#ro: one

[itsbluesaint]

So next on my drawings of ROs: Here is One from @thenumbersgameif

So like with the Zero drawing I was listening to One Playlist and oh boy this character feelings are so strong if the songs are something to go by, I can't wait to meet them more.

I wish i could draw jewelry better, I really enjoyed drawing One for their style and the smirk.

Probably next week I will have the drawing of Three... Well I hope so.

[thenumbersgameif]

The art of destruction was something so complex in it’s own, beautiful way—you felt drawn to it as a moth would to a flame. It was only natural that you’d find fire so fascinating.

Raw power, consuming everything in it’s way—shaping everything to it’s will, devouring all in it’s path like a hungry beast, a pure wrath of nature. Cleansing everything by burning away all potential imperfections.

“It’s gorgeous,” you heard yourself say—your voice coated with raspiness from the inhaled smoke surrounding you. You were unable to look away from the tangerine flames dancing before your eyes.

You only managed to peel your hungry gaze away once you spotted the person who gave you the gift of this destruction—One, with black smeared on their face, grey ash in their hair. 

Your lips twitched in a smile, as you noticed the fire in their eyes—a reflection of destruction, a promise of violence so primal, so beautiful it made your knees weak. 

“I told you to keep your distance—I could’ve burned you.” One’s voice is stern and growling, reminding you of all those times mere inches parted the two of you as they held a knife to your throat, just barely teasing your skin with the coldness of the blade. 

“And I’ve told you before,” you rasped out, taking a step closer, ignoring every instinct that screamed to Run, as you closed the distance between yourself and One. “I would let you burn me whole, and leave nothing but ash, if that was what you wanted.” You purred, glancing into those wild eyes that tempted you with the promise of blood and tears. 

One flicked open their lighter—now engraved with number 4—taking a step closer. “Some day,” they start, their voice dropping into deeper tone, “I’m going to test this.”

“I’ll let you.” You said, without hesitation. You were starving for it—for the mere possibility of another clash between the two of you. “And I will smile as I do.”

[thenumbersgameif]

❝  i want to deserve you.  i’m trying to deserve you.  ❞

Angst polycule situation when Four still doesn’t remember what they did or why everyone hates them now.

“What… what on earth happened?” Zero’s voice was so full of disbelief and confusion, you physically cringed. You’ve seen them broken, you’ve seen them working, but this was something else.

You almost felt like a child caught by the parent, doing something you shouldn’t have. 

Your hands dripped red, soaking through the bandages, and your muscles ached—skin burning, droplets of sweat running down your spine. 

“Kurwa,” One’s voice sounded as if they were behind a glass wall, “you bloody idiot, the fuck you did this for? I swear I’ll tie you to that cot—“

“One.” Three’s stern tone cut them off, before they could continue. Your head was pounding, and there was a familiar, constant and stabbing pain behind your eyes. You were exhausted, but you refused to move—rooted in your place.

You could see everyone staring at you, with a variety of reactions. Zero was worried, as always. One was furious—nothing new. Three seemed annoyed, disappointed. And Five… they just seemed like they’ve seen the exact same image of you before. 

“You should be resting, Four. You’re still recovering,” Five’s gentle voice soothed your racing thoughts, although it was hard to understand them through the buzzing sound ringing in your ears.

One shook their head, making a step towards you. You noticed a first aid kit in their hands. “Stupid idiot, why would you do something like that,” they muttered. Something snapped inside you.

“I want to deserve you.” You blurted out, startling everyone. Zero and Five exchanged worried glances, while Three was still processing what you just said. One was the only person who’s expression barely changed. They still looked angry… but also scared. Why would they be scared? “I’m trying to deserve you.” You reiterated, your gaze dropping to the floor.

You knew you hurt all of them at some point—before you lost your memories. Even if Zero and Five seemed to have forgiven you, and Three and One moved past it with time, you felt that you’ve done nothing to deserve their loyalty, love or affection. How could you, when you couldn’t even honestly apologize for your misdeeds?

“Hey, dummy,” One’s gloved hands gently slapped your face, forcing you to look at them. It was more a brush, truly, yet the sudden contact made you react instantly. “You deserve us already.” There was raw conviction in their voice and it made your knees weak. As if held up tension suddenly left your body.

Three moved closer, carefully observing your damaged hands. “You know it’s true, One wouldn’t lie to make you feel better and you know it.” Fair point.

You could see Five moving in the background, shooting you quick glances. There was a bowl of water in their hands, and a clean towel. 

“You don’t have to deserve someone’s affection, Four. Just… be.” Zero’s warm smile forced your own lips to mimic the expression. 

Maybe they were right. Maybe.

[thenumbersgameif]

the numbers as text posts

ZERO:

ONE:

THREE:

FIVE:

[thenumbersgameif]

Blood tasted iron in their mouth. A grim contrast between the mixture of ash and dirty that laid on their pale lips, now that they thought of it. How fitting, they thought, trying to keep their breathing even. It was torture, as each breath meant a throb of pain. Their throat burned from the smoke and heat. 

The mission was a success, the building laid in ruins after all. Nothing but bare bones, eaten away by the fire. It was just a cruel turn of luck for One to get caught up in their own trap. 

They coughed, almost immediately seizing on the ground, doubling down. As if that would help somehow. Their entire body ached in agonising pain. Their forehead burned, a telltale sign of a fever. They had no idea how long they laid there, but it was their guess that it had to have been at least a couple of hours for infection to start.

“This is a fucking lame way to die,” they rasped to themself, their lips turning into a gruesome grin.

“One?!” This has to be a fucking joke. “One!” Please, let it be a hallucination, because I have no energy to deal with this shit right now. “Oh my god, One!” Fuck.

“Good day, huh, Zero?” They croaked out, swallowing the blood and dust in their mouth. 

The Team Leader was running towards them, looking no better. Zero must have just come back to life, as half of their uniform was ripped to shreds and burned, and there was dried blood coating whatever clothes withstood the flames. 

Yet, despite all this, Zero looked at One with nothing but concern in their eyes. It made One’s stomach turn in an uncomfortable tinge of guilt. Motherfucker, should’ve stayed out as I told them to. Of course they didn’t listen.

Zero was on their knees, kneeling by them, hands suspended in the air above One’s broken and burned form. “Are you okay with me touching you?” One wanted to laugh. Even in a situation as dire and grim as this, Zero still cared most about their comfort. As if the metal shards sticking out of their gut did not exist. 

“Have at it, chief.” They sighed, defeated. As Zero touched their naked arm, a shiver took over One’s entire body. The touch was expected, and necessary—they knew Zero would sooner chop themself into pieces than hurt them—yet they still couldn’t help it. 

Zero shot them an apologetic smile, mumbling words of reassurance. One didn’t try to make them out, too busy trying to keep the pain at bay.

Just a little longer, they told themself. Let’s live a little longer.

[thenumbersgameif]

Sexuality: Asexual

Age: 24 years old

Height: 167 cm

Weapon of Choice: Fire, brass knuckles

Special Talent: Eidetic Kinesthesia (replicating movements after observation)

Expertise: Hand-to-Hand combat, explosives

.

Tropes: Rivals to Lovers // Slow Burn // Mutual Pinning .

Physical Description: plump, full lips; heart shaped face; pearl white, short, straight hair; amber eyes; curvy body with some defined muscles; pierced ears; tattoos on their arms and back; scars on the inside of their palms, on their legs and small, older scars on their torso

Skin tone reference: click

Ethnicity: Polish-German (West Slavic-Germanic)

Nationality: English

Picrew: click

[thenumbersgameif]

“i hate the way that i don’t hate you” or “I’m not gonna fight with you” for One? 👀❤️

„What is your problem with me, exactly?”

You knew that pushing One into a corner, even with a question, was probably not the smartest or safest idea. Even on the best day, One was flippantly throwing threats around. On the worst day? They were throwing knives or punches.

This day was neither best nor worst, and One was drenched in sweat after another work out. Hair was sticking to their forehead, and their skin was slightly blushed from the heat.

Still, even exhausted, they could probably snap your neck like a twig in a matter of seconds.

„You have a death wish,” it was neither an answer nor a question. Just a simple statement. „You act like a star of the fucking show, for starters. You insert yourself everywhere, especially where you don’t belong.”

You grimaced. It was hard to pretend like those words didn’t hurt in any way. One was your teammate — no matter the animosity between you two, you cared for them in some way. That is why you needed to know why they hated you so much.

„I hate that you’re here, playing therapist with everyone, trying to find out what’s everyone’s damage.” They continued, their fists colliding with the boxing bag in a rapid succession. „You walk around like nothing ever happened, like we’re all supposed to forget everything because you did.”

You could swear you saw blood soak through the black bandages on One’s hands. You had to physically restrict yourself from making a step towards them — if you did, you could easily become the next punching bag.

With every passing second, every next punch, they seemed to break down more.

„I hate the way I don’t want to hate you,” they seethed through the clenched teeth.

You blinked, surprised. It was not what you expected, and you wanted to ask them about it further, when they aggressively grabbed the nearby weight.

It was best to continue this at another time, preferably when One wouldn’t hold a potential murder weapon.

[thenumbersgameif]

“Go on, move; give me a fucking reason!”

— One, last words pre-incident!Four heard from them.