubble. He wanted to replace all that ugliness that you wore inside with something beautiful.

Step one: A healthy mind in a healthy body. Who was supposed to know it better than a doctor?

As you struggled with drooping eyelids trying to perfect another report, which was impossible, Lucien's strong arms gently pulled you away from the desk and led you towards the bed. After several times, you even stopped protesting.

Chamomile tea has always been provided to you in stressful situations. Lucien even instructed Anna to prepare this tea for you at the company where he had no possibility of being.

Your boyfriend attached great importance to what you ate because it was a well-known fact that people with a diet rich in vitamins and omega-3 had a better mood. Oh no, no more junk food

Step two: exhibitions, galleries, theater, cinema, stargazing, watching the skylights, amusement park.

Between research and teaching at the university, Lucien took you to all the places you could have thought of. He took the replacement of ugliness with beauty quite literally.

Your favorite place was a temporary butterfly exhibition at the Natural Museum, because there your boyfriend led you from a display case to a display case and was telling you passionately every interesting fact he knew about different species. How unguarded he became there was amusing but also very sweet.

“Did you know that this butterfly pups quite late and its wings are slightly smaller than the rest of the butterflies living in this area? This does not prevent him from being the most beautiful and useful of all of them.” He said pointing with one hand to one of the insects while the other was drawing small circles on the small of your back.

Did he just compared you to a butterfly?

Step three: a good ol’ love-making.

This man thought that if it doesn't reach you normally, it will hit you how wonderful you are through various positions in bed. Not only in bed

Good luck walking for the next few days

You gave Lucien’s life color, showed him that living with someone who cared about him and loved him was far better, happier. He was going to repay that favor now.

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen's choice #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc fluff #requests

192 notes · View notes

goldencuffs · 4 years

Text

fake dating au part two

Whenever Laurent was overwhelmed, or feeling the kind of loneliness even a good cock couldn’t cure, he would sneak off into the library in the north wing of the Palace, where most of his mother’s official portraits were displayed.

Laurent loved all of them; Hennike was smiling in every single one, blonde hair curled perfectly, and teeth a stunning white. The colouring of her gowns and crowns were so bright, even painted, they seemed to shine in the dullest light. Laurent didn’t really know her; she had died three days after giving birth to him, but he had watched so many interviews and home videos of her, he felt like he had. She had been beautiful, well spoken, and everyone had been shocked when she had fallen for Al, because she had been betrothed to someone else.

Laurent liked coming down here to talk to her. It helped to have her listen to his dramatic tirades. He had started doing it when he was thirteen, when Auguste had enlisted in military training and left him alone, but had stopped a few months later, when Al caught him, his face ashen as he’d watched his youngest son babble to his dead wife.

After that, Laurent made sure to only come down in the dead of night, when he was absolutely desperate.

Which was clearly now; Laurent’s head had been spinning since the dinner at Heston’s. Even dessert hadn’t cheered him up — Heston, the absolute cretin, had served only four options of dessert and not a single one had chocolate in them. Not even one! It was like people intentionally went out of their way to put Laurent in a foul mood. Laurent had already drafted a wordy letter about Heston’s appalling lack of class and hosting abilities on the way home, and he was going to send it to the local tabloid first thing in the morning.

Laurent paced around the library, addressing his favourite portrait of his mother. It was her wedding portrait, and he loved all the detailing in it. The blush pink flowers in her bouquet matched her lipstick and her blush, and the tiara she was wearing had 588 diamonds in it. It was called The Laurent Tiara, and when Laurent had found out it had been Hennike’s favourite crown, he’d cried into his pillowcase for an embarrassingly long time.

“If I tell Al the truth now, he’ll kill me,” Laurent wailed at an appropriately low volume; he was very considerate of the sleeping guards when he threw his tantrums. “Or worse — get me married! Oh god, he’ll set me up with that idiot Torveld and I’ll have to spend the rest of my life hearing about his coin collection. Who even uses cash anymore? And what exactly is the point of having money if you can’t use it? And has Al even considered the aesthetics of our coupling? How are we supposed to wear matching outfits if Torveld looks rubbish in Egyptian blue and azure? Hello! Those are my signature colours!” Laurent sunk down on the lumpy sofa and buried his head in his hands. “Maybe death really is the better option.” He looked up at Hennike’s green eyes. “Is heaven overrated? Where would you personally place it on a scale of one to ten?”

She didn’t answer him, obviously. It was no use, anyway; Laurent was definitely not getting into heaven.

Laurent woke up irritated and unrested, and not for his usual, fun reasons. He hadn’t come up with any sort of solution to his dilemma and he had had a very strange dream where Damianos punched him while Al watched on. Then the scene had changed, and Laurent was on stage accepting his tenth Oscar for Best Actor, even though he had yet to star in any films.

“I’m thinking of becoming an actor,” Laurent told Al later that night during dinner.

Al’s eyes narrowed and his mouth became a sharp line. “What?”

“I mean, I have the looks, obviously. And really, how hard is acting anyway? Clearly you don’t even need to be very good at it to star in a movie — look at Channing Tatum. I’m sorry, but it’s very obvious his height was the only thing that got him into Hollywood, and even then it’s not that impressive.”

Al put down his knife and fork. “Can we —” He sounded very strained, “have a normal conversation for once.”

Laurent considered this. “I don’t think we’ve had enough conversations to statistically find out what constitutes a normal one,” he said. Al went red, so he continued, “So you don’t think acting is for me? Shall I try directing then? Or maybe —” He sat up excitedly in his chair. “I could write movies! I have so many ideas! Why, for instance, has no one considered a gay version of The Princess Bride? What would that even be called? The Prince Groom? Ugh, no, that’s terrible. Oh, who am I kidding — with my face and my body I have no choice but to be on camera. Otherwise, it’d be such a waste.”

The vein in Al’s forehead was throbbing. If he had been wearing his crown, it would have gone unnoticed, but like this, it was rather unflattering.

Al said, “Laurent,” in a sombre tone. “I really hope you’re joking.”

“About The Prince Groom? Kind of. But the acting thing — would it really be that bad?”

“You are a prince,” Al said, teeth clenched. “If it is the glam and glitz you want, you have more than enough here.”

Laurent, uncomfortably, thought of his room, the only place in the Palace that was truly his, devoid completely of personal artefacts. He swallowed. “Yes, well.” He tried a smile. “Maybe I should borrow another crown from the royal archives. I don’t think I’ve worn one with emeralds yet.”

Al resumed eating. “Speaking of crowns,” he said, completely glossing over Laurent’s last statement. “I’d like you to wear the Crown of Naos when King Damianos arrives.”

Laurent’s mouth dropped open. “As if! Al, the gold colouring on that completely washes me out! Not to mention the fact that that thing weighs like, five kilograms!”

Al’s nostrils flared at the word Al. He said, “The crown is a gift from Damianos’ great great grandfather to yours. It will be an appropriate and symbolic gesture if you wear it.”

“But why can’t you wear it? Or Auguste?”

“I am not the one having an affair with the King of Akielos,” said Al.

Oh, right. Laurent had forgotten about that. But what was the point? It wasn’t as though Damianos would recognise the gesture. If anything, he might think of it as inappropriate.

Instead he said, “Well, gee, Al, I didn’t peg you as a romantic.” Laurent fluttered his lashes a little.

Al pushed away his plate. “I’m done, thank you.” A servant immediately came to clear away his food.

Al left the dining hall, his shoulders tight. Laurent wished Auguste would hurry back home already.

In the morning, on the way back from the stables, Jord said, “Looks like your wish came true.”

Laurent stopped dead. “Oh my god — is Pierre-Alexis Dumas here? Is he finally going to collab with me?”

“Who’s Pierre-Alexis Dumas?” said Jord.

Laurent whirled on him. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Sorry.” Jord said, not sounding the slightest bit sorry. The audacity! “But look.” He pointed past Laurent, to the front of the Palace.

Laurent looked. There was a nondescript black limousine parked on the long, gravel pathway. Laurent would have dismissed it, if he didn’t spot sight of Jeurre, Auguste’s chauffeur, leant up against one of the doors, smoking.

Laurent gasped. He passed on his bridle to Jord, who fumbled to catch it, and ran inside.

Auguste and Al were in the plate room. Al was sitting on the large, velvet throne, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It wasn’t even noon! And he was baring his teeth in that weird way — smiling, as he called it.

Auguste was standing in front of him, hands behind his back. He had gotten very tan, and his hair was much darker, a strange golden colour that made the blue-green of his eyes more appealing.

They both turned when Laurent entered. Al’s mouth was already drooping at the sight of him, but Laurent only had eyes for his brother, whom he hadn’t seen in eight whole months.

Laurent wanted to hug him, which surprised even himself. Laurent was not a hugger. He wasn’t much of a toucher, either, unless it involved getting laid.

Auguste gave him a nod. He sometimes acted so much like Al, it disgusted Laurent; the only difference was that Auguste’s eyes were always kind.

Laurent peered at him closely, shocked. “What have you done to yourself? Are you having a mid-life crisis? Should we call Paschal for a yearly psych evaluation?”

Auguste laughed. “It’s a moustache, Laurent. It’s very fashionable in Kempt, you know.”

“It’s horrendous!” Laurent cried. He stared at the thick hair above Auguste’s top lip in horror. “Right. I’m officially ruling Kempt out as a holiday destination this summer if all the men are growing that.”

Al’s eyebrows furrowed. “I like it. It’s very refined.”

“Oh god, now we have to get rid of it,” said Laurent, which made Al frown and Auguste laugh. Auguste squeezed Laurent’s shoulder. He was always mindful of Laurent’s boundaries. “I think you’ve grown taller.”

“I haven’t,” Laurent said. He showed off his riding boots. “See? It’s three inches of heel.”

“Very impractical,” Al said under his breath, which was not a very Kingly thing to do.

Auguste was still smiling. “I like it. It matches the piping of your coat.”

“Yes, exactly!” Laurent was so happy in that moment, he leant forward and hugged Auguste. It was very short, but Auguste looked so pleased afterwards, Laurent wished he had prolonged it.

“Did you get me anything?” he asked, to cover the embarrassment following his sudden burst of affection.

Auguste raised an eyebrow. “I’m hurt, Laurent. You’re not going to ask me about my classes or my rather excellent Anthropology professor?”

Laurent scrunched up his face. “Are you stalling because you didn’t get me anything?”

Auguste smiled. “There’s about fifty boxes of Grand Cru chocolate in your bedroom.”

Laurent’s sound of ecstasy was too loud; Al spilled some of his whiskey onto his pants. Auguste clapped him on the back in commiseration.

As the servants laid out a small meal — roses of smoked salmon on cucumber slices, macaroons, thin slices of cured meat and cheese, crunchy shrimp salad on crusty rolls, grapes and strawberries and mango and pineapple, individual strawberry shortcakes, that kind of thing — Auguste said, “Father tells me you’re having an affair with the King of Akielos.” He said it casually enough, but Laurent could see he wasn’t thrilled about the idea.

Laurent swallowed his last bite of sandwich and placed a hand on his heart. “Al! You should know better than to gossip, shame on you!”

Al just sighed, a long, suffering sound, and Auguste glared openly at him. “I thought you promised to stop disrespecting Father like that.”

Laurent’s stomach pooled with an uncomfortable tightness. Being told off by Auguste somehow was always worse than being told off by Al.

“Fine,” Laurent said shortly. He said to Al: “Oh dearest Father, Papa, Your Majesty, light of my life, the man who impregnated Queen Hennike, so I, your glorious creation, could be born to bring some joy to this bleak, bleak world: stop gossiping immediately.”

There was a very long pause. Then Auguste laughed. “You are such a shit.”

Al sighed again. “He’s becoming more and more insolent by the day.”

“Thank you so much,” Laurent said, wiping away an imaginary tear.

Auguste barked another laugh. Al sipped more whiskey; a very good sign. Laurent was going to take advantage of this; he wanted a new watch.

Auguste continued his questioning a few minutes later. “So. You and the King — it’s true?”

Laurent flapped a hand. “Oh, you know how it is. He saw those pictures of me from Aimeric’s birthday party where I wore those silk shorts that were just long enough to be tasteful and the poor darling had absolutely no choice but to slide into my DMs and woo me.”

“What’s a DM?” asked Al, and if the question had come from anyone else, Laurent would have found it adorable. He probably would have tweeted it as well.

“Texting,” Auguste said. He seemed contemplative. “Aimeric’s birthday — from last September? It’s been a bit more than a year.”

“Yes,” said Laurent. He tried to say it as wistfully as possible. “He bought me a Ferrarri.”

“Really?” Auguste sounded impressed. “The 1954?”

Laurent grinned. “Do you want to drive it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Auguste said, then quickly cleared his throat and looked at their father. “I mean, yes. Perhaps later in the afternoon.”

Al shook his head, but he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meal. Well, he didn’t say anything to Laurent. He really was in a good mood.

Having Auguste back had Laurent so distracted it wasn’t until a few days later that he realised how frantically the staff were cleaning the floors and walls and painting frames.

In fact, he became so relaxed doing less than nothing all day, since Al was too busy doing this and that, or fawning over Auguste, he didn’t comprehend why the chefs needed fifty boars delivered fresh on Friday morning, until Al told him before their weekly Council, “I want you to wear your red high neck blouse tomorrow.”

“Why?” Laurent asked, checking for any fine lines in the shine of the armour of one of the propped knights in the hallway.

“It is the colour of the Akielos banner. I am trying to seem as diplomatic as possible.”

Laurent went very, very still. With dawning horror, he said, “The — Damianos is coming tomorrow?”

Al’s expression turned thunderous. “Do not waste my time asking stupid questions, Laurent. You know how much I despise it.”

Laurent’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” he said quietly, real fear settling into his bones. Damianos was going to murder him tomorrow. He would need to get a facial tonight, to ensure he was the most beautiful corpse the human eye had seen. And then something much more horrific occurred to him. “Wait! I can’t wear the red high neck with the Crown of Naos! Those colours completely clash!”

Al seemed to age a few centuries in a blink of an eye. With a shake of his head, he walked into the Chambers, leaving Laurent alone in the hallway.

Laurent frowned. One of these days, he was going to be the one storming out. It was only fair.

Things only got worse.

Laurent’s last minute facial broke him out, so he threatened to sue and smashed one of their stupid reclining chairs.

Laurent had honestly thought that was going to be the worst of it; the pimple along his jawline was easy to cover up once he got the local dermatologist to inject something in it.

But on the morning of Damianos’ arrival, Laurent was in a terrible mood. He hadn’t slept at all, worried about his pimple, his horrible outfit, and the fact that a man who was the size of a small house — Google said Damianos was 6’6”, but he was definitely way more, no arguments — was going to viciously kill him.

“Hurry up,” Laurent snapped at the servant dressing him, who had been pulling too sharply at his laces for the last six minutes.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered meekly, and continued fumbling about.

When a few more minutes passed, Laurent looked down at him. “Okay, seriously, this is ridiculous. You usually get me dressed in ten minutes or less. What is the problem?”

“I —” The servant looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Your Highness, the laces — I can’t do them up. It’s uh — it’s too tight.”

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked, narrowing his eyes. “This fit perfectly a month ago.”

“Yes, well —” And his eyes slid over to the bed, where an empty, open box of chocolates was stacked against many other empty boxes of chocolate.

Laurent saw red.

It took three guards and then Jord and Lazar to keep Laurent restrained enough to not kill him. In the end, he yelled until his throat was hoarse and the servant broke down, running out the room with his face covered in tears.

Afterwards, Laurent attempted to do up the laces himself, because he was not fat, and he definitely had not gained weight; he was svelte and sexy and desirable.

In the end, he could only do his trousers up, and only just. If he let out a particularly deep exhale… well, breathing was overrated anyway, Laurent had always thought so.

“Oh, forget it!” Laurent howled, miserable and on the verge of tears himself. “I look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t, Your Highness,” Jord assured quickly. Too quickly.

Laurent glanced at himself in the mirror. His ass was practically suffocated in these trousers — and that was his best feature! He ran a hand down it forlornly. “It’s too tight.”

Jord’s eyes followed his hand with avid interest. He was drooling.

“Could be tighter,” said Lazar, leaning against the bedpost.

Laurent flung himself on the bed. “No it couldn’t. I need to lose about three kilograms in the next —” He checked the clock, “half an hour. Oh god. Just tell Al I died. It’ll make his day, go on.”

“Orgasms help with weight loss,” said Lazar. “I could fuck your face.”

Laurent sniffed “Don’t be so stupid.” He looked at the clock again. “Obviously, riding you will help me lose more calories. Both of you get on the bed, quick.”

Laurent did not lose three kilograms in half an hour. As enjoyable as the sex had been, it had only made him tired and anxious.

Jord suggested that Laurent should just let the laces at the back trail, and cover it up with a coat, even though it was far too hot in the year to wear one. Laurent obliged anyway, knowing how difficult Al would be if he showed up wearing undiplomatic colours. He changed his trousers into a different pair, making sure it had an elastic waistband to stretch accommodatingly.

When the crown was placed on his head, he staggered a little. It really was unnecessarily heavy. His great great grandfather must have had a head the size of a watermelon.

Laurent walked unsteadily down the hall, towards the Palace steps where Auguste and Al were already waiting. His insides became so twisted with the thought of seeing Damianos, he had to make a detour and hide behind a tapestry to have a panic, but only a little one.

Outside, the sun was blazing. Auguste clapped him on the back in greeting, and Laurent winced, the material of his blouse sticking to his armpits. Al’s lips curled at his outfit, but Laurent couldn’t care. He hoped he looked beautiful enough — just enough — so Damianos would reconsider his murder. At the very least, Laurent hoped nothing happened to his face.

“Alright?” said Auguste. “You’re sweating.”

“Shut up,” said Laurent, mortified. He was a prince; he did not sweat.

Auguste’s response was cut off by the sound of the gates opening and rolling tires on gravel. Laurent’s heart was in his ears; he swallowed, but it made him feel more sick.

The sleek, black car was parked in the driveway. Several seconds later, Damianos stepped out, tall and handsome.

Laurent whimpered. It was one thing to see photos of Damianos on the internet, walking briskly down the street or shaking hands with Al, and it was another thing entirely to see him in the flesh as he walked down their driveway.

He was so tall. And he was built like a tree; all thick arms and chest and thighs. Laurent had such a weakness for thighs, they were really the best part of a man’s body, how they framed the groin and the cock and —

Laurent realised, suddenly, that he had not prepared at all for how he was going to greet Damianos.

Lovers kissed each other, yes? Laurent didn’t think he could do that without being punched but god, would Al think it was weird if he didn’t at least attempt to kiss Damianos? Maybe he could pretend to suddenly be shy, too coy to look into Damianos’ eyes in front of everyone — yes, yes that sounded perfect.

Damianos came up the stairs, smile wide and straight. His teeth were amazing. Were they fake? Laurent didn’t think so; he ran his tongue over his own, nervous, heart still thumping in his ears.

He greeted Al first. Laurent’s head was spinning. What if Al said something? What if Auguste did? What if Damianos said something that alluded to the fact that this was technically, the first time he and Laurent would be speaking to another?

And then Laurent couldn’t think of anything else, because Damianos was standing right in front of him.

He reached out, one large, dark hand to shake Laurent’s. Laurent staggered forward, into his chest, and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Laurent saw the most beautiful angel.

“Wow, you’re hot.” Laurent poked a very hard, very strong bicep. “Heaven’s pretty cool.” He was dead, obviously, because people this good looking didn’t exist in the mortal world.

“You’re not dead, Laurent. Can you sit up?”

Laurent thought about it. He wasn’t dead? That was good news. But he felt like he was dead because he couldn’t move his body at all.

“Here, can you follow my finger?”

“Hmm.” Laurent said and stared unblinkingly at what he assumed was a finger. It was quite blurry.

“I think he’s concussed.”

Laurent giggled. The stranger’s accent made it sound like he had said cock-cussed. It made Laurent want to suck cock.

He said, “If I’m not dead, I’d like to be. Jord, get me my blue Prada scarf. I want to be buried in it. Lazar, get your gun out.”

“He doesn’t seem concussed.” That was Al. The compulsion to die was suddenly much stronger.

“We should take him to the hospital,” the hot angel said. Laurent was in love.

He said as much: “I really love you,” he told the blurry figure. Then he rolled over onto his side and threw up.

#captive prince #im going to see if its worth posting on tumblr and ao3 dont mind me #fake dating au #damen x laurent #my writing #my fic #queue

102 notes · View notes

clan-sayeed-fic · 4 years

Text

Do you love the blood on my hands? (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Reposting because of the issue with tags.

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they’re the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

❗ Warnings: angst, strong language, illustrative descriptions of situations full of violence and brutality, might cause distress ❗ Rating: Mature (no doubts about that) Author’s note: I’m not a native English speaker, I’m sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

As usual, I might have exaggerated a little bit in the warnings, but I want you to think twice before reading, rather than be responsible for your anxiety later.

This whole one-shot is focusing on Kamilah Sayeed. My main goal was trying to understand the work she had to put in herself and struggles that she faced along with it. To show her transformation from a person that was under Gaius's influence, to the one we get to know when our character meets her in Bloodbound for the first time. Pixelberry Studios showed us our MC's impact on Kamilah throughout the story, but the question remains, what was before that?

I mean, who else would try to write a whole character development in the one-shot fic haha geez, I'm a joke to myself. But at least you have the answer to why this story is so long, and I hope it'll keep you interested from the beginning to its end 💕

~ 3000 words

---------------------------

Do you love the blood on my hands?

"You never talk about it."

Words slipped out, getting caught by the air in a flash. As if the world feared that the owner would change her mind, trying to take them back.

The sentence managed to fly ahead, led by the wind in this marvelous evening. Finally, it reached the woman in a burgundy suit standing on the shore. She turned her head a little on the sound of the hushed tones. The brightness of the sun hit behind her, making her figure cut out in comparison to the picturesque sky. She was like a goddess captured by the artist with brush strokes on the background of a peaceful ocean.

"Have you just read my mind, love?" corners of Kamilah's mouth curled up hardly noticeable, her posture full of dignity.

She didn't get to hear the answer, because at that moment the sky absorbed their full attention. Rays of sunshine won their fight between the clouds, reaching the Earth as they desired it all along. The intensity of the light made water shine as if it was covered in millions of diamonds. Both women got lost in that view, admiring it in silence.

Admiring it together.

"I..." Amy smiled, her cheeks took one of the colors straight from the sky. "Sometimes, your thoughts scream so loud, it's hard for me to not listen to them."

The woman turned around fully, facing her beloved one. Warm shades of sunset brightened the dark brown tones of her hair. Her skin shined along with the ocean, making the view truly breathtaking.

"Care to tell what do they scream?" Kamilah sent the girl a soft smile, trying to ease the tension.

They were scratching the surface of her past like the sun that was teasing their skin. It was their favorite part of the day since Amy was turned into a vampire. And that weekend, they were grateful to admire it on the beach while listening to the soothing sounds of water.

"How badly you hate yourself," Amy whispered in response.

Kamilah sighed slightly at those words, at the issue she was avoiding for a lifetime. The one she was keeping inside, not showing her true feelings to anyone. But something about this scenery made her lower her guard as her mind escaped to former times.

"One thought keeps coming back to me since the day I've refused to follow Gaius's orders," Kamilah's stare was empty.

She made her way toward the girl sitting on the ground. Blond strands of her hair were gleaming on top of golden tones of the sand. Her green eyes were standing out among this refined game of colors.

"What thought?" Amy asked, watching her wife closely.

"That there is a huge difference between creating a monster..." She sat down and looked at the clouds as if she prayed that they would cleanse her soul. "And letting someone make a monster out of you."

The guilt took over her body as the words were spoken aloud for the first time. The moment she wanted to close inside herself again, she felt a hand on her back. It was moving slowly up and down, easing woman's pain and adding courage at once. She turned her head at this gesture to look at the girl sitting beside her.

The most powerful ray of sunshine locked in the form of a person.

"I killed people, Amy," her tone was speaking by itself as if she already passed herself a death sentence. "I killed innocents... men and women... old and young... adults and... children."

A single tear flowed down her cheek. And before anyone could catch it, it fell on the sand, burying itself between grains, ashamed of the world to notice it.

To spot this sign of absolute vulnerability.

"I know," Amy's voice cut through the silence. "I know you did all of that, Kamilah," she placed one of her hands under woman's chin. "But I chose my side a long time ago," their eyes met.

The sky above them was slowly losing all the values. As if along with the tones of pinks, blues and brighter, oranges and yellows, all the hope disappeared.

"Amy, don't..." her voice broke. "Don't act like you see the chance for redemption for me," she moved her face away, avoiding her wife's gaze.

"Why not?" Amy's voice was like the opposite of Kamilah's, full of faith.

"Because I don't deserve it," a whisper in response with growing outrage in her tone. "Because you can't possibly comprehend what a cruel person I was back then," she looked at those green, light eyes, with the darkness inside her own.

They were left alone on the shore. But there was much more to both of them than to the entire crowd of people.

"Exactly, so let me see it by myself," Amy lifted her hand for the woman to take it.

"I can't," Kamilah shook her head in despair. "I can't take you there."

Her voice grew weaker with every word. As if the last piece of her spirit was shying away from her body. It was making its way on the sky, resting there in the form of stars, gleaming from above.

"Just let me in," Amy said, keeping her hand lifted, the offer still open. "And I'll do the rest."

Despite the previous hesitation, the moment her eyes met again with Amy's, Kamilah had no doubts left. It felt so natural. To entrust her memories and darkest secrets with the love of her life.

So she placed her hand on top of hers. And a spark traveled through both of them right after their skin grazed.

Some indefinable power took them inside Kamilah's mind. On a journey, leading them toward the darkness that was impossible to avoid there.

***

Taste of blood.

Liquid of the intense shade of red was slowly running down from the corner of the woman's mouth. She pulled back from her victim, just to admire the sensation for a tiny bit longer. To cherish the feeling of his mortal body weakening in her embrace.

She felt more powerful than ever. The life of innocents in her hands. The same ones from which the blood was dripping on the ground at her feet.

It was up to her how many of those villagers died that night. How much pain they did suffer before that happened. How loud their screams were when she was ripping them apart.

Her creator Gaius enjoyed them screaming loud. He absolutely loved performing a show for those who dared to enter the village during the attack. Who considered themselves strong enough to fight back.

And finally, for those who ended bowing before him and begging for mercy.

Mercy that they were never about to get from this man. Because hope was like a toy in his hands. Known as the greatest weapon of all times.

"How does it taste, my queen?" man's voice echoed behind her.

But the woman that Amy was observing on the side didn't answer. Instead, she dipped her fangs in the neck of the young man, sucking the life out of him. For a second, his body moved in convulsion, just to lay down still on the ground after she was finished.

Just to join the rest of the dead bodies that were spread all over the village.

"It tastes like fear," Kamilah stood up, looking at the victim with disgust. "I hate drinking the blood of cowards."

Amy lifted her hands to her own mouth, trying to hold back a scream. The scenery around her seemed to be cut out straight from the horror movie. And yet, it was the past of her beloved one.

The intensity of the pain that she sensed from this place outgrew her worst expectations. The whole memory was filled with darkness and cruelty, which she was able to experience by watching the death of innocents.

"I'm aware that's not up to our standards," the man moved closer to Kamilah. "But we will get what we deserve," he cleaned the blood around her mouth. "We will take over the world," a sly smile appeared on his face.

"Together."

***

"No, please," Kamilah cried out, trying to push the girl away. "You were supposed to look at this, not me."

"Kamilah," she kept her eyes closed, trying to maintain the connection. "I don't want to force you into seeing this, but I really think you should."

The woman was drowning in the ocean, filled with guilt and embarrassment. The walls she built around herself for hundreds of years were slowly falling apart as she was left with no other choice than to give up.

"I can't face him. I can't meet the people I've murdered," she wept in desperation once again.

"Trust me, please," tears started flowing down Amy's cheeks as her own feelings linked to Kamilah's. She managed to keep herself focused when the command left her mouth, "now, we're going to walk."

They stood up slowly on the sand, while their spirits jumped into the next memory.

***

Bloodshed.

A stranger flew over the tables, landing on the other end of the bar. Loud coughing filled the room along with the pungent scent of blood, which hit Amy's nose rapidly. She looked around, taking in the surroundings of the scene.

Wooden chairs and tables were broken, spread all over the floor in the place she found herself in. She spotted an enormous amount of shattered glass. Alcohol was flowing down of the broken bottles, dripping on the floor.

Getting mixed up with the blood that once was running in the veins of those people. Humans that were stiff on the floor in unnatural positions, lacking any form of life.

"Just get it over already!" a loud scream echoed inside the building.

A throaty voice was coming from a middle-aged man, probably a bartender. He was the owner of this cursed place that unluckily happened to be the next destination of a Vampire Queen's crusade.

The woman moved forward, getting rid of the tables on her way with just one hand as if their weight meant nothing for her. Her eyes were flashing with the intense shade of crimson at anyone who dared to look at her directly.

"What are you?!" the bartender managed to lift himself up with difficulty, spitting out blood. "Who the fuck kills so many people in just a few seconds?!"

He was staying upright in front of her. As if the image he witnessed, the woman with red eyes and fangs, made no impression on him. As if seeing the death of his friends and customers was enough to make him believe in anything.

To make peace with the upcoming end.

"I believe it should be the last of your concerns," Kamilah whispered in her icy tone.

Amy watched the woman moving closer to the victim. She quickly recognized her fully prepared for attack posture.

"You kill me, and then what?" Thoughts escaped to his family, "you will deprive my wife of a husband, my children of a father," his voice broke along with his spirit. "You will be the one to bear the guilt of this for eternity."

Amy noticed a tiny difference in the expression on Kamilah's face. At the same moment, she sensed the change that occurred in the whole memory. The darkness associated with it seemed to fade away as the lightness peeked into it.

Her wife's features softened like those words moved something inside her. As if Kamilah didn't even consider this possibility before. As if the idea of suffering the consequences wasn't meant for her.

But as soon as the metamorphosis appeared, the equally fast it vanished into thin air.

"Maybe I will," she said, tilting her head to the side, licking her lips. "But as you so rightly pointed out," she reached the man, tightening the grip on his throat. "You're going to be long dead until then."

***

"I can't," the woman kept begging, sweat on her forehead.

Their feet touched the water that appeared to be salvation at that very moment. The ocean was cooling them both down, strengthening the connection as they were falling further into its grasp. The sky above them became dark far sooner, and the moon stayed as their only companion in this journey for forgiveness.

"One more," Amy's voice slipped away, wandering on the surface of the water.

It was fading away little by little, the same as her presence until darkness fell on them this one last time.

***

Blood lust.

She tried her best to regain control, to follow Adrian's rules. To cut down drinking blood to just from those who agreed on it. And never to the point of killing a person.

Humans are our priority, we need to protect them.

Those were Adrian's words that kept flashing back as she was holding the woman pinned against the wall in the dark alley. All weak and miserable, not able to struggle, to fight back. The only thing left was to kill her, to take the sip of the blood she desired so badly.

Kamilah lost her battle once more.

She remembered going outside for a walk as she always did after the sun went down. And it must have happened again, she must have blacked out. And as every time before, she snapped out of it right before causing another death.

At the very moment, she wasn't able to control herself anymore.

She needed to feed, she wanted to kill.

Amy was standing on the other side of the alley, watching her in silence. She was so sure that this memory was crucial in the journey on which she took Kamilah with herself. She wanted to believe that it was the moment of her change.

An actual call for redemption.

"Mommy?" a faint voice reached them from behind.

"Sweetheart..." the woman managed to cough up, her vocal cords were struggling under the grip. "Don't...please...run...away!"

But her attempts went to waste since Kamilah turned around immediately, facing the little girl. She let go of her previous victim, not bothering about the intensity of the fall that fractured her ribs. The vision went blurry before the woman's eyes, but she gathered all the strength she had left and focused on saving her daughter.

"Stay away from her!" a heartbreaking scream traveled through the alley.

But Kamilah kept getting closer to the child, moving smoothly and quietly like a predator approaching its prey. But this time, something seemed wrong. With each step, thirst for blood was weakening, along with the realization that was forming itself inside her head.

"Mommy?" the same word, followed by growing fear.

The little girl in front of Kamilah might have been six years old at best. She was too young and innocent to understand what was happening there.

But at the same time, old enough to stay by her mother's side. Old enough to show loyalty and understand love.

Love...

"Please, don't harm her," the woman cried out, unable to move.

That's when something moved inside Kamilah's heart.

The guilt spread all over her chest. Years of killing... thousandths of victims...

It all hit her at once, forcing her legs to bend. Her body to fall on the knees before this little human being.

She got lost in the view of those teary eyes of the child. The ones in which she saw something she had never considered before... a future.

A life that she had the power to end,

to step on,

crush it completely, leaving nothing behind.

And this power frightened Kamilah for the first time.

For the first time, she showed mercy.

***

"It's over," Amy held the woman sobbing in her arms.

The ocean was reflecting the beauty of this starry night in its smooth like a mirror surface. Accepting all the tears, letting them mix with the water, to pass into oblivion.

"You saw me there," Kamilah said, pulling back. "You saw what a monster I am," she swallowed, feeling the blood of the people she killed in her throat.

The girl moved her hand slowly to Kamilah's face, choosing silence. She caressed her cheek with tenderness, feeling the tension leaving her wife's body under her touch.

"I saw much more," Amy's voice was shaky, but she knew what needed to be said. "I can't deny the truth, Kamilah. You caused the suffering of many people," she found woman's hands under the water. "But their deaths must not be in vain. You can make them mean something, and you're already doing that."

"How..." Kamilah's eyes were letting go of all tears that she held back for such a long time.

"You've changed," Amy lifted their hands above the water, fingers entwined. "You've saved a lot of people, you've saved me. And those hands," she lifted them higher. "The blood will keep showing up, reminding about itself," their eyes met, shining like stars. "But I'm here to help you wash it off every single time it happens."

Amy kissed the knuckles of her wife's hands. She moved on the top of it, leaving the path of soft kisses on her skin. Her tears were flowing down as if they were the key to wash away all the guilt.

To bring peace, even for a moment.

"We can do this," Amy looked at her with eyes full of understanding and patience. "Together."

Kamilah took in what she had heard hundreds of years before. The letters that preached to be the beginning of her dream life but in the end turned out to be poisonous.

That time she knew it would be different. She trusted with all her heart that her wish would be fulfilled.

So a single word slipped out, drifting on the surface of the ocean to reach her beloved.

"Together."

#choices fic #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound kamilah #bloodbound mc #bb kamilah #bloodbound choices #bloodbound fic #choices fanfiction #kamilah sayeed fic #kamilah bb #bb mc #one-shot fic #please read the warnings #checking if it'll appear in the tags this time...

78 notes · View notes

tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

AA: Ashes to Ashes-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam listens, or attempts to listen to the current man in the front of the room talking about his battle with gambling addiction and alcoholism. But paying attention is difficult for Adam at the moment because Y/N is sitting beside him, looking perfect, and the smell of her perfume is enough to disorient him. Today she smells like roses, jasmine, and coffee. They’ve hung out a couple times, mostly over coffee, and talked as friends do. Adam found it comforting knowing that he had someone he could talk to, rant to, and spend time with. Of course, Adam never had many friends before, but he assumes those are the hallmarks of friendship. It would much easier if he didn’t want to be more than friends with Y/N, he had to constantly remind himself not to cross that line with her. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

His struggle is made worse by the fact that Jessa is sitting on his other side, watching him squirm out of the corner of her eye. Since he’s been hanging out with Y/N and developed feelings for her, he’s thought about ending things with Jessa but he knows there’s a chance that Y/N won’t want anything to do with him anymore if he does that. She might take Jessa’s side. He thinks if he lets Jessa be the one to end it, it may be better for his chances with Y/N or he considers waiting until he knows that Y/N has feelings for him too. In the meantime, things will remain same.

The man finishes talking, and everyone claps for him, including Jessa and Y/N. After the meeting, Y/N and Jessa go the restroom, together, as women normally do, and he goes over the snack table. He scoops some cookies, racing towards the ones he knows are Y/N’s favorites before they’re all taken. As Jessa and Y/N walk up to him, a man stops Y/N and tells her how he was inspired by what she had said at the last meeting. This man keeps touching Y/N’s arm and Adam can’t help but glare, then he finally interrupts them to hand her the cookies.

“Here, I got these for you,” he tells her and the man waves then briskly leaves. Y/N takes the cookies and says, “Thanks, these are my favorites, and I think he’s getting way too attached to me.”

“Oh yes you will have a sober buddy for life,” Adam says back and wants to kick himself for sounding lame. Y/N takes a bite of the cookie and tells him, “I can’t believe you don’t cookies or sweets, you’re like a tall alien.”

“Yes he is. It looks like I’ve found someone else to pawn Bill off on.” Jessa chuckles talking about both Adam and the other man, and she jokingly bumps into Y/N. They keep chatting for some time, then when they walk out of the building, Y/N hugs Jessa then heads the other way. Adam is disappointed that he didn’t get to talk to her more, he must have been looking sad because Jessa questions him, “You do know that doesn’t bother me?”

“What doesn’t bother you?” He asks because he’s not sure he’s understanding Jessa correctly. She watches Y/N walk away and holds his hand before answering, “You hanging out with her. It’s good for you. You need a friend.”

“Thanks,” he says and gives her a slight smile, then they walk back to the apartment as Jessa chatters away but his mind is elsewhere.

*********

Adam waits outside the building, knowing that Y/N will walk out soon. She told him to meet here before they hang out. Apparently she volunteers once a week here and it makes Adam feel like an asshole who doesn’t care about other people. Y/N walks out and Adam greets her.

“Hey, kid.” He makes a mental note to come up with a different nickname for her. She smiles and joins him. Before they make it down the block she stops to say, “I’ve got to stop at my place to take my dog for a walk if you don’t mind.”

He actually likes dogs and has wanted one of his own for a while, though preferably one that would work better than the one he had for a few days before he and Ray had to take him back to his owner. He can’t hide his excitement, “I like dogs, I really like dogs.”

Y/N tucks a piece of hair behind her ear laughing at his response and they keep walking to her place. Adam is surprised to learn that she lives in Nolita, close to where Jessa used to live with Shoshanna. That must have been how they met. When they reach the apartment door, she warns him, “Bagel is still anxious around men. He’s not aggressive or anything, just timid. It might take him a while to warm up to you.”

“Okay, I’ll give him space then,” Adam answers, thinking what the fuck kind of name is Bagel, and as soon as they walk through the door, Adam notices the apartment looks just like he expected it to be. It was very much like Y/N: classy, refined, and a bit eclectic. Books everywhere, comfy couch, candles, and a messy desk. Y/N goes over to the crate to let ‘Bagel’ out, though Adam thought the dog couldn’t have had a more wrong name. Bagel was an Australian shepherd mix who was rather large and had a dark tri-colored, speckled coat, and two different colored eyes. Bagel looks at Adam suspiciously, then follows Y/N back into the apartment kitchen. Y/N comes back with a leash, hooks Bagel up and they leave, though Adam still feels that Bagel is giving the side eye.

They spend a half-hour or so walking around the neighborhood, then they get to a park. After they’ve walked and played which Adam actually enjoyed, Y/N excitedly says, “Oh there’s an ice cream truck, we have to get ice cream!”

“Ick, I don’t like ice cream. It tastes like sweet mucous.” Adam says and tries to hide his disgust. He could suffer through ice cream for her. She doesn’t miss a beat, and isn’t the least bit dismayed by his commentary because she adds, “Good, because I was talking to Bagel anyway.”

He goes with her and she gets two ice cream cones. She’s struggling to eat hers and feed Bagel his at the same time. Adam takes the one that’s meant for Bagel out of her hand and says, “I’ve got it.”

Bagel is hesitant at first then he forgets everything but the ice cream. Y/N smiles watching both of them, and Adam chuckles back watching the dog chow down on what’s left of the cone. Once the ice cream is gone, when they sit down, Bagel is jumping up on Adam, wagging his tail and wanting attention.

“You know I’ve never seen him warm up to anyone like that, especially not a guy.” Y/N says as she works on finishing her cone. Adam says, “The ice cream helped.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” She teases and offers him her cone. He thinks for a second before taking a lick, then a bite, and somehow it’s more sensual than it should be. He has to think depressing thoughts to keep himself from getting hard. Y/N surely feels it too because her eyes stay locked on his and the tension between them could be cut with a knife. Just as suddenly as the moment happens it ends as Y/N jerks her head away and re-focuses her sight on something else.

She changes the subject by asking him if he ever considered getting his own pet. Truthfully he has, then he’s talked himself out of it. “Yeah but I’m not sure if I’m good at long-term responsibility.” He skirts around the issue.

“You could try getting a succulent.” She says and her eyes light up at the possibility. Meanwhile, Adam is sidetracked by what she said so he asks, “What the fuck is a succulent?”

She laughs for a long time before she explains, “It’s basically the cactus family. You know they don’t need much attention. You could try it, and if it works you could work up to a goldfish.”

“One time I went to Coney Island with Jessa, I won a goldfish and it died before I got it home. I think I shook the bag too much” He tells her, she chuckles again as they start walking back to whatever the next adventure is. She tells him, “So maybe try a few plants first then.”

“I had a goldfish when I was a kid, my sister flushed it to free it or whatever.” He says and the memory still stings. Y/N watches his reaction before saying, “I understand her point but that’s rough. Especially with you being a kid. Was she always like that?”

“Yeah, that’s Caroline. She’s chaotic. One time, when Hannah was trying to mediate between us, she actually had the audacity to suggest that I had repressed sexual feelings or some bullshit for her… that’s what she’s like.” Adam finds himself confessing his life story and all of his family issues in one go with Y/N. She listens to him contently, sometimes chiming in with her own family drama.

“Damn, that’s fucked up. For what’s worth, you don’t seem like that type. That’s something that shouldn’t ever be brought up” Y/N says, trying to comfort him, but Adam finds himself apologizing instead, “Sorry to dump all that shit on you.”

“It’s what friends are for. And, everyone has family issues. Everyone’s family fucks them up in some way.” She says, and Adam’s glad to have her as a friend. Even if he wants more.

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

It was a smothery day in New York, the concrete only made the heat intensified. It was like one of Dante’s rings of hell. You were already wearing a cropped tank top, and linen short-shorts with your hair up. Jessa was wearing a bikini top and shorts, while Adam was wearing a sleeveless shirt and athletic shorts. The three of you were trying to go to a pool, or get down by the water, but it was too crowded. The crowd just made it more miserable. When you walk past a display, you’re drawn to the headline. Apparently, the local theater group is putting on Antigone, one of your favorite plays. You’re too entranced by the flyer to notice that Jessa and Adam have come up beside you.

“You, okay? You just zoned out.” Jessa asks and looks at the flyer. You respond, “Yeah, it’s just one of my favorite plays, I’ll try to make it.”

“Antigone is a classic.” Adam adds. Then Jessa gestures between you and Adam, then declares, “You two should go together. It’s not really my thing so I’ll sit it out.”

“Do you really wanna go?” Adam asks you after he eyes Jessa suspiciously. You know you must look just as stunned as he does. You liked spending time with Adam, the two have developed your own friendship, but you somehow felt like you crossing a line. After all, he’s your friend’s boyfriend. The same friend who’s now pushing you to hang out with said boyfriend. It was made worse by the growing crush you had on Adam, in fact, the crush was hardly a crush anymore, and it was more like real attraction. But you weren’t that girl you reminded yourself.

“Yeah I do, but you don’t have to go with me.” You say, giving him an opportunity to opt out, also giving Jessa a chance to rethink her offer. Neither of them do. Adam runs his hands through his hair then says, “No, I’ll go. It will be fun.” So much for trying to distance yourself, or being worried about over-stepping your place.

******

Tonight you were going to see Antigone with Adam at one of the theaters near his neighborhood. You were both excited and nervous. You enjoyed spending time with him, and wanted to get know more about him, but you knew the more time you were with, the more you’d fall for him. Also, you didn’t want to seem like the girl who took their friend’s boyfriend. You were wearing a strapless jumpsuit that was airy but didn’t look too casual. Adam knocks at your door, and as soon as you let him in, Bagel runs to him. You still can’t believe how fast he took to Adam, and it makes you think about the saying about dogs judging character.

“Hey, I’ll be ready in just a minute. Do you want something to drink? Non-alcoholic of course.” You say. Adam sits on the couch, Bagel joins him with his tail happily wagging. Adam then answers with, “Can I have a glass of milk?”

“Sure.” You were glad that this was a time when you actually had milk in your kitchen. It was honestly the first time a guest wanted a glass, you take the glass to him, and he swallows it loudly. After you’ve put the finishing touches on your look, you tell him you’re ready. He looks you up and down then tells you, “Y/N you look hot…”

“Thanks,” you blush, you’re totally unprepared for his next comment. But you had been around him enough you should have expected it by now. You knew he had a filthy mouth, and was open about those kind of things.

“You trying to get fucked tonight?” You struggle to find a good comeback at first, you eventually settle on, “No, that’s none of your business anyway. But what if I am?”

Before he has a chance to comment back and make you more flustered than you already are, you open the door, motioning for him to walk out. You then put Bagel in his crate and join Adam to head on your way to the theater. It was going to be a long, and potentially frustrating night, judging by how bothered you are.

You and Adam are walking back from the play, chattering about how great the performance was, when you feel something fly in your hair. You try to act cool and get it out, then whatever it is just gets more stuck. Adam at first laughs at your struggle, then his hand is on yours, trying to work whatever it is out of your hair. You notice it’s some kind of bug and you screech.

“Calm down, tiger.” He says and you stand still while he frees whatever creature is trapped in your hair. He brushes your hair behind your ear and your eyes lock onto his. It’s incredibly simple yet intimate and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him but you know you can’t.

“Did you just call me tiger?” you ask to distract from the sexual tension that’s growing between you. You also never really had any nicknames either so the fact that Adam came up with one for you made you happy.

“Yep, you’re always wear that tiger’s eye thing bracelet.” He says as he backs away to give you space again. His finger reaches for the bracelet, barely tracing the skin of your wrist, and now that’s the only thing you can think about. You force your thoughts back to the bracelet: you’ve had it for a few years and you wear it daily.

“You noticed?” Adam nods his head in response. You then fidget with the bracelet, your hand brushing against his, and tell him, “It’s supposed to bring good fortune, invoke the divine, and offer protection.”

“Has it actually done any of those things?” He asks, and you notice how close his face is to yours. You can feel his breath on your cheek, count every freckle on his face, and you can’t help but notice that his eyes resemble the color of the tiger’s eye.

“I think it has.” The two of you then continue on your way, both avoiding eye contact and putting a few feet between you. It wasn’t as if you had crossed the line, but you were certainly dancing around it.

********

Adam came back to the apartment after a particularly bad day on set, and it already seems that Jessa is in some kind mood. She’s waiting on the couch, her posture tense, so he breezes by her to get to the kitchen. As he pours himself a glass of milk, Jessa pounces. Her mouth latches on to his neck while her hand reaches for his dick. He’s caught so off-guard that he moves away, and that was clearly the wrong response. He’s always pissing her off anymore anyway. Adam’s starting to think that Jessa’s waiting for him to fuck up in some way that she can use a pretext for an argument.

“What the hell is going on with you? We barely talk, we hardly fuck anymore, and you totally moved away from me!” Jessa shouts at him. He knows he’s been zoned out, but he’s busy with his career and his relationship with Jessa is becoming a burden. Was there any easy way to tell her that the relationship felt like an unnecessary strain on him, or that he’s falling for her friend? He decides not to, and he answers back with, “I’m busy, I’m fucking stressed when I come home. Then as soon as I come home, you wait for me to do something then pounce!”

“It’s like you don’t even notice me anymore!” Jessa screams back at him, and he’s tuning her out. Same old, same old. How he doesn’t listen to her, pay attention to her, or fuck her like he used to. As he continues with his glass of milk, no longer arguing back with her, she disappears into the bedroom. She soon comes back out with a bag and tells him, “I’m leaving for a while, if you fucking care at all!”

*****

The desk in your apartment is full of paper work, you can hardly see your laptop, and you finally removed the coffee mug and glass of water from the danger zone. Bagel watches you apprehensively from the couch as you get up to stretch a bit. You have to finish this draft then you’re going to an art gallery and out with some friends. You’re not able to go out like you used to since you have to remain sober, but you still need to de-stress. You’re suddenly alerted by the buzz in your apartment.

The person on the other side is Jessa, asking if she can come in. Once inside, she crashes on your couch like it’s hers and Bagel seems unbothered by her.

“What’s up?” You rummage on your desk, even more conscious about the fact that it’s a disaster now that someone’s here. As she grabs your Roku remote she tells you, “Adam and I had a fight again. It’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore.”

“I’m sorry that sucks. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. I’m going to be working then going out.” You get back to working on your draft, while Jessa tells you about her fight with Adam, asking for your thoughts. Talking actually helps you work sometime because silence allows your mind to wander.

After you complete the draft, you hop in the shower, and sit at your vanity doing your hair and makeup. Jessa is perched on your bed, chatting away as you tell her about your friends and she tells you about hers. The one she talks about the most is Hannah, you don’t even know Hannah but you’re exhausted and irritated by her.

“Are you worried about going out tonight? Being around alcohol again?” Jessa asks and you answer honestly.

“I’m nervous about it but as long as I don’t drink anything, I’ll be fine. The long-term goal is to be able to socially drink again.”

“Sobriety sucks. It’s definitely the harder path.” She shares the sentiment, then someone else is buzzing in. None of your friends are supposed to coming here, you’re all supposed to meet up somewhere, and you have no online shopping packages coming today.

It’s Adam, shit, you think. Jessa and Adam, who are fighting in your apartment, this was going to be interesting. Adam strolls in like he owns the place then is stunned when he sees Jessa standing there.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her and she asks him the same thing.

“I’m here visiting my friend, what’s your excuse?” She says combatively, crossing her arms.

“Both of you need to talk about your problems.” You say and hope they’ll try to listen. You really need to get going.

“Okay, well Adam doesn’t seem to care about me at all anymore.” Jessa says and you decide to keep playing mediator. Calmly you place yourself in the middle of them “Thanks for sharing your feelings, Jessa. Adam, what do you need to talk about?”

“I’m busy and I don’t want to talk all the time, sorry I take my damn job seriously!” He shouts, throwing his arms in the air.

“Okay, well I tried. I need to get going, so don’t trash the place and lock up when you leave.” You say as you quickly head towards the door, you’re already ten minutes. You seriously wondered what Adam was doing with Jessa, and what the two of them were doing holding to their relationship that was pretty clearly a disaster. You could really use a drink right now.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam driver #adam sackler x you #hbo girls #reader insert

33 notes · View notes

consilium-games · 4 years

Text

Setting, Genre, and Principles

I talked recently with a friend about Apocalypse World, genre, and Principles. For those unfamiliar, Principles are a design and game-running technique that Apocalypse World did not invent, but did refine and explicate, a bit like how the Greeks knew of static electricity, but it was Galvani who made a battery on purpose, that others could study. Since I haven't died yet, I have a project in mind, in this case one that really explicitly relies on Principles in its basic design, so in this essay I want to work out a basic edge of 'what Principles can cover'. Namely, the edge of 'genre'.

I'll define a couple technical terms here because I intend to use them pretty narrowly:

Diagetic means the usual, "bound within the world of a given story".

Commentative means "outside of any story, things we say about stories-generally".

So a setting counts as diagetic, bound within its own logic and the logic of the single work it appears in. Diagetically we'd ask "why does the author choose to write dragons in this way?"

A genre counts as commentative, not bound within any story. It may or may not codify some stories, an author might consciously bend to or defy a genre as they understand it, but most importantly on the genre level, we don't ask "why did the author write dragons like this?" Instead we ask "why do people-generally like to see dragons?"

In talking with that friend, she said she had difficulty reading AW, which I can't really fault anyone for: I'd consider AW almost as much a polemic manifesto as a procedural manual. And the former undermines the latter. Part of her issue came from her looking for a setting, not realizing that properly speaking, AW doesn't have one. I said as much, and as we talked, I then said a lot more than I should:

After confirming that "Baker does not give AW a setting", in a bit of enthusiasm on the idea of 'genre emulation', I went on to say that "Baker gives his apocalypse". This prompted confusion, for the reasonable question arises, "how can Baker provide his own, particular, post-apocalypse story without giving a setting?" So I should have spoken more carefully, and I wrote most of this essay to over-answer that question for my friend. I've massaged it into its current form, for you non-her readers, in hopes that it helps someone, or if nothing else I can refer back to it as I clarify my own cranky lit-game-dev ideas.

To me, 'a setting' goes like this:

DnD has a kind of proto-setting, it has dragons like-so, it has elves who look pretty and live in the woods, it has dwarves who look TV-ugly and live in the mountains, it has orcs who look ugly-ugly and live in the wastes, it has humans it treats as default and live wherever. It has vague gestures of settler-colonial race-relations but not enough anything to explore, unless you the reader put it there. DnD doesn't really have much of a genre more specific than "uh, generally sword-and-sorcery fantasy".

Shadowrun has basically the same things, and a specific setting: neoliberal dystopia and collapse of the state, but otherwise 'basically our world'.

But more than that, Shadowrun also--for its many faults--has a commentative-sense genre: in Shadowrun, might makes right (or at least right-now); money rules everything, except maybe loyalty; it treats magic as innately cool and natural but technology as evil and you maybe would better die than get an artificial heart. These story-contours don't care at all about where things happen or what institutions exist.

To take another example, Cowboy Bebop tells a solid noir western story set in space. The fact that it takes place in space ultimately matters very little to the 'western' or 'noir', though. Spike knows he lives in space, and he'd agree that--to someone alive in our world today--he lives in a sci-fi story. He doesn't know that he got cast as a western-revenge-fable protagonist (though he might agree if someone asked). He definitely doesn't know that he has a corner of the story that goes more-western, while Jet lives in a corner of the story that goes more-noir.

If you wanted, you could tell Cowboy Bebop beat for beat, almost unedited, as a straight-faced noir western. Instead of Jet's main ship they have a wagon, the individual bounty-hunters have their own horses, Ed does something weird with telegraphs and adding-machines. Instead of vacuum between planets of our solar system, they weather the desert waste between far-flung towns. It would remain a story about revenge, losing oneself, finding oneself, remaking oneself, and the things we have to do for the people we love, and what happens when we don't.

You could not do this and also remove the noir, or the western, those define the kind-of-story. If you left it in space but took out the noir, entire episodes of moral ambiguity would disappear (like Ganymede Elegy). Likewise taking out the western, the premise of bounty-hunters wouldn't fit and couldn't stay. I would even go further, and say that while I don't mind Cowboy Bebop sitting on the 'sci-fi' shelf so that consumers can find it, I wouldn't class Cowboy Bebop as sci-fi. A masterpiece, but not sci-fi. Because I think that as a genre, the core of sci-fi asks "where are we going, and what will we do when we get there?" Cowboy Bebop does not care to ask this question, it cares about the human condition right now, and what people right now will do. It takes place in space because space is cool.

Second hot take: Kafka's The Castle counts as sci-fi, by the above conception. Extremely, disturbingly prescient sci-fi, precisely predicting things from call-centers to Big Data and the professional managerial class, and warning of the ease with which a competent, level-headed, and well-meaning person can confront The Machine, and The Machine will completely hollow out and dehumanize them, rob them of every competence and agency, until The Machine no longer notices them as a foreign object.

No one would put The Castle on the sci-fi shelf, because it has no shiny labcoat SCIENCE![tm], telephones and typewriters show up as cutting-edge in the setting. But just look at the concept of tracking, monitoring, filing, and refiling, and bureaucratic shuffle and managerial maladaption and "not my department" and "oh you have to fill out a form 204B -> well file a form AV-8 to requisition a 204B -> look do I have to do everything for you, I'm a busy cog you know". Look at that concept as a technology, like Kafka did.

The story explicitly refers to this as innovation, as a deliberate thing that the Count and his bureaucrats did, on purpose, with intent and expected effect. The Castle explores social science, political technology. And Kafka rigorously explores its psychic effects on the subjects, more thoroughly than Gibson waxing poetic about VR headsets and the Matrix. The Castle qualifies as fiction about science, where we're going and what we'll (have to) do when we get there. It takes place in a quaint provincial village that might lie somewhere in Bohemia in the very early 20th century.

So I allege that while setting matters for writing a given story, it doesn't matter a lot for kind-of story. And in my conversation with my friend, I should have sensed the kernel I could have dug out, but instead, I wrote the rest of this essay, particular to post-apocalyptic genre fiction, and germane to Apocalypse World.

Bringing this back to apocalypsii:

In the Australian outback in the late-70s, the gas supply all but disappears, causing societal collapse and civil breakdown.

In the American midwest, an unspecified disaster wipes out communications and supply-lines, causing survivors to turn feral and cannibalistic.

In New York in the late 60s, food shortages and overpopulation cause the government to criminalize almost everything so that they can grind people up into food.

These are settings in the sense that I mean: a place, a time, implicit societal structures and institutions, "where is this, what world is this, what is here?" DnD's setting doesn't have much of a 'where' but it more or less assumes "uh, Earth kinda, sorta"; Shadowrun says "literally Earth but N years after magic becomes real and also DnD races". But the above three post-apoc settings have very different everything-else: if you were making a post-apoc section of a library and wanted to break down into sub-genre, you'd want to put the three works above on different aisles.

Mad Max tells a story where holding on to old power structures is complicated, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and it emphatically matters how we go about doing it: when marauding punks kill your family, you may justifiably go and kill them back; but when a power-mad warlord inflicts his brutal regime, you owe him no allegiance.

The Road tells a story where everything we care about can just blow away in the wind, and at best we can only cling to what we cherish, while we can. Power comes and goes, structures don't last, but cruelty and misery endure eternal and will always win--but we try anyway.

Soylent Green tells a story where societal structures can technically endure, but themselves have no moral compass and can inflict as much cruelty as uncaring nature. You may live in an illusion in which civilization appears to function, but in fact you have no more safety than the wilderness, and indeed you didn't realize it, but you're the cannibals, and perhaps soon the meal.

Those considerations all sit at the genre-type, commentative level, and I class them as wholly unconcerned with setting. Each of these stories would tell just as well in space, or an underground complex, or even Bronze-Age Fertile Crescent if you twist a few narrative arms. The where and when and what doesn't define or determine the kind of story, the genre, even if setting can help or hinder genre goals.

Bringing this back to Baker: he doesn't give a place where things happen; he doesn't give an inciting event that brought the apocalypse; he doesn't even describe what happened during the apocalypse, or how long ago it happened, or give a date for "today". I'll list three AW settings I've run or played in or heard about:

Sunlight vanished altogether, though somehow it hasn't gotten any colder. Darkness and shadow can become animate and even sapient, and can claim people, though it doesn't seem exactly malevolent or 'evil'. Rule of law has mostly fallen apart, but out of fear and prudence people mostly avoid wanton violence, because if you see someone you don't like, you could roll up on them and take their stuff--but just as easily they could kill you, and just as easily as either, the Dark might just take both of you; you're safer keeping the Dark at bay and not hassling someone else, unless you've got good reason.

A few years(?) ago, survivors woke up from total amnesia and some kind of fugue: it seems like this fugue lasted at least some years, there's some decay of modern-to-us structures, but the ruins look fully recognizable and often quite well-preserved. But signs abound, literally painted twenty-feet-high on buildings and structures, that something unfathomable happened. The giant wordless pictograms seem to warn to protect tools and structures, to stay together and not go off alone, indicate places that once had lots of food or other important resources, and most alarmingly they show gigantic hands reaching down from above onto some of the pictogram figures. No one can remember anything from before the wakeup though, so the meaning is lost.

Something like twenty years ago, the world broke in some fundamental way: it always rains or at least fog abounds, long-distance communication inexplicably but insurmountably fails to work, and cityscape has sprawled on its own to incorporate seemingly the entire world. As far as anyone knows, the city spans infinitely in every direction, it has no edge, only more city. The city-cancer seems waterlogged and rotting everywhere, some few places fit for use and occupancy, but if you go down any given street and step inside an empty house or shop, it probably won't suit human habitation. People still habitually carry on the forms and outlines of societal norms, mostly, because what else can they do? You can't burn it all down as long as it keeps raining.

I brought these up because Baker's conception of 'post-apoc' does not cover the whole of "all post-apocalyptic literature"--it couldn't, shouldn't, and if it did it would have little or no use to anyone. Baker's narrower conception, the Principles that AW's rules expect a setting to follow, narrow things down and keep the rules crisp, tight, and tractable.

Each of the AW campaigns above has a totally different setting, aiming in totally different directions for different things--but, they all live inside Baker's Principles for a post-apoc that fits within AW: scarcity, weak but present society and norms, a Before, an After, and no going back, and each has a 'Psychic Maelstrom' that excuses a lot of narrative fiat and deus ex machina and having characters just do weirdness not otherwise specified.

That 'Psychic Maelstrom' comes closest to giving what I'd call "a setting" as in "place, time, institutions", because it sits at the diagetic level. A distinct thing bound within a given story--except it only barely counts as 'diagetic'. Because Baker only gives loose guidelines for what a Psychic Maelstrom should be or do. Baker's own at-his-table Psychic Maelstrom will look nothing like mine, or my girlfriend's, or her erstwhile friend's, because in those three AW settings up there, each of us had totally different ideas for what to do with a Psychic Maelstrom in a post-apocalyptic setting.

But: all three of us used our Psychic Maelstroms for the things Baker says to use them for: unleash weirdness, justify unrealistic but narratively satisfying twists, allow and excuse extra awesomeness, maybe use as a metaphor or allegory for "how it got this way", as well as "where it could go", in literary terms. And . . . Baker doesn't really get closer than this, to giving "place, time, institutions, history and people and events". So in the sense I understand 'setting', a diagetic construct within a given story, AW doesn't have one.

But in the commentative genre sense, AW very definitely gives Baker's apocalypse, in that it gives a recipe for the things that Baker considers essential to the post-apoc genre (or at least, the aisle of the post-apoc library he wants to confine his game to). He doesn't try to tell a Soylent Green apocalypse so much--you'd need to twist some arms and ignore some Principles to tell Soylent Green. Nor does he try to tell Children of Men so much--you'd have to leave a lot out to rein AW in to just Children of Men. He instead aims* for something closer to Mad Max, but heavy on Weird West, and a lot less somber and desolate, so more like Fury Road. And he says, "here's how:".

(*) But, of course, he doesn't actually tell these stories. Instead he has the project of telling the reader how to tell this kind-of story. So, while he gives some sample poetic images of skylines on fire and the world torn asunder, he doesn't care to talk about the virus, or the metorite, or the gas-shortage or the food-shortage. He doesn't care about the where or when or what, and even with the Psychic Maelstrom, the one concrete diagetic thing he gives--it sits there as a meta-thing, explicitly unstated whether it resulted from The Apocalypse or its inciting event, or caused it as the inciting event, or something else.

All of which boils down to: commentative, about-stories, genre-level stuff owns bones, and I weigh it heavier than diagetic, in-stories, setting-level stuff. Baker gives excellent tools, within his purple polemic prose, for that first stuff and gives little or nothing for the second.

#literary theory #game design #genre

2 notes · View notes

kpophours · 5 years

Text

A Walk Home (M)

➵ SF9: Rowoon x fem. reader / one shot, college AU / fluff, smut

➵ warnings: explicit mentions of sex (oral: giving, fingering), mentions of alcohol, slight cursing

➵ word count: 5.3k

A heartfelt laugh and shining eyes.

That’s what he notices the first time Rowoon sees you.

Tousled hair being impatiently pushed back over one shoulder and out of an open, attractive face.

Fluttering hands gesturing widely, more laughs until you throw your head back, giggling uncontrollably.

You're vibrant and energetic.

Warm and open.

You feel like a breath of fresh air on the stuffy afternoon Rowoon meets you for the first time.

Rowoon’s tall frame is the first thing you see out of the corner of your eye.

Tall and dangly, arms and legs that seem too long to fit anywhere properly.

A jawline sharper than any blade, dark smoldering eyes – and a smile so inviting and open that you can’t help but immediately feel at ease around him.

He uses one hand to push his black hair away from the forehead, a hint of impatience to that gesture. When he sees you looking, he grins - he knows he’s handsome, but doesn’t seem to care about it.

“There they are!”, Jaeyoon says when he spots his two friends just entering the café, “Late as always.”

“Punctuality is a virtue.”, you sigh, taking a careful sip of your steaming coffee.

“One we do not own, I’m afraid.”, Rowoon says, having overheard the last bits of conversation and grinning apologetically at you and Jaeyoon.

“Yeah, I’m sure we make an amazing first impression.”, Youngbin sighs, slipping onto the bench beside you, the chair opposite you now the only available space left for Rowoon.

You just grin. “Don’t worry, I have a lot of friends who hold other virtues, too.”

"Well without further ado, let me finally introduce these two – Rowoon and Youngbin, two of my closest friends and roommates. Guys, this is Y/N.”

Both men smile at the you and you respond in kind.

“Nice to finally meet you.”, Youngbin says, while Rowoon nods in agreement.

“Likewise – Jaeyoon has told me a lot about you. So.... You will help us with our genius idea?”, you ask, propping your chin onto one hand and regarding both, curiosity sparkling in your eyes.

“Well, we will try.”, Youngbin quickly dampens your excitement, “We’re no geniuses on the programming side.”

“Speak for yourself.”, Rowoon jumps in, raising one eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“Are you telling me you’ve become a programming genius over night now?”, the older man with the bright red hair asks, grinning a bit condescending.

“Who knows - I have many hidden talents.”

“Dancing the Macarena while balancing a glass of beer on top of your head does not count as a hidden talent, just so you know.”, Jaeyoon intercepts, making you laugh.

“Oh, I’ve definitely got to see that!”, you say brightly, dimples showing.

“Well, we’re having a party at our place this weekend, come over and you might get to see it.”, Youngbin proposes.

“Sounds good. Is it alright if I bring my best friend along with me?”

“No need - I live there too, so I’m already invited.”, Jaeyoon says confidently, making you roll your eyes.

“You are not my best friend, Yoon.”

He fake gasps. “I’m not?! But what about us, what about everything we’ve been throu-”

“I swear to god, you need to stop watching High School Musical.”, you whine, punching him lightly on the arm and making him pout.

“But they are cinematic masterpieces!”

“They are not. Seriously, you are so weird!”

“That’s why you love me."

"I most certainly do not.”

“I know you do and I love you, too. So, back to business then.” And with that, he looks at his two friends, who observe your bantering with amused faces.

The jokes continue through the whole afternoon, which marks the beginning of a new, blossoming friendship.

The four of you manage to plan quite a few things for the app you and Jaeyoon envision for your university project. If everything works out (which it will) you will get a high, if not the highest grade for this.

You come with your roommate/best friend to the party.

There, you show off your skills at beer-pong, destroying the youngest of the bunch of men living together named Hwiyoung and Chani with the help of Zuho, another of Jayeoon’s roommates; you can’t help but laugh at their shocked faces.

After that, Dawon calls for a round of shots, making you even more drunk which finally results in you showing off your (non-existent) dancing skills. Taeyang and Youngbin rescue you from the dance floor before you can hurt yourself (or someone else) with your flailing arms and legs. Rowoon and Jaeyoon have tears in their eyes from laughing too much at you, but you don't even mind. You obviously already know about your poor dancing skills, but are way too drunk to care.

When the night is old – or the morning young? – you sit outside with Inseong, having dreamy talks about politics and a better society. By then, you have finally begun to drink water; thanks to that, the alcohol is beginning to wear off. Your best friend is already back home, having drunken a little too much too fast and therefore decided to sleep it off.

After the party, you quickly become a regular at the young men’s house: many game as well as movie nights are spent cuddled together on mattresses and under blankets with popcorn and wine, even more are spent with Rowoon in the kitchen trying to improve your cooking skills or with Inseong on the porch discussing politics; sometimes you just sit in their living room, quietly reading one of your novels beside Youngbin - and once in a blue moon you even try to play some computer games with Hwiyoung and Chani (you're really bad at those, making them laugh at you).

It takes a few weeks before the men begin to notice that they don’t seem to remember a time before you. Especially Rowoon, who - along with Jaeyoon and Inseong - is closest to you, doesn’t want to imagine his life without you anymore. He doesn’t know it yet (or maybe he doesn’t want to acknowledge it) but he’s falling for you, ever day (and night) a bit more.

It’s movie night again and you're currently in the kitchen, helping Rowoon to prepare different dips for the ridiculous amount of chips already waiting with the others in the living room.

“Something’s still missing.”, Rowoon complains, tasting the guacamole he’s trying to make again.

You chuckle. “That’s just because you’re a perfectionist. The others won’t notice anything missing, I promise you that. Their taste is not… refined enough for that.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, scooping some guacamole onto his finger to taste it yet again, but before he can put it in his own mouth, you beat him to it, quickly licking his finger clean.

His heart stops and you giggle at his shocked expression. “Some more garlic, that’s what’s missing.”

With that, you playfully wink at him, take some of the already finished dips and leave the kitchen – Rowoon still standing shell-shocked in the same position, not having moved a single muscle.

When you’re gone, he takes a deep, shaky breath.

This is not good.

He should not feel his heart beating this fast – shouldn’t feel the lust spreading through his whole body, making him ache for more, leaving him hot and needy.

”Hyung, are you coming or not?”, Hwiyoung yells, breaking the spell a bit. Rowoon quickly drowns a cold glass of water, before taking the now finished guacamole and entering the living room, where everyone else is already assembled.

“There you are. We’ve already decided on a movie without you, by the way.”, Chani says, already munching on some chips. Rowoon ruffles his hair, making the younger man flinch and complain: “Hyung, don’t!”

He just grins, plopping down beside you onto one of the mattresses laid out on the floor – it’s the only available space left, a fact that makes him frown. Jaeyoon sports a shit-eating grin and Zuho shoots him a wink, so he knows they did this on purpose.

So… they know.

Just to prove them wrong, Rowoon scoots as far away from you as possible without falling off the mattress.

You don't even seem to notice, too involved into a banter over who gets the last blanket with Dawon. After everyone’s finally settled (you having gotten the blanket from Dawon, who’s now fake-sulking beside you with his arms crossed), Youngbin shuts off the lights and hits play on the first movie.

All you can hear besides the munching of chips and popcorn is the opening music of “The Nun”.

“Why are we watching a horror movie again?”, Zuho finally mutters, blanket already pulled up to his nose with only his eyes left visible.

Hwiyoung snorts. “Because we voted for it, hyung. You know, democratically.”

“Starting tonight, I’m completely against democracy. Can I quickly install a regime of monarchy with me as King? And change the movie?”

“Nope.”

A deep sigh follows the denial of his request, but after that, Zuho is silent. You gently pat his leg (the only limb you're able reach as he’s sitting directly above you on one of the sofas). “Just close your eyes when it’s getting too silent during the movie. That’s where they always place some jump scares.”

“Wow, thanks. What great advice!”

You just grin and shrug. “Always happy to help.”

After that, no one talks, everyone silently enjoying the movie (or not completely silent in case of Zuho and Dawon, who seem to scream during every jump scare); all are happily munching on the snacks.

During the second movie (this one another genre thanks to Zuho threatening to leave the movie night early otherwise), the first ones begin to fall asleep; first Youngbin, then Jaeyoon and finally Inseong and Zuho. Chani and Hwiyoung complain about the older ones, making fun of their inner grandpas, but Rowoon shushes them with one look. Dawon is the first one to leave, having gotten a call from another friend inviting him to a spontaneous party only a few blocks away. Chani and Hwiyoung finally retreat to their shared room as well, preferring to play some video games over watching a third movie.

When the next movie begins, you and Rowoon are the only ones left - not counting the sleeping ones still sprawled on the mattresses and sofas.

A third of the movie has gone by when your eyes begin to droop, too. By then, Rowoon has long given up on keeping some space between you as you have offered him half the blanket to share. Your legs are pressed against each other, hands touching too often to still call it accidental.

When your head drops down onto Rowoon’s shoulder, he uses his chance and slides one arm around you. Your response is immediate: you sigh, cuddling even closer and burrowing both hands into his soft cotton shirt.

Your eyes are still closed, but Rowoon feels your fast beating heart thanks to your body being closely pressed to his.

You're not sleeping but are too shy to open your eyes, the closeness to Rowoon so thrilling and exciting – and so new. You don’t want to ruin this moment, afraid to shatter it with confessing you being actually awake. But when you feel Rowoon’s lips on your forehead, you can’t keep pretending anymore. You lift your head and look at him with curious eyes, noticing the soft, loving expression on his face. Time seems frozen with you gazing at each other, hearts beating fast, hands becoming clammy.

Then, Rowoon’s gaze drops to your lips.

Your breathing stops for a second, your heart beginning to hammer uncontrollably, making you dizzy. It’s been too long since you've felt like this, like a teenage girl being in love for the first time.

Weeks of stolen glances, not so accidental touches, casual nearly-dates (sometimes with, sometimes without the other men) and many stupid inside jokes have cumulated to this moment – Rowoon face slowly nearing yours.

Thoughts run through his head that this, THIS is the moment he’s been waiting and hoping for - for so, so long, for weeks – months really…

He sees you close your eyes, hands loosening the hold on his shirt and wandering upwards to curl into the hair at the base of his neck, but before he can close his eyes as well and finally kiss you – he hears someone yawning, blankets begin to rustle and limbs to move.

Both of you immediately jump away from one another, Rowoon quickly snatching his arm back from around your smaller frame and you taking both hands back into your lap, interlacing your trembling fingers.

Cheeks burning, breaths halting, both of you plaster your eyes to the screen in front of you, hearts hammering fast and unsteady.

“What year is it?”, Jaeyoon groans from above you, sitting up.

When Rowoon and you turn around to look at him, you can’t stop a giggle coming from you – he looks too adorable with his hair sticking out in every direction, remains of sleep and dreams still evident in his eyes.

“It’s 2050, welcome to the future.”, you answer, making your friend groan again.

“Don’t make fun of me. I hate drifting off during movie nights.”

“Shouldn’t have stayed up all night playing Overwatch with the maknaes, then.”, Rowoon chides his roommate, one eyebrow raised.

“Thanks, mom.”, Jaeyoon grumbles, flinging a pillow towards the tall man. Rowoon quickly ducks, giggling at his friend’s antics.

“Just go to bed, Yoon.”, you simply say, but he shakes his head.

“And leave you two alone? Who knows what you’ll be doing! No, I can’t be that irresponsible.”, he counters, smile wicked when he observes you two, noticing your red cheeks and not so subtle looks towards each other. Jaeyoon knows you two are head over heels for each other, but he also knows neither has done anything about the more than obvious crush (obvious to him and the others at least). He loves teasing you, so he stays where he is - wouldn’t make it too easy for either of you.

You just sigh, turn around and gaze at the screen again. “I think I’ll head home after this movie.”, you finally murmur, eyelids getting heavy again.

“I’ll walk you home.”, Rowoon immediately offers.

You smile sleepily at him. “Thanks.”

With that, silence falls over the room again, but this time it feels heavy – both Rowoon and you are way too aware of Jaeyoon watching you.

The kiss that hasn’t happened is hanging above you like the sword of Damocles.

Half an hour later, the movie ends and you immediately stand up – a bit too quickly apparently, as your head begins to spin. “Oof.”, you huff, trying to find something to hold onto and finding it in Rowoon’s arm.

“Careful.”, he murmurs in a teasing undertone, eyes sparkling with humor.

“Oh, shut up.”, you counter weakly, dampening your words with a soft smile. Jaeyoon stands up as well, stretching both arms above his head and yawns. Inseong, Zuho and Youngbin are still out like a light and you three are intending to keep it that way, tiptoeing out of the living room and into the dark hallway. You quickly grab your shoes and leather jacket and are almost out of the door, when two arms cage around you.

“Not so fast.”, Jaeyoon says playfully, hugging you tightly to himself, “You can’t just leave without saying goodbye to your best friend.”

You giggle. “You’re not my best friend, Yoon.”

You both know it’s a blatant lie by now, but it’s a game you both like to play.

“I know I am. Love you, sleep well, have sweet dreams and I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” With that, he releases you again, but this time you turn around and smile. “Same, same, same and yes.” You kiss his cheek and leave the house – Rowoon already waiting for you on the street, also clad in a leather jacket.

He looks way too good in a leather jacket, you conclude, burying both hands in your pockets so they don’t go wandering in search of others to hold.

Rowoon smiles sleepily at you, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead.

He looks way too good with his hair like this, you think again and groan inwardly. He looks way too good in every aspect, you're tired of lying to yourself – you're hopelessly in love with the tall, dorky man.

You walk in silence towards the apartment you're sharing with your (other) best friend, who's currently out of town visiting some relatives this weekend. You curse her for it; you could’ve really used her to talk about what happened but didn’t happen with Rowoon tonight. And you would rather eat a broomstick than talk to Jaeyoon about this – you can already imagine his smug expression. You know he knows about your crush. You have the feeling all the other men know about it – but Rowoon is too oblivious apparently.

Or maybe he does know about your crush as well, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it – because he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Or because he’s just not into you.

Or because-

“What are you thinking about?”, Rowoon asks, voice laced with amusement, “It looks like hard work.” He points at the lines forming on your forehead thanks to the frown you're currently sporting.

You're silent, unusually so. Normally, your walks are filled with bantering or deep talks or - well, anything, really. You have a connection like this, where you always have something to talk about. Now though, you don't really seem to be here with him – and you’ve almost reached your apartment.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.”, Rowoon hears you murmur, smiling at him, but he sees right through it.

“Mhm.”, he just makes, continuing to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

Five minutes later, you’ve arrived at your doorstep. The sky is still pitch-black, only a few stars twinkle lazily down at you. It’s cold enough for your breaths to form tiny white clouds in front of you.

Rowoon looks at you, but you’re pointedly not looking at him. “Y/N.”, he says softly and you finally gaze up at him. Uncertainty fills your eyes, something uncommon for one of the most confident people he knows.

“Thanks for walking me home.”, you finally answer, the corner of your mouth curling upwards into the tiniest of smiles. As if he hasn’t walked you home hundreds of times by now - but you still continue to always thank him.

“Well, you can walk me home again now. And then I’ll walk you home again. And so on and so on - that way we can spend more time together.”, Rowoon suggests jokingly, making you smile in earnest this time. And that does it for him – that beautiful smile he came to love weeks (months, really) ago, with the dimples in your cheeks and the small creases around your sparkling eyes.

He steps forward, arms sliding around your smaller frame, head lowering towards yours and then – finally – his lips are on yours.

You have thought about this moment for days, weeks – months by now. And when Rowoon’s soft, plush lips are finally on yours, your heart just stops for a few seconds before beginning to hammer inside your chest.

It’s a sweet, soft, chaste kiss.

... At first.

Because the months of build-up it had taken for you both to finally admit to this, apparently have an impact: you slide both arms around Rowoon’s neck, pressing your body even closer to his, moaning softly against this lips. That does it for him, his teeth sink into your lower lip, gently biting down and when you gasp a bit, his tongue slips into your mouth. Desire shoots through your body, hot and needy and you can’t suppress the shudder and louder moan this time. Rowoon groans at this, pressing you even harder against him and grinding against you.

At this, you break away from him, breathing heavily. “I-”, he already wants to apologize, but you don’t even let him finish: “We should take this inside.”

He stutters and looks at you with comically big eyes, before beginning to grin wickedly. “After you, then.”

Your hands tremble slightly while you search for your keys – why did you choose a bag this large for today?! – and Rowoon pressing himself against your backside, hands roaming your sides while his breath tickles your exposed neck, isn't helping at all.

Finally, you manage to find the keys, slip them inside the keyhole and then, you’re inside the house.

You somehow make it into the elevator without getting rid of your clothes, but as soon as the apartment door falls shut behind you both, your mouths are on one another again, teeth and tongues clashing, months of pent-up desire making your moves hurried and sloppy. Your hands slip under Rowoon’s shirt (his and your leather jacket are already on the floor beside your shoes), trembling fingers dance over his abs, making him groan and grind against you again, erection already hard and pressing into your hip.

“Bedroom.”, you just say, dragging the taller man with you into your room. Out of habit, you close the door even though your best friend/roommate isn't even here. When you turn around and gaze with hooded, lust-filled eyes at Rowoon, you see the same expression mirrored on his face, eyes roaming your body, teeth digging into his lower lip.

Lust shoots through your entire body and you feel too hot and needy to take your time. You simply grab him again - just when he pulls you back into his arms.

"You're still wearing way too many clothes.", Rowoon murmurs against your lips, making you smile.

"I could say the same.", you answer cockily, hands slipping under his shirt again and dragging it upwards. He quickly pulls it over his head and flings it into the darkness of your room, not caring where it lands.

"Your turn."

You release a deep breath at this, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Rowoon groans when he sees your bra - black lace, nearly see-through.

"Fuck.", he mutters, hands already reaching for you to press your body against his again. He kisses you, slow and deep this time.

Your knees get weak and all you can do is hold onto Rowoon's biceps, so you don't slip to the floor.

"Still too many clothes.", the tall man finally says, when he ends the kiss, a small smirk forming on his lips.

You giggle. "Well, we should definitely change that, then." With that, you open your belt, then the button of your jeans, wriggling free and stepping out of them. Only left in your black panties and bra, you look at Rowoon, a silent challenge in your eyes. He follows it, quickly getting rid of his pants as well. His dark briefs are stretched thanks to his erection pressing almost painfully against them and when your gaze begins to wander towards them, you suck in a breath, teeth digging into your lower lip. Then, you reach for the fastening of your bra, opening it and letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground.

Rowoon swallows thickly, eyes getting even darker with desire when he sees your breasts, nipples already erect. Quickly, his lips are on yours again, arms curling around you.

You're trembling slightly, a fact that makes him hesitate. "You're okay?", he murmurs against your lips, a silent question in his eyes - do you really want this?

But you smile quickly, nodding forcefully. "More than okay, actually. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this.", you confess quietly, kissing him once.

He groans. "Thank God, me too."

With that, he takes a few steps backwards towards the bed, pulling you with him and sitting on the edge of your mattress, your body between his legs. His hands wander over your stomach, making you tremble even more. Soft kisses follow the paths of his hands, before his mouths closes over one nipple, his fingers brushing over the other one.

You moan at this, hands coming to rest on Rowoon's broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your breathing gets louder and choppy, the waves of desire making you feel dizzy. More wetness pools between your legs and when Rowoon's free hand brushes the edge of your panties, you curse softly.

His dark eyes gaze up at you, hidden humor sparkling in them at his own teasing. This does it for you, you push him on the bed, his mouth releasing your nipple in the process. You shivers at the sudden lack of contact, but quickly begin to straddle Rowoon, kissing him deeply and grinding against his erection. He moans at this, hands digging into your hips. "Don't tease.", he murmurs, voice dark and rough, making you grin at him. "Says the right one.", you just answer, but quickly lower herself, pulling his briefs down and freeing his erection.

Seeing his length for the first time makes you gulp - his body seems to be... very proportional. He smirks at your reaction, but it quickly dies down when you take his length into your mouth.

Incoherent words leave his mouth and he closes his eyes, hands fisting into your white bedding. You're apparently very good at what you’re doing, his heavy breathing and moans telling you he's more than enjoying this. Finally, he grabs your shoulders, heaving you towards himself and kissing you hungrily. He's panting when he breaks away from you, lips swollen and hair a mess. "I- you... Jesus Christ."

You laugh at this, a mistake apparently - one second he's under you and then he's flipped you over, his tall frame hovering over you.

He kisses your neck, slowly making his way down, only stopping at your breasts for a short amount of time before pulling down your panties.

He teases the edges of your heat, before sinking one long digit inside you, making you mewl at the sensation. When his thumb lands on your swollen clit, you begin to pant, one arm thrown over your eyes, your other hand fisting into the pillow beside you. Rowoon grins wickedly at the sight in front of him, enjoying teasing you a bit too much.

"P- please.", you finally whimper, looking at him with hooded eyes, teeth digging into your own lower lip.

"Condom?", he answers almost immediately, just as impatient as you.

You open the drawer of your nightstand and seconds later, he has already rolled the condom over his length, positioning himself in front of you.

"You're sure?", he murmurs, one eyebrow raised, making you roll your eyes at him. That does it for him - he grins, rolling his hips once and entering you swiftly.

You moan at the sudden sensation of him filling you, nails digging into his biceps until he's bottoming out. He stays still for some seconds, letting you adjust to his length buried deep inside of you.

"Okay?", he whispers gently against your lips and you nod forcefully, kissing him hungrily. He begins to set a slow pace at first, but you quickly demand him to move faster.

Pounding into you, one hand slipping between your flushed bodies to rub your clit, he makes both of you moan in pleasure.

It doesn't take long for you to begin to shake and clench around him, making it harder for him to hold back, his movements becoming sloppier with every second. You’re both breathing hard and when you finally cry out in complete pleasure, he releases the hold on him as well, groaning and moving a few last times, before coming to a halt.

Face buried in your neck, Rowoon is panting, eyes closed and heart beating frantically.

You slide your arms around his broad frame, gently caressing his bare back and kissing his exposed shoulder.

"That was amazing.", you finally murmur, voice tired but pleased.

Rowoon grins at that, gently pulling out of you and rolling off the bed. "More than amazing.", he confirms, standing up and tossing the condom into the trash bin.

You wrap the blanket around your naked body, eyes heavy and hair spilling over the white pillows. He smiles at you, gaze soft.

"You're staying?", you ask in a small voice, one hand reaching for him.

"Yes.", he simply says, slipping back between the covers, gently pulling you against him.

You fall asleep like this - legs entangled, Rowoon's hand softly stroking your back, your nose pressed into his neck.

You sleep deeply and dreamlessly.

The pale morning light filtering through the blinds and into your room wakes Rowoon the next day; you’re still soundly asleep beside him.

Your eyelids flutter from time to time and you mumble something incoherent, but otherwise it's completely silent inside the apartment - time seems frozen.

The dark-haired man continues to gaze at you, eyes soft, a small smile playing on his lips.

He can't believe that last night really happened, but his and your naked body as well as the still fresh memory in his mind are more than proof of it.

You shift slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around your body.

Your hair is fanning over the white pillows and you look so breathtakingly beautiful, so vulnerable, that Rowoon wants to take a picture to treasure this moment forever - he doesn't though.

Instead, he silently slips out of bed and pulls on his dark briefs and white shirt, before stepping into the hallway. He quickly makes his way towards the kitchen and drinks some water straight from the tab, before going to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, noticing the smile he simply can't seem to suppress. He hasn't been that happy in a long time.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. Still half asleep, you reach over to touch the other side of the mattress, noticing the still lingering warmth.

So Rowoon can't be gone for long.

You groan slightly, reaching for the water bottle you always keep beside your bed and take a few deep gulps of cold water. After you've satisfied your thirst, you tousle your hair and stretch both arms above your head with a deep yawn. You're still naked and shiver in the cold room, quickly pulling the thick blanket around your body again. At that moment, your door opens and Rowoon steps through; hair mussed but eyes bright and awake.

He smiles breathtakingly at you and you answer it a bit shyly.

"Morning.", he says, voice still rough from sleep.

"Morning.", you reply, stretching both arms towards the tall man, "Come back to bed?"

He doesn't even hesitate, quickly crossing the room with two large steps and slipping between the covers with you, pulling you against his own body. You shiver a bit, moaning slightly at the heat radiating from him.

"Slept well?", you ask, your breath tickling his neck.

"Like a rock. And you?"

"Same. I haven't had such a good night's sleep in a really long time."

"Well, you were pretty exhausted."

You hear the smirk in Rowoon's voice and decide to tease him a bit: "Oh yeah, three movies are a lot to take in."

He tickles your sides, making you giggle - the most beautiful sound in the world to him.

You gaze up at him, eyes sparkling with humor. He can't hold himself back anymore and presses his lips against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

A few minutes later, both of you are breathless.

"I had the most amazing night.", Rowoon finally says, the corners of his mouth curling into a soft smile.

"Me too.", you answer, giving him another quick kiss.

"I... Just so I'm clear - I don't want this to be a one-time-only-thing.", the young man confesses, holding his breath until you're grinning widely at him.

"Oh thank god, me neither."

He laughs at that, pulling you even closer and pressing his lips against your forehead. "So... can I take you out on a date tonight?"

You smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

[masterlist] | [requests]

352 notes · View notes

tobiomlk · 5 years

Note

those tsukki fluff hcs? i am LIVING. could i get general dating hcs for tobio? 👉👈 good luck with your blog - 🐸

— kageyama as your boyfriend

LISTEN kageyama has a condition where brain is filled by (2) things: volleyball and food. relationships? that doesn’t exists. you’re gonna need either a miracle or a saint’s patience to get anywhere with this nerd, whichever works best for you.

i hope you’re well aware that your luck is on a negative count from the get-go, since 1) his knowlodge about romance is next to none and 2) he’s dense as fuck. even if he’s the one to develop feelings first, he wouldn’t act on those any sooner because he doesn’t even gets what’s going on. he just goes ( ??? ) whenever you smile at him and there’s this funny feeling around his ribcage and he’s 100% sure it’s hunger. so, unless you have the guts to fess up first… get ready to simp over this boy for the longest time.

that or until his teammates ( namely, suga ) do a divine intervention ‘cause damn, he’s so grossly in love, and if kageyama was already in the dark we fucking lost him, because what does it means to be in love??? that’s not a position or a game tactic as far as he’s concerned.

he even goes as far as to seek the textbook definition on dictionaries and spiel to himself like a damned mantra in the hopes he’ll get it but guess what? he doesn’t. if anything, he just further confused with the poor intent of describing such abstract concept with big words.

the whole process of realization is so agonizing and infuriatingly slow, it has gotten to the point where all da fucking team is up to date with the tragedy and they’re even making bets as to how it’s going to end ( tanaka and noya are putting all their money to kageyama not ever knowing about his feelings, ennoshita and the third-graders still have a bit of hope for their son. the first-graders are just enjoying the shitshow. )

but when it finally hits him… that there’s no better place than the one by your side and he couldn’t possibly have it otherwise… then it’s over for both of you.

once tobio is set his way, there’s no stopping him. hell, he might as well blurt it out as soon as he sees you, for all he cares. “it seems like i’ve fallen in love with you”.

but now you returning his feelings??? the most unrealistic and unlikiest scenario. his monkey brain definitively didn’t think out this far and now he’s in shambles. you’ve to spent half of an hour explaining to him that, all of it apparently means that you can be “a couple or something” and you can literally see his braincells combusting through his eyes.

are you going to clown him for his confession for the rest of his life? yes. do you hold the moment close to your heart regardless? Yes You Do.

needless to say, kageyama as a partner is awfully awkward. the boy’s barely familiar with platonic relationships, dating it’s like walking blindfolded onto unknown territory. he’s going to need you to teach him the ropes !!! ( not that you’re complaining, of course you’re not complaining )

being as unapproachable and volleyball-crazy as he’s known to be, i think many people depict kageyama as someone who doesn’t fully invests himself onto his social relations, especially the non-platonic field; because yes, to kageyama, volleyball comes first and foremost, but he’s just as devoted and earnest when it comes to his teammates and friends, and more importantly, you. once there’s something that means a lot to kageyama, he’ll give everything he has to offer, and you aren’t the exception to the rule.

while volleyball still takes most of his time and that won’t change under no circumstances, you can tell he does his best to spend the scarce time he has to spare with you. juggling between his passion and his loved one is not an easy task, but kageyama knew what he was applying himself for and there’s no way he’ll be half-assing, no sir!

at the very least, he always makes sure to walk you home. even if that means he’ll have to return afterwards to the gym, because he always trains ‘til very late and there’s no way he’s gonna keep you waiting that long for him ( you keep telling him it’s fine, that you don’t mind waiting, but he doesn’t relents “no. im taking you home first, then practice. and that’s final. now come here, dumbass.” )

he also calls you every single night before heading to sleep! he can’t stay long on the phone because he needs to go to bed early for morning practice, but just being able to hear your voice… to know about you and your day… is more than enough for him.

honestly it never fails to melt your heart when he begins talking in this raspy, low voice and you can tell he’s sleepy by the way he mumbles his words so you tell him that it’s ok for him to go to sleep now but he just shakes his head in spite of the fact you can’t see him and goes like “i still have a couple of minutes left. i want to hear your voice.” like honestly GET FUCKED !!!!!! HE’S SO LOVELY I’M-

kageyama understands if you have different interests and things you’re passionated about ( in fact, he’ll even try it out just so he can something to share with you! ), but, truly, nothing would make this blueberry as happier than you showing the tiniest bit of interest into volleyball. sometimes, the topic creeps onto your talk and unavoidably, tobio switchs to full nerd mode and starts geeking out about the matches and stuff and he’s just so giddy about it but then he freezes, and realizes he might be info-dumping you about something you probably don’t even care about, so he kinda cuts himself before going on… but the look of sheer happiness he offers you when you encourage him to go on? how his big, doe-eyes lit up once you ask him to explain you more carefully? can you possibly fathom how joyous it makes him to know he can get the best of his favorite things together?

to be honest, you’d expect him to be less considerate and act more fit of the self-centered, entitled king role he has been granted— not saying that he doesn’t slips and has his bossy moments of no filter, because he does, but the thing is: he’s surprisingly open to your opinions, too. over time, he’s been taught that communication is of utmost importance and the only way to understand others and have them understand you, and he’s firmly sure that applies to every aspect of his life. he wants you to know that, just as he speaks his mind, you’re free to do the same.

it’s ok if you argue, it’s ok if your points of view don’t match, because that means you’re talking to each other, and that’s way better than letting things sink without actual closure. kageyama learnt that the rough way. his speech might not be the most articulated or refinated, but he tries his best to get his points accross without unecessarily hurting your feelings. communication is so crucial to him, please, keep it in mind.

with that being said, kageyama’s prone to be unromantic and even insensitive at times with how he voices his opinions, because he’s no concept of sugar-coating and won’t hesitate to tell you if you suck at something, or flawlessly ignore your efforts to put on a lovey-dovey mood. but if you talk him about it and express that you’d like him to have some more tact, he’ll take the note! “tact? ok, ok. i’ll. try to be as tactful as possible from now on and… read the mood? but i make no promises” ( spoiler alert: he keeps telling you that you suck but now he lets you have a sip of his milk and pets your head to soften the blow. )

and speaking of physical affection… god, kageyama is an utter stranger to pda. i mean, the boy is just a prude, unripe blueberry. he doesn’t know how it works, he’s not used to it, and the last thing he wants is to go and do something that’ll put you on a tough spot. your comfort is one of his main priorities, so you have to let him know what’s ok and whatnot, then he’ll start getting the hang of it. once he does, you’ll find out that kageyama is, as a matter of fact, one of the most touch-starved persons you’ll come accross with.

he just can’t seem to get his hands off of you, in the most literal and non-sensual way possible. be it small gestures like your hands brushing together, shoulders bumping, or your heads resting against each others’, kageyama just craves the feeling of your skin against his. despite how bad he denies it, he’s pretty clingy.

you’ve picked on how much he apparently enjoys holding hands, and petting your head, for that matter. you don’t know why, but his hand would always makes its way atop your head. it has even gotten to the point in where he does it out of habit, and when you ask him what’s wrong he just replies “nothing? why do you ask?”

i think kageyama has two stages while he’s on a relationship. the earlier ones, where he cannot lock eyes with you for more than give seconds before going all blushy and stiff, and the advanced ones, in where physical contact has practically become a must and one of his primary functions as a human being to operate naturally.

kageyama’s hugs are so freaking awkward at first… there’s no guides about this. does he just envelops you with his arms ??? and then stay still like that ??? what if he hurts you by holding you too tight ??? oh my god he’s even holding his breath while he’s at it SOMEONE FREE HIM-

and don’t even get me started on the kisses. LISTEN YOU DEFINITIVELY CLASH YOUR TEETH DURING YOU FIRST KISS AND YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND ON THIS ONE !!!!! knowing him, he needs weeks of mental preparation and advice from his god-send suga-senpai before going for it, and when the moment comes… he goes too hard for literally no reason and right after you’re both on the floor whimpering ‘cause that shit HURTED.

“ow, ow… tobio WHAT the HELL” “oh, PISS OFF”

well, at least he has an excuse for rehearsing!!! don’t worry, he’s a fast-learner ;))))

cuddling is just about the same you guys spend all day squirming in order to find a comfortable position and it’s just a mess™ of limbs and giggles.

“wait… maybe if i put my arm around here…” “wait, tobio, you’re tickling me-” “??? don’t laugh !!! STOP LAUGHING THIS IS NOT FUNNY”

but once you finally manage to settle down, god, it’s so pure… kageyama loves to have you in his beefy, setter arms as much as he loves being hold by you. the crook of your neck? a heavingly place for him to rest his head and which belongs to him and him only !!!

look kageyama is so weak for physical affection i’m not even kidding. all you need to calm him down is to rub his back soothingly and he’ll even forget why he was so mad about to begin with. the amount of power you hold over this boy… it genuinely surprises people to see how tame he’s when it comes to you. everyone can agree that if kageyama has a weakness, that’s you.

tobio is not the one to get particularly cheesy or romantic, everyone knows at least that much. however, he has this thing in where he genuinely voices out how great he considers you to be without batting an eyelash which of course makes you super flustered because “why are you getting so cheeky for?” “??? it’s the truth though” SHUT UP IM SOBBING.

you know how slow and oblivious your boy is, so the last thing you expect is him being able to read you as easily? it takes its sweet time, but within the years, kageyama steadily learns to understand you and how do you operate. your habits, your body language, what makes you happy or upset, he knows all of it. he can tell when something’s off just from a glance, yet he’s so nonchalant about it— like it’s obvious to know what’s on your mind. now, does he know how to act knowing this? not really, but give him props, he tries his best!

with all that has happened to him, it should come as no surprise the fact kageyama can get pretty insecure in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t trusts or you ( god, the boy could trust you with his life ), but you can’t blame him for letting his insecurities get the best of him. he’s just so, so afraid… that one day you’ll notice how unlikeable he truly is and you end up leaving him, like most of the people have done to him in his life…

tobio desesperately needs the reasurrance, the words of affirmation, to bask on the feeling of knowing he’s so deeply loved, and that he’s no such thing as an unlovable person. i hope you let him know that, just as he lets you know how grateful he’s for having you in his life.

all in all, kageyama can be a blunt, awkward and more than a bit dense partner, but he’s striving to become a better version of himself day by day, so, he secretely wishes you’ll put up with him a little longer.

23 notes · View notes

koyacyi-vode · 4 years

Note

26 Rex and Padme? #uncommon ship. Lol

Sorry this is so late! || Prompt from this post

Prompt 26 - “I didn’t intend to kiss you.”

Characters: Rex and Padmé

The rest under a readmore!

---

Padmé held herself with such grace it was almost terrifying. Even through the last few years of running and hiding, Rex still saw the refined and practiced motions that she'd always moved with when she was a senator.

When he'd first met her, he'd seen what kind of fighter she was. He didn't have to know the harrowing tales of the Invasion of Naboo when she had been Queen and still just a child, or how she had fought alongside Jedi and clone alike on Geonosis. He'd seen it in her eyes the first time they met. The quiet but fiery determination that fueled her actions. That fire had turned into an inferno when the war had ended. Rex had always admired her for her tenacity. He'd never realized just how much of it she actually had.

She was pacing at the moment. They were waiting on word from Ahsoka, but it was taking longer than either of them would have liked. They'd only just arrived at their current safehouse, and tensions were high until they felt safe in their current location.

Rex was positioned in the window, looking down the scope of an ancient but solid sniper rifle, searching for movement in the growing darkness outside.

"Ma'am," Rex said, keeping his attention through his scope. "You should really sit down. You'll just wear yourself out," he suggested. He heard Padmé stop her pacing abruptly. She sighed.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Padmé?" she asked, a soft resignation in her tone.

"At least once more, ma'am," he said, and he grinned at the annoyed sound she made. Rex's comm crackled and then Ahsoka's voice drifted through, calm and focused.

"We're clear. But I'm going to extend my radius a bit more just in case. Area is deserted, and we weren't spotted, so we will be safe here for a few nights," she relayed. The tension seeped from Rex's shoulders immediately and he sighed, lowering his rifle. He picked up his comm.

"Copy that Fulcrum, let us know when you're on your way back," he said, and she confirmed with a rather cheeky 'roger roger' before signing off. Rex put his comm in his pocket and stood up, joints popping from being in one position for too long.

"We'll be safe for the night," he told Padmé. She visibly relaxed and nodded, the tense angles of her shoulders softening incrementally. She looked different now, and it wasn't just the lack of ostentatious senate attire. The end of the war had hardened her more than the rest of them.

"I'm going to check on them, they've been locked in the back room for a while," she murmured, and walked towards the end of the hall where they had put Luke and Leia while securing the perimeter.

When the Republic fell, he didn't think he would ever see Padmé again. But she had found them. Rex had no idea how she had managed it, but only a few weeks after everything had come to a catastrophic end she appeared with one newborn strapped to her back and one to her front. And Rex knew from that moment on he would do everything in his power to keep her and her children safe.

The twins hadn't been a surprise. He'd been well aware of Padmé's pregnancy before the end of the war. They were about four years old now. It had taken a while for Rex to get used to being around such young children. But he loved them with all of his heart, even if sometimes just the sight of them would make him ache. The familiarity of their mannerisms and faces were agonizingly similar to their father. He saw the same pain in Padmé's face every now and then when she looked at them.

They didn't talk about him much, the General. Ahsoka never spoke about him and Rex was smart enough not to even think about him with her around. It hadn't been a pleasant first conversation. Padmé had recounted her discovery of Anakin's betrayal with subdued, detached seriousness. Whether she had come to terms with it for the sake of her own sanity, or for her children, Rex would never know. Ahsoka had been distraught, and disappeared for several weeks, before returning in grim despair. From then on it had been the five of them and the ghost of the man who had once tied them all together.

Years later, it still felt like a fresh wound, seeping and septic.

Padmé returned alone, and Rex tore himself from his memories. She gave him a small smile and sat down on the dusty couch near him.

"They fell asleep," she said, answering his unasked question. "Curled next to each other right where we left them," she leaned back, sagging a bit. She was tired. They all were. Rex swallowed and walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You should rest too, ma'am," he suggested quietly. Padmé hummed and gave him a tiny, tired smile, placing her hand on top of his. Rex had to fight to keep his face neutral, since the touch alone almost made him jump out of his skin.

"You're a kind man, Rex," she said softly. "You've done so much for me and the children. We wouldn't have made it this far without you and Ahsoka," she admitted. Rex's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, ma'am," he countered. Because it was true. He believed wholeheartedly that she could hold her own. She wouldn't have to though, and he would fight to his dying breath so she wouldn't have to. But she could. Padmé snorted a laugh and the bright sound made Rex's face inexplicably heat up. She stood up and smiled at him fully, and it was rare to see her smile like that. Rex treasured every one of them.

"Your confidence in me is flattering, but I do feel much safer with you around," she said warmly, grasping both of his hands lightly between her own. Rex was momentarily transfixed with how small her hands were, slim and elegant, but not without the blemishes and calluses that told of their years of running and fighting. "Really, thank you," and she pulled him into an embrace that almost made him stumble in shock. It took him several seconds to respond and then he returned the gesture, if a bit awkwardly since she was significantly shorter and slighter than him.

It had been quite a while since anyone had hugged him, apart from the kids. Rex hadn't realized how much he had missed the physical warmth and touch of another person and he found himself melting into her arms and tightening his own around her. Padmé breathed a heavy sigh into his chest. Rex wondered if maybe she was feeling the same thing. They stayed still and quiet, just holding each other for several seconds before he spoke.

"I'm glad I can help you in any way, ma'am," he murmured, slightly mortified with how hoarse his voice was. Padme's shoulders shook with a small laugh.

"Padmé," she insisted.

"Sorry," he whispered, even though he wasn't really that sorry. Padmé's arms lowered slowly, her hands drifting across the back of Rex's shirt in a way that sent a tiny shiver down his spine, and she pulled a little further back.

This, Rex realized suddenly, was dangerous territory. Because she was definitely too close, and he didn't want to pull away. And he should pull away. But he didn't and there was a half a moment's breath between her hand sliding against the back of his neck and tilting her head and then all thoughts of retreat were blown away as she kissed him.

It was soft and hesitant, her other hand pressed up feather-light against his chest. And before Rex could get his brain to think he kissed her back. He brought one hand up to cup her cheek and the other braced on the small of her back as their lips slid together a bit firmer, a bit more insistent. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't thought about this. Over the past few years he'd come to admire her in more than just a professional respect. Ahsoka had found out several months ago and had teased him about it, but she had the tact not to say anything or goad him on about it. Because, well... Remembering the why made Rex's brain come to a stumbling halt.

He pulled back, not sharply, but with enough purpose that Padmé retreated. He couldn't look at her, his mind swimming in guilt. He felt almost wounded, which was a ridiculous feeling to have over this kind of thing. But the tightness in his chest was as tangible as any physical injury. He exhaled heavily through his nose, controlling his breathing the best he could. She was quiet for a few moments, most likely a bit shocked herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't intend to kiss you." Rex risked a glance at her. Her brow was furrowed in a complicated emotion with one of her hands pressed against her mouth. Rex had a feeling he understood a bit of what was bothering her. They were connected to the same source of pain and guilt after all.

"I know," he rasped. She turned back to him and her eyes held a deep sorrow that he wished he didn't have to see. Rex sighed and closed his eyes, trying to relax the rigid posture he had accidentally locked himself into. "I think…" he searched for the right words, painfully aware of her expectant gaze on him. "I think that it's… too soon... for this," he clarified, hoping to Force that she would understand what he meant, since there was no way he could explain it any better. Padmé smiled sadly and he saw the recognition in her face, the understanding. It didn't make him as relieved as he would have liked.

"I agree," she said, and Rex's heart clenched painfully. She traced her fingertips over his cheek before she withdrew completely and Rex shuddered. He wasn't sure how they would proceed, now that this was out in the open. It was one thing to want someone. But it was another thing entirely for that desire to be requited. But they had wounds still too fresh to heal. And they both knew better than to pick at scabs.

Maybe one day, when their wounds have healed more and death wasn't trailing their every move, they could be something different together. But for now, it was safer for them to maintain their imagined distance.

"You should get some rest, ma'am," he repeated, their earlier conversation feeling like it had taken place years ago. Padmé nodded, her expression distant and melancholy. She stepped back from him, giving him some space as she walked back towards the room with the twins. When she reached the door she turned back towards him, her hand against the doorframe.

"Good night, Rex," she said softly. He nodded at her, tight and tense.

"Good night, Padmé."

#captain rex #padme amidala #sw fic #tcw fic #well its after tcw #rex x padme #i have nO idea if they have a ship name or not it is def uncommon ahaha #this one was a bit difficult for me to write i have to admit!#but it was a good challenge!#anyways sorry this took so long! hope you like it!#fluff writes #novasquad2805

9 notes · View notes

grither55 · 4 years

Text

The Princess and the Peasant - (An Azula Epic) - Chapter 6 - Breakfast with the Princess

Twenty-eight minutes later Elle stood before Azula’s seated form carefully balancing a tray as she set it down before her master.

Azula silently inspected the contents of her breakfast with a discerning eye while watching as her handmaid obediently set her food out for her.

The blonde’s smaller plate sat in the corner of the tray while golden eyes glanced over its contents.

She couldn’t help but notice that her servant’s plate was devoid of meat of any kind.

But she quickly shrugged it off while peering back at her loyal pet.

“Early once more. Good girl.” The princess stated strictly while watching her servant set down her food tray.

“I endeavor to please you Master Azula. Would you like for me to stand or kneel before you while you eat?” Elle answered sweetly while bowing with her waist bent before the seated princess.

“No. You may get a chair and sit beside me.” Azula spoke while grasping at her plate of food with her pet staring down at her in surprise.

“Are you certain master? I don’t mind waiting to eat. I understand that my princess comes first.” The blonde-haired girl spoke with a warm smile adorning her lips as she beamed back at the stoic woman.

The girl’s submissive words truly pleased Azula.

And yet all the same…she wanted to get to know her servant better.

“Are you questioning my will?” The princess demanded while narrowing her cold eyes as she delighted in how the small girl trembled.

“N-no Your Highness. I-I am just trying to be the best pet I can be.” Elle stuttered much to Azula’s delight while the woman glanced up at her smiling.

“Hm. Good girl indeed. Now do as you were ordered!” Azula commanded while watching as the younger girl scrambled for a chair.

She observed in amusement as the teenager dragged one of the spare chairs over before placing it beside her much taller throne.

There was little purpose for the arrangement of extra seating in her study.

But from time to time Ty Lee and Mai would accompany her to her study…

She never imagined that she would one day be allowing a servant to sit beside her.

“A-arigatou gozaimasu Azula-sama for t-treating me well.” The blonde-haired girl mumbled as she timidly peered down at the extravagant tabletop.

“Don’t get too sentimental servant. I am simply maintaining this standard in order to continue to receive optimum service.” The princess replied while turning to peer down at her young companion with icy eyes.

“As you say master…would you like for me to fill your cup?” Elle requested softly while Azula gazed at her in grudging approval.

That was what she adored about this girl.

Even when she granted her privileges that no other servant has. Instead of slacking, Elle labored even harder than before.

“You may. But do not spill it.” Azula stated strictly while Elle poured orange juice from the jug into her glass.

“I am good at pouring princess. I won’t spill it!” The blonde-haired girl exclaimed while smiling tenderly at her master’s emotionless face.

"I will admit that you are well coordinated. Tell me more…about where you come from." The princess commented while taking a regal bite of her eggs.

"My…world?" Elle repeated with the barest loss of joy while gazing at Azula's stoic face.

The refined woman swallowed her food while glancing at her handmaid with understanding in her brilliant eyes.

"Your supposed world…not your brother." Azula answered sternly while finding herself frowning over her young handmaid's fear.

It was a bizarre feeling.

To be displeased over a peasant girl’s fear.

She just chalked it up to how revolting it would be for two siblings to share sexual relations.

“Oh! Well let’s see. We have many countries. More than four nations! Well…at least I heard that there used to be four nations…” The blonde-haired girl trailed off while holding a finger to her chin with the older girl listening in amusement.

“There once was, however that was long ago. Now the Air Nomads are no more.” The princess snorted with a cruel smile on her lips.

“We don’t have any benders that I know of. You see in my world…it’s not normal to have superhuman abilities of any kind.” Elle explained while cutting at her eggs with the princess turning to gaze at her.

“It sounds like a boring world then.” Azula spoke while finding herself bothered by the thought of being without her bending.

“No…it isn’t. It’s…just not a very happy place to be.” The young handmaid confessed with a reflective look in her eyes while her princess swallowed her food with an uncaring countenance.

“How sad…for your fellow peasants that is.” The princess snorted in a taunting voice while she watched her pretty handmaid begin to smile once more.

‘What a strange peasant. She’s already smiling again.’ Azula thought with her red lips pursing into a sophisticated scowl before turning away from the girl.

The woes of her handmaid’s homeland are none of her concern.

She just shook her head before taking another bite of her meal while her young servant began to do the same.

“But there are a few people that possess abnormal abilities. There is a woman…her name is Rieko. They call her the Winter Emperor you see. Because she can turn people into blocks of ice!” The blonde-haired girl announced in an animated voice while the older girl stared on with intrigued golden eyes.

“You just said that you don’t know if you have any benders. So how is she capable of freezing people in ice?” The princess asked in a suddenly piqued voice while setting her glass down.

This was an interesting development.

If she could make contact with this woman…perhaps they could forge an alliance to strengthen the Fire Nation.

“Beats me! I’m just a simple small-town girl with a crazy brother. I wouldn’t know any more than the average person. It is very well possible that I don’t even know what I am talking about!” Elle cried out before returning to her food with a naïve smile.

Once more Azula found herself sighing as she bit into her food shaking her head all the while.

It was rather obvious that Elle was a simple sort.

She shouldn’t have expected anything of great value from the soft-hearted girl.

“Believe me. I can tell.” Azula stated before swallowing her mouthful.

“We do have some cool stuff that your world doesn’t have! I’ve got a few things in my backpack that I could show you sometime.” The blonde-haired girl chirped while leaning in her chair as she gazed up at the woman with adoring eyes.

“Cool stuff? Like weapons of any kind?” The princess inquired with amusement lacing her voice while she dryly watched the girl shake her head.

Figures…

“Oh no! I don’t carry weapons of any kind on me. I believe in resolving all matters peaceably.” Elle replied while Azula pointedly peered down at her bruised cheek.

“Really? How’s that working for you so far?” Azula taunted while gesturing to her cheek while staring at the girl with harsh eyes.

“It’s rather hit or miss. But even so. I just try to get along with everyone. I’m not the sort to start trouble. I’m not much of a rebel!” The blonde-haired girl conversed while smiling from ear to ear at the older girl’s stony countenance.

“Believe me servant I can see that. But that is good I suppose. Rebels don’t live very long.” The princess remarked sagely while swallowing another mouthful.

‘This girl would have died if I would have left her on the streets…’ Azula thought with her lips pursed into a frown while watching her handmaid nibble on her eggs.

And most puzzling of all…why did such a thought irk her?

“While I don’t have any weapons. But I do have something much cooler. Want to hear what it is Your Highness?” Elle spoke while turning to the princess’s cold face with her bright amber eyes alit with joy.

“Not really. But I suppose you are going to tell me anyhow.” The princess sighed while pondering if the girl ever ceased babbling.

“I have a little gadget that plays lots of music! It’s small…very compact and it’s got all kinds of music on it.” The blonde-haired girl exclaimed while nodding proudly even as the girl turned to gaze at her with deadpan eyes.

“A music box? That’s what you want to show me?” Azula scoffed while regally swallowing another drink of her juice.

“It’s not a music box. It’s an MP3 player. It has…oh I don’t know…about two thousand songs on it.” Elle answered while smiling when her words brought about a gleam of interest in the royal’s eyes.

“Two thousand songs? How can one device hold that many songs?” The princess pondered while gazing at the girl with curious golden eyes.

What strange little handmaid she’s picked up…

“In my world, songs created by artists can be compressed into datafiles that are therein copied to your device of choice. Pretty neat huh?” The blonde-haired girl concluded as she gazed up at the woman’s intrigued face.

“As a novelty I suppose so…though a weapon of war would have been of a greater interest to me…” Azula trailed off while skillfully masking her interest in the music device.

“Would you like for me to show it to you later?” Elle asked hopefully while resting on her elbows with her crush eating her meal in a refined manner.

“Servant! I am a princess with a busy schedule. My country is in the middle of a war. I have no time for petty games.” The princess snapped coldly while gazing at her handmaid as the petite girl sunk in disappointment.

“S-sumimasen Azula-sama…” The blonde-haired girl mumbled while poking at her food with saddened eyes.

Azula said nothing in response as she cut into her meat while chewing it calmly as she tried to conceal her mild annoyance over the girl’s sulking behavior.

Thus far she has concluded that her handmaid was twenty times as cheerful as Ty Lee and unlike her acrobatic friend easily prone to bursting into tears.

“I…know you are a busy woman. I just wanted to show it to you. I don’t have a way to charge the battery…so after I turn it on once more…it will never turn on again. You’re a princess…and you’re also my friend. So…if I was going to show it to anyone…it would have been you.” Elle spoke in a softer voice while Azula gazed at her through the corner of her eye.

The girl’s words were strangely pleasing to hear…

Although she was rather taken aback to hear her handmaid call her friend.

“We’re friends?” The princess questioned sternly while glancing over at her servant’s saddened face.

“I…would like to be friends…with you Azula-sama.” The blonde-haired girl admitted while redness traveled down her cheeks peered down at her food.

“You’re a peasant…and I am a princess. Such a friendship would be frowned upon by many.” Azula commented coldly while drinking what remained of her juice.

“Oh….” Elle trailed off lamely with her spirits plummeting after those words.

“Which is why you had best keep this to yourself. I will allow you to show me your little toy later on.” The princess remarked while turning to gaze at the smaller girl’s now brightened face.

“I am friends with Master Azula!” The blonde-haired girl yelled out childishly while throwing her arms up in delight.

All the while cold eyes surveyed her in a puzzled manner almost as if her existence was an enigma to the princess.

“Keep your voice down!” Azula hissed while glaring at her exuberant handmaid musing that Ty Lee was sure to take a liking to her.

“I am so happy that we met!” Elle cried out before leaping over to embrace the stunned woman around her neck.

The princess stiffened with her eyes agape in a comical display of disbelief almost as if she was having difficulty processing that one of her servants just hugged her.

Azula was so stricken by the action that she dropped her utensil while gazing back at Elle’s joyous face with bewildered golden eyes.

“Detach from my neck at once servant! Or I will punish you!” The princess called out while squirming in her seat with her palms lighting ablaze.

She glared at the petite girl embracing her neckline while gritting her teeth in annoyance.

She even considered burning her handmaid for her defiance.

Yet somehow, she was finding herself unable to raise a hand to the younger girl’s face.

“But you’re so huggable! I just want to hug you forever and ever!” The blonde-haired girl insisted while beaming up at her master’s scowling face.

“The feeling isn’t mutual. Now get off me!” Azula growled while pushing Elle off of her with her palm while glaring at the girl as she fell back into her seat.

Why she cancelled out her bending before shoving her handmaid off of her was yet another mystery.

And even stranger…the hug didn’t make her as furious as she claimed.

“I feel much better now. Don’t you? Hugs make everything better. Especially hugs with a princess.” Elle stated innocently while cheerily sipping her juice.

“No, I do not! Try that again and it will be your last!” The princess declared while glaring over at her cheery pet with cold eyes.

Then she returned to her meal while eating the remainder of her food with a trace of aggravation in her stern eyes.

‘Hm…perhaps I should have hugged her longer…she still looks angry…’ The blonde-haired girl thought while holding a finger to her lips.

“Refill my drink servant.” Azula ordered while pounding her fist on the tabletop in a demanding manner.

“Yes, Master Azula. Forever as you say.” Elle agreed while reaching over to pour more juice into the woman’s tall glass.

“Well…at least you’re well trained. For the most part.” The princess grumbled while chewing on her final bites with a frown still adorning her lips.

The blonde simply continued to peer over at the older girl’s lovely face while still touching her lip with her fingertip.

‘Azula-sama is so cute when she’s angry.’ Elle thought while smiling over at Azula’s brooding face while giggling softly under her breath.

Azula gazed over at her in a questioning manner but ultimately made no comment.

Then a short time later Elle stood with the dishes upon the tray while her master observed her from her throne.

“Go clean up those dishes servant.” Azula commanded while returning her focus to her war documents.

“Yes, Your Highness. What after that?” The blonde-haired girl stated while bowing carefully with the tray in hand.

“I have a great deal of work to do. But if you can keep silent…I will permit your company for a while longer.” The princess explained while turning to her bowing pet with strict golden eyes.

“Wakarimashita!” Elle exclaimed with a grin on her innocent face while bowing once more before the woman’s emotionless face.

Azula scanned Elle for the briefest of moments before waving the girl off as she watched the handmaid open the door and vanish soon after.

The door closed shut while she sighed heavily musing that the girl could be a real pain.

Yet even so…she was finding herself becoming fond of the girl despite her best efforts not to.

It wasn’t long after that Azula heard the door open and quietly close once again.

The princess idly peered over at her pet before blinking in bafflement when the girl dragged the chair back to its previous location.

And then much to her delight padded over before her booted feet and sat with her legs folded beneath her at the foot of her throne.

“The floor once more?” Azula questioned while gazing down at Elle’s petite form as the girl leaned against the foot of her throne.

“I prefer the floor. It’s closer to you master.” Elle answered while craning her neck to peer up at her looming master with worshipful eyes.

The princess’s lips curved into a gratified grin before reaching down to pat her pet’s head once again.

The small blonde blushed while melting beneath the woman’s authoritative palm in an almost puppylike manner.

“My…aren’t you a good pet.” Azula purred with approval lacing her voice while Elle leaned in to rest her face upon her thigh.

She quirked a brow while peering down at her pet with stern golden eyes but ultimately decided that she would allow her handmaid to rest her head upon her thigh.

“…I am Azula-sama’s pet.” The blonde-haired girl agreed tenderly while burrowing her face into the woman’s soft thigh.

“That you are. Now be a good girl while your master works. I have much work to do. I need silence from here on out.” The princess announced while turning to peer down at yet another page of the war document.

“Yes, Master Azula.” Elle mumbled softly while laying against the princess’s robed thigh while a hand remained resting in her hair.

And so, the teenager sat at Azula’s feet with the princess absentmindedly petting her here and there.

The petite blonde began to relax with her head laying upon the lovely thigh with her eyes quickly becoming heavy.

The handmaid yawned quietly while stern eyes occasionally glanced down at her in-between breaks from her workload.

If you asked Azula the girl was getting a little too comfortable.

And yet she found herself refraining from speaking any words of rebuke.

Nearly twenty minutes later Azula was surprised to hear the sound of gentle snoring coming from below.

The hardened princess glanced down at the handmaid surprised to see that the girl had fallen asleep with her face buried in her thigh.

The small girl was resting with her arms curled up awkwardly beneath her in the space of her seat unoccupied by her backside.

Elle continued to breath peacefully while Azula stared down at her with imposing golden eyes after recovering her composure.

“I don’t recall giving her permission to sleep…” The princess snorted while gazing down at her handmaid before trailing her fingers through her hair.

The blonde mumbled in response while yawning in her sleep before curling up closer to the older girl’s thigh.

“Azula-sama…” The blonde-haired girl murmured sweetly before resuming her snoring while her princess still gazed down at her from above.

‘Is she…dreaming of me?’ Azula pondered as she surveyed her slumbering servant with curiosity in her gaze.

The princess then returned her focus to her morning paperwork with her handmaid sleeping peacefully upon her shapely thigh.

She calmly flipped the page while quietly mulling over her war plans.

This should please her father…that she knew without a doubt.

And so Azula continued to go over the documents while finding herself strangely savoring the younger girl’s chosen sleeping area.

All was well in the mind of the Fire Nation Princess until the sound of knocking speedily straightened her in her seat.

“Who is it?” Azula called out while quickly gazing between the door and Elle’s dozing face.

“It’s me Azula. May I come in? Or are you busy?” Ty Lee asked from the other side while standing with her hands on her hips.

“…Just you?” The princess answered coldly while the acrobat blinked in confusion on the other end.

“Yes, it’s just me.” The brown-haired woman stated while shifting on her feet when a strange silence followed.

Azula stared down at Elle’s peaceful face with a frown on her lips before turning back to the door.

She may be able to hide her little hobby from her father but Ty Lee was bound to see her and Elle interact sooner or later…

“…I’ll come back later.” Ty Lee spoke while turning away with a noticeably glummer countenance.

Lately she has felt like her friendship with Azula was slipping…and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Or if anything could be done about it.

“You may come in. But shut the door behind you.” Azula sighed while turning to the opening door with callous golden eyes gazing upon her friend as she quietly stepped inside.

Just as soon as Ty Lee stepped inside the study she froze with her hand upon the door.

She gazed ahead with shocked brown-gray eyes to find herself gazing upon Azula with the blonde handmaid sleeping with her face upon her robed thigh.

It was such a stunning sight that she hadn’t even realized that she was gawking for far too long.

She may be friends with Azula but even she and Mai both know that there was an unspoken boundary that even they couldn’t cross.

There were just certain things that you do not do in her friends’ presence.

It was not wise to stare at Azula for too long.

Nor should a servant ever be so foolish as to fall asleep in Azula’s presence.

And yet here this girl was sleeping upon Azula!

When golden eyes took on a much more dangerous glint, she quickly shut the door behind her.

“Azula…” The brown-haired woman muttered in disbelief while trying to take her eyes off the baffling sight.

“If you tell anyone about this…” The princess trailed off in an even colder voice than usual with her eyes burning through her surprised friends’ skull.

It was such a terrifying tone that Ty Lee found herself gulping while speedily waving her hands before her in a placating show of reassurance.

“I won’t tell! I promise…I am just surprised. That’s all.” Ty Lee stated while stepping closer with her eyes occasionally glancing over at the girl cutely snoring on Azula.

“Try not to wake her up. She’s been babbling all morning.” Azula commented casually while Ty Lee seated herself in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t know that you listened to servants babble…” The brown-haired woman replied with a rising smile on her lips as she observed her friends scowling face.

“I don’t. I am training her to be the optimum personal servant. She must remain in my presence in order to ensure that she is shaped to my specifications.” The princess answered while gazing at her cheery friend from the corner of her eye.

“If you say so Azula…” Ty Lee giggled while smiling gently in relief to see that her friend could be kind after all.

If Azula is allowing the girl to sleep on her…

She couldn’t help but wonder…if she gave her a plate after they left.

She had thought that Azula’s answer the prior night was a resounding no.

Yet after seeing this….

“Just what are you implying?” Azula hissed while glaring between her friend and her snoring servant with icy eyes.

“It almost looks like…you’re being…nice?” The brown-haired woman suggested nervously while leaning back in her seat.

“Nice?” The princess sneered in a venomous voice that already had the acrobat regretting her words as she raised her palm to slap the younger girl awake.

“Azula!” Ty Lee exclaimed in a hushed voice while watching as her friends’ hand nearly impacted with the sleeping girl’s bruised cheek.

Azula’s palm halted before impacting with Elle’s face while the small girl continued to breath serenely while adorably nuzzling her thigh.

“Tch.” Azula grunted before reclining upon her throne while glaring down at the blonde’s snoring face.

“Do…you like this girl Azula?” The brown-haired woman pondered while hoping she wasn’t pressing too deeply.

“What do you mean like?” The princess asked icily while gazing over her shoulder at her childhood friend.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling fondness for another person Azula…everything doesn’t have to involve cruelty.” Ty Lee explained while leaning on her elbows as she smiled at her unsocial friend.

“She’s a peasant Ty Lee. She is beneath me.” Azula insisted while glaring at her friend’s grinning face.

“Peasant…nobility…royalty. We’re all human. That doesn’t make her worth any less than us…she’s a nice girl. There aren’t many servants that would smile over kneeling on the floor while we eat for a whole hour. But I don’t recall her frowning even once.” The brown-haired woman responded while propping her legs up under her.

“That’s because she knows her place. Unlike the other peasants.” The princess stated while gazing back down at her slumbering pet.

“Is her place sleeping on your leg?” Ty Lee teased while trying not to giggle over Azula’s obvious interest in the younger girl.

“Her place is kneeling before me. She is my pet Ty Lee. A pet sleeps at her master’s feet.” Azula announced while gesturing down at the snoring girl while Ty Lee’s smile began to wane.

“Your pet Azula?” The brown-haired woman repeated while gazing between the two with disappointment in her eyes.

Just when it seemed like Azula was allowing a girl of a lower status to get closer to her she finds out it is only because she sees the girl as her human pet.

“You heard me Ty Lee. I have decided to keep this girl as my pet.” The princess declared while placing her hand atop the tiny girl’s head of soft hair.

“Oh…okay. Well at least you’re still being gentle with her…” Ty Lee sighed while shaking her head as she resumed playing with her braided hair.

“Well let’s hope for her sake that you keep your word. Because if you don’t…I’ll throw her back into the dirty alleyway that I found her in.” Azula informed in a warning voice while staring hard at her friends appalled expression.

“A-Azula that would be extremely cruel. Please don’t do that.” The brown-haired woman whispered while digesting the princess’s words.

Azula took this girl in from the streets.

She never imagined that Azula would ever bring a peasant in from the cold streets!

The last thing she wanted to see was for this poor girl to get thrown back out into a filthy alleyway.

“Then you had best remember that what you see now…and what you may see when we are in private…stays in private.” The princess replied while frowning over in her childhood friends direction.

“I get it Azula…I won’t tell a soul…may I ask what prompted you to take her in?” Ty Lee conversed gently while staring at Elle’s peaceful face.

That girl may the only person on the planet that could fall asleep on Azula and look so joyful about it!

“Ugh. She gave me a fire lily.” Azula grumbled as she gazed at the wall with an irate gleam in her eyes while Ty Lee’s eyes widened in realization.

The acrobat couldn’t believe that her brief suspicion had been right after all!

With the news just now sinking in she could only peer down at Elle’s mumbling face and then back up to Azula’s stoic visage as a smile began to climb onto her lips once more.

Even though her friend was claiming that the girl was her ‘pet’.

This added a whole new element to it!

It was…just adorable!

“Aww! That was so sweet of her! She must really like you Azula!” The brown-haired woman exclaimed with a beaming countenance.

“Of course, she does. She approached me to tell me that I am the most beautiful girl there is. I already knew that though…” The princess trailed off smugly while her friend just smiled in response to her hubris.

“And that’s why went out in the rainstorm.” Ty Lee spoke with a tender smile adorning her lips finding it relieving that Azula had goodness in her after all.

“Yes Ty Lee. I decided that she would make a good pet.” Azula commented with her hand still resting in the girl’s hair.

“Is…that what you told her?” The brown-haired woman asked while she scratched at her cheek finding her friends lack of social skills to be rather amusing.

“I told her that I was keeping her as my pet…she said and I quote, sure I’m the princess’s pet now.” The princess responded with a smirk forming on her smug lips.

“You know Azula…this girl must like you more than you know if she tolerates you calling her your pet…” Ty Lee trailed off while leaning back in her seat smiling even so.

It was cute in a strange fashion.

She could tell that Azula was already becoming rather possessive of this girl and she could also tell that Elle adored Azula.

“Please. She worships me.” Azula boasted while puffing out her chest while Ty Lee gazed at her sweatdropping over her inflated ego.

“Well I’m happy for you Azula…so what’s her name? It must be something other than pet.” The brown-haired woman inquired while still gazing down at the dozing teenager.

“Her name is Elle.” The princess admitted with the barest signs of fondness in her cold voice.

“Will Elle be hanging out with us from now on?” Ty Lee requested with a warm smile on her lips as she watched the girl mutter incoherently in her sleep.

“She will wait on us wherever we go yes.” Azula informed curtly while Ty Lee sighed heavily once more.

“…Can’t we just get to know her…you know without her slaving on us hand and foot?” The brown-haired woman asked while staring at her friend hopefully.

Homeless or not she knew damn well that any other commoner girl would run the opposite way if Azula approached her and declared that she was to be her pet.

The fact that this girl happily accepts such a role just proves how much she loves Azula.

“I am training her to be the ideal servant. This means that she must be ready to serve me at any moment. Be it day or night.” The princess insisted while her friend peered at her with an awkward smile.

“Well I look forward to getting to know her. I hope you don’t work her to death…it would be nice to have a new face on the team!” Ty Lee chimed while Azula glanced between her and Elle’s snoring face with deadpan eyes.

The two girls then listened closely when the small blonde began to mumble once more.

“Oh…Azula-sama…” Elle mumbled while adorably clinging to the older girl’s thigh as she sunk face first into Azula’s soft flesh.

The acrobat blinked while holding a hand over her mouth as she failed to withhold her giggles all the while the princess glared at her icily.

“Ty Lee…” Azula warned in a growling voice while still keeping her hand upon her pet’s snoring head.

“Azula that is so cute!” The brown-haired woman exclaimed while gaping at the girl’s adorable face.

“It is not cute.” The princess protested while grasping at her young handmaid’s head with a dominant hand.

“Oh, come on Azula. How is that not adorable? It’s cute and you know it.” Ty Lee declared while folding her arms over her bust while marveling over the dozing blonde’s lovable face.

“Perhaps…she is marginally adorable…but only slightly.” Azula stated callously while scowling over her friends amused laughter.

“If you say so Azula…just marginally adorable.” The brown-haired woman snickered while musing that the two would make a cute couple.

“Are you through with your interrogation? I’ll have you know that I have a strategic reason for keeping her around.” The princess retorted while glaring at her smiling childhood friend.

“Like what? So, you can have a girl that’s head over heels for you waiting on your every order?” Ty Lee answered while folding her arms over her bust with her friend scoffing in response.

"No, Ty Lee. It's because she claims that she's from another world." Azula confessed while resting her spare hand on her belly with her childhood companion gazing back in shock.

"What?" The brown-haired woman blurted in puzzlement after nearly falling from her chair while the royal gestured down to the teenager once more.

"She says that she is from another world. She doesn't know how she got here…or how to get back. She wandered the Fire Nation for a few weeks…before finding herself captivated by my beauty. She's been following me around trying to give me gifts ever since she laid eyes on me…" The princess trailed off in a spoiled manner.

"That's…that's amazing Azula. And so sweet at the same time!" Ty Lee quipped while smiling at Elle's resting face once more.

That had to be one of the sweetest tales she's ever heard.

This girl must be truly innocent…to be able to look past Azula's cruel streak.

Not to mention the courage that it took to approach Azula with a fire lily!

"Naturally…my primary purpose is to ensure that she doesn't fall into enemy hands. If her story is true. There is no telling what secrets she may hold…" Azula spoke seriously while Elle continued to snore softly upon her thigh.

“…Right.” The brown-haired woman laughed while peering at the blonde’s opened mouth as she stretched out on the princess’s thigh.

“Of course, this is only further validation of my magnetic charm.” The princess answered while her friend sighed once more.

“I think you might be letting this go to your head Azula.” Ty Lee replied as she shook her head almost fondly.

“She abandoned any desire to go home as soon as she laid eyes on me. She says she wouldn’t go home even if she could. She would rather serve me.” Azula boasted while her lips curved into a gratified smirk.

The words were a bit of a further shock to Ty Lee as she peered at the sleeping girl with surprised brown-gray eyes.

“Like I said Azula…she’s clearly a sweet girl. I…just hope you’ll keep being nice to her. It’s obvious that she likes you.” The brown-haired woman commented while gazing at the blonde’s face with kind eyes.

“Oh please. I’ve hardly overworked her. The only work she’s done thus far was eat breakfast with me.” The princess remarked while gazing down at the girl’s yawning face.

Ty Lee was just floored to hear that Azula had actually ate breakfast with a commoner.

It was…just astonishing.

Azula then glanced down at the girl’s groggy face while sternly observing as the smaller girl opened her sleepy little eyes.

The younger girl peered back up at her slowly yawning once more while her master grudgingly allowed her to remain upon her thigh.

All the while Ty Lee watched from the corner of the room while holding a hand to her mouth as she quietly gushed over the girl’s cuteness.

She could tell that Azula agreed with her…even if the princess wouldn’t say as such.

“…mhm…” Elle trailed off in mid yawn while Azula gazed down at her snorting in evident amusement.

“You are a brazen little peasant.” Azula remarked while glaring down at the drowsy girl as Elle propped her head against her thigh.

“…Is it still silent time master?” The blonde-haired girl pondered while blinking up at the woman’s looming body.

The acrobat quietly sighed while watching the two interact.

Why must Azula make the girl call her master? Isn’t princess enough?

“I wouldn’t be speaking to you if it was. Are you aware that you’ve been sleeping on my leg for an hour?” The princess questioned curtly with the small girl still recovering from her nap.

“Hm. Only an hour…may I go back to sleep now?” Elle asked innocently while Azula narrowed her eyes down at her.

That was when Ty Lee finally giggled as she observed the two’s adorable interactions.

“Oh…do we have company?” The blonde-haired girl mumbled while still peering up at her master’s scowling face.

“Hello! Did you sleep well?” Ty Lee greeted while watching Elle turn her head to finally notice her with widened amber eyes.

“No, you may not! My leg is not your pillow?” Azula snapped while staring down at Elle’s blushing face with hardened eyes.

“It’s not my fault that it’s so comfy…” Elle grumbled childishly with the woman peering down with an icy countenance.

“You must have some comfortable thighs Azula…” The brown-haired woman teased woman her friend glared at her through the corner of her eye.

“Straighten yourself at once! Naptime is over!” The princess barked while snapping her fingers as she observed in delight when the girl sprang up upon command.

“Yes, Master Azula! S-sorry!” The blonde-haired girl cried out while speedily removing herself from the woman’s lap.

“Kneel! I will not tolerate this disrespect.” Azula commanded while pointing down at her boots with smug golden eyes.

“Azula…” Ty Lee sighed heavily while Elle sank into a bow with her face pressing into her friend’s pantleg.

“Yes, Your Highness! How may I please you? Is there anything you would like me to get you?” Elle questioned while bowing with her face pushing into her master’s bootleg.

“Do you see that Ty Lee? Now this…is the ideal servant.” The princess purred with a smile on her lips as she turned from her frowning friend to peer down at her prostrated pet.

“I see it Azula…” The brown-haired woman stated while musing that she preferred her friend’s prior behavior to this.

“I-I am pleased that you think so princess…y-you know how much I strive to make you smile.” The blonde-haired girl stammered while remaining in her bow when the woman leaned down to pat her head.

“She’s a marvelous little pet. Isn’t she? No complaints…no frowns. Just joyful service.” Azula cooed in a possessive voice while petting the bowing girl’s head while her friend eyed her weirdly.

“Azula…why do you have to demean her like this? She gave you a fire lily…she’s a sweet girl.” Ty Lee muttered while suddenly regretting visiting her cruel friend.

“Demean her? Does it look like I am abusing her?” The princess retorted while gesturing down to the teenager’s prostrated body while she continued to trace her fingers through the blushing girl’s hair.

“Not physically…but…you are emotionally demeaning a girl that has been nothing but kind to you.” The brown-haired woman explained with her lips pursed into a frown.

“Nonsense Ty Lee. Tell me servant…are you happy being my pet?” Azula inquired while smiling as she patted Elle’s little head while the girl pressed her face into her boot.

“Very much so! I am the princess’s pet!” Elle chirped while giggling underneath her master’s petting hand.

Ty Lee simply blinked while musing that Elle must adore Azula so much that she is willing to be her friend’s pet just to be beside her.

It was both sad and adorable…in a twisted way though.

“That you are. And there you have it Ty Lee. She’s happy.” The princess declared while patting the girl’s little head before leaning back in her throne once more with her pet hugging her boot.

“If you say so Azula.” Ty Lee agreed while staring at Elle’s face while finding the puppylike behavior to a bit unnerving.

Why did Azula have to turn a girl who genuinely adored her into a human pet?

“Your lazy time is hereby over servant. I command you to stand and report to the palace kitchens for your days training. You will spend the next few hours memorizing my every want...and then you will be trained in housekeeping. You shall report to me in my chambers in three hours’ time. After you’ve cleaned my room…you will spend the remainder of the day waiting on me and my friends.” Azula announced in a tyrannical voice while Ty Lee just gazed at her in clear disapproval.

“I shall not displease you Azula-sama! This servant will make you smile.” The blonde-haired girl exclaimed while speedily standing before bowing at the waist before her master’s reclining form.

“One can only hope…now run along now.” The princess commented while waving the girl off while the blonde beamed back at her while scurrying for the doors.

“It was nice meeting you Elle!” The brown-haired woman called out as she leaned on the edge of her seat while watching the girl stop before the doors to return her smile.

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well Ty Lee! I will see you later Azula-sama! I’ll miss you!” Elle cheered as she waved at both girl’s while Azula gazed at she nodded briefly.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Azula stated dryly while paying Ty Lee’s frown little mind as they watched Elle grin before shutting the doors behind her.

“Azula…isn’t that little a little extreme just for giving you a fire lily.” Ty Lee spoke softly while her friend turned with her smile waning.

“She is eager to please. I like to be pleased. I fail to see your point.” The princess answered while gazing back at her sighing friend.

“I know. I am just saying…that it would be nice to get to know Elle without her constantly having to scramble about on our every order.” The brown-haired girl explained while her friend arose from her throne.

“Ugh. If it will quiet your complaining. I’ll give her an hour break later today so you can chat with her. Happy?” Azula spoke with her arms folded over her breasts while Ty Lee sprang from her seat smiling much wider than before.

“Very much so! I already feel like she’s going to be a great friend! Her aura is very pink!” Ty Lee blurted while following after Azula who simply rolled her eyes in response.

“Yes Ty Lee. She is very pink.” The princess stated while she walked alongside her cheerful friend down the halls of the palace.

Sometime an hour later Elle knelt beside Lao while they continued to scrub the floors of the palace.

“So! What’s your name?” Elle conversed while gazing over at her fellow handmaid with happy amber eyes.

She was aware that the other staff thought she was crazy for being so happy to serve the princess.

But oh well!

“You got Chia in trouble the other day. She was thrown out because of you.” Lao answered calmly while turning to gaze at the cheery blonde with a calmer countenance.

“Azula-sama asked me a question. I answered truthfully. The princess was displeased over the change. I tried to tell Ms. Chia that Azula-sama would not approve…but she wouldn’t listen.” The blonde-haired girl explained while peering back at the puzzled girl.

The dark-haired girl gazed down at her scrubbing pad musing that the head handmaid had kind of set herself up for that.

It didn’t seem that the girl did it on purpose…but even so.

She didn’t seem to know when it was for her own good to be quiet.

“…Just don’t do anything to get me in trouble okay? I have to feed my family. Do you understand?” Lao inquired while gazing back at the blonde’s now nodding face.

“Wakarimashita.” Elle chirped while staring at Lao’s baffled face while the older girl sighed under her breath.

“My name is Lao.” The dark-haired handmaid muttered while resuming her scrubbing.

“And I am Elle!” The blonde-haired girl exclaimed proudly while humming as she continued to wipe down the floor.

“…Has anyone ever told you that you were strange?” Lao inquired pointedly while Elle turned to beam over at her.

“Mhm!” Elle answered with Lao gazing at her now comically with a bead of sweat dripping down her cheek.

“Right…” The dark-haired handmaid sighed before glumly returning to the miserable task at of cleaning the palace floors.

“Her Highness wants us to clean her room after this.” The blonde-haired girl chirped while the other handmaid gazed over with annoyance in her eyes that flew over her head.

“Joy….” Lao murmured while glaring down at the floor as she mused that the spoiled princess would do well to learn how to clean her own room.

Not that she would ever say that aloud though.

Her bitterness seemed once more lost on her more innocent minded companion as they continued about their days work.

Azula strode through the palace with Ty Lee and now Mai in tow whilst the weapons user listened to the acrobat explain about Elle.

“Did I just hear that right? We’re…going to hang out with a handmaid?” Mai asked dryly while Azula glared at her from over her shoulder.

“We are not ‘hanging’ out with her Mai. I am overseeing her training personally. Therefore, she must accompany me wherever I go so I can mold her to my liking.” Azula explained with her hands on her shapely hips while the other woman gazed at her oddly.

‘What is with Azula? Why the sudden interest in this handmaid?’ The markswoman thought while the acrobat continued to play with her braided hair.

“Azula! You said you were going to give her a break. Hasn’t she already spent several hours cleaning the palace floors?” Ty Lee pondered while gazing at her stern leader with pleading eyes.

“She is currently cleaning my chambers. She concluded with the floors an hour ago.” The princess replied in a controlling voice that took both girl’s aback.

“So…let me get this straight. She’s basically your…favorite …so she gets the privilege of doing more work than the rest?” Mai snorted while they strode through the long hallway.

“Correct Mai. This particular handmaid is my pet. As such she has the honor of serving me with her every breath.” Azula declared while approaching her chambers with both of her friends eying her oddly.

“Your pet?” The markswoman repeated dryly only for her words to be ignored by the princess.

“Azula…when she is concluded with her current task will you let her sit with us…she’s a really nice girl. I’d like to get to know her.” The brown-haired woman requested once more while her friend frowned as if it was too much to ask.

“Fine. I’ll permit her to have a break from cleaning. She can fill our drinks instead.” The princess stated strictly while both friends winced in unison.

“…That’s not a break Azula. A real break! Where we talk to her. You know…without having her scrambling about fulfilling order after order.” Ty Lee insisted with her arms folded over her breasts.

“What? You want me to not give her any orders for a whole hour?” Azula queried as if stunned while turning to her two friends sweatdropping faces.

“I do.” The brown-haired woman responded while smiling at her controlling friend as they neared the princess’s chambers.

“If I do. Will it end your complaining?” The princess inquired icily while turning to her grinning friend.

“Yep!” Ty Lee replied with her lips curving into a wide smile as she watched her friend stop with her hand on the doorknob of her chamber.

The acrobat paused behind Azula as they heard the sound of muttering voices asking if someone was okay followed by the sounds of heavy rasping for air.

“Are you alright Elle?” Lao asked in a worried voice while kneeling over the panting girl with a concerned look in her eyes.

When Azula heard those words, she felt a strange sensation of slight concern wash over her.

She couldn’t understand why but she did.

“I-I just need to catch my breath.” Elle stammered while she knelt with a hand over her chest with the other girl frowning down at her.

“You…look pale…” The dark-haired handmaid muttered before jumping in fright when the door abruptly opened to reveal the princess gazing down at them with her friends behind her.

“Is this social hour?” Azula sneered while ignoring Ty Lee’s stare of rebuke as they gazed down at Elle wheezing with Lao hovering over her.

“Azula! She’s not well! You’re overworking her!” The acrobat exclaimed with a trace of anger in her voice that took both of her friends aback.

It was just mind boggling to her that Azula thought this was how she should treat a girl who gave her a fire lily!

“Y-Your Highness she’s having trouble breathing. S-she needs to see a doctor.” Lao stuttered while Azula stared down at them with icy eyes before gazing to the small blonde’s white face.

“I’ll be the judge of what needs to be done. Now get out servant! Or you can be punished along with her!” The princess informed in a callous voice while narrowing her eyes as she watched the terrified handmaid shakily stand.

Ty Lee scowled at Azula’s back while Mai observed with her usual disinterest.

“Y-yes Your Highness! P-please go easy on her!” The dark-haired handmaid answered while scurrying past the monstrous woman as she gazed over her shoulder at the rasping girl.

And then she rushed out with disgust flashing in her eyes.

‘What a monster! She doesn’t even care about her own people. All she cares about is causing us as much misery as she possibly can!’ Lao thought while vanishing down the long hallway.

“Y-you’re not really going to punish her, are you?” Ty Lee inquired while Azula glared back at them over her shoulder before approaching the panting girl.

“S-sumimasen Azula-sama.” The blonde-haired girl exclaimed while the woman knelt over her with her hardened eyes surveying her pale face.

“What seems to be the problem servant?” Azula demanded while scowling down at her wheezing pet’s little face.

“I-I need my b-breather.” Elle stuttered to the puzzlement of the three women while the princess furrowed her brows in annoyance.

“Breather?” The princess snorted cruelly while rolling her eyes as the acrobat crouched beside her scowling at her in disapproval.

“Stop it Azula! She can’t breathe! She’s been nothing but nice to you! Why are you taunting her!” The brown-haired woman cried out with her friend’s eyes now burning through her skull.

All the while Mai stood silently observing the strange scene pondering why Azula even cared.

It wasn’t like Azula to give a damn about anyone but herself!

The gymnast placed her hand on the girl’s shaking back while sweat began to drip down her forehead already regretting backtalking the princess.

Luckily for her Azula seemed to let it slide in favor of gauging the girl’s condition.

“Where is your…breather servant?” Azula questioned to Mai’s amazement while Elle peered up at her smiling in a strained manner.

“M-my room master. M-may I?” The blonde-haired girl responded shakily while peering up at her master’s hardened eyes.

“Go get this medicine of yours. But afterwards…you and I are having a talk.” The princess grumbled while trying to conceal her concern while watching her servant stand with her childhood friend helping her up.

“A-arigatou gozaimasu Azula-sama.” Elle spoke while still attempting to bow before Azula while the woman stared back at her with a trace of approval in her eyes.

“Ugh! Don’t speak any further until you can breathe.” Azula snapped while waving her pet off while Ty Lee helped the red-faced girl walk.

“I’ll walk with her Azula.” Ty Lee announced while placing her arm around the shorter girl’s shoulder as she pulled Elle along under her wing.

The princess said nothing in response as she stood with her palms folded behind her back while watching her little handmaid peer back at her almost longingly.

What a well-behaved pet she mused.

Even when Elle couldn’t breath she still bowed before her.

“Come along now Elle.” The acrobat commented while tugging the smaller girl alongside her when the handmaid lingered to stare at her friend.

It was rather adorable just how much this girl adored Azula.

But she was concerned that the princess was going too far in taking advantage of the girl’s feelings.

“Y-yes Ty Lee. As you say.” The blonde-haired girl mumbled obediently while the woman grinned down at her.

“You’re too cute. Did you know that?” Ty Lee remarked as she peered down at the blushing girl while guiding her along underneath her armpit.

Azula observed their departure with callous golden eyes before sighing under her breathe.

She could practically feel Mai’s questioning gaze all over her face.

“Just a handmaid huh?” Mai taunted in a calm voice while almost smirking at Azula’s scowling face.

“Shut up Mai.” The princess hissed before striding out to follow her servant to her quarters.

The markswoman began to follow as well if only because it was something to relieve her boredom.

Around twenty minutes later Ty Lee stood patiently in Elle’s servant quarters while she watched the girl comically toss items about over her shoulder.

“I…thought it was here…or was it here?” Elle mumbled while her artbook fell off her bedside onto the floor.

The book flipped open on a random page that quickly caught the acrobat’s astonished eye.

Her mouth hung open in awe as she blinked to find herself peering down at a simply beautiful painting of Azula!

The young girl had painted Azula walking over a bridge with the sun setting in the background!

The title seemed to be in a curious foreign written language that she had never read before.

Azula-sama, walk.

“You…really like Azula…don’t you?” Ty Lee asked in a gentle voice while kneeling to close the book while Elle peered over her shoulder smiling bashfully.

“I-I cherish Master Azula more than anything or anyone else in this life.” The blonde-haired girl answered while still holding a hand over her chest.

“I can tell.” The brown-haired woman spoke softly as she seated herself beside the younger girl while placing a supportive hand on her new friend’s smaller back.

“I…can’t find it. Those girl’s must h-have taken it when they tried to steal my backpack.” Elle muttered while sinking back on her beside with Ty Lee now frowning down at her.

“What girl’s?” Ty Lee questioned with an edge to her usually kind voice while staring down at the petite girl.

“B-bullies in the city before Azula-sama took me in. They were teasing me and calling me panter when I was trying to take my medicine. They tried to take my pack from me…I got it back but…they must have stolen my medicine.” The blonde-haired girl explained in a worried voice while holding her hands to her forehead.

The acrobat gazed down at her new friend with a colder gleam in her eyes just when the princess opened the door with Mai at her back.

She could tell that Elle was as sweet as they come.

It was just despicable to steal her medicine of all things!

The door was then quietly shut while cold golden eyes briefly danced about her servant’s room.

“Well? Is the problem resolved?” Azula inquired aloofly while folding her arms over her breasts as she fixed the two girls with a stern stare.

“W-well my breathing calmed for the time being b-but…” Elle trailed off in a shameful voice while Ty Lee sat up beside her in an almost big sisterly manner.

“Some girl’s stole her medicine!” The brown-haired woman exclaimed while the princess stared on with her eyes twitching in annoyance.

“Is this a joke? Who in this palace would possibly be foolish enough to steal my handmaid’s medicine?” The princess snorted while her childhood friend glared up at her with angered eyes.

“Not in the palace Azula! Apparently bullies in the city before you brought her back.” Ty Lee stated while Azula glared down at Elle with increased aggravation in her eyes.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Azula snarled while slapping her hand over her face while Mai listened in slight amusement.

“S-sumimasen…” Elle trailed off lamely while the older girl’s arm remained over her shoulder all the while Ty Lee gazed up at Azula expectantly.

“No Ty Lee. The answer is no.” The princess scoffed while turning away form the other girl’s angry gaze.

“She gave you a fire lily and you won’t even help her retrieve her medicine?” The brown-haired woman demanded in a judgmental voice while the princess scowled down at them with narrowed eyes.

Mai turned to the younger girl with surprised eyes while noting the blonde’s slight flush before gazing at Azula’s stoic face.

It was just barely noticeable but to her amazement the princess was blushing!

“You expect the Princess of the Fire Nation…to go on a hunt for a peasant’s medicine?” Azula asked in a prideful voice while staring down at Elle’s ashamed expression.

“If you haven’t noticed Azula. This…peasant probably cares about you more than anyone else in this world. It just seems like it’s the least that you could do. Peasant or not…she’s our friend now!” Ty Lee insisted in a protective voice while patting the sulking girl’s back.

“You’re turning out to be a real pain in my ass. Do you know that?” The princess scoffed while stepping forward as she towered over her servant’s seated form.

“F-forgive me Master Azula…” The blonde-haired girl muttered pitifully while she sat underneath the acrobat’s guarding arm.

“Azula…please. She’s a real sweetheart. She thinks the world of you. That ought to earn her a place beside us.” The brown-haired woman pleaded in a softer voice while embracing the smaller girl under her arm.

Azula stood silent for a moment while her eyes swept over Elle’s sullen face before her gaze flickered down to the teenager’s closed artbook.

At long last she sighed heavily while turning back to her handmaid with her callous eyes softening just barely.

“We need to look out for her Azula. We need to stick up for her.” Ty Lee spoke sternly while Azula gazed down at her still sighing.

“Once more consider yourself fortunate…that I have taken a liking to you.” The princess stated finally while her words produced a smile from the acrobat.

“So…we’re going on a hunt for a handmaid’s medicine now?” Mai asked in a deadpan voice while standing behind Azula as they gazed down at Ty Lee holding Elle underneath her arm.

“Not just any handmaid Mai! She’s our friend!” The brown-haired woman cheered while smashing the blushing teenager into her bust.

“…Whatever.” The markswoman sighed while gazing down at the younger girl with mildly softer eyes than earlier.

“I will not permit a word of this to circulate beyond closed doors. I have a reputation to maintain…” Azula declared with her hands on her hips as she peered down at Elle while a smile slowly crept back onto her cheeks.

“A-arigatou gozaimasu…” Elle trailed off timidly with Ty Lee pulling her to her feet still holding her under her armpit.

“Remember Azula. She’s just marginally adorable!” Ty Lee chimed while planting her palm atop Elle’s head with Azula trying her hardest to glare down at the bashful girl.

“Shut up Ty Lee.” The princess snorted before observing sternly as her friend moved forward with her little handmaid in tow.

“Azula-sama?” The blonde-haired girl began nervously as she peered up at the callous woman.

“What now?” Azula asked strictly while peering down at Elle while Ty Lee continued to smile down at the girl warmly.

Then Elle stunned Mai and even Ty Lee when she leaped from the acrobat’s hold and latched onto the princess’s belly.

Azula’s face broke out with the twinges of an uncharacteristic blush while Elle buried her face in her upper belly.

The princess squirmed in protest while the smaller girl continued to embrace her lovingly all the while Ty Lee watched giggling in amusement.

“Servant! Release me at once!” Azula protested angrily while her two friends stifled their chuckles as she glared down at her pet.

“Azula-sama…thank you.” Elle spoke up happily while staring up into Azula’s reddened face.

“You…you are welcome now let me go!” The princess hissed while glaring over the girl’s head at her friend’s snickering faces.

“She hasn’t burned yet…perhaps the girl has the power to disable Azula’s bending by hug alone.” Mai taunted with the barest hint of humor in her deadpan voice.

Azula just glared back at her while still trying to push the smaller girl off of her.

“Ty Lee! She’s attacking me! Disable her at once!” Azula called out while her friend’s giggles still floated through the air.

“Definitely more than marginally adorable…” The brown-haired woman commented with her hands on her hips.

Finally, the princess pushed the handmaid off of her while scowling down at the blushing girl with dominant golden eyes.

“Let’s just get this over with…I have better things to do than chase bullies all day.” The princess sighed with her arms folded over her breasts.

“Wakarimashita…” The blonde-haired girl muttered beside her master while peering up with adoration in her innocent eyes.

Azula began to stride onward with Elle following eagerly at her heels with her little backpack on her shoulders and Ty Lee to the girl’s right.

Mai lagged behind in the rear all the while gazing at her leader with still taken aback eyes.

To think that Azula cared enough about this girl to go retrieve her medicine…it was just stunning.

“You’re a part of the team now Elle.” Ty Lee informed while placing her hand upon the shorter girl’s shoulder.

The princess glanced down at the younger girl’s timid face with her stern eyes reflecting her newfound possessive nature towards the girl.

“Yes…a part of Team Azula-sama.” Elle agreed happily while turning to smile at all three women before peering up at her stoic master.

“Fine. Ty Lee. She can be a part of the team…” Azula spoke while shrugging as she walked alongside Elle while the petite girl beamed up at her.

All the while one thought continued to play over and over in Elle’s mind.

She has finally found where she belonged.

Besides Azula-sama.

#azula #azula fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #yuri #ty lee avatar #mai avatar #slow romance #fire nation

3 notes · View notes