#anyways. frolics away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrswint3rs · 4 months

Note

pls pls pls i have an idea for a short lil albert wesker x reader fanfic 😇

wesker is threatening and towering over the reader (reader works for s.t.a.r.s wesker and failed to hand in reports on time) as he pushes his chest DANGEROUSLYYYYY close to the readers and they just stare at eachother.

in silence.

until the silence is broken by wesker hungrily just grabbing readers hair and forcefully pushing reader into a DESPERATE kiss like DAYYUMMM

and then idk what happens thats all ive got 🤗

Missed Deadlines ೃ⁀➷

pairings- S.T.A.R.S Captain Wesker x Fem Rookie! Reader

a/n- BOSS WESKER IS SOO YES. ty anon. btw can we talk about his arm veins 🤭 anyways, hope this is to your liking! (not proofread so lmk)

NSFW WARNING:

contains- a bit of power play, reader is kinda bratty, rough sex, public sex, some man handling, sub/dom dynamics, spanking, degrading language (consent not established but the desire is implied to be mutual)—𓆩♡𓆪

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It's not the first time you've failed to deliver reports within the time frame. It was becoming more and more frequent to the point where he wondered just how long you could keep it up. You did well all throughout the academy and training. You were a smart girl, so why were you so often slacking off now?

Wesker swears it’s like you do it to spite him. You have full capability of finishing your work. He gives you ample time.

He gives you chance after chance to fix whatever your issue is. He doesn’t do that for any of the others. Just you. While he’s constantly reprimanding the others, you get off so easy. You don’t even seem to realize.

He wonders if you just want to get fired so you don’t have to deal with the burden anymore.

Everyone else in the office had been efficient and timely from day one. They all took their jobs seriously. Yet, you just frolic around it all without a care in the world, acting like you owned the place.

You assume because Wesker has a sort of soft spot for you that you won’t face consequences. He recommended you to the Alpha team after all.

So when you’re called to his office, you’re not the slightest bit worried. You knew he’d let it slide like any other time and you’d eventually turn in the report. No problem.

“You needed to see me ‘captain’?” The way you refer to his title in such a mocking way infuriates him to his core. You didn’t understand how lucky you were. How easy you had it.

“Close the door.” he states sternly, not even bothering to look up from his desk just yet.

You do as told, swiftly clicking the door to a close and awaiting his following statement. Instead, he stands from his chair, approaching you.

He twists the blinds to his office window shut, secluding the two of you even further.

“Why so serious boss man? Gonna fire me or something?” you tease to which he shoots you an immediate glare.

That little smile and giggle you display so tongue in cheek makes his blood boil. Why couldn’t you just be obedient like your fellow coworkers? He didn’t understand why you didn’t see him as a higher up. You seemed to think since you scored this position, you couldn’t lose anything.

You had gotten far too comfortable. He could see that clear as day. You needed to be put in your place to understand. He was in charge of your pay, your position, your reputation. He was the boss. You’re nothing more than a rookie.

Without saying a word in response to your cheeky comment, he corners you against the door, uncomfortably close in your personal space.

He removes his glasses, revealing his threatening eyes that were locked directly onto yours. No sound could be heard besides his breath which was hot against your face, steady yet slowly increasing.

He wasn’t looking away, not even blinking. You couldn’t maintain eye contact. You started to feel dizzy and had to pry your eyes away with an awkward chuckle.

When you start to look the other way, his gloved hand firmly takes hold of your jaw, forcing your cheeks into a pout and making you look directly back at him.

At your soft gasp, and dilating pupils, he knew he was getting his point across.

In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. His hand roughly grips the underside of your hair, holding you forcefully against him as his tongue invades your mouth. With a groan, he presses his large form against your smaller one, trapping you against the mahogany.

You’re hardly able to process as he pulls away. You just stand there stunned to silence, breath coming out in short bursts. “Wesker…what was-“

“Captain.” he interjects. “Say it clearly.”

He separates from you, putting only a few inches of distance between. “Captain…sorry. Was this what you called me in here for or was it-“

Again he interrupts you. “How many reports have I requested of you that have been turned in late, or not at all? I’d like your estimated number.” Wesker stares at you directly once more, pressuring you with his intense gaze.

“I don’t know.” you admit, lowering your head to avert his eyes.

He steps away, turning his focus to his desk. “Come over here. I’d like to further discuss this.”

“Bend over the desk.”

Again you’re stunned. Your boss was being completely inappropriate yet his demeanor remained unbothered. This seemed like it was completely normal for him.

You stay frozen at the entrance of the private office, not knowing what to say or do.

“Need I tell you twice?” he faces you again from the opposite end of the room, fully expecting your obedience.

You scurry over at the sound of his frustration, complying and bending over the furniture. You prop yourself up on your elbows, not knowing what to expect in this moment. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening right now, you just couldn’t resist his orders.

Wesker takes stance behind you, removing his gloves. Without warning your pants are dropped down to your ankles, your panty-clad rear exposed to him. “Wesker-“

His palm smacks against your ass leaving a painful sting. “It’s Captain. Get that through that thick skull of yours.” You almost lose your balance at his forceful slap, he wasn’t holding back in the slightest.

Tears well up in your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless and small against a man like this. Yet every time he commands something of you cruelly, the heat rushes between your legs in a way you can’t control.

“Don’t cry so soon. You’ve still seven more to go to make up for your failures.”

Another smack to your ass causes you to tremble.

You stayed still the best you could, understanding you deserved such punishment. For weeks you lost sight of your role working for S.T.A.R.S. Your boss was going to make you remember.

“Six.” smack

“Five.” smack

“Four.” smack

You were already a whimpering, sobbing mess. But Wesker paid no mind. He didn’t show any leniency. He was fed up with your lack of efforts. Plus, it was clear you were both enjoying this in a way. He took notice of your sodden panties. Every time his hand slapped against you, you’d clench.

Your helpless whines made his cock strain in his pants. He could hardly resist. Forcing you to submit to him thoroughly aroused him.

“Three.” smack

“Two.” smack

By the final blow you were hardly able to stand. The stinging sensation was overpowering you and you couldn’t do anything to relieve the pain.

Regardless of your squirming, he spanked you a final time without remorse.

Wesker couldn’t hold himself back anymore when he took sight of you in this vulnerable state.

He dropped his own pants, pushing himself against your tight entrance, leaving you no time to get away. He grips both sides of you, spreading you open further for him to slip into.

Your pussy practically swallows him as he pushes inside.

The stinging pain subsides, replaced with the stretching feeling of your insides to mold to his shape. Your brain goes fuzzy as he fills you completely, your voice escaping in needy cries for him to make the pain go away.

“Shhh, I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand clasps over your mouth to silence you when you get too loud. You were still at work after all. Though you could hardly think about something like that as your boss is the one inside of you.

It was all so wrong but as he started to roll his hips, moving fluidly, it felt too good. The head of his cock runs over that special spot of yours perfectly, the place your weak fingers could never quite reach well enough.

You let out muffled moans into the palm of his hand. Your eyes roll back and you arch against him, begging for him not to stop.

He slams into you at an alarming rate, his skin slapping against yours and the sounds of your gushing cunt fill the room.

There was absolutely no way everyone out there wasn’t hearing what was happening. Even with his hand muffling you, you still were uncontrollably loud.

Wesker wasn’t trying very hard to silence himself either. With every deep stroke he grunted and groaned like a feral animal, unable to stop even for a moment. You were squeezing around his cock so well he couldn’t bare the thought of letting you escape his grasp.

He bullied into you like there was no tomorrow.

“You take dick like a fucking slut,” he groans. “It’s almost like you were waiting for this. You just needed to be roughed up by a man like me. Is that it?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. He was fucking the words straight out of you. You were only able to whine and cry into his masculine hand. Your mind went completely dumb with him.

“You don’t deserve this pleasure right now. You’re lucky you’re such a valuable asset to me.”

He pushes you to orgasm at his repetitive thrusts. You tremble and writhe beneath him as he fucks you through it.

You tighten in a way that makes his hips stutter. His jaw tightens, eyes strained shut as he reaches his own climax. He doesn’t bother to pull out, he didn’t have the time to care. Instead, he fills you, continuing to thrust in and out of you and stuff his cum deep inside.

You completely drain him and he collapses against your back.

The hard wood of the desk digs into your abdomen but you don’t have the conscience to feel anything but what’s going on between your legs. Wesker sighs heavily. He was completely disoriented but feeling a deep satisfaction.

The two of you lay body against body for a while, just catching your breath without saying anything before he speaks up. “I expect you’ll have that report by tomorrow morning?”

You weakly nod. “Yes, Captain. See you tomorrow at 8.”

mlist

#albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #fanfiction #smut #fem reader #resident evil #anon ask #resident evil 1 #resident evil x reader #re wesker #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x you #albert wesker x you #stars wesker

317 notes · View notes

miss-dollette · 6 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Devoted to you.

TW: Angst, insecurity, and past domestic abuse implied.

Note: I feel like this is how I would love Simon if he was real. Like, I'm such a romantic person, but I'm so scared of love 🙂. Anyway, I love Simon. I've been thinking of writing more civilian reader x Simon because I'm tired of badass (Y/N) and just want a wife (Y/N) for once. I just want to be Simon's little housewife, who he loves very much. Can a girl dream??

At times, childish, girlish whims would stealthily creep through her body and mind. Vivid dreams of romance, where she and a mysterious boy would frolic through a sun-kissed field of vibrant wildflowers, their love rendering them blissfully oblivious to the world, often jolted her awake in the dead of night. She'd find herself drenched in a cold sweat, a solitary tear tracing a delicate path down her cheek.

Gently, she'd raise her trembling hand to brush away the tear with the back of her palm, desperate to cling to the fading fragments of her dream before trying to surrender to sleep once more. But the embrace of slumber eluded her, casting her into a day where she roamed like an earth-bound spirit, lost and yearning.

Despite the painful scars left by her ex-boyfriend, whose mere thought sent shivers down her spine, there remained a tiny corner of her heart that clung to the hope of a true love, a man who would enter her life and adore her completely. It seemed like an impossible, almost unreal notion—did such men truly exist?

But then, as if summoned by destiny, Simon appeared in her life. With each passing day, she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. She had believed it was impossible to love again; her ex-boyfriend had shattered her hopes, eroded her self-confidence, and extinguished her courage like one would smudge out a candle flame with their forefinger and their thumb. Still, the memory of Simon's darkened eyes ignited a fluttering sensation in her chest, setting her heart racing and her breath catching in a way she thought she might never experience again.

It was love, a love so pure, so exquisitely beautiful that it consumed her every thought and emotion. She yearned for him with an intensity that bordered on desperation, a longing to hold him close and never let go.

Yet, life's cruelty knew no bounds. Simon, the object of her affection, was a soldier, stationed in some distant, unknown corner of the world, locked in a struggle against an enemy whose identity she was uncertain of. The odds of them reuniting, already thin, seemed to diminish with each passing day.

The constant worry gnawed at her, making each day without him feel like an eternity. She clung to the memories of their time together, replaying them in her mind to stave off the loneliness that threatened to engulf her.

Every time her phone rang, she would scramble to retrieve it, her heart racing with anticipation, hoping to see Simon's name flashing on the screen. But more often than not, the disappointment washed over her as his name remained absent.

She couldn't help but wonder, if he could sense the depth of her affection, would it send him running in the opposite direction? Would the intensity of her feelings be enough to frighten him away? The uncertainty gnawed at her, creating a cloud of doubt and anxiety that threatened to overshadow the budding connection between them.

Even if he chose to run away, her love for him would remain unwavering. It was a love that would eternally reside in the deepest corners of her heart, an unending flame burning with timeless passion. She would willingly release him if that's what he needed for his happiness, even if it meant letting go of her own desires.

But in those moments when she contemplated their separation, a bittersweet sadness would wash over her. She would forever rue the missed opportunities to savor every precious second they shared in each other's presence. The memories would haunt her—the way his scent enveloped her, the sensation of his touch that sent shivers down her spine, and his deep, resonant voice, with its rugged texture that had the power to make her feel weightless, as if she were floating on air. The thought of not fully cherishing these sensations tugged at her heart, hurting in the most bittersweet way.

If fate were to claim him in the midst of battle, it would mark one of the worst moments of her life. She envisioned herself on her knees, her pleas to God flowing from a heart shattered with anguish, a desperate supplication for his life to be spared. With tear-filled eyes and a voice quivering with sorrow, she would beg relentlessly, as though the intensity of her entreaties could defy the cruel hand of destiny. She'd beseech the heavens until her knees turned a shade of bruised purple, until her very strength waned, and she couldn't anymore.

But when he returned home, the back of his bruised and healing, cut knuckles would tenderly caress her cheek, and his deep eyes would lock onto her gaze, that brimmed with an overwhelming love that enveloped her. In that moment, every ounce of anxiety and concern within her seemed to dissolve into nothing. He was her sanctuary, a respite from a crumbling world, and she had unwavering faith that Simon's strong arms were there to shield her from its gaping maw.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #mw2 x reader #mw2

131 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

Shifter au!

Excuse me while I world build for a second. People can shift into all kinds of animals, but in modern times shifts are a little less frequently used and the animals tend to be much smaller. More people are house pets as opposed to big cats for example. More Shetland ponies than draft horses.

So that means hob, a medieval peasant, really stands out when he shifts. Because he is a gigantic bear. Once upon a time he was still pretty rare but not absurdly. Now bears his size are practically unheard of. Plus people have somehow become more prejudiced about shifts and assume it means that Hob is domineering and territorial and dangerous.

Actually hob is very sweet, loves being fucked as much as he loves fucking, and isn’t actually dangerous anymore, thanks. In his day it wasn’t like this. He could cuddle with his friends and romp around and no one expected him to act a certain way just because of his animal. Mostly he was happy because being a bear meant he could defend his friends and family, fight well and also eat lots of honey and berries and fish. But now people expect him to be a certain way when they know he is a bear and it either repels them or they are confused and angry when he doesn’t meet their expectations.

Sometimes he pretends to be a Labrador shifter just because it’s easier to get people to feel comfortable around him. but it’s hard to never be able to shift around his loved ones. Spending time in your animal form is crucial to your mental and physical health. So this form that was once his pride and joy is sort of a hindrance to him now.

By 2023, He does have a group of friends, other shifters like him who don’t quite fit the mold. Shifters who have changed their animals because they didn’t fit them anymore. Shifters with rare animals. Even a couple of people who don’t shift at all. when hob’s boyfriend comes around they’re all a little surprised. At first glance he is sort of twinky and pretty. He says his form is a house cat. His friends take one look at him and know…that’s no house cat.

Of course the king of dreams can have any form he wants. But generally he takes the form of a gigantic panther. More than capable of turning his bear into more of a teddy bear. And anyone intimidated by a bear would be surprised to see how eagerly and joyfully hob submits for dream, the true apex predator in the room.

Oh I’m having feelings about this!!! And on the subject of shifter!Hob I must take a moment to thoroughly recommend @arialerendeair ‘s amazing wolf shifter Hob fic, Call of the Wild. It absolutely altered my brain chemistry.

Anyway, back to bear!Hob. I literally love this so much. I’m imagining Hob having to go into remote rural areas to shift, and even then he really has to be on his guard and he can’t just… frolic and enjoy himself like he wants to. He loves his little group of misfit shifter friends, and when they can occasionally get away as a group for little trips into the woods it feels great. He does get very emotional though, because it reminds him of how things used to be. It hurts a lot to have to readjust himself to societal expectations and go back to pretending.

He didn’t even have a sexual partner for so long, until after Dream returned and they got together. Shifting and sex go hand in hand, and Hob was both afraid of hurting a partner with a smaller animal shift and afraid that he would be rejected. Finally getting to be with his Dream is amazing for so many reasons, but the emotional and physical outlet of getting to shift with him? Hob is thankful for that every single day.

Hob’s high ceilinged, open plan flat is a perfect space for him and Dream to shift in privacy. They can cuddle around each other, scent each other, and Dream takes great delight in pinning his beautiful hairy bear down and mounting him. And when they want to run together? There are forests and valleys in the dreaming which are entirely dedicated to Hob’s desire to shift. He can run, leap, climb, hunt, whatever he needs. Dream watches, lounging in the trees with a satisfied expression and occasionally pouncing down on Hob when he least expects it.

When Hob wakes up in bear form, curled in his nest with Dream draped on top of him, he’s reminded of the old days. But tears don’t come to his eyes anymore. He can look back and smile, because Dream has given him such a wonderful gift.

If there’s time, he’ll shift back into human form, and show Dream his very human appreciation. The only downside in being a bear is that he does feel awfully sleepy in the mornings - but he can always rouse himself for his king <3

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

77 notes · View notes

millenialfanfictionaddiction · 1 year

Text

Welcome to Jujutsu High:

Teaching Assistant YN

Various JJK characters including Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Sukuna, Kento Nanami, etc. x Female! Reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, Gojo abandoning the youths, death mentioned

A/N: just me, switching it up to JJK 🙃 ignoring all my responsibilities and problems 😀

Congrats YN, you’ve been accepted to Tokyo’s Jujutsu High as a teaching assistant for this upcoming year!

You couldn’t be more excited for this new opportunity

You worked your butt off to get where you are and we have nothing but respect for you 🥰

You use cursed tools to help aid your already sharp ability to see curses

And now, you’re going to help train the brightest and strongest upcoming sorcerers

Wait- did I say brightest? Yeah maybe I should have held off on that one-

Anyways, it’s the first day and you are excited to see which teacher you will be paired up with

As you approach the list in the teachers lounge, someone comes up to you

“Hey are you Yn?”

You 👉🏻 yep that’s me 😁

Them 👉🏻 *laying their hand on your shoulder, head hanging low*

“I’m so sorry, thoughts and prayers to you during this difficult time,” they say before sighing and walking away

You 👉🏻 👁️👄👁️ huh-

You silently approach the board as you now see swarms of people watching you

You find your name, tracing it across the board to see your assigned class

You 👉🏻😐 shit…

Too bad you have no time to let the fact sink in because the lead teacher of your class bursts through the door at that very moment

“Ahhh there is my bright teachers assistant,” Satoru Gojo says

You 👉🏻 *quickly double and triple checking your name, possibly pulling our your birth certificate to make sure that you, in fact, are Yn*

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you say as Gojo frolics to your side

Gojo on his way to greet you 👇🏻

“Awe my precious YN aren’t you so lucky to get to work with me,” Gojo 😍

You 👉🏻 sooooo lucky 😐

“It’s going to be so much fun!! But first I’m off for some business so I’ll entrust the education of our young students to you my darling YN,” Gojo says before walking away

“The hell you will! Get back here right now!” You say chasing after him

Too bad he’s like the bestest sorcerer YN

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say as Ijichi approaches

“Hello Yn, I was instructed to take you to the students,” he says as you roll your eyes

“Alright let’s get this over with,” you say, following him

When you arrive, you see three very different teens standing in front of you

One you already know as Megumi

The other two, well…

“I can’t believe Gojo just up and abandoned us again!” The girl known as Nobara shouts

“Honestly, this has to be against the law right? Just to leave children alone without an adult??” The pink haired vessel of Sukuna, Itadori, shouts

“Gojo has important things to do and we can handle ourselves,” Megumi interrupts

“Not entirely sure ‘important things’ is the right word but he definitely has things to do,” you say walking up to the trio, “but that’s why I’m here! I’m YN, a grade 1 sorcerer and your new teachers assistant.”

The reactions are mixed

Megumi 👉🏻😐😒 whatever-

Nobara 👉🏻 🤨😑

Itadori 👉🏻😍🥹🕺🏼🤸‍♀️

Alrighty then…

Well let’s get on with it

You spend a lot of your time training the teens to be excellent sorcerers, trying your best to support them in their own ways

Honestly Nobara and Megumi don’t really need much

And Yuji, well Yuji needs emotional support YN

I mean, being Sukuna’s Vessel is very taxing

Plus, he like kinda died so there’s that 😅

So you often spend tome reassuring your student and helping him to adapt to his roll

“Yuji you are so strong for taking this on, I mean not everyone would willingly swallow a thousand year old cursed finger,” you grimace 😬

“Don’t know if that makes me strong or stupid Yn…” Yuji says when an annoying, agitating voice sounds

“Hey brat! You should feel honored to be my vessel and as soon as I manage to take over this body, I’m going to take over the world!” Sukuna laughs as you glare

“Yuji will not allow that and neither will I,” you say

“Well well well and who do we have here,” Sukuna says, smirking out of Yuji’s left cheek, “you, my dear, are absolutely stunning.”

“Sukuna knock it off! YN is my teacher!” Yuji says as you glare at the one eye of Sukuna

“So? What is she to me? I mean besides a potential mate,” he chuckles as you hand goes up, slapping Sukuna

He goes flying as soon as your hand connects with his cheek

Unfortunately Sukuna is in Yuji’s Body… so like…

“OH MY GOD YUJI IM SO SORRY!” You say, helping Yuji off the floor

“Oh it’s no problem Yn!” Yuji says :D

Seriously freaking Himbo energy I can’t 🥹

When our lord and savior, Nanami, shows up to help Yuji with his training, you drool welcome him with open arms

“Hello Yn, always a pleasure,” Nanami say

You 👉🏻🥵🥵🥵

Too bad Yuji is there-

“YN are you drooling?” Yuji asks as you quickly punch him in the face sending him flying

“Oh sorry Yuji, I thought you were Sukuna again…” you 😒

Honestly when Yuji is gone, it’s a little easier to maintain the children

Megumi and Nobara are training for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill event with the 2nd years and you finally have some time to chill out

Too bad that doesn’t last long 😃

Because Megumi and Nobara don’t know Yuji is alive and Gojo thinks it would be a great idea to just surprise everyone at the event

“Umm Gojo I really don’t think springing the kids once dead now suddenly alive friend on them right before a major event is a good idea,” you being the practical the caring instructor

“It’s gonna be fine Yn seriously everyone is going to be so happy!” Gojo exclaims 🤩

I mean, happy is one word to describe it I guess…

You stand with the students and await the long overdue arrive of Gojo

“YN, can’t you just take over as leader,” Maki asks

“Salmon,” Inumaki adds

“I get what you guys are saying but unfortunately Gojo is still going to be your teams main leader,” you say as everyone sighs

Suddenly you see Gojo, frolicking up to you and pushing a large crate

“Oh sweet Jesus,” you think to yourself, knowing exactly what is about to happen

And spoiler alert, ever the Sagittarian he is, Gojo presents their long dead friend, Yuji Itadori

Megumi and Nobara 👇🏻

You 👉🏻 😐🙄

Once the shock has worn off the event can finally start

You retreat to watch the event with the teachers when disaster strikes

You race towards the kids, seeing a vail being placed as you manage to quickly slide under it before it’s complete

“AND SHES SAFE!” Gojo shouts as you roll your eyes and run towards the students

“Seriously Gojo? You wanna joke now!” Utahime says as she stops outside the barrier

“I trust Yn with my life, she will keep the students safe,” Gojo says as you run to find the students

When you encounter the curse known as Hanami you immediately recognize it as an unregistered curse

“Crap this isn’t good!” You say as you run to get the kids

“Yuji, Todo get the hell out of here!” You shout as you try you best to not engage

“Oh hey Yn Sensai!” Yuji shouts :D

“It’s fine YN Sensai we’ve got this right brother?” Todo shouts as you feel the barrier begin to break and see someone above the trees

You 👉🏻 🤨

“Is that-” Yuji asks as you roll your eyes

“Never fear students, your incredible sensai is here to rescue you!” Gojo shouts as his eyes shimmer, an unknown force shaking the ground

You 👉🏻 😐 a little late don’t you think?

You watch as the curse flees, probably the idea of facing Gojo more than they could handle

“Are you all ok?” You ask as the boys nod

“YN Sensai, how come we never get to see you fight?” Yuji asks as you smile

“It’s probably because I’m too busy dealing with Gojo,” you laugh

Facts YN, facts

352 notes · View notes

whitedarkmoonflower · 8 months

Text

Good wife

Part 2 of Princess

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: initially intended as a Part 2 of Princess, but can also be read as a stand alone fic. This is my attempt for a happy ending for my little princess and I think I managed pretty good 😉

And before you start asking, I know I am not following the poll 🙈. I was carried away by the impression that Part 2 of Princess will win anyway and continued writing even before the poll was over. The modern!Sihtric smut request will follow next week, I promise 😅

My biggest and warmest thanks to awesome @arcielee for agreeing to beta read this fic and for all your comments and suggestions! You are incredibly talented writer! The way you play with words and conjure incredibly vivid descriptions make me awe each time anew.

Warnings: 18+, angst (you probably have noticed by now, I simply can't without it🤨), forced marriage, abuse, domestic violence, smut, revenge, blood

Summary: you return to Winchester for your father's King Alfred's funeral just to discover that Sihtric hasn't kept his promise.

Word Count: 4,966

Princess

It's early morning, and the sun is poised to rise above the horizon as you move silently through the corridors of the still-sleeping palace. Your dress glides over the worn steps with a light hush being the only sound disturbing the peacefulness of the new day rising. Upon reaching the garden, you effortlessly locate your favourite secluded spot – a stone pew in the far corner, partially concealed by an ivy-covered wall and a sprawling bird cherry flower bush. You recall how it bloomed exceptionally early in spring, its inimitably sweet fragrance making you almost dizzy. It’s a scent of your happier days, and you inhale deeply, hoping to infuse every cell of your being with its essence.

You settle down, embracing the calmness of the moment. A few birds are singing a praise to the sun, its golden fingers slowly stretching to brush the world awake. A gentle breeze frolics in the branches of the trees, adding to the calm beauty of the morning. You're aware that this tranquillity is illusory, yet you cling to it, you need this moment of calmness and silence to gather your thoughts.

The King is dead. Your father, King Alfred, is dead. You still haven’t had a chance to grasp the whole gravity of it. Wessex now stands vulnerable as never before with Cnut and his army preparing to invade, Aethelred of Mercia dreaming about restoring Mercia’s glory and your husband Ethelwold secretly seeking to sever ties with Wessex and secure his claim to East Anglian throne. Politics. You hate politics. Nevertheless, you are not blind and you are definitely not obtuse; the shifts in power and allegiances are impossible to ignore.

You feel anger slowly unfurling within you, making your cheeks blush. Your fingers impulsively shred into small pieces the flower you had just plucked. You can't change anything and your helplessness suffocates you. You're nobody, a mere toy bestowed upon your husband to secure an alliance. This is exactly how he treats you – as a doll that gets retrieved from its box to showcase during special events, to be mistreated and locked away thereafter. There is nothing even close to love or mutual respect in your marriage. You’re his property, and he delights in ascertaining himself of it, evidenced by the concealed bruises and scratches beneath your dress’s long sleeves and high collar. Coward as he is, he's avoided striking your face – possibly fearing that would cause scrutiny from others, perhaps even your father. You catch yourself thinking that this might change now, that your father is dead. Although you are not sure he would have interfered anyway.

Led by a silly sense of duty to your land and your father, you’ve endured five years of this arranged marriage with a man that revolted you in every aspect, bearing mistreatment and humiliation. And what had it brought? Nothing. Your brother is weak and dependent on the support of his ealdorman. Will he manage to assert himself as the king? You haven't seen him all those five years. He has changed a lot, grown up and matured, but will it be enough? At least he had braved to disobey your mother, aligning with Lord Uhtred. His words and the way he spoke justice, keeping up the pardon your father had given Uhtred on his deathbed, ignited a flicker of hope in you. First hesitant and insecure, he had managed to seize control over the gathered crowd, including the ealdormen, and even the queen, whose authority seemed to prevail from the very beginning. Your brother steps into daunting shoes, but his first step was promising, you rethink the events of the previous day.

Your heart quickens its pace, and a wave of embarrassment begins to rise from your neck, tinting your cheeks with an even more intense shade of red than the preceding anger as the memory you try to suppress emerges.

He was there. You had seen him. Keeping himself in the shadows, leaning against an aged wagon with his hand resting on the shoulders of a young girl with plain features and dark hair, Sihtric watched in anticipation the scene transpiring before the palace entrance. Five years have passed since you appeared at his doorstep, head over heels in love with the handsome warrior, hoping for his feelings to mirror yours.

The memory of that night when you willingly gave yourself to him remained untarnished; you have never regretted it. His tender, hesitant confession of love, the gentleness of his touch, the tenderness with which he had made love to you that night, and his eagerness and care to please and satisfy you, aware that it was to be your sole night together, were imprinted in your mind forever. You clung to these sweet memories with all your strength, them becoming your refuge, your shield against the day after and all the other days that followed, when your half-drunk newlywed husband flung you onto the bed, barking at you to disrobe. Undoing his breeches and letting them half down, he flipped you over to your belly, pulled you up to your knees, spread your legs, and placed his hard, dripping cock at your entrance.

“I will teach you now to be a good wife, princess. I am your husband, and you are to obey me. Do you understand? You are mine and only mine. Don’t you ever forget that,” he hissed, leaning closer to your ear, grabbing your hips with both hands and without any warning, forced himself into you in one single motion until the very end of his rigid length.

You screamed out in pain, tears welling up in your eyes, to which he just started relentlessly thrusting into you, his groans of satisfaction echoing in your mind. Too drunk and consumed by chasing his own pleasure, he didn’t even notice you clutching a tiny pouch in your hand, blood reddening your fingers and your dress, as you squeezed it and hastily wiped your fingers against your thighs, faking the loss of your virginity.

A chill crawls up your spine as these memories flood back. Why did you remember this? Wasn’t it torturous enough to witness Sihtric holding that young and pretty woman in his hands? He had promised to wait for you, a promise you never demanded, knowing how impossible and foolish it was. Yet, Sihtric’s earnest tone and self-assuredness as he made that promise, made you believe him. The notion that someone out there truly loved you, cared for you, recalled you and eagerly waited for you had become the light that guided you through your existence. It made the days bearable and warmed you when your husband's cruelty and neglect threatened to extinguish your will to live.

Now the fragile and ridiculous illusion you had clung to for all these years lay shattered into thousand shards. You shouldn’t have come to Winchester. If only you hadn’t seen it with your own eyes, you could have still preserved that naive dream. When Edward pronounced his verdict and the crowd erupted in cheers as he embraced Uhtred, you glimpsed the satisfied smile on Sihtric's lips. He playfully ruffled the girl's hair, and she nestled closer to him, her eyes gleaming with admiration. Unable to bear the sight, you turned abruptly, a heavy weight settling in your chest like a ballast stone, threatening to suffocate you. In that fleeting last moment, your eyes locked with Sihtric’s, surprise flickering across his face, followed by a glimmer of recognition before you managed to flee back into the palace. Your fairy tale had ended abruptly, leaving you with nothing more than bittersweet memories of that single night, when you felt genuinely loved, cherished, and valued.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, leaving a glistening trace behind them. All you can do is to hide your face in your hands, permitting yourself to cry out all the pent-up despair that accumulated over five years of abuse and humiliation. Your magical wand, capable of summoning light and dispelling darkness is gone, leaving you drowning into a bleak, frigid expanse of misery and hopelessness.

The sun had already risen when sudden voices startle you from your melancholy. The palace has awakened to a new busy day, and you can clearly distinguish the voices of your mother and sister calling your name.

Of course, the feasting this evening! There will be a war council summoned by Edward to discuss how to deal with Cnut and his army, followed by a feast. Not that you anticipated it, but you obviously did not have much choice as your husband was invited to both and expected you to accompany him. Still taunted by the lingering thoughts and memories, you reluctantly rise from the pew and head towards the palace, hastily wiping away your tears before anyone can see them.

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

It is quite late already when you finally manage to bring up enough composure to get dressed. You had complained about a heavy headache to your husband, hoping he would agree to leave you alone in the chambers.

“Don’t be foolish and dress yourself,” is the response you get as he leaves for the council, which is supposed to start earlier.

You slow down as you reach the staircase, pausing to survey the hall beneath you. You see your mother and sister engaged in a lively conversation, sitting at the high end of the long table. Strangely you find your husband discussing something with Aethelred – your sister’s spouse – whom you know he can’t bear and despises deeply for being Alfred’s puppy – as he loves to call him.

Vultures start circling a carrion, Edward needs to be cautious in choosing whom to trust. I must speak with him later, you think to yourself.

And then your gaze lands on him. Your fingers clutch the railing with a desperate grip as you steady yourself, feeling your legs tremble, threatening to buckle beneath you.

At the far end of the hall, alongside Lord Uhtred, stands Sihtric. His hands envelop an ale mug, his gaze fixed downwards, hovering between the table and the floor, concern and seriousness in his expression. Your breathing fastens as you strive to regain your composure; your knuckles whiten as you continue to clutch the railing. And as much as you try, you can’t force yourself to look away. He is still so handsome. Everything about him makes your heart pound faster and your breath twitch – his tall and robust frame with his black, curly hair braided on the top, but falling to his shoulders in the back. His strong jawline, the scars tracing his forehead and right cheek, his muscular arms covered by the long sleeves of his leather jerking decorated with gold and silver armbands.

You can still recall these strong arms holding you tightly against his chest, his fingers tenderly raking through your hair. The memory is so vivid in your mind that you almost moan in longing. A captivating mixture of confidence, calmness, and strength emanates from him with the same intensity as when you first met. There is not enough strength within you to descend to the hall and confront him in a dignified manner, there is only one escape for you – to turn back and run to your chambers. Even if it means enduring your disappointed husband’s wrath later, you prefer it a thousand times to the possibility that you would need to speak with Sihtric, now that you are aware he is no longer yours. With the last remnants of your willpower, you force yourself to let go of the railing and want to turn away, your eyes casting one final lingering glance at your former lover as Sihtric lifts his eyes, his gaze meeting yours.

You are frozen, trapped by an invisible spider web that is restraining all your movements, paralysed by the intensive gaze of his big, expressive eyes that are scanning you from head to heels. There is something in his eyes, a lingering mix of confusion, sadness, and some hint of anxiety. Why is he looking so at you? He must be happy; you remember the gleam of happiness he directed to the girl in his arms.

“My dear wife, I am so glad to see you’re feeling better and could join us,” you hear the voice of your husband and in this very moment his ever so repelling voice sounds like a salvation to you. He beams at you, arms stretched as though you were the love of his life, like he has been desperately waiting for. Slowly, you manage to shift your gaze toward him forcing a smile to appear on your lips. Descending the stairs, you extend your arms toward him until you’re by his side and he clasps your hands, lifting your palms to his lips for a kiss.

“What a perfect couple,” you smirk inwardly. You have never understood this masquerade. Why all this pretence to be the loving and caring husband, only to let all his fury on you behind the closed doors?

You can still feel Sihtric’s gaze on you, his eyes drilling into your back as he observes your happy reunion with your husband. You spend the whole evening meticulously avoiding Sihtric. You notice him trying to approach you several times, but you anticipate his every move by hurriedly engaging in conversations with your mother or tugging your sister’s arm, leading her to follow you into another part of the hall away from Sihtric. You accept all invitations to dance, fully aware this will earn you additional scorn from your husband later.

At some point you see Lord Uhtred rising from his seat and striding toward your brother. There is a short conversation between them; Uhtred bows his head respectfully and nods toward Sihtric to follow him. They both leave the hall, and a sigh of relief escapes you. This is finally over. Absentmindedly you wave away the young ealdorman advancing you with a request to dance and head out of the hall, casting a stealthy glance at your husband. He is drunk beyond imaginable. Sitting in his place of the most honoured guests next to your mother, he struggles to keep his eyes open. With his ale mug still in his hand, his face droops onto the plate before him. A knowing smile graces your lips. His love for ale has actually made the last years more bearable, as he was often too drunk in the evenings to force himself upon you or to be able to hurt you. You head to the garden, to the very same place you sneaked out this morning; this will always remain your happy place, even if this morning turned out more sorrowful than you had anticipated.

You lower yourself on the stone pew and breathe in the sweet, intoxicating smell of the flowers, your gaze marvelling at the intricate maze of ivy covering the back wall. Lost in your thoughts you almost jump at the sound of an all-too- familiar voice.

“Good evening, my lady,” Sihtric greets you, obstructing the only way out between the wall and the bird cherry flower bush. “I am sorry if I scared you,” he quickly adds, noticing your wide eyes and face losing its colour.

“Good evening, Sihtric,” you manage to mumble, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

The silence between you both hangs heavy in the air as nobody dares to speak, your gazes scanning each other with an awkward intensity. You rise from the pew and make a step toward Sihtric trying to side-track him. His hand reaches out, gets hold of yours and lets go of you instantly as if burned.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Your marriage seems to be very happy, my lady. I’m very glad to see it,” he murmurs, stepping closer, obliterating your attempt to escape. His breath is heavy and itching as his gaze locks with yours, an inexplicably sad and painful look in his eyes. His hand rises as if wanting to cup your jaw but lowers again, not daring to touch you, his uncertainty palpable. He is so close that you can feel his breath vibrating on your skin. His proximity suffocates you, his scent mingling with the aroma of the flowers, making your head spin with dizziness. In the moon's faint glow, his handsome face appears almost timeless, surreal. You are drawn to it, incapable of averting your eyes. His enigmatic, mismatched eyes scan your features full of awe and a hint of something that could be sweet longing, although you know it is not.

You want to touch him, to caress his cheeks and let your fingers tangle in his dark hair, but instead you gather all your inner strength and utter, “Yes, indeed, as happy as yours I presume. Are you married to that lovely girl?”

“Married? Which girl?” Sihtric's genuine surprise momentarily throws you off, but in the next instant you discard your silly hopefulness. You can’t ignore what you saw. What does he want from you anyway?

“Sihtric, please, there is no need for pretence. Spare me the courtesy. I saw you yesterday before the palace. I don’t blame you. I understand. It’s been five long years. I never truly expected you to keep that promise,” your words tumble out in such a rush, you are surprised of yourself, “I just… I…” you can’t finish your saying, your voice breaking, tears welling up in your eyes.

This is more than you can endure and with your face in your hands, you storm past him, pushing completely thunderstruck Sihtric aside. It’s unbearable. Your feelings for him are unaltered. You run. You thought you knew the garden as your own pocket, but in the weird moonlight everything looks different. You turn left and then right as you hope to be heading to the palace entrance just to find yourself facing the wall again. Tears roll down your cheeks obscuring your vision and making it even more difficult to navigate through the narrow passages as you feel yourself colliding with a muscular frame, strong arms enveloping your waist, pulling you against a broad chest. You can’t see anything, but the scent of the body you are pressed tightly against is so familiar that you have no doubts who is holding you.

“Let go of me!” you struggle against the firm embrace, “What do you want from me?” you shout, desperation evident in your voice as you can’t control yourself anymore.

“Please, calm down, my little princess. My love, just let me explain,” Sihtric’s voice is just a gentle flurry against the tempest of your ever-growing anger, but something in his tone makes you hold your breath, leading to a short pause in your frantic struggle against his embrace.

“What is there to explain? That you got tired of waiting? That you’re just a man …? That there is no hope anyway… I know, I understand… It was never meant to be…” your sobs become uncontrollable at this point, and you resume your futile attempts to break free from Sihtric’s hold, which gets only tighter in return.

“Please, listen to me. The girl you saw, it’s Uhtred’s daughter, Stiorra. She was terrified that Uhtred would be expelled again, forced to be an outlaw once more with no home, no hope and no man to follow him. I love her as my own child. I held her to assure that whatever happens I will never leave Uhtred. We are bound, we are brothers. And we were both just happy and relieved when Edward acknowledged Alfred’s pardon. That’s all. Since that night five years ago, there has never been another in my life. My little princess, my love, do you hear me? I love only you. Nothing will ever change that,” Sihtric’s voice remains a mere whisper against your ear as you let every word slowly sink into your consciousness. Can it be true? You want to believe him, you feel each and every cell in your body screaming in longing for his touch, telling you to cease your needless struggle and melt into his embrace if only for this one single short moment. It’s only your common sense that tries to object, whispering in the background that it does not matter. It will not change anything. You are bound to another forever. You can never be his. Why torture yourself and him? It’s time to let go. For his sake and for your own. You can’t live in a dream all your life.

Sihtric’s embrace does not loosen, and your struggle gradually loses its intensity as you surrender to the burning need coursing through you. You let your body absorb the warmth, memorising this embrace for the future. One of his arms drifts from your waist to your hair, as his gentle caresses soothe you.

“Every single day and night, I’ve dreamed of holding you again,” Sihtric murmurs, his lips brushing your hair as your face rests on his chest, your tears soaking his fine leather armour.

“My silly little princess, I thought myself the happiest man alive when I saw you yesterday. But you wouldn’t even look at me. I thought you regretted our past, that you wanted nothing more to do with me. I simply couldn’t accept it just like that, I needed to hear it from you. Can’t you see what you do to me? I practically begged Uhtred to take me with him to that damned council,” Sihtric continues, his words lullabying all your fears and concerns. There is nothing else in this world for you, just the sweet sound of his voice, and you don’t care what the morning will bring. Tonight you want to be with him, you want to feel loved again, you want to be his.

“Can you just take me away from here? Please, Sihtric,” you lift your head, and your pleading gaze meets Sihtric’s eyes.

“Princess, believe me, I don’t want to let go of you. But your husband is probably searching for you. Allow me to guide you to the entrance,” you hear his words, yet you sense desire consuming him, his arms refusing to let go, wrapping even tighter around you and pulling you closer. He can’t bear to let go of you, the same as you can’t let go of him.

“My husband is drunk and sleeps, his ugly face buried in the leftovers on his own plate,” you hiss with deep disgust in your voice, and Sihtric stiffens in astonishment as you grasp his hand and start pulling him towards the other end of the garden.

“Come with me. I’ll show you how I got out of the palace last time,” your voice is suddenly resolute and confident. Something has changed deep inside you. You have always silently let your life be predetermined by others, and have accepted your fate without questioning it. Except for that one single night, when for the first time you seized control and made a decision you never regretted. And now, you want to feel it again – the power to be able to choose, to make your own decisions. Good or bad, time will tell, but these will be your choices and you will atone for them. You are so sick of just watching life go by, of not partaking. It might have been easier to submit, blaming others for your suffering, but you can’t do it anymore. And with that thought, a surge of newfound power courses through you.

You find the small concealed side door, trembling fingers gripping the handle; a squeak, and it yields. Your first step into the night feels like stepping into a new life, a fresh destiny. Sihtric follows you, his hand holding yours in a steady and tight grip, and you smile at him as you look back into his mismatched eyes. Once outside the palace walls, Sihtric leads you through the narrow town streets to the same tavern he stayed in previously. You climb the steps to his chamber, the doors close behind you and his hands and lips are upon you. His kisses, initially tender and soft, soon grow feverish and urgent. Desperate fingers rend at clothing, eager to get rid of layers that separate your heated bodies.

As soon as the last piece of clothing has fallen to the ground, Sihtric grabs your thighs, pulling you up, and you follow his movement, wrapping your legs around his waist and letting him effortlessly carry you over to the bed. He sits down with you straddling him.

Your lips trail down his jaw to his neck, so greedy, so hungry. Your fingers tangle in his braided hair, pulling hard on them as you allow yourself to immerse in the arousal, building up in your lower stomach and quickly taking you over. You lean back and your hips start moving against Sihtric’s body rubbing your clit against him, your pussy aching in anticipation. Holding you with one arm around your waist, Sihtric’s hand reaches down, and you feel his fingers rubbing at your clit, parting your folds, and sliding inside your soaked pussy.

“Gods, how wet you are,” he grunts against your skin, his already hard and leaking cock is the wordless confirmation that he burns with the same overwhelming desire as you. His lips travel around your breasts, covering them with wet open-mouthed kisses and sucking at your hard nipples.

“I need you. Now,” you moan, and your hand takes hold of his throbbing length, placing it at your wet entrance. A loud groan of relief and satisfaction escapes you both as you lower yourself on Sihtric’s cock, taking him in completely, to the very end of his shaft, instantly starting to move against it.

His hands land on your buttocks, helping you to push yourself deeper against his pelvis, but allowing you to determine the pace of your movements, which grow faster with each thrust. A loud moan vibrates deep in Sihtric’s throat as your pussy clench around him and your thrusts get frenzied, almost hysterical, your climax building up unstoppably fast and intense.

“Oh my god, Sihtric! I am close … I …” your head snaps back and your nails dig into Sihtric’s flesh as you come with a loud scream, your body twitching and your walls spasming around his cock.

His hands grab your waist and start moving you up and down, not letting you stop, his hips pushing up against you deeper, faster, just a few more thrusts and he follows you with a heavy moan, his breath panting. Your shivering body collapses against his and he wraps his arms around you, steadying, holding, caressing you. You remain in each other’s embrace, savouring the sweet aftermath of your peaks, before he gently lowers you on the bed next to him. His fingers trace the contours of your figure, and suddenly his eyes widen in astonishment as he notices the bruises of varying colour on your skin – some fading, faint, and pale, while others in intense shades of blue and violet.

“Gods, what is this?” he breathes, his voice quivering, “Who did this to you?” His hands cup your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze. There is no need for an answer; a pained growl escapes his lips as he pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmurs, almost inaudibly, “I should never have let you go. I’ll kill that wretched bastard with my bare hands. Let them hang me for it, but you’re not going back to him.”

“I am not leaving this time,” you whisper, your fingers threading through his hair. “But that bastard is mine. Promise me.”

Sihtric lifts his head, gazing into your eyes, disbelief plainly written on his face, but the certainty in your gaze is unwavering.

“Whatever you wish, my little princess. As long as you are finally mine,” Sihtric whispers, a broad smile gracing his lips as he wonders silently what he's done to earn the favour of the gods, to have his wildest dream come true.

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

“Are you sure about this?” Sihtric cups your face with both hands, his eyes questioning yours.

“More than anything else,” you reply.

“He’s all yours, my love. Do you want me to stay?”

“No, this is between him and me,” you respond, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Sihtric nods, steps aside, and heads toward the door, opening you the view on a man’s frame sprawled on the bed, his hands and legs tightly tied to the grid, a gag obstructing his mouth and muffling all sounds and attempts to scream. He looks at you with eyes widened in fear, struggling against the ropes with all his strength. His head starts shaking vehemently as he sees you drawing a dagger and walking slowly toward him. You lift your dress and climb the bed, straddling him.

“I will teach you now to be a good husband, my dear,” you murmur into his ear.

—-----------------------------------------------

With a heavy breath, you shut the door behind you. Your eyes are wide, your hands smeared with blood, clutching bloodied dagger against your chest. Sihtric waits outside, and as you stagger towards him, your legs wobbly, he catches you in his arms. He doesn't utter a word, merely enfolding your trembling shoulders and pulling you close in a firm embrace.

“Is he dead?” he finally inquires.

“He lives, but he’ll never be able to hurt anybody, the way he hurt me,” you reply with a quiver in your voice. “I must speak with my brother,” you add, wiping your hands on your dress.

“I am here with you. No matter what comes, we’ll face it together,” Sihtric leans in to kiss you and squeezes your hand encouragingly.

Princess

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #tlk fic #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric fanfic #smut #violence #domestic violence

91 notes · View notes

nikofortuna · 9 months

Text

JTTW Chapter 4 Thoughts

Chapter Four for the @journeythroughjourneytothewest Reading Group! There will be a bit of a rant in this, especially about the first official title Sun Wukong gets.

Anyway we got Horsegirl Wukong in this one! Yippie!

Plus I would like everyone to see the horses from the 1964 Havoc in Heaven movie. Look at them! They are so pretty with their cloud manes and so cute when they frolic about and interact with Sun Wukong!

He puts so much effort into caring for the horses! And is really nice to the other stable workers as well, I don’t think he really cares much about hierarchy outside of actual work perhaps.

However I will forever be salty towards Heaven for messing up so badly in this. They were halfway there as well with giving him the perfect job, something he liked to do and did very well! But they didn’t give him a special title to reflect/acknowledged his actual power.

Nor did they explain how starting of low and ascending through the ranks works, which might have been able to prevent the outrage as well. They know that they can just explain things to Sun Wukong, the Gold Star literally did so at the Gate. And then the Jade Emperor even acknowledged that the Monkey King didn’t know how things worked yet!

Honestly at that point the only reason has to be that they wanted to mock him. And given the first official title he receives… not only is it conceived as an insult, but as if that wasn’t enough already the big reason why it is so is a practice that I would definitely deem animal abuse.

Hence why I will never call him that or even spell out the title.

Now factor in that Sun Wukong is a major family guy and it gets even worse with the history behind the title essentially being his kin getting enslaved and mistreated. I don’t think he actually knows this though. I’m just saying the Havoc in Heaven could have happened early.

And for what reason did they do that? He was very nice to the Gold Star inviting him to a banquet right away and at court once he did find out that he should pay respect he did bow.

Later this gets contrasted with the Monkey King appointing the one-horned Demon Kings proper positions. He is arguably displaying how he does a better job being a ruler than the Jade Emperor in this case.

Something to lighten the mood again after this lengthy rant, Sun Wukong sharing the wine after he’s officially given the title of Great Sage Equalling Heaven! He’s such a sweet guy! When he’s treated well.

With how often they mention everyone not daring to get in his way, yet he is still said to “fight his way out” I don’t think he is actually doing much more than waving his weapon around in threat if anything. It definitely can’t be actual fighting since nobody dares to engage in combat with him to begin with.

The German translation is coming in with some interesting trivia once again! The red and yellow robe as it is called in the Anthony C. Yu translation that Sun Wukong gets from the one-horned Demon Kings is actually more of an ochre yellow robe [褐黄袍 hèhuáng páo] or the colour of an Ancient Chinese emperor’s robe! This is also confirmed in the Audio Drama.

#xiyouji #journey to the west #jttw #havoc in heaven 1964 #sun wukong #monkey king #horse #jade emperor #jttw reading group #jttw book club

90 notes · View notes

ladyhoneydee · 2 months

Text

Icebreakers

Zelink | Modern BotW AU | 5.5k

“It’s…Zelda, right?” he asked hesitantly. “Zelda Bos…Bosso…” He couldn’t remember her last name. He’d only heard it once before, at the summer neighborhood cookout, when the older lady two doors down warned him to steer clear of the eccentric robotics engineer who lived at the end of the cul-de-sac. At the time, Link—never a social butterfly with new people anyway—had shrugged and taken the neighbor’s advice. “Bosphoramus,” she supplied. “You’re Link Firly, yes?” “Yes,” he breathed, and shook her hand. It was warm. …He tried not to think too hard about that.

Or, Link is terrible at shoveling his driveway in the winter, and Zelda invites herself over to give him a hand. Or many hands. Guardians have a lot of limbs, after all!

Written for Day 18 of @zelinktines24, "Ice"! Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Link jammed the ice pick down into the same lump of frozen sludge for what felt like the thousandth time and sighed.

He liked winter. The trees snow-dusted, as if the goddesses had visited with a bag of powdered sugar; the ice on the creeks and lakes thick enough that he could frolic on their frozen surfaces or even drill down to fish for a chillfin trout or hearty salmon for supper; the skiing and snowshoeing trips through the woods with an eye out for any squirrels, white pigeons, or trilling red sparrows accompanying him in the underbrush.

The winter chores? Not so much.

He’d put off shoveling the day before. A thick blanket of snow had come down overnight, settling on his car’s hood and the expanse of his driveway, but the way it sparkled under the late morning sunlight had been so inviting…Link couldn’t bring himself to shovel on such a beautiful day. Instead, he’d escaped to the hoarfrosted forest in the morning and spent the evening grinding through a few levels of his most recent video game purchase. He’d fallen asleep on the couch and woke up with a dry, gummy mouth, and an inexplicable feeling of weighty dread, like a grizzlemaw bear had hunkered down in his stomach.

The dread explained itself when he glanced up from the screen of his half-dead sheikah slate and caught a bleary-eyed glance at his front walk while waiting for the kettle: yesterday’s snow had turned into today’s ice.

He had spilled his tea slipping on a patch of ice on his front step, gotten snow down his boots while clearing his car, and had to shovel around the car twice after realizing he hadn’t cleaned off its roof beforehand. And from there, it only got worse: shoveling was hard, irritating work that only got colder the longer he suffered. He had tried his best with the driveway—really!—but it was difficult to shovel in the long, efficient lines a friend had once suggested. He’d take what seemed like a decently-sized stripe, only for the snow to overflow off his shovel and muck up the lines he’d so painstakingly cleared. He’d do a teeny little stripe and look despairingly at the expanse of driveway he had remaining. He’d carry along for a nice little stretch, only for his rhythm to be messed up by his shovel stuttering over a patch of ice.

A few passes across the driveway found the shovel standing upright in a snowbank and Link examining a particularly jagged icicle dangling from the roof. When he finally tore himself away from the icicle, his tongue stinging fiercer than a courser honey bee, he gave ice picking a try…only to find it even more tedious.

A big chop against a pesky chunk of ice would go smash. A series of quick downwards thrusts to break lines into the ice, making it easier to remove, sounded like chnkchnkchnk. Scraaaape went the metal head of his pick against the asphalt when he tried to push along pulverized ice. And skk was the worst noise of all, the skitter of his pick along the ground when he missed a direct hit. The lack of resistance made him lose his balance every time.

Smash. Smash. Scrape. Chnkchnkchnk. Grunt. Scraaape. Toss head to get hair out of face. Smash. Smash. Toss head. Consider chopping off hair with kitchen scissors. Smash-scraaape. Repeat.

Skk-chnk. “Argh!” He thrust the offending pick away, and it clattered onto a patch of ice he hadn’t yet gotten to.

…One of the many patches of ice he hadn’t yet gotten to.

Surely anyone would agree this was hopeless. Surely his nosy neighbors wouldn’t judge him for throwing up his hands in defeat and hibernating in his warm cozy house until spring came and cleared the ice for him.

He stared blankly at the nicely-plowed road just beyond his driveway as he tied his hair back in a messy ponytail. It looked so peaceful. So reasonable. The snow a mere whisper on the salt-bleached pavement. Would his driveway look like that if he’d been responsible the day before?

Then the apocalypse began skittering up the street, and Link wasn’t so envious of it anymore.

It came with a metallic scraping against asphalt, and the rhythmic clunking of a hatch left open somewhere, and a mechanical whirring he swore he’d heard in his nightmares. It came with white and brown paneling, and a single eye lit with an unnatural blue that reflected off the snowbank and into his retinas. It came with far too many legs—he did not even want to count how many legs the thing had. And it came with a fluffy bundle, shaded in white and gold, perched atop its overturned-flowerpot-shaped head.

Please keep going. Please keep going. Please keep going.

The thing skittered treacherously into his driveway.

Turn around. Turn around!

It settled to a lurching, clanking halt only feet before him.

Link took an automatic step back, his eyes darting anxiously over its shining bulk. The thing was far too large for comfort. Its central body was compact, its diameter comparable to his old beloved MasterCycle, but its—leg span? arm span?—turned the thing into a hulking monstrosity. With it so close, Link couldn’t tear his stare from that glowing eye: surely it was the center of all malevolence.

“Hello, neighbor!”

In his nervousness, he’d forgotten all about the bundle of white and gold. Their—for now he knew it was a person—voice was clear, and seemed very self-possessed. Still, he could not raise his gaze.

“Oh, is the eye bothering you? It doesn’t shoot lasers, I promise.”

Link wasn’t sure if he should be reassured by this comment, or be concerned about its specificity. This inner conflict was immediately concluded when the voice followed up, very quietly, with something that he was fairly sure they hadn’t meant for them to hear: “Since I don’t have that functionality up yet…”

“H-heh, why would it bother me…” Link managed. “I’ve never seen anything look more friendly and harmless.”

“I agree!” the voice said perkily. “...wait. That was sarcasm, wasn’t it.” They sounded disappointed.

“It’s my defense mechanism.”

“Fair enough.” Link’s ears perked up at a new noise—the slide of fabric over metal. Then the thump of boots hitting the snow. The glaring eye of the apocalypse went dark a moment later.

A hand thrust itself into his field of vision: gloved in dark brown, accented in gold, fingers outstretched confidently. At last, Link looked up.

The gold and white bundle was indeed a person, and indeed even more gold and white than he had glimpsed from afar, with long blond hair and fair skin painted rosy by the cold. And, to his surprise, he knew her.

“Bosphoramus,” she supplied. “You’re Link Firly, yes?”

“Yes,” he breathed, and shook her hand.

It was warm.

…He tried not to think too hard about that.

“You can put your pick down now, Link Firly.”

Link glanced down to see that he was, in fact, clutching his ice pick in his left hand, as if ready to fend off Zelda’s mechanical monstrosity. He flushed and let the pick drop onto the ice beside him once again.

“We met at the neighborhood barbeque, didn’t we? On the summer solstice?”

“We did indeed,” Zelda confirmed. “You brought that delicious soup.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought anyone liked the soup.” It had disappointed him at the time, honestly; the recipe was his grandmother’s and a nostalgic favorite he’d been positive would be a hit, but the pot he brought back home at the end of the night was almost as full as it had been when he’d left.

“No one likes soup.” When Link’s face fell, Zelda lost her cool for a moment, waving her hands in the air. “Ah, I mean, no one likes soup in the summer! It’s too warming, you know? And there’s just no comparison when Daruk’s brisket was right there. You have to admit that the guy knows how to roast—even if he originally learned for rocks rather than meat.”

“True enough,” he said, a little sulkily.

“If…if it helps, your soup was the best I’ve ever tasted.” Zelda bit her lip, and Link realized she was nervous. He couldn’t help but smile reassuringly.

“That does help, actually. I’m glad you liked it.”

Although he certainly couldn’t make out tension in her shoulders under her heavy woolen coat, Link thought he saw her relax. He breathed his own little sigh of relief.

Neither spoke for a moment. Zelda’s gaze drifted back along his mess of a driveway, and Link kicked embarrassedly at a patch of snow. Eventually, when the silence had stretched to an unbearable length—thirty whole seconds! That was way too long, right?—he took the plunge.

“So…what’s with the spider?”

Zelda’s brows creased. “Spider? What spider?” When he gestured towards the thing behind her, he could practically see the lightbulb flicker on over her head. “Ah! That would be Terrako. I call him a Guardian.”

“Does he…guard…you?” Link could just picture that portable apocalypse patrolling around Zelda’s little one-story, shooting off the aforementioned lasers at attempted robbers and neighborhood pranksters.

“Of course not! He’d hardly have any use if that were the case.”

“Ahaha…right, of course not,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that the machine wasn’t intended for violence, or slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see something like that in action.

“Terrako’s use is far more practical,” she continued, as if Link hadn’t spoken. “He is a guardian against bodily wear and tear.”

“Like…repetitive motion?”

“Exactly!” Zelda’s face lit up just from that slight engagement with her work, and Link had to wonder if she was this passionate at all times, or if she just didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it. Given the neighbor’s warning, he guessed it might be the latter, which was…a little sad. Zelda did seem a bit eccentric, but harmless, and certainly very interesting.

“So you and Terrako are here because…?” Link trailed off expectantly. He certainly didn’t mind conversing with her—especially now that he knew Terrako wasn’t going to eviscerate him—but he was curious why she had taken the Guardian for a walk to his house, of all places.

“To put it bluntly—”

Well, that was a bit worrisome, if her demeanor to this point wasn’t considered blunt.

“—I noticed that yours was the only property on our street who had yet to clear their driveway, and when I observed you doing so this morning, I saw that you are quite awful at it.”

Link’s jaw dropped and hung stupidly for a moment, before he snapped it shut with teeth-clicking velocity.

“Basically, I came to help you.”

Emotions whirled within Link like a winter storm. Embarrassment at being rightfully called out for his lack of skill warred with his gratitude to a neighbor who—despite doing so in a vaguely insulting manner—had gone out of her way to help him out.

“I…don’t know what to say,” he replied honestly. “I only have the one shovel and ice pick. I guess we could trade off tasks…”

Zelda wrinkled her nose immediately. “No, no. I will not be manually shoveling your driveway.”

“Then…?”

“Terrako will do it, of course. I’ll just need a moment to program him for this task.”

“Wait, what?”

“It would be helpful if he could borrow your shovel and pick, of course, although he should be capable without the use of additional tools.”

“Borrow my—huh?”

Zelda fixed him with a contemplative stare, as if reevaluating her decision to help her confused mess of a neighbor. “Do I need to rephrase anything for you to understand me better?”

“I, ah, I mean…no.” He understood her words all right, just didn’t understand why. But he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth…or gift Guardian in the eye. “I’ll go grab my shovel, I guess!”

“Excellent!” Zelda looked both pleased and almost surprised, as if she hadn’t truly expected him to agree. The gleam in her green eyes was…well, honestly, a bit suspicious. Link’s mouth curled up into an uncertain grin in reply before he ambled over to his abandoned shovel.

When he returned, shovel and pick in hand, he found Zelda crouched down in the snow beside Terrako. A sheet of the brown-and-ivory siding of the main body gaped open, exposing the control panel within. Link peeked over Zelda’s shoulder curiously. Even with the neat, careful labeling of each wire, circuit board, chip, lever, and button that he could see, his head still spun trying to comprehend the sheer complexity of the machine. Of just this part of the machine!

“You must be a genius or something!” he blurted out. “To build a robot like this, and it actually work, and everything, I mean.”

Zelda continued flipping switches and typing commands into the slate-sized screen embedded into the center of the control panel. “Hardly. I think anyone could accomplish such a thing if they had the proper training.”

“Really…? I mean, some people just have a head for different skills, right? Different intelligences?”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, and gave a final, decisive press to a command in the top-right corner of the slate screen: Go. The dull indigo of the icon immediately blinked bright blue, the same shade Terrako’s eye had glowed. She shut the panel with gentle hands before turning back towards Link. “Although I think almost anyone can follow a list of directions.”

Link held out a hand, and to his surprise, she took it, allowing him to help her to her feet. “Surely it’s more than a list of directions, though?”

“I suppose there is some independent design work and troubleshooting involved,” Zelda surrendered with an amused smile.

Link realized, suddenly, that he was still holding her hand—or was she holding his? Regardless, the worn chocolate leather of her glove rested atop his heavy-duty black ski mitten with a weight he found to be alarmingly comfortable. He felt his cheeks flush in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

Perhaps Zelda had noticed it too, or felt the instinctive twitch his hand had given at his realization, for she pulled her hand back to let it dangle casually at her side. His lingered in the air for a moment longer before he hurriedly retracted it as well.

“So, ah, what happens next?” Link looked past her at Terrako. The Guardian had awoken, its form straightening up and its eye burning blue once more. He stifled a shudder.

“Now you give him your pick and shovel,” she stated baldly, as if it were obvious.

“Just—just like that?”

“Indeed. Just like that.”

Brow furrowed with consternation and a bit of disbelief, Link tentatively held out the two handles. The tools seemed tiny in comparison to the Guardian’s massive size. He almost leapt back in shock when two of its (many, many) legs jolted to life, shooting out and grasping the tools in the prehensile clamps of its feet.

“Whoa!”

The gleam had returned to Zelda’s eyes, and this time he could see it was tempered with pride. “Good boy,” she told Terrako.

“Can…can he understand you?” Link almost wouldn’t be surprised if the Guardian could, after what he’d just experienced.

“Of course not,” she said dismissively. “He’s just following the directions I programmed.”

“Oh. That makes sense—”

“I just like to tell him that he’s a good boy.” She sounded like someone talking about a beloved dog, and Link fought off an amused grin. “Anyway, you should probably get out of the way now.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“You’re in the way of his sensors, and he’s programmed to complete a task. There’s a slight chance of, ah, bodily removal.”

Link had never moved so fast in his life.

By the time Zelda joined him at his front step, she was snorting with laughter. “You should see your face! I don’t think even Terrako could run so quickly!”

“I’m just not a fan of bodily removal,” Link said, pouting despite himself. “Anyway, do you…want to come in? He won’t be done right away, will he?”

“No, by the size of your driveway…” Zelda pursed her lips in thought. “I estimate he’ll need at least fifteen minutes. Perhaps twenty-five. So…yes, I’d be glad to come in out of the cold for that time.” She grinned toothily for the first time, and Link felt his heart skip a beat. “I’d say a hot chocolate would be a fair payment for my and Terrako’s service.”

“S-sure! I’d be happy to get you one.” Link fumbled for the doorknob and swung it open wide. Warmth—blessed warmth—spilled out of the open doorway. “After you, Zelda.”

“So what is it that you do, Link?”

Link projected his voice a little louder than normal so that Zelda, seated at his kitchen table, could hear his words without him having to turn his gaze away from the stove. “I work at Howl.”

“Haven’t heard of it.”

“Oh, it’s an outdoor outfitter. I’m basically, heh, glorified retail.”

Zelda hummed sympathetically.

“It’s definitely not all bad, though! I really like outdoorsy stuff, and I get to lead people on skiing and snowshoeing expeditions about once a day.”

“Does that mean that you have to know how to not die while using skis?”

Link laughed. “Yeah, or at least, no one has told me yet that I have died while using them, so I’m a convincing ghost if nothing else.”

“I would probably die if I tried,” Zelda said. Intriguingly, it seemed like she was seriously contemplating the scenario and its outcome, rather than her comment being the kind of lighthearted, self-deprecating ones he heard all the time at work and from acquaintances.

“Aw, come on, even if I was your guide?” he joked.

“Especially if you were my guide.”

Link waited for an elaboration. None was forthcoming.

He realized, suddenly, that the milk had gone over its intended mild simmer and was approaching a boil. Snatching up the handle of the saucepan to hold it up off the heat, he scrambled for the burner dial with his other hand. After a moment, he set the saucepan back down on the lowered flame, only to lift it up again when the milk surged back to its near-boil.

Zelda must have seen the expression on his face, because he heard her giggle off to the side. “This is a rather, ah, demanding hot chocolate method.”

“Why yes, the secret ingredient is despair.”

“How experimental! Remind me why you’re not a professional chef?”

“The culinary schools just wouldn’t accept me because they knew I was advanced beyond their curricula, but alas, the fine dining institutions won’t hire me without a culinary degree. I am a victim of bureaucracy.”

Zelda wheezed with laughter, and Link risked a glance away from the milk in order to peek. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyes squinched almost completely closed when she laughed was...

He turned back to the burner and unceremoniously dumped in his favorite dark chocolate cocoa mix, feeling heat in his cheeks that had little to do with the steam rising from the stovetop. Under his watchful eye and careful whisk, the milk and mix combined into a gloriously warm, rich, and mouthwatering brown, and he poured the contents of the saucepan into two large mugs.

“And you?” he asked. “What do you do?”

“Robotics.”

Link laughed at the bluntness of her answer before he realized that she wouldn’t be following up this answer with additional explanations, either. “I mean, yeah, I can tell! But do you have a degree, are you getting one…?” He took the seat opposite her at the kitchen table and slid her mug across.

“Oh! Indeed, I just began my final semester of my Robotics PhD program at the Hateno Institute of Technology. Terrako is my thesis, as it were.” She lowered her voice, and Link instinctively leaned closer across the table. “To be honest, I began him as a personal project long before the thesis stage, but fortunately the proposal committee didn’t know that when they approved me.”

“Smart and sneaky!” Link teased. “Is Terrako ‘that terrible, noisy project she’s been working on in her garage for four years and is definitely against the law and we’ll be blessed if it doesn’t burn the entire neighborhood down one of these days’ that I’ve heard about from various members of the Homeowners Association, then?”

Zelda grimaced. “The HOA never wants anyone to have nice things. Can’t paint your front door turquoise, can’t put your trash out more than 24 hours before the collectors come, can’t build an eight foot tall fully automated and intelligent robot in your garage…”

“They’ve nailed me for the trash thing, too. And not having proper landscaping. Why is it not acceptable to reseed the lawn with native grasses and let it grow to its proper length? I’m doing the neighborhood a service, given how pollination has improved around here.”

“Funny, they reached out to me about improper landscaping as well. That was…” She trailed off, remembering, then scrunched up her eyebrows. “Well, I was still developing Terrako’s skill set at that time, after all,” she sniffed. “They shouldn’t have expected perfection from him.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate, and her eyes went wide. “Nayru, this is fantastic! What did you do?”

“Nothing really,” Link replied bashfully. “Real milk and doing it on the stovetop goes a long way. And I use a really good mix, straight from a small producer in Faron.”

“Please text me a link to it, because this is delicious.” Zelda took another sip and closed her eyes appreciatively.

Link blinked. “I, um…I don’t have your number.”

Eyes still closed, Zelda waved nonchalantly in the direction of her slate, which she’d set beside her on the table. “Passcode is 16643. Go ahead and add yourself to my compendium.”

Obediently, he picked up her slate and navigated to her compendium, although he shot her a hesitant look. “You sure? I could just pull up their website in your browser for you.”

“Thank you, but no. I’ll need your contact information in order to reach out about doing this again regardless, so we might as well maximize efficiency and do it now.”

Link’s fingers froze over the screen where he’d been typing Link Firly (shovel/soup guy) into the new compendium entry. “You want to do this again?”

“Well, obviously.”

Obviously?

“You clearly need assistance with your driveway—”

Ouch.

“—the task itself is perfect for training Terrako, which will dramatically improve his performance and my eventual committee review—”

Well, that was fair enough, and he would be more than happy to help—

“—and I find I quite enjoy your company, Link Firly. I would certainly not be opposed to engaging with you more often.”

Sweet Din, did she just say that?!

Link’s mind fritzed out, staticky with pleased surprise. He wondered absently if Zelda’s skill with technology could transfer to the error message in his brain.

“Assuming, that is, that you feel the same?”

The tone of Zelda’s voice hadn’t changed—still posh and friendly and commanding all at once—but he noticed with a start that her knuckles had paled where they wrapped around her mug. Was she…nervous?

He rushed to assuage her worries. “Yes! Sorry, yes. I was just…thinking. But I would love to hang out!”

The same pleased, surprised smile she’d given him earlier when he agreed to let Terrako clear his driveway leapt to her face. His heart beat faster at the sight.

“Zelda, I think you’re really—”

SCCRREEEECHKKNKNHNHNNHHH!!

Link just about jumped out of his skin. The horrendous scraping of metal on cement had come from outside—from his driveway. Alarmed, he turned to Zelda, and found her eyes just as wide as his own.

Abruptly, she sprang to her feet. “Terrako!”

Link stood up quickly, but she was a blur, impossible to keep pace with as she dashed to the door with the speed and grace of a mountain doe. “Wait, you forgot your—”

The door slammed.

“Coat,” he finished weakly. He stared down at the white and gold bundle in his outstretched arms, then at Zelda’s nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate.

And smiled.

When he made it outside, still clutching Zelda’s coat, he found that the driveway had undergone an utter transformation. Every inch was clear of snow, and even the most stubborn patches of ice had been chopped and swept cleanly off into the yard on either side. There was also a mildly deep gouge marring its exact center, right where the worst patch of ice had once been. The ice pick and shovel laid discarded in the yard.

He blinked. First at the gravelly wound in his driveway, and then at Zelda, although all he could see of her were her knee-high boots sticking out from beneath Terrako’s lifeless form. The white shearling and caramel leather stood out against the spotless grey pavement.

“Everything okay over here?” He approached the Guardian cautiously, ducking beneath an errant leg frozen in midair. Sure, Terrako was off right now, but if he had the power to do that to his driveway…

“Certainly.” Zelda’s muffled voice echoed from beneath Terrako’s chassis. One boot began to waggle in a way Link automatically registered as anxiety.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”

A metallic sigh. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” Zelda began to shimmy her way back out from under Terrako, and he watched her black leggings, turquoise thermal shirt, tangled golden hair, and finally her face slowly inch into view. “There’s nothing wrong with his physical mechanisms, fortunately. It seems that I left one of his ventilation hatches open, and the cold air made his internal fluids heat up dramatically to compensate, which of course led to the wires near them overheating as well.”

“Of course,” Link echoed. “And that made him malfunction…?”

“Indeed.” She tapped a bare, cold-reddened finger against the opposite palm along with her words. “The high internal temperatures resulted in errors in the thermal, visual, and tactile sensors in his feet and body.” Two fingers. “They reported incorrect readings, therefore, to the central operational mechanism.” Three fingers. “Acting in occurrence with the false readings, the command center, which had been programmed to clear all ice using force proportional to its thickness, gave the command to scrape very hard.” She gave Link a tight, chagrined smile. “And thus your driveway became his victim.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you figured all that out so quickly.” His gaze settled again on her rosy fingers, and immediately he thrust out the white and gold bundle. “Ah, here. Looks like you might need this.”

“Oh!” Her expression softened into something more genuine. “Thank you very much.” She had her coat on in short order, buttoning up the center and the collar piece with fingers that were nimble despite the cold, and securely tying the brown leather belt around her waist.

He watched until she had pulled both chocolate leather gloves over her hands, and then, satisfied, continued. “It’s okay, also! I don’t mind that he messed up my driveway—it’s just asphalt.”

Zelda blinked for a moment, her eyebrows pushing together like kissing caterpillars. Then green eyes lit up with recognition—followed, strangely, with an almost bashful pouting of her lips that made Link want to—

Nothing. He wanted to nothing.

Yet, anyway.

“Erm,” she said eloquently. “I wasn’t. Actually. Thinking about your driveway when I said I was disappointed. I was. Um. Irritated at what this meant for Terrako’s performance records.”

She was taller than him. How was she able to look up through her eyelashes like that when she was taller than him? That was downright unfair.

“Oh.” It was all he could think to say, distracted as he was by dark feathery ferns framing emerald pools.

“I certainly do apologize for the damage done to your driveway!” she burst out, clearly misinterpreting the cause of his wordlessness. “It was unintentional, but I am the party at fault, and I will take responsibility for my actions.”

“It’s alright,” he replied. “The rut isn’t that deep. Won’t mess with Epona any.”

“Epona?”

“Um. My car.”

She grinned. “No wonder you didn’t bat an eye at my naming Terrako. We would seem to be two peas in a pod, Link Firly.”

“I’m shocked that you used a nature metaphor rather than a mechanical one,” he replied, surprised by his own boldness. “Not two screws in a…” He didn’t know any machine words. Dammit. “Gear?”

Her laugh rang out over the snow. “Two loose screws, maybe.” Her expression sobered. “I certainly could have been more attentive. That ventilation hatch was open when I arrived regardless of my focus, but honestly—” The pout returned full force. “—I was too distracted by you to do my full checks!”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you! With that scraggly ponytail and smile and that thing you do when you’re embarrassed and you scratch the back of your head—yes, that! No one with such helpless puppy energy should be that cute!”

Link’s hand froze in his hair. “You think I’m cute?”

“Obviously,” Zelda sniffed. “Much like Terrako, I do have visual sensors that are quite adept at taking readings.”

Link tried not to think about the potential of her thermal and tactile sensors taking readings as well. It was a valiant battle. He lost.

Zelda looked at him, and he looked back, meeting her gaze dead-on. There was the slightest of flushes blooming in her cheeks and the tips of her ears, but her face was set with determination and self-assurance. Darkness streaked the right side of her jaw.

“You have a little…” He reached out, at once ginger and intrepid, his hand moving towards her slowly enough that she could see it coming and move out of his way or stop him if she didn’t want him to touch her. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but she stayed utterly still as his fingers grazed, pressed, traced firmly up her jaw. They lingered for a breathless moment right beneath where her jaw ended and ear began. Then, slowly, he pulled away.

Only the slightest smear of black remained on her cheek, with most of the gummy substance safely collected on his fingers. He flashed them towards Zelda for her to see.

“Ah, grease. Mechanic’s contouring.” Despite her nonchalant words, Zelda’s voice was light and wispy, like dandelion puffs blowing in the wind. Her hand rose to her jawline and hovered there.

He could’ve told her she was smart and confident and beautiful, and that he liked her bluntness and her preoccupation with her robot and also just her. But there was something else he could say to her that, if his hunch about her personality was correct, would do a far better job of conveying his feelings.

“Don’t worry, Zelda.” He smiled. Her name on his tongue was lemon zest and the whole sweetness of honey. “There will be plenty more snow and ice this winter for Terrako to improve his performance on. Plus, you’ll be able to teach him how to repair asphalt come spring, for portfolio diversity.”

Zelda’s eyes glowed, and he knew he’d gotten it right. “I’ll see you next time it snows, then.”

“Or before that.” He flushed despite himself.

“Or before that.” Her smiling eyes held his for a moment that shimmered like freshly-fallen snow under the light of the sun, before she turned to Terrako and the gaping control hatch on his side. Those expert fingers danced once more across the keypad and screen, and the robot straightened, its singular blue eye flashing back on to full power.

Link didn’t think he’d ever get used to that…but he was certainly willing to try.

“You know, now that I think about it,” he said, the tiniest lilting hint of teasing entering his voice, “I thought I’d heard something like a hatch clanking around when you came up the street.”

Zelda paused halfway up Terrako’s side, hanging from well-camouflaged ladder rungs he never would have noticed were he not so close and so attentive to the woman climbing them. “You ruffian! You should have told me!”

He stuck his tongue out. “Hey, I’m just a simple retail guy, what do I know about big fancy robots and the noises they make?”

“About robots? Not much, I imagine.” Zelda settled in upon Terrako’s head, and beamed down at him. “But you’re going to.”

The apocalypse with its waving white and gold bundle scuttled back down the street towards the cul-de-sac it called home, and Link watched it go, heart pounding in his throat for a completely new reason.

How strange and lovely it was to hope for its swift return.

#loz #zelda #botw #zelink #botw zelink #modern au #fanfiction #my fanfiction

27 notes · View notes